Hoggy: Welcome to My World

HOGGY

Welcome to My World

Dedication

To Sarah and Ernie My strength and salvation

What you’ll find inside …

Title Page

Dedication

Fore Paw-word

Introduction Thought I’d put this near the start

Chapter 1 - My Family and Other Animals by Matthew ’oggard, aged 8½

Chapter 2 - Gardens, Gags and Games A few early cricketing lessons

Chapter 3 - Wild and Free Beer and bowling in South Africa

Chapter 4 - England Calling First days of national service, 2000-02

Chapter 5 - Meat and Three Veg What goes into a fast bowler’s belly …

Chapter 6 - Touring and Toiling A series of reality checks with England, 2002-03

Chapter 7 - Physical Jerks The pains and strains of keeping fit

Chapter 8 - Getting Better All the Time The winning streak and the awesome foursome, 2004-05

Chapter 9 - Mind Games The stuff that goes on in my head when I’m bowling

Chapter 10 - Time to Produce The biggest series ever and other more important things, summer 2005

Chapter 11 - Drinking for England We do like the occasional pint, you know

Chapter 12 - Swinging the Balance Life goes on after the Ashes, 2005-06

Chapter 13 - A Word from the Wife Sarah’s view from the girls’ gallery

Chapter 14 - Nightwatchman’s Tales My life as England’s sacrificial lamb

Chapter 15 - Squashed by the Big Fat Lad The Ashes comedown, 2006-07

Chapter 16 - Press-ganged My fun and games with the British media

Chapter 17 - It’s all Gone Haywire Some very high highs and very low lows, 2007-08

Epilogue Hog

What next?

Index

Acknowledgements

Hoggy Stats

Copyright

About the Publisher

‘He’s just a bit silly. He rings you up and leaves daft messages and silly noises on your phone. It’s just madness. He’s a good lad though.’

Ashley Giles

‘He gives you it straight. If he thinks you’re a pillock, he’ll tell you. He won’t ask for anything that he wouldn’t do himself, that’s the way he is. Hoggy is Hoggy.’

David Byas, former Yorkshire captain

Fore Paw-word

By the HOGGY DOGGIES, BILLY the Doberman and MOLLY the Border Collie

BILLY: So what’s all this about, then?

MOLLY: Apparently, this is the bit of a book where important people or animals are asked to say nice things about the bloke on the front cover.

BILLY: About him? Why I should say nice things about him? All he ever does is shout at me.

MOLLY: That’s because you play too rough half the time, Billy, and you don’t do as you’re told.

BILLY: Whenever I try to play with you, you don’t give me the time of day. You can be a cantankerous old bitch sometimes.

MOLLY: You forget that I’m an old lady. If I was five years younger, I’d still be able to run rings round you.

BILLY: Like to see you try. Anyway, I still don’t see why I should be so nice about the bloke. What does he ever do for us?

MOLLY: He takes us for lots of long walks.

BILLY: I’ll give him that.

MOLLY: Even when it’s raining. And he feeds us most of the time.

BILLY: Well, yes, you’ve got a point. Sometimes I want to bite him, but I’m worried that the walks and the food might stop if I do. Shall we gang up on him and both bite him?

MOLLY: He’s in charge, Billy boy, whether we like it or not.

BILLY: But if he’s so tough and reckons he’s top dog, why does he always send me outside first if he hears a noise in the garden? I can never understand that.

MOLLY: Strange creatures, these humans, Billy. I’m still trying to work them out.

BILLY: They must be strange if they want to read a book about him. What’s so interesting about him?

MOLLY: Apparently he’s quite good at some weird game they play. They throw a red ball, someone hits it and they chase it around a field. It goes on for hours.

BILLY: Well, I chase a ball around a field with him all the time and I’m much better at it than him. This book should be all about me.

MOLLY: I’m inclined to agree with you, Billy. But like I said, he’s in charge.

BILLY: He talks a load of rubbish as well. He makes up words of his own that nobody else ever uses, words like ‘ridonculous’.

MOLLY: Yes, I’ve always wondered what that means. Any ideas?

BILLY: Haven’t got a clue. Do you think they’re all as odd as him?

MOLLY: I very much doubt it.

Introduction

Go on, admit it, you turned to the photo pages first, didn’t you?

Before I had the chance to say even a word in my defence, you plunged straight into the middle of the book to check out my dodgy haircuts from when I was younger. Don’t worry, though; everybody does it, me included. Those embarrassing old photos are sometimes the best bit of the book, aren’t they? I tried to get the publishers to let me have a book full of pictures, but they insisted I put a few words in here as well. Sorry about that.

Anyway, at least you have now made it as far as my first page. I bet there are some buggers who’ll pick up the book in a shop, have a quick look at the dodgy photos, then put the book back down again with no intention whatsoever of buying it. I’m thinking of putting on a disguise one day and spending a few hours hanging out in a bookshop to see how many people do that.

When we first started talking about writing a book, it was suggested that I should try to give the reader a feel for what it would be like to sit next to me in the England dressing-room. That’s what these books are supposed to do, I was told; to give a flavour of what it is really like to play for your country.

But I didn’t think that would really be fair, because most people don’t find it a particularly pleasant experience to sit alongside me for the duration of a five-day Test match. I’ve got very smelly kit, for starters. My cricket bag begins a Test match in a pretty disorganised state, with everything just thrown in. And by the end of the fifth day there will be stuff strewn everywhere and it’ll take me an age to find all my kit when it’s time to go home. It’s not a pretty sight, so I think I’ll spare you that experience.

Actually, one thing about sitting next to me in the dressing-room that may be worth sharing is my vast store of completely useless information. Sitting on the balcony during a Test match, watching our batsmen pile on the runs, the conversation may flag from time to time. And to while away a bit of time, I have been renowned in the England team for nudging whoever is sitting next to me and producing a random fact to start a discussion of some kind.

Such as: ‘Did you know that peanuts are used in the manufacture of dynamite?’

‘Really, Hoggy? How interesting.’

‘And did you know that peanuts aren’t actually nuts?’

‘Well, I never did.’

Andrew Strauss has always been especially keen on my little factoids. He says that my ability to produce these pearls of wisdom is evidence of my HIDDEN INTELLIGENCE, however well concealed it might be. But I only know so much rubbish because I’ve got some very good trivia books in the loo at home. How dare he call me intelligent?

So you might find your self being nudged at various points during the book and being offered a little HogFact or two. Prepare to be amazed. Other than that, this book is a bit of a higgledy-piggledy ramble through my career, with the odd stop off for refuelling along the way (the way a good walk should be). The wife has blagged a chapter or two, because it wouldn’t seem right to tell a tale about my life without a contribution from her. She’s never been known to miss out on the opportunity to put her two penn’orth in before. And also, as a special treat, if he’s a really good boy, our little lad, Ernie, might even get to say a few words.

Originally, I’d wanted to throw a bit of scandal into the book and tell you about such scrapes as the time the entire England team

If you find you’re getting bored at any point during this book, I’ve scribbled a few puzzles between Chapters Two and Three to give you a break. I’ll understand if you feel the need to recharge the brain cells for a while before diving back into my deep and meaningful writing. And if you’re still struggling after the puzzles, well, you could go away and find someone to tell about a startling new fact that you’ve just learned.

Failing that, you can always turn back to have a look at those dodgy haircuts, just one more time.

1 My Family and Other Animals by Matthew ’oggard, aged 8½

Hello My name is Matthew and I an eight narf years old. I was born on 31st December 1976 in St Mary’s Hospitull and I go to Lowtown Primary School. I live in Pudsey in Yorkshire quite near Leeds and Bradford. They named that teddy bear on Children in Need after Pudsey. I don’t know why. I’m not really into teddy bears myself. I prefer animals and insects.

When we do show-and-tell at school I like to take in something slimy or stinky. Once I took a slow-worm that I brought back from camping with mum and dad. I showed it to the boys and girls in my class and everybody just went: ‘EEEUUURRGHHHH! IT’s A SNAKE!’ Especially the girls. So I said: ‘No it’s not. Don’t be so daft. It’s only a slow-worm.’

I’m dead lucky cos we’ve got some fields over our back wall where I can go and look for animals and insects. I love exploring and the fields at the back of our house are brilliant. We call them the blue fields cos some of the soil is blue. It’s summat to do with the chemicals on them. My dad told me what but I’ve forgotten now.

There are two marker posts in the blue fields and Mum says I’m not allowed to go past them. At the side of the marker posts there is a meadowy bit where there are loads and loads of insects. Over the other side there is a big old gas cylinder and the banana. The banana is a big steep dip where bigger boys ride their bikes.

Past the banana there is a flat bit where you can see a family of foxes. I like to go and watch the big foxes playing with the baby foxes. The baby foxes are called cubs. Just below the flat bit there is a pond. Sumtimes I find a frog or a toad from the pond and take it home. I run into the kitchen and shout: ‘Mum, Mum, look what I’ve found!’ And she’ll say: ‘That’s very nice, Matthew. But please will you take it out of the kitchen.’

I’ve brought all sorts of animals home from the blue fields. I’ve brought toads and frogs and voles and fieldmice and worms. But my favourite are devil’s coach-horses. These are little beetles that chomp on worms for their tea. I’ve got lots of them in an old milk churn at home. Dad has taken the top off the milk churn and I put loads of soil and stones in there for my devil’s coach-horses. I give then worms to eat and watch the worms get munched up. It’s great. I think I want to be a vet when I grow up.

I also like dogs and cats. I like going up to dogs and giving them a stroke. Mum always says: ‘Be careful Matthew, they might bite.’ But I say: ‘No it won’t bite me, Mum. Dogs like me.’ We have had some cats as pets but they kept dying. Now we’ve got Smudge and I think he’ll be okay.

My Dad is a teacher. He teaches bigger boys to do sums. My Mum used to be a lollipop lady but now she works at a school as well. She works with the science teachers and she wears a white coat. As well as my mum and dad I live with my older Sister karen and Julie. I like being the youngest cos when karen and Julie fall out they both start being really nice to me and trying to get me on their side.

Sumtimes I think my sisters wish I was a girl. When it’s fancy dress at school they always make me wear stupid stuff. Like being a St Trinian girl which makes me look a right Prat. Last time I went to school dressed as a St Trinian I played rugby at morning break and laddered my tights.

The other thing that I love to do apart from looking for animals is Playing games with my dad. We play loads and loads of different games with balls. We play chuck and catch, French cricket, Frisbee, rugby and football. We go up to the rugby posts at the top field sumtimes and throw of kick a rugby ball and try to hit the crossbar and posts. Dad gives us points when we hit and we see who can get the most points. We also play a lot in our back garden but we’ve got to be careful there cos we’re always knocking plants over and Mum gets cross.

I always really want to beat my dad when we’re playing games and he always really wants to beat me. He wins most of the time cos he’s a grown-up. Sumtimes I win and I love it when I do.

I like it when we play proper cricket. But bowling is really difficult. I’m good at standing still and bowling and I’m good at running in super fast. But it’s tricky doing them both together. I run in really fast then hop and skip and jump but I never know where my feet are so I can’t bowl when I’ve stopped hopping and skipping and jumping. I get really angry sumtimes.

So one Sunday morning Dad decided to sort out my bowling. It took us ages and ages and ages. I just ran in and jumped and bowled loads and loads of times and I tried not to do any hopping or skipping. Run jump bowl run jump bowl run jump bowl. I got it wrong a lot but Dad told me to keep trying. Suddenly just before it was time to go in for our lunch I got good at it. So I tried it a few more times and I was still good at it.

Now I really like bowling. It’s my favourite bit of cricket. And Dad says that when I bowl the ball swings a lot.

I don’t really know what that means but it sounds cool.

WHY CRICKET IS A

BATSMAN’S GAME

1. EFFORT

They stand there and hit balls for a living, and run when it’s actually going to be worth something to them. A bit like someone that won’t get out of bed unless they’re being paid for it. Bowlers put more effort into bowling a dot ball than batsmen do into hitting a six.

2. FIELDING POSITIONS

Where do batsmen normally field? In the slips, chatting away while the bowlers do the running around elsewhere. If you’re fielding at fine leg and the batsman snicks a ball through the slips for four, the slips just turn round and look at you to fetch it, even though it’s probably closer to them. You’ve just stood there for twenty overs, you f***ing fetch it.

3. PRACTICE SESSIONS

Once they’ve had their turn to bat, some batsmen can’t be bothered to bowl at us tail-enders. And if they are gracious enough to turn their arms over, they just stroll up and bowl some filthy off-spin.

4. CAPTAINCY

Captains are almost always batsmen, so they don’t know what it’s like to be a bowler, to be aching and groaning at the end of a hard day. Can you give us one more over, Hoggy? You can’t ever say no.

5. SMALL STUMPS

Let’s face it, not many dismissals come from a brilliant ball that pitches leg and hits off. Most batsmen get themselves out, through boredom or a daft shot. If we had bigger stumps, there would be more genuine dismissals for the deserving, long-suffering bowlers.

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