Window-gate: The Matthew Prior Incident

Roy Harper sung mornfully: “When the day is done, and the ball has spun, in the umpire's pocket away” in his hymnal ballad ‘When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease’. It is a song about death. This rain-punctured England vs. Sri Lanka series was a listless purgatory in which gallant men waited, padded-up, for an umpires’ inspection. Indeed, if Sri Lanka hadn’t collapsed inexplicably on the last day in Cardiff when everybody’s backs were turned, this fifteen-day series would have been a no-score draw; even a dull result for the Pools coupon.

What was the only moment worth reflection? Not Pietersen’s rediscovered mojo. Not another serene Cook half-century.  Not a man dressed as a banana at the Rose Bowl. No, of course it was Matthew Prior’s vandalism at the Home of Cricket. The knee-jerk name circulated was 'Windowgate'; an incident shrouded in a Baker Street smog of mystery with frightened witnesses, conspiracies, subterfuge and a prevailing mafia omerta code of silence.

So, my dear Watson, the game is afoot and we must pursue the facts: man embarks on an innings, man finds himself in the midst of a savage run-pursuit, man is inelegantly run out, man re-enters the famous orange-brick bastion of Englishness which is the Lords Pavilion. Man brutishly puts a window through. It shatters over the MCC members’ area below, but our only victim is a poor lady (‘Since when?’ MCC grave-turners slather deliriously) whose ankle is cut by a shard of glass. (‘Glass of Chardonnay?’ MCC phantoms guffaw).

Blowers labled the act: ‘immaturity’, Aggers tweeted uncontrollably, and Graeme Swann threatened to ‘fist-fight’ anyone who blamed Prior. Then the ECB entered the circus and immediately assumed the mantle of ringmaster, whipping up a bizarre mix of statements that made less sense than elephants balancing on small, circular podiums. For it turned out that Prior had thrown a batting glove which set off a complicated chain reaction, resulting in a bat falling against a window. This sounded implausible, like the England changing room had been carefully rigged like an enormous themed version of the board game, Mousetrap. The official memo should have read:

‘The ECB regret to inform that when Matthew Prior entered the pavilion and threw his glove down, it caused Jonathan Trott’s boot to hit a ‘Stop’ sign, which in turn prompted Ian Bell to dive into a bath-tub, triggering a cage to descend onto a row of bats, which inevitably smashed the window.’ However, even the board game seldom reached a conclusion that satisfied either onlookers or participants.

Then, suddenly, the domino-effect theory was ditched and in its place we had Prior ‘placing’ his bat against the window ledge and the handle hitting a pressure point on the glass, playing on the fact that it is widely known that a tiny plastic mallet can, indeed, break a train window. An ugly apology of sorts ensued: the captain paraded Prior in front of the MCC in his wicket-keeping gear like a guilty Ned Kelly wearing anti-masturbation gloves. His mere presence may have been an unnecessary nuisance to such stead-fast traditionalists; akin to Gentlemen enduring, with a grimace, a Player circling amongst their ranks at tea-time. To them, Prior might have seemed like an uncouth West Country labourer keeping wicket for The Barley Mow XI, with a can of Ruddles County nestling behind him in the dandelions. But at least an apology signalled guilt. Or perhaps he was explaining to them the Law of Gravity.