Three Lord’s of London: 150 Tests in cricket’s great, complicated citadel | MCC

There are three Lord’s in London. The first is two meters below Dorset Square, next to Marylebone station, where a square meter flat with a single bed now costs £1,000. The second is buried beneath the Lisson Grove moorings on the Regents Canal, where canal boaters grow tomatoes along the towpath. And the third, today’s world-famous site, is two blocks away on Wellington Road, on a plot rented in the 19th century from the Eyre family, who made their money through wine and slavery. As long as there are ravens in the Tower, it will always be that way.

This week, Lord’s is holding its 150th Test. It was a late starter. Tests were played at Melbourne, Sydney, the Oval and Old Trafford before it was first held in July 1884, but it will become the first ground in the world to reach this centenary. The MCG comes next with 118. But much to the chagrin of every other corner of the country where they play Test cricket, Lord’s has had the advantage of hosting two matches every year this century. And because this is England, they’ve managed to trick the rest of us into thinking it’s us who have the privilege.

Because everyone wants to play at Lord’s. Even with the stuffy atmosphere, the haughty staff and stiff pitches, the shockingly expensive Test tickets, the stifling rules and the contiguous manner of popping corks in the posh seats at the back of the pavilion, it is still almost impossible for anyone who loves the game to walk into the place when a game is in progress without feeling a sense of childish excitement about the day ahead. Each other test is usually known by where it falls in the series: first, second, or third; only the Lord’s game is invariably called the name of the ground.

It’s the history that, I think, gives it the feeling that, as much as it’s all changed, Lord’s is a space where people have loved the same game for the last 200 years as you do now. At Lord’s you share the game not just with the thousands of people around you, but with the hundreds of thousands who were watching the great players of their time long before you were even born. Their heroes’ names are on the honor boards, their batons are in the museum, their books are in the library, their flags fly from the stands and their achievements are listed on the plaques around the grounds.

In the early years, Lord’s was a more precarious proposition than this air of sustainability would lead you to believe. It took entrepreneurship to turn the site into an existing business, and in the early years, when there was still an athletics track around the ground, there were almost as many pony races and stone-picking competitions as cricket matches. And it took money and influence to secure their corner forever. More than once the MCC had to be rescued by its wealthier members. Thomas Lord himself threatened to build houses on the outfield until he was bought off for £5,000.

Later in the century they had to forcibly move a girl’s orphanage as part of a deal that allowed the Manchester & Sheffield railway to tunnel under the Nursery. Those old red brick walls around the ground were built to protect against the encroachment of the city that surrounds them. Just a few years ago, the MCC was fighting a developer who wanted to sell the same tunnels out from under them.

They call it the home of cricket, but it’s not really unless you’re one of the few who pays dues. There are older sites, the Honorable Artillery Company operates one of just six stops along the Metropolitan Line, and there are easier sites: Surrey has one on the other side of the river. It is home to the MCC, which for 211 years has been fiercely defended against female members, staunch defenders, at various times in their history, against the inclusion of non-white players, and even now is proudly home to the annual meeting between Eton and Harrow.

Like Augusta National, it is the fiefdom of a private club that hosts a publicly beloved event. And for most of the 20th century, it ran pretty much everything else, too. The sport’s old headquarters would be a more accurate description of its role in the history of cricket. When, thank God, that role was finally taken away from them in 1993, the MCC lost an empire. Three decades later, it still feels like they’re looking for a role.

The executive leaders, often in constant battle with some of their members, have tried to find one. They have an excellent charity foundation, they organize the Army v Navy match, the Village Cup final and this year, for the first time ever, a state school cricket competition, the Knight-Stokes Cup, while the England and Wales Cricket Board is based in an office in the far corner. They organize tours for curious tourists. They even have their own professional team in the London Spirit.

And they are the caretakers of this grand old ground, on 17 hectares of the city reserved for our summer sports, and open again this week to anyone lucky enough to be able to afford it.

Five of the most memorable tests at Lord’s

England v Australia, 1896. England won by six wickets
WG Grace’s last test at Lord’s. The crowd was so close together that they spilled onto the playing field. Joe Darling couldn’t catch Stanley Jackson in the depths because the spectators were in the way. Australia were played for 53 pins in just 75 minutes on the first morning, but then made 347 in their second innings, leaving England needing 109 on a tricky pitch, sticky after an overnight rain. Wisden described their eventual victory as “sensational” and “stunning”.

England v Australia, 1930. Australia won by seven wickets
Don Bradman’s first Test at Lord’s. He scored 254, which he later described as “the best innings of my life”. England themselves scored 800 in two innings and still lost with a day to spare after Australia had scored 729 for six declared. Twenty-five years later, Neville Cardus of the Guardian chose it as the one game he would most like to see again: “This game could be laid in heaven, the Platonic idea of ​​cricket in perfection.”

England v West Indies 1963. Match drawn
It is best remembered as Colin Cowdrey’s match, although it could just as well have been Basil Butcher’s, who made the game’s only century, or Wes Hall, who bowled one of the great spells from the Pavilion End on the final afternoon. All four results were possible before the final ball, and England finished nine down with six needed to win, as Cowdrey, his broken arm pressed to his chest, watched from the non-striker’s end.

England v West Indies, 2000. England won by two wickets
Lord’s 100th Test and a turning point for two teams. West Indies took a 133-run lead in the first innings but slumped to 54 all out when 21 wickets fell on the second day. England only needed 188, but they had to make do against Curtly Ambrose and Courtney Walsh. It all came down to an unlikely eight-wicket stand between Dominic Cork and Darren Gough, who combined for 31 and recorded one of the smallest wins in the history of the field.

England v Australia, 2023. Australia won by 43 runs
A four-day play that could fill thousands of words. Steve Smith scored a hundred, Australia bounced England out and Nathan Lyon came into bat even though he could barely walk having torn a calf. Then Alex Carey stumped Jonny Bairstow as he wandered out of his turf and all hell broke loose. A scandal broke out in the Long Room as Stuart Broad openly ridiculed the Australians in the middle and Ben Stokes smashed a blistering 155.