It’s Not Cricket

18th May 2024

I did not play for the Club. Nor was I a member. Nor, indeed, did I have any connection with it.

Nonetheless, one day last week, a year after it had permanently closed down, I paid my respects by visiting its former ground and taking a stroll around where the boundary used to be.

Poloc CC, situated on the south side of Glasgow, was founded in 1878 and resident at its Shawholm ground from 1880. Resident until 2023 that is, when it was announced that the landlord would be terminating the lease. The Club’s subsequent negotiations – with the landlord’s agents and the new tenant – led nowhere. It would have to leave. At a Special Meeting of the members, it was decided that Poloc CC would be dissolved on 30th April 2023.

1880: the construction of the Panama Canal begins; the Amateur Athletics Association is formed in Oxford; and WG Grace scores 152 for England against Australia at the Oval in the first home Test match.

The nearest railway station is Pollokshaws West, a 10 minute ride from Glasgow Central. This itself has a historical context. A blue plaque on the brick wall of the platform at which I arrived informed me that the station was opened as Pollokshaws in September 1848 by the Glasgow, Barrhead and Neilston Direct Railway. It is the oldest surviving station in Glasgow.

A cursory glance at the story might lead one to suppose that Poloc CC played on an inner-city site that was ripe for development as a housing complex or a retail park. Not so. The ground is – was – situated within Pollok Country Park, one of urban Britain’s finest open spaces. (Note to self: care needed with the different spellings).

The Club closed down with some style. Five of its spectators’ benches – suitably inscribed “Remember Shawholm, Remember Poloc”– were distributed to the other founder members of the Western District Cricket Union with others gifted to longstanding Club members.

It was on another bench – supplied by the Friends of Pollok Country Park – that I paused for a rest on my lap of the ground. In front of me was the path that stretched down one side of the playing area, a popular route with joggers and dog walkers. To my far left, behind a high fence, were the grounds of the Police Scotland Dog Training Centre; I doubted that many folk would ignore the prominent warning sign to “keep out”. Behind me, the gently drifting White Cart Water, into which – I guessed – one or two cricket balls might have been smote with long straight hits over the years.

The ground itself is framed by a series of tall mature trees, which would have provided the sense of an enclosed arena to those in action in the middle. The pavilion remains in place, now in use by the new tenant, its whitewashed façade in need of some refreshment. The entrance from the pavilion on to the playing area was down a slight slope, up which a tired boundary shot might have struggled to reach the sanctuary of the rope. Around the ground, the outer reaches of the former outfield had been roughly mown, the cut grass remaining loose on the undulating surface. On the far side, beyond the boundary, there was the rusted metal frame of one of cricket nets.

Of course, we know that nothing lasts forever. But we are still shocked when – whether through the actions of man or nature – something that had apparently seemed permanent is no more. For the generations of Club members and players, there will have been an obvious sense of loss and even despair.

However, even for those of us looking on from outside, there is a feeling of diminution. Economists speak of the “existence value” that we attach to something that we know to exist even if we might never see it for ourselves and of the intrinsic loss that occurs with its removal – as with the Sycamore Gap tree at Hadrian’s Wall, for example. I think that a long-established community cricket club – with an ethnic diversity of its membership and a vibrant junior section – falls into this category. (Somewhat ironically, the grounds of the former Poloc CC have their own sycamore tree, standing sentry near the path at the entrance. It is a beautiful sight and – thankfully – it is still standing).

The new tenant is a football academy that, according to its website, “strives to provide every young player the best experience to living their dream of becoming a professional footballer” (sic) by giving “the highest coaching to all age groups, both male and female”. As I prepared to head back to the railway station, I was passed by three young boys – smartly attired in the academy’s kit and with their backpacks no doubt carrying their boots and other essentials – as they headed towards the pavilion. Good luck to them.

From a general perspective, the change in the ground’s tenancy reflects two things, I think. The first is the lack of sentimentality to be found within the cold winds of market forces. A landlord seeks a higher rate of return: end of story.

Second, there is further confirmation – if it were needed – of the overwhelming dominance of one particular sport in the West of Scotland.

And it’s not cricket.