Top positive review
The best non-cricket cricketing auto on the market.
28 December 2018
Sounds kinda weird yeah? Well I must confess that I enjoyed this book, even if I never appreciated the 'Pring' as a player - seeing him, perhaps unfairly, of being a living example of the class system that still reigns supreme. However, his bonhomie and wit have won me over, even if I fail to see the charms that attracted his legions of female admirers. Truly, at one stage I thought I was reading the memoirs of Lemmy or Zodiac Mindwarp, rather than that of a Chelmsford legend, as the rancid pages give off a smell that can only be described as something resembling a used cricket box, after seven hours exposure to a scorching Sri Lankan sun - such is the depravity on show. Is it any wonder, I muse over a cup of tea, that England were rubbish in the 80s, given the activities they got up to in their spare time? That said, Pring comes over as a decent sort, with his rebellious nature being natural rather than forced. It was refreshing to read an England international into music that goes beyond Phil Collins, although I hardly think that Husker Du and the Meat Puppets are that alternative (the band 'Government Issue' of the time were much better). If you are reading this Pring, me old mucker, get in touch for some music tips! The book, although based around his cricket career, is probably at its best when he meanders into different subjects, such as surviving the heat or the slightly odd behaviours of team mates, be they Phil Edmonds or Derek Randall, men for whom the word eccentric only tells half the story. Pring is good when describing the seam bowling techniques of the 1980s and I now realise that Chris Woakes, for one, could do with reading this book, as one cannot help but notice he has the same non-confrontational side to his character that the laid back Pringle has. In short, a decent book that makes the reader think he has the author on his shoulder, such is the authentic 'voice' that Pring has created.