Game’s been here in US for more than a century and it’s a pity we still don’t have a credible US International team.
It was, as people said all day, approaching the 125th year of continual cricket at the field, once a portion of the Delafield estate but now owned by the city and known as Walker Park. The players who came out that day were not the British officers of yore, but Bangladeshi cabbies, Indian computer engineers and a Pakistani man who owns an auto-body shop. The Ladies’ Outdoor Amusement Club was not on hand to administer refreshments. Instead, there was D.J. Ralphie, of the so-called Chutney Bastards, blasting rowdy soca from a laptop.
“This is a momentous occasion,” said Clarence Modeste, president of the Staten Island squad. Mr. Modeste, a tall, slim man who is 80 and a native of Tobago, recognized the afternoon with a heartfelt introduction delivered to the teams, both dressed in their blazers and lined up facing one another on the field.
“We feel very strongly not only about our club,” Mr. Modeste said, “but also about our park. For us to have survived in the wandering world that is cricket in New York” — and here he shook his head above his microphone — “it is quite an amazing feat.”