Ben Hurley finds the funny in cricket
Comedian Ben Hurley is bowled over by the “ridiculously quirky” game of cricket.
WORDS Ben Hurley
“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster,” is Ray Liotta’s infamous and chilling line in the opening scene of the Martin Scorsese movie Goodfellas. A story of a man born into the mafia; essentially a crime cult held together by family, centuries-old tradition, rival factions and unwritten rules and terminology that the uninitiated don’t really understand. I never wanted to be a gangster, but as far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a cricketer.
I know half of you stopped reading when you read that word. Cricket is an acquired taste, polarising like blue cheese or Jim Carrey. I don’t expect you to like it and understand if you don’t. I know it’s “slow” and “boring” and “complicated” and “sometimes it’s a draw after playing for five days.” I’ve heard it all a thousand times and it doesn’t offend me.
Cricket isn’t really what this is about. This column is really for anyone who thought their natural inability to do something (well) would preclude them from doing it for a living. Because I am one of that number and testament to the fact that it isn’t always the case.
I came to the game later than my friends. I grew up in an arty household more than a sporty one, so I never really saw much sport on TV. I remember New Zealand winning the 1987 Rugby World Cup, and a handful of moments from the 1988 Seoul Olympic Games, but that’s about it. Until I was about 11 and a combination of cricket-mad next-door neighbours and seeing New Zealand play Australia in something called “The Benson and Hedges World Series” set off a strange reaction inside me. Something I’ve never truly been able to explain. Within a few months, I was part of a real cricket team that played on Saturday, and my bedroom walls were covered in posters of cricketers. I knew stats and names and nicknames and stats about nicknames. I’d caught the bug, with two hands, reverse cup, in front of my face.
Was I any good? Not really. But, if I’m honest, I wasn’t awful. I made the Hawera High School First XI, but partly because one of my closest friends was the captain and put in a word. I’ve had my moments on the field but I was a bit of a late bloomer, physically, and by the time I was able to compete properly, other career paths had presented themselves. Mostly Comedy and Beer.
I still played as a semi-social weekend warrior but the realisation eventually dawned on me that I was unlikely to make the premier club side, let alone the national one. I would always be someone who loved the game and could ruin any party by finding the one other cricket person in the room and settling in for the night. Commandeering a corner of the kitchen to loudly debate what went wrong in the 1992 World Cup semi-final loss to Pakistan. That would be my lot in cricket life. Or was it?
Around 10 years ago, when comedy and TV work became more abundant for me, New Zealand Cricket got wind of the fact that I was one of these cricket “tragics”, as we are often referred to (I prefer the term “nuffy”), and got in touch. They wanted something called a “Match Day Host” to travel around with the team over the summer and interview drunk people in the crowd for the big screen. Not only did I jump at this opportunity, but I did it for seven summers. Only giving it up and passing on the role to someone younger because I realised no one wants to see a 40-year-old man doing boat races on the embankment while a dozen Otago students chant, “Down in one!”
Once again, I thought that would be it for me but, last year, in a deal even more complicated than the LBW rule, Spark Sport got the rights to televise the cricket and they gave me my own show! Who said nothing good happened in 2020? And this is what I did all summer. Half-an-hour a week where I’m paid to talk about this game. This ridiculously quirky game that has featured in many of the happiest moments of my life. (My wedding, my kids’ births and Grant Elliot hitting that six at Eden park to put us into the World Cup final). It’s not a dream job because I rarely have dreams this good.
Ok, so I’m not a gangster, and yes, I still think about it. I didn’t have the genes or the constitution for it. But, in this analogy, maybe I’m Martin Scorsese, telling those who are interested all about the ones that do. And I’m mostly okay with that.