PROLOGUE
‘…cricket can be a unifier or divider…It is up to us.’ (Mike Marqusee, 1997).
This is a story about a piece of turf that entranced me throughout my childhood years. In the mid-1960s, my father and I walked across the bridge from Prince Edward Street (now Dr Goonam), turned right, and wended our way to my old man’s Old Lady. Kingsmead.
Grass. Picket fences. Everything in its place. And so were we. Near
