No Boundaries by Ronnie Irani

wanted to get away for the winter and play some cricket so that I was in good form ready for my new challenge. I decided I’d try to do both at the same time.
    Jack Simmons asked me to go up to Bowlers, his indoor cricket centre in Manchester, and said he’d been asked to recommend someone to play in New Zealand that winterand, if I wanted it, the job was mine. ‘There’s no real money in it,’ he said, ‘but they’ll pay your air fare, provide you with a place to stay and a car. The guy over there is Paul Lucas. I don’t know him but judging by his letters he seems a good bloke. He’ll give you some work and pay your expenses to do some kids’ coaching.’
    I said I’d love to take it and thanked Jack for thinking of me.
    He shook my hand and said, ‘I don’t want you to leave Old Trafford – you’ve got steel and you’re a good cricketer. However – and I shouldn’t say this because I’m on the committee – I think you are doing the right thing. Essex is a tip-top county and you’ll do well there.’ Jack was a proper Lancastrian, honest as the day is long.
     
    Within a couple of weeks, I was on my way to New Zealand. I’d drawn out all my £ 1,500 savings which got me around 4,000 New Zealand dollars and I planned to use it to sort out my injury problems. I was determined to make the most of the next few months to get myself in great nick before heading to Essex.
    Jack’s gut feeling about Paul Lucas was spot on. He’s a successful businessman with a lovely family. They live in Epsom, just outside the city of Auckland and he and his wife Tina invited me to stay with them. They had a daughter, Kate, who was at school, and two sons, Matt and Daniel, who were away at university. The family took me under their wing and I quickly settled into a home from home.
    Also on the trip with me was Joe Grant, a strapping West Indian fast bowler, who had played a bit for Jamaica and was later to join me at Essex after a stint in the Lancashire leagues. Joe’s a powerful man with a big heart and he and I enjoyed each other’s company. We had a great time coachingthe youngsters who were keen to learn. Joe’s only problem was that he had a short fuse and if he thought people were being awkward or racist he would let them have it. A West Indian face was quite a rarity in those parts so there were a few dodgy moments, such as the time we were out in town and a family stopped in their tracks and stared at Joe as though he had two heads. ‘What are you looking at?’ he snapped and started towards them. They high-tailed it out of there and I grabbed Joe and told him to forget it. ‘You’ve got to ignore people like that,’ I said. ‘You’ll only get yourself into trouble.’ He clearly wasn’t convinced and the next time we had hassle it wasn’t so easy to hold him back. And, if anything, I was ready to join him.
    It happened when we drove into a ground where we were due to play that afternoon and Joe parked in a spot near the pavilion. We started to get our gear out of the boot when a guy came over and shouted, ‘Hey, blackie, you can’t park there.’
    I saw Joe pick up a stump from his bag and just managed to grab his arm. Keeping him behind me, I said to the guy, ‘You are bang out of order. That’s just plain racist.’
    ‘Well, he can’t park there.’
    ‘Why? Because he’s black?’
    ‘That spot is for special people.’
    Joe was still behind me and I could feel that he was about to explode. ‘Look, pal,’ I said, ‘we’re playing here this afternoon. Is that special enough for you? Now I suggest, if you want to stay healthy, you get out of my face and stay out of it for the rest of the day, otherwise you’ll have two of us to deal with.’
    The guy slunk away.
    I said to Joe, ‘I know you’d like to kill him but, trust me,I’ve been there. He isn’t worth it. Wankers like that will get nowhere in life.’
    Joe gave me a half-smile. ‘Yeah, I trust you, Tiger. But it riles me. Now