Post #100. It arrived quietly, as milestones tend to when you’re not watching for them. No fanfare, no countdown—just another morning, another blank page, another cup of tea. A third of the way through the 365-day commitment. Still here. Still turning up.
The week started busy, and it’s getting busier. World Cup football, Open Championship golf, the north west of England in full view—the pining for a 10.30 pm pint in bright daylight. I wish. I wish. Oh, and a sojourn to Bali, possibly.
So I missed yesterday’s post—A Free Customer—being the one. It snuck through to the keeper..
In cricket, when it comes to hundreds, the sport absorbed an existing convention rather than inventing a new one. "Century" was already English shorthand for "a hundred of something.” Pounds, runs, lashes of the birch, whatever—long before the sport formalised it in the 1800s.
No one legislated it. It’s not in the Laws of Cricket as “the milestone.” Nobody decreed that centuries would define a career. What made it stick was scarcity, not decree. Back then, pitches were rough and uncovered, skills were unrefined—getting to a hundred was genuinely hard. Like it felt when you were a junior and a hundred seemed like a thousand.
I made my share. Just not enough. Maybe I’ll tell you about them soon!
Nick
I think we would all like that, but maybe I’m selfish.
🏏