Simon Hughes (1) (1959–)

I had never heard of Simon Hughes before reading "A lot of hard yakka". Interesting chap, with an interesting look into the life and career of a non-elite cricketer that doesn't reach the levels he'd dreamt of.

Hughes does well to write honestly about the ups and downs of county cricket, how it affected his personal life and vice versa. It makes a pleasant change from the usual ghost written autobiography that goes no further than the usual "in the match against Glamorgan I scored 36 and took 2/38 ..."

This is not the best cricket autobiography I have read (that title currently goes to "According to Skull" by Kerry O'Keefe) but it is worth a read (as opposed to Hughes's follow-up "Yakking all over the world", which was very second rate).… (mere)

Hughes's first book, "A lot of Hard Yakka", is one of the best cricket books I've read; a very good description of the good-but-not great cricketers' lives. In that book Hughes was very frank about the issues he faced throughout his career and the good and bad times.

"Yakking around the world", on the other hand, is the obvious result of good sales figures for "A lot of Hard Yakka" and the rsulting suggestion by the publishing company for some sort of sequel.

Thus, we get Hughes talking about his sexual exploits during his career; none overly interesting but I felt glad that he finally met someone because I knew the end of the book was nigh.… (mere)

I bought this book on the strength of its reviews and reputation, looking for some insight into the heroically unglamorous life of the county cricketer. I was disappointed that what I got was mostly a string of rather predictable 'humorous' anecdotes about some of the personalities in the game during the time Hughes played it. The insights, when they come, are mostly petty is-it-any-wonder grumbles about the administration of English cricket or fatuous one-line observations like "Ultimately, professional cricket is entertainment, a spectacle with performers." I considered putting it to one side about a third of the way through, but did read to the end. I wish now I'd spent that time finding another, better book on the subject. Measured against a book like Dean Wareham's Black Postcards -- another memoir of a unstarry career in a field obsessed with stars -- Hughes's account is both lightweight and a long, repetitive slog.… (mere)