Your author is utterly confused at what is happening in this photo of a recent cricket game at Marina Vista Park.

In the print issue of the Long Beach Post that is currently available at locations around the city, you’ll find an article in the Sports section with my thoughts on the spontaneous sporting events that pop up organically in the summer.

As I explained in that piece, one of my favorite things about Long Beach is the endlessly diverse sporting scene – particularly when the games organized out of passion and not institutions. From ultimate Frisbee and disc golf to skateboarding and pickup basketball, there is something going on somewhere when the sun is out. And I thought that I had covered them all.

Last weekend, my wife and I were taking a mid-day drive with no place to be in particular, and we began to head home. We took Colorado Street past Marine Stadium, because I used to wakeboard there with the CSULB Waterski team and I like to relive my brief athletic glory days.

As we passed by Marina Vista Park on this gorgeous, lightly breezy day, I noticed a large group of tall men in white outfits and pads playing a 360-degree game of baseball. For some reason, the first thing that I thought was, “Are they playing cricket?”

I have never seen a game of cricket in my life, and certainly didn’t expect to randomly stumble upon one in a beach community park. I pulled over half out of curiosity and half because I would have thought about it all day if I didn’t stop (and 100% because my wife said it was ok).

It was like in Jurassic Park when the scientists roll up in their Jeeps, see the Brachiosaurus for the first time and can’t believe their eyes. I wanted to walk up and touch it, but didn’t want to get too close and scare it off. So we sat just outside of the line that encircles the giant playing field and I tried to figure out the rules while my wife rolled around in the sunkissed grass.

So, basically, there is a batter just like in baseball, except he holds a paddle instead of a bat and rears it back behind his knees for an underhand swing. Meanwhile, the pitcher gets a super-long running start and then throws a bounce-pitch, which is then either deftly deflected or bashed like a hanging curveball depending on – I assume – the flavor of crumpets the batter enjoyed that morning. That’s about as far as I got. The batter doesn’t run when the ball is struck, and it seems like the fielders, of which there are many, are both all on the same team as the batter and not even on each other’s team at the same time.

Once in a while, the entire group will erupt into cheers inexplicably. Even the batter, you ask? Yes, even the batter. I think. There are multiple batters. (Don’t ask.)

At right: A dude in the background cheers. I don’t know why.

What I do know for sure is that you score four points if the ball is hit outside the aforementioned giant encircling line. I know this because a ball zipped right past our basking spot and I just watched it roll into the street and oncoming traffic. Was I supposed to stop the ball, I wondered? Well, I certainly didn’t want to stop it if I wasn’t supposed to. So I let it roll and the poor bizarro-outfielder ran into the street to fetch it while I watched and smiled like this was all perfectly normal.

“What’s that mean?” I asked him.

“Four points,” he said.

“Oh, gotcha,” I said. But I did not get him. Who scored four points? The batter or the fielders? ARE YOU ALL ON THE SAME TEAM? And is it good to score four points? Maybe they play in multiples of fifty. Maybe it’s like golf and the lowest score wins. I’m sorry, are you all on the same team?

Who are these people? How do they all know each other? Is this just a random pickup game? Did they all grow up playing cricket and somehow find each other to organize a weekly match? Or is there a secret, underground cricket league with elaborate scheduling and a playoff format and a giant trophy that’s operating right under our noses? Can I play?

At right: The entire 360-degree playing field. WHAT DOES IT MEAN???

I don’t know who won, but eventually the game ended on a what looked like a mundane, uneventful pitch deflection. There was much cheering, and I smiled. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and ignorant is a great way to describe me on that day. They all looked so pleased, maybe for the victory (somebody won, right?), but I liked to imagine that they were so happy simply with the thrill of competition and sport. Whether you know the rules or not, you can always recognize people enjoying athletics together. It was the most pure sporting event that I have seen in some time.

I could easily Google the rules of cricket and – after a few hours of reading and watching YouTube videos – learn everything about the game. Then I would understand and could carry myself around with the acquired knowledge.

But that would spoil the fun, so I think I’ll take a different route. It will be much more interesting to absent-mindedly show up again and try to figure it out on my own, continuing to pepper that outfielder with questions until he invites me to join. Maybe I’ll see you out there.

Here’s to summer.