A Seaside Sojourn: Three Days at Scarborough Cricket Club

Scarborough is one of the last few out grounds to hold a place in County Championship fans’ imaginations. Many will tell you of the smiles that cross their faces when they discover, upon the release of a fixture list for a new season, that their club will be hosted by Yorkshire on this storied ground once graced by Don Bradman. As an avid listener to the BBC’s Championship radio coverage, I have heard many an away commentator describing the charm of the place with a chorus of seagulls squawking away in the background. It was with some excitement, then, that I boarded the first of several trains that would take me on the long journey to the north-east coast for days two, three, and four of Yorkshire’s late July 2025 contest against Surrey.

A wet outfield prevented any play before 1pm on day two. Thanks to the lengthy train journey, I arrived just after

proceedings had got underway. As you walk in through the North Marine Drive entrance, the ground – hidden behind a long row of tall terraces as you approach – opens up and offers a cheering view to the weary traveller. A healthy crowd fills out old rows of aging wooden benches and the pastel blue stands that have the appearance of a cricket stadium as imagined by Wes Anderson. A helpful sign informs you that you are 69.1 miles from Headingley and 190 from Lord’s. Some of the hallmarks of a northern seaside town are here, with the tearoom, the chip van, and the many B&Bs that overlook the ground on two sides.

A group of about five grey, juvenile seagulls occupy one corner of the ground about 20 metres in from the tearoom. They are extremely reluctant to move, only waddling, or, if absolutely necessary, flapping low to the ground for very short distances when fielders approach. Feathers they have moulted litter the grass just to the right of the bowler’s run-up from the Trafalgar Square end.

The ominous grey clouds that have been bearing down on the ground all afternoon unleash their long-threatened deluge around 3pm. They do not let up for quite some time and no further play is possible. A few dedicated fans stick around until it is clear all hope is lost, huddling in the few covered areas available. I manage to pick up a few bargains at a sale of second-hand cricket books being held in the slightly rickety old structure reminiscent of a lock-up garage which also plays host to the main public bar.

Day three starts much more promisingly, the weather is set fair and the cricket is entertaining. Yorkshire pile on the runs before declaring for 517. Matt Revis shells the coffee stand on the west side of the ground with sixes off Surrey’s Sai Kishore, leaving many wishing they had opted for the watery Nescafe available in the tearoom rather than risking a fractured skull for a flat white. A pleasant morning and afternoon ensue, in which Surrey attempt to chip away at Yorkshire’s first innings total accompanied by a ceaseless seagull symphony. This comfortable peace is shattered midway through the afternoon by the sound of gunfire coming from outside the ground. This, it transpires, does not come from invaders storming Scarborough’s beaches but from nearby Peasholm Park where, three times a week during the summer, large model battleships vie for supremacy over the park’s lake in the ‘Battle of Peasholm’.

With the exception of the food, which is awful (cheesy chips involves melting two cheese singles onto a portion of soggy potatoes in a microwave), and the pitched battle taking place down the road, everything moves along

quite nicely once the worst of the weather has passed. Thanks to the rain, the Kookaburra ball, and a pitch that offers very little to bowlers, this match never looks like resulting in anything but a draw. With little in the way of tension on offer, one falls into that contented stupor that only a plodding four-day match can deliver. It would be very easy to believe that all is well here.

But, despite Scarborough hosting two Championship matches and a handful of Yorkshire’s white ball fixtures in 2025, there are serious problems at North Marine Drive. The first indication of this comes at the gate when you are relieved of £33/day for entry. This is roughly double what one can expect to pay at most county grounds, although those who can make it to enough of the cricket to be played here can opt to become members of the club for the cost of £105. There is a clear economic logic behind these prices, with Scarborough Cricket Club needing every penny they can get their hands on following six-figure losses in 2024.

While the large crowds seen throughout the Surrey match might appear to be indicative of a club in rude health, this appearance of robustness is only surface level. Much like the century-old stands at the Peasholm Park end of the ground, the club has structural issues. Scarborough CC’s President, Bill Mustoe, is interviewed by the BBC team covering the match and defends the high ticket prices as a necessary consequence of the rising costs of hosting professional cricket and a way of offsetting last year’s losses and the £45k spent on specialist scaffolding to hold up those crumbling stands.  He describes a club concerned for its future as an out-ground, with the expectation that a reduction in Championship fixtures would see Yorkshire opt to play most or all of their home fixtures at Headingley. He hopes that some of the financial windfall Yorkshire will see from the sale of their Hundred franchise will trickle down to Scarborough to help keep the lights on but offers no comment on the rumours that the county club will buy North Marine Road save that there should be greater clarity by the end of the year.

The loss of Yorkshire fixtures at Scarborough, which have been held consistently since the mid-19^th century, would be a great shame. At 7,000 its capacity exceeds that of seven full county grounds and, if this match is indicative of typical attendance, it can draw greater numbers for Championship cricket than many of the Test stadiums. Like a body drawing blood from its extremities to its vital organs as life ebbs away, the gradual decline in out-ground cricket feels like the beginning of the end for the Championship as we know it as the touring county teams of old retreat to their main grounds to keep costs down and survive a little longer.

Towards the end of the morning session on day four, one of the flock of baby seagulls learns to fly properly. It takes off, clumsily flapping at first but gaining more altitude than it or any of its siblings has managed in the preceding days. It circles the ground, swooping low over its kindred a few times before it catches its first thermal. Wings still now, it lets the summer breeze lift it and is soon receding over the houses off to the west. I lose sight of it as lunch is called, and the players walk off for what hopefully won’t be one of the last times.