Lord's: the antidote to a dystopian future?

With the world seemingly stuck on fast-forward, the return of county cricket this week gave me some much needed respite from the madness.

At 45, it’s happened sooner than I would have predicted, but just like my parents, who in the 1980s and 90s, gawped open-mouthed at the mind-blowing power of the ZX Spectrum and the sorcery of the Sony Discman, I, too, now find myself at a technological crossroads. Amazed and confused. Increasingly yearning for the simple comforts of the past while scrambling to adapt to the rapidly changing landscape of the future.

Continuously hounded by algorithms, blockchains, crypto and deepfakes, by the time I figure out what they are, there will be alternative jargon in their place, another language to learn, a new season of Black Mirror to embrace. The world has never moved faster and trying to make sense of an environment that feels evermore designed for a younger generation can often feel overwhelming and disorientating. While the endearing scene of my six-year-old nephew explaining features of my phone to me is undeniably cute, it’s also a little concerning.

Last Friday, this general mood of uncertainty and unease was further heightened by my social media feed’s staunch refusal to show me anything other than news of an impending global meltdown due to Donald Trump’s tariffs.

Thankfully, an antidote was at hand…

Rather than continue to be consumed by digital doom, instead I made my way to NW8 to gently wrap myself in the warm embrace of Lord’s Cricket Ground for the opening day of the 2025 Rothesay County Championship season (my first as an ECB accredited journalist). The pause button had been located and the relentless dystopian march momentarily ceased.

I’ve always found stepping through the North Gate and into the Nursery ground a transportive, era-hopping experience. In an age where bland modernity has taken over so much of the UK’s creaking sporting architecture, it’s rare to find a revamped stadium that still retains a true sense of its heritage. Take Wembley, all its old-world charm lost in its transformation into a gleaming, steel-and-glass colossus – regardless of its impressive stature, rather than English football’s spiritual home it feels like just another soulless identikit stadium.

Many of England’s Test venues have undergone so many facelifts they barely resemble the grounds of 1990s let alone those steeped in centuries of folklore, yet Lord’s stands alone as a proud anomaly. As soon as you walk onto the premises you can’t help but feel the weight of history and tradition hang in the air. Despite the addition of numerous modern structures, Lord’s remains coherent, and without question, the most sacred and beautiful place in the world to watch cricket.

While the three Test venues I visited in New Zealand last winter will always be held dear, being at the home of cricket and observing the game (albeit low-quality Div 2 fare) from the world famous media centre was a different level. A very special way to kick-off the new season.

As well as enjoying the unrivalled views, facilities and catering (outstanding lemon drizzle) it was also nice to catch up with a few familiar faces. My Wisden editors Yas Rana and Ben Gardner were there as well as NZ touring pals Cam Ponsonby, Hector Vickers and the big dog himself, Michael Atherton (sans snot-rag!).

In addition to the numerous journalists, day one also saw a more than healthy smattering of punters, 4,257 to be exact. For a long-form enthusiast such as myself it was heartening to see so many others enjoying the quiet, unhurried rhythms of the four-day game. Granted, many of the champagne-swigging patrons in their stripped blazers, ties and socks looked close to expiration, but it didn’t fail to reinforce my view that not everything needs to be supercharged or AI powered.

Amid the ongoing rush of progress and change, English county cricket, largely frozen in time, still manages to stand as a testament to the simple pleasure of slowing down and being present. A rare space where the future can be put on hold, and in that stillness, we find a remedy to the unstoppable chaos that surrounds us.