Lord’s – The Home of Cricket
Story by Terry Check
After attending the Queen’s Coronation Festival in disguise, Terry Check contacted Lord’s Cricket Ground, one of the most famous cricket venues in the world, to request press credentials for the upcoming World Cricket Championship, just two days away. Despite knowing little about cricket, we understood this event was the UK equivalent of the Super Bowl in the USA.
A few strategic emails to the Lord’s press office pitching our story angle for a “magazine article”, or rather, an imaginary magazine secured us press credentials for the championship.
On the day of the event, Jessica and I arrived early and were greeted by throngs of fans queued up to enter the stadium. Jessica hesitated, asking, “Do we need to wait in this line?” I replied confidently, “Follow me.” Skipping the queue, we approached the entrance gate and flagged down a guard. When we explained we were journalists covering the championship, he verified our credentials and arranged for a transport car to take us to the press box.
The transport dropped us off at an elevator that whisked us several stories above the field. When the doors opened, we stepped into a luxurious press area complete with a full-service bar, a lunch buffet, and a stunning panoramic view of the stadium and field. Jessica was speechless, while I took full advantage of the spread, enjoying a hearty meal and a couple of drinks before the match began.
Soon after, a stadium official greeted us, welcomed us to the championship, and issued me a photographer’s vest, granting field access. With my cameras in hand, I turned to Jessica and said, “I’m heading to the field to photograph the game, cheerleaders, and fans.” She looked at me, slightly panicked, and asked, “What should I do?”
The press room was bustling with at least 40 journalists from around the world, each furiously reporting play-by-play updates. I suggested, “Open the laptop, email our kids, and pretend you’re covering the match.” And with that, we dove headfirst into our masquerade cricket adventure.
I made my way to the field with my camera slung around my neck and the photographer’s vest proudly displayed. The atmosphere was electric – fans were cheering, waving flags, and snapping selfies against the backdrop of Lord’s iconic pavilion. I was immediately struck by the scale of the event. It wasn’t just a cricket match; it was a celebration of a sport that, for many, was practically a religion.
As I positioned myself near the boundary, I noticed a group of photographers setting up their impressive arrays of telephoto lenses and tripods. They worked with the precision of a military unit, adjusting their equipment and testing shots. Their camaraderie was evident, and I quickly realized they were professionals, not the sort of amateurs I was attempting to impersonate.
“Hey, mate,” one of them called out, a wiry man with a British accent and a weathered face that suggested years of outdoor assignments. “Haven’t seen you around before. Which publication are you with?”
I froze for a moment, then flashed a confident smile. “Oh, I’m with Global Perspectives,” I replied, making up the name of the “magazine” on the spot. “We’re doing a feature on the cultural impact of cricket worldwide.”
He raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Interesting angle. Most of us are here for the game action. What gear are you using?”
I glanced down at my modest DSLR, which was vastly outmatched by the towering lenses surrounding me. “Just keeping it simple,” I said, patting my camera. “Trying to capture the human side of the story.”
Another photographer, a woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, chuckled. “Human side, eh? That’s a nice way of saying you’re dodging action shots. Good luck catching a six with that lens.” Her comment drew laughter from the group, but there was no malice in it—just the playful ribbing of seasoned professionals.
I decided to lean into my outsider status. “Well, someone’s gotta focus on the fans and the atmosphere. You guys have the action covered, right?”
This seemed to win them over, and the man who’d first spoken offered some friendly advice. “If you’re after atmosphere, head toward the western stands. That’s where the most passionate fans are. The Barmy Army will give you plenty to work with.”
“Thanks, I’ll check it out,” I said, grateful for the tip.
As I walked along the boundary, I snapped photos of jubilant fans, young children with their faces painted, and a vendor balancing an enormous tray of snacks. The crowd’s enthusiasm was infectious, and for a moment, I forgot about my impostor status, immersed in the energy of the event.
Meanwhile, back in the press box, Jessica had settled into her role as a “reporter.” She sat at a sleek desk with her laptop open, pretending to type furiously while occasionally glancing at the screens showing the live broadcast of the match. Next to her, a journalist from an Indian sports channel was delivering a rapid-fire play-by-play commentary into a headset. Jessica leaned over and whispered, “Do you really know what’s going on out there?”
The journalist paused, momentarily taken aback, then grinned. “First time covering cricket?”
Jessica laughed nervously. “Something like that. Any tips?”
“Watch the scoreboard, learn the key terms, and, most importantly, pretend like you know everything,” he said with a wink before returning to his broadcast.
Jessica took his advice to heart, composing an email to our kids filled with generic phrases like “The match is heating up!” and “The tension here is palpable!” She glanced around the room, taking note of the journalists who were clearly in their element, and whispered to herself, “Fake it till you make it, right?”
Down on the field, I had managed to get closer to the action, where the official photographers were snapping shots of players mid-swing and capturing the drama of each delivery. I couldn’t help but feel out of my depth as I watched them expertly anticipate every crucial moment, their lenses tracking the ball like hawks.
One of the photographers, a young man with an Australian accent, noticed my struggle and approached me during a break in play. “You look a bit lost, mate. First time shooting cricket?”
“Is it that obvious?” I admitted, chuckling.
He nodded, but his tone was kind. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there. Cricket’s tricky to shoot if you’re not used to it. Focus on the bowler’s delivery stride and the batsman’s follow-through. That’s where the magic happens.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I said, genuinely appreciative. “By the way, who’s the player everyone’s focusing on?”
He pointed to a tall, muscular man adjusting his gloves near the crease. “That’s Sharma. One of the best batsmen in the world. If you can get a shot of him hitting a six, you’re golden.”
With renewed determination, I adjusted my camera settings and tried to follow Sharma’s movements. My hands trembled slightly as the bowler charged in, delivering a lightning-fast ball. Sharma swung his bat with a crack that echoed across the stadium, sending the ball soaring into the stands. I instinctively pressed the shutter, hoping I’d captured something worthwhile.
“Not bad for a rookie,” the Australian said, peering over my shoulder at the screen. The shot wasn’t perfect, but it was decent enough to pass as professional.
As the match progressed, I found myself growing more comfortable. I snapped photos of players celebrating, fans cheering, and even a group of cheerleaders performing a spirited routine during a break in play. At one point, I spotted the wiry British photographer from earlier and decided to strike up a conversation.
“So, how long have you been covering cricket?” I asked.
“About 20 years,” he replied. “Started with local matches and worked my way up. It’s not just a job; it’s a way of life.”
“Any memorable moments?” I pressed, genuinely curious.
“Plenty,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “But nothing beats the World Cup final in 2019. The drama, the super over—it was unforgettable. Moments like that remind you why you love the game.”
His passion was evident, and for the first time, I began to understand the deep connection people had with cricket. It wasn’t just about runs and wickets; it was about history, culture, and the stories that unfolded on the field.
By the time the match ended, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the stadium. The crowd erupted in cheers as the winning team celebrated on the field. I captured the moment, feeling a sense of accomplishment despite the unconventional circumstances that had brought me there.
Back in the press box, Jessica greeted me with a relieved smile. “How’d it goes?”
“Better than I expected,” I admitted. “I think I even got a decent shot of that Sharma guy.”
She laughed. “Well, I’ve been busy emailing the kids and pretending to look important. One of the reporters even asked for my opinion on the match.”
“What did you say?” I asked, intrigued.
“I mumbled something about teamwork and strategy. He seemed impressed,” Jessica said with a shrug.
As we packed up our things and prepared to leave, I couldn’t help but reflect on the day. We’d come into this event as impostors, but we’d gained a newfound appreciation for cricket and the people who dedicated their lives to it. It was a reminder that sometimes, stepping out of your comfort zone can lead to unexpected adventures—and maybe even a good story to tell.
As we left the stadium, Jessica turned to me and said, “So, what’s next? The Wimbledon finals?”
I grinned. “We are in London for a few more weeks. Let’s crash the Beach Boys concert in Hyde Park, then London’s West End Shows. We’re on a roll – chasing life in the fourth quarter.”
Masquerade Chronicles look behind the masks to reveal fictional stories inspired by real-life events and beyond what one sees to see what others don’t. Images were created by Terry Check together with Midjourney.
