Seagulls 47 for 0 chips at lunch on day one

It was the scene of my first ever match, a John Player Sunday League game. Essex amassed an eye-watering 152 for 8 off their 40 overs, Brian Ward making 45 and Keith Fletcher a slow 33. In reply, Yorkshire reached 122 for 5 after 29.4 overs. Boycott made 41 and Jack Hampshire 27, when the rain came down. Essex won by virtue of a better scoring rate.

Fast forward to 1987 and there I was, holding hands with my soon-to-be wife on the back row of the North Stand. I am not sure who Yorkshire were playing. And yes, she is still a cricket widow!

Those memories came flooding back with that familiar feeling of excitement as I pushed my rather fat frame through the creaky turnstiles next to the Scarborough CC office. And then bang. The view, the salty smell of the sea, the sense of anticipation. No ground in the world, to this day, has ever given me the same tingly sense of excitement each time I visit on day one. It is a magnificent amphitheatre of cricketing legends, a place where even the seagulls seem to glide a little slower in appreciation of this magnificent Yorkshire out ground.

This time, however, there was a shadow over the ground.

The North Stand, long a favourite of the faithful, stood silent and fenced off, condemned and out of action. Only fifteen members of the press and media corps were allowed inside, perched in isolation like rare birds in a protected habitat. But when YCCC General Manager Gavin Hamilton climbed up to the radio comms box to talk to the BBC’s Jonathan Doidge, I reckon there were 16 people. I decided not to call the Health and Safety Executive.

Yet, for all that, the absence of the stand did nothing to dampen the spirit of Scarbados. The members and the reasonably sized crowd simply shifted, adapted and carried on as normal. The same hubbub and buzz. The outfield looked immaculate, lush and smooth, the kind of surface that makes fielders dive even when they do not need to. John Dodds and his team delivering another cracker of a strip – surely more awards as Best Outfield Groundsman of the Year coming his way…

By 12.30, above the Popular Terrace, the sky was thick with seagulls – a bit earlier than usual. Forty-seven of them at one point, circling with the precision of the Warwickshire slip cordon. They were not there for the cricket. They were there for the chips. One unlucky spectator dropped a portion and three gulls dive-bombed immediately. It was a scene from the Battle of the Dinner Plate, Peasholm Park style, if just a tad early.

Around the ground, the bars after their refurb were doing steady business, the ice-cream van serving 99s just one short of a century and the coffee van pumping out flat whites and americanos to keep the growing crowd fuelled. The brief burst of rain was shrugged off in typical Yorkshire fashion: a minor inconvenience, not a disruption.

Meanwhile, supporters rummaged through piles of surplus cricket clothing from all corners of the world. India World Cup shirts, South Africa shorts, a stray Sri Lanka warm‑up top and even a Pakistan training bib that looked like it had seen a tour or two.

From there, the hum from the marquee in the corner grew louder as the afternoon session wore on. Sir Geoffrey enjoying his lunch, ‘Bumble’ buzzing to the sound of clinking glasses. The excitement amongst the happy guests clearly “intents…..”

On the field, though, the day belonged to Will Luxton. His maiden century was greeted with a roar that rolled around the bowl, a moment of pure joy that felt like the start of something significant in Will’s journey as a “new” Yorkshire opener. Calm, composed and full of class, it was the sort of innings that makes a crowd feel privileged to be present. Even the barista paused mid-steam to watch the final few strokes.

At lunch and tea, that sense of occasion spilled beyond the ropes as the ground transformed into a living museum of Yorkshire cricket. Spectators were allowed onto the field of play and suddenly the outfield was full of children playing impromptu matches, diving around with the enthusiasm of future county stars. Old men turned their arms over, reliving the days when they took part in the Yorkshire Cricket Festival of 1978, convinced they still had one more over in them. Families strolled the boundary and everyone seemed to be part of something bigger than a single day’s cricket.

And, as if to tie the whole day together, there were the seagulls again: stealing chips, eyeing ice creams, and reminding everyone that Scarborough is a place where cricket and coastal chaos coexist beautifully. From Luxton’s landmark innings to the chatter on the terraces and the gulls circling above, Scarbados had once again delivered in all its glory.