For Chris
I don’t really mind if I bat or I bowl
Or just scamper around in the field
Holding a blinder at silly mid on
Or diving to get myself killed
Franchise cricket is the one for me
Twenty thousand for twenty overs
You can keep all your Tests at Lords and the rest
And ignore Sir Garfield Sobers
I’ll bowl the white ball just short of a length
Or aim for their toes with a yorker
Play a ‘proper cricket shot’ every now and again
For Nasser to call it a corker
Bowled out, caught out, run out
It’s all the same in my eyes
As long as I’m picked for the T20 pitch
And get fully paid by the franchise
Yes, franchise cricket is the one for me
Through all the pulls and the pain
You can get there by flying on the seat of your pants
Or by boarding The Gravy Train
The crowds all roll up to witness it all
You won’t ever see them get rowdy
They stand there and cheer and hold up their cards
Like the soccer that’s played in Saudi
Me, I’ll play a straight bat for a ball or two
Then hack one over square leg
Happy at home or lavish hotels abroad
With millions still having to beg
Yes, franchise cricket is the one for me
I don’t want to be a spectator
And when my playing days are gone
They’ll pay me, the commentator
Bowled out, caught out, run out
It’s all the same in my eyes
As long as I’m picked for the T20 pitch
And I’m fully paid by the franchise
How much better to play for four hours
Than battle away for five days?
Like listening to one of Bob Dylan’s songs
Or one of (William) Shakespeare’s plays
Yes, franchise cricket makes perfect sense
Even with a solar plexus
I’m packing my bat and I’m packing my box
‘Cos they’ve invited me to Texas!
(Pause)
But if they ever get sick of the game they invented
And work out it’s all just a plot
I’ll go back to five days of lunches and teas
And join Sir Geoffrey’s boycott.
DoubleSpeak 