So long, Pro40. Thanks for the memories

The NatWest Pro40 said its goodbyes today, and with it went a part of my childhood.

Much of my early cricket-watching career (I feel I put enough time and effort in to class it as such) was spent at Old Trafford, and I felt it only right that I was in attendance this afternoon to pay my respects for the passing of a much-loved competition.

As I watched Lancashire take on Warwickshire in the final round of matches before the Pro40 is jettisoned, I couldn’t help but allow my mind to drift back to the days of my misspent/enlightening (delete as appropriate) youth.

It’s impossible for me to tell you how many times my friends and I, armed with enough sandwiches and sausage rolls to feed a medium-sized scout troop, caught the bus, train and then tram to Warwick Road on a Sunday afternoon.

My memories are filled with images of the lethal Wasim Akram peppering batsmen’s toes with yorkers, the pocket-sized Neil Fairbrother swooping at cover, or the bustling Ian Austin bowling an eighth consecutive maiden (at least, that’s how it felt).

It’s a good job CCTV wasn’t as prevalent then as it is now, for I spent enough time hanging around the car park to earn myself a string of ASBOs.

That was my hunting ground for players’ autographs after matches and, even though I was sometimes beaten to it by the bigger boys (ie. my dad), the journey home was almost always spent trying to decipher this fascinating collection of handwriting. (Only once did a player refuse my request; don’t think I’ve forgotten, Phil DeFreitas.)

Toe-crusher: Wasim Akram enjoys success with Lancashire in one of the Pro40's numerous former guises

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Those players have long since departed, although Glen Chapple, whose moniker adorns the pages of my autograph book in the loft, is still going strong for Lancashire in the guise of captain.

A foot injury prevented Chapple bidding his own farewell today to a competition which has seen more transformations than Optimus Prime (a clue as to my childhood viewing habits).

Introduced in 1969 after laws over playing sport on the Sabbath were relaxed, the Sunday League began and ended as a 40-overs-a-side competition, with experiments with 50 and 45 overs in between.

The names of John Player, Refuge, AXA Equity and Law, CGU and Norwich Union have accompanied the title over the last 40 years, and there were even a couple of seasons when the marketing men’s silver tongues failed to seduce a sponsor.

The league has ranged between one and three divisions, and the late 1980s even saw the introduction of a knockout system featuring the top four sides. It didn’t last.

There were flashbacks to days gone by this afternoon, most noticeably the fan in a Lancashire Sunday League shirt from the early 1990s. He was also wearing a pair of jeans three sizes too small, and sporting a blond mullet, so I suspect his choice of clothes was more bad taste than a retro-inspired tribute to an English cricketing institution.

If the buckets doing the rounds in the stands in aid of Gary Keedy’s benefit year proved old traditions live on in county cricket, the presence of a solitary steward guarding the square during the tea interval was a symbol of one of the most deplorable rules to have been implemented in recent times.

No longer are children allowed to play on the outfield during the interval (it is worth remembering this was how Michael Vaughan was first spotted by Yorkshire) – and for what reason? For fear of leaving footprints in the grass? Or upsetting the worms maybe?

Warwickshire get their hands on the Division Two trophy by beating Lancashire on a misty-eyed day at Old Trafford

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The skeleton of a new conference centre next to the pavilion provide a graphic insight into the future at Old Trafford, while Warwickshire’s 20-year-old Chris Woakes surely represents the future on the playing front.

The repertoire of the rival fans hasn’t changed much – they traded verses of ‘Ooh Lanky Lanky, Lanky Lanky Lanky Lanky Lancashire’ and ‘Warwickshire la-la-la’ all afternoon – although that such banter is commonplace in cricket without the need for a row of stewards separating the supporters is something of which cricket can be immensely proud.

As the ale flowed, it was a timely reminder that Sunday League cricket – and the promise of beer at a time when the pubs used to be shut – has also served more than the cricket-loving public down the years.

The sizeable crowd who witnessed a last-ball finish at Old Trafford today may disagree, but the Pro40 has come to be regarded as the ugly duckling of cricket circuit.

While several thousand spectators saw the curtain fall on a competition which will be remembered fondly by many more, there were just three members of the written press (and none, astonishingly, from Warwickshire) in the media centre to watch the Bears clinch the Second Division title.

But we should not be too disheartened at the passing of a dear friend, for the Pro40 will be replaced by another one-day competition next summer, to be played over 40 overs and mainly on Sunday afternoons.