We took three catches on Wednesday evening. Simon Pettit moved well at deep square-leg to hold on to the first, David Lewis at mid-on caught a very firmly hit shot, and then another crisp stroke directed the ball into my hands, where it stuck, low down at short-leg. My catch looked uncannily like the one on this world cup wine bottle. It was generously acknowledged by the bowler, by other close fielders and by spectators. But a voice from the deep dismissed it as ‘reflex’. It can be quite useful to have reflexes but it does raise an intriguing point: do we really follow the ball in such close catches or do we instinctively move our hands to a position as we watch the batsman play the stroke? I imagine much the same applies to batting against faster bowlers.

Anyway, it wasn’t the catch in the deep or the one up close which caught the imagination of everyone but it was the one in between, at mid-on. It was difficult, given how hard it was hit at the fielder, but its true star quality only emerged as we gathered around the catcher. David explained his shock by revealing that it was his first catch in any form of cricket! Given that he turns the ball prodigiously as a leg-spinner, throws in hard from the boundary and hits the ball with relish when batting in the nets, few if any realised that David (in his twenties) has hardly ever played cricket.

David’s cricketing education is only just beginning. He had to go, for example, before we announced the champagne moment, thus becoming the first winner in absentia. But for those of us who might be approaching our last few games or catches, it is quite a privilege to have been on the field with someone taking their first catch.

For some reason, it reminded me of a story the great athletics coach, Frank Dick, told us at a Carnegie staff development festival over a dozen years or so ago. A young girl asked him if he would watch her run a sprint for the first time on a track and offer some coaching advice. So he watched a bafflingly slow run and wondered what he could say but, I think his point was, there is always some way of encouraging anyone in their sport or wider life. She asked, ‘What did you think of that, sir?’ His reply was, ‘That’s your personal best.’ We all know now that this was David’s best ever catch. It wasn’t so long ago that he took his best ever wicket and scored his best ever run.

My best ever catch was over forty years ago but when each attempt might be your last ever catch, the gap between first, best and last catches is of vanishing significance. What matters is that the glow with which, according to Frank Dick, that girl left the athletics track is something which a team sport can magnify. Everyone enjoys being in a team which includes old hands and newcomers to the sport. It’s one of the reasons why the thrill of friendly club cricket, and not only of world cup final drama, is catching.