Um - the UK thing is exxagerated.

The paranoia definitely exists here, at least out in suburbia. You don't see kids playing baseball anymore unless they're wearing uniforms. I have had arguments about it with the wife of one of my best friends. She is adamant about not letting her kids out unsupervised.

Yes, but somebody always got picked last (e.g. me).

Ooo, me too, Angus! In fact, most of my best friends were similarly traumatised as kids.

Ditto on seatbelts too Fiona, they came in as an 'option' or 'add-on' in Australia in the mid to late 60's. In 'sports-mad' Australia, the 'being picked last' thing certainly felt like a hangable offence at times.

Edited to make sense.

You forgot, "We had no child seats in our cars; in fact, we sat on the armrest that folded down in the middle of the back seat, thus giving us unimpeded flight into the front windscreen in event of an accident."

I remember going on long road trips with my best friend's family. The seats in the station wagon folded down so that the entire back became this holding pen where we kids could rattle around, play games, get in fights, take naps, and so on. So much more fun than being strapped into individual seats in a minivan while watching a video with the sound piped in through headsets.

One of the things I love about my neighborhood is that the kids do go out and play in the streets and alleys after school. Usually one or two adults will be out sitting on the stoop or lounging in the back yard, keeping an eye on things.

I agree with DX-- I don't think kids are allowed outside unsupervised until they are 14 or so, at least in middle income areas.

Um - the UK thing is exxagerated.

Sorry Jim, I should have specified that this was just a theory I heard advanced by one person. (Peter Roebuck, incidentally--not exactly a Daily Mail correspondent, but still, just one person.)

I remember going on long road trips with my best friend's family. The seats in the station wagon folded down so that the entire back became this holding pen where we kids could rattle around, play games, get in fights, take naps, and so on. So much more fun than being strapped into individual seats in a minivan while watching a video with the sound piped in through headsets.

When there were just five kids in our family, we still had an old '59 Rambler, which had a huge back seat that my dad put a piece of plywood on to turn it into a holding pen for long trips. Later, when my mom had another child, my dad finally gave in and got us a Volkswagen bus. My favorite car ever.

I am not nostalgic for the days of no car seats though, because my three year old sister once managed to open the front passenger door of the Rambler while we were traveling at high speed on Rt. 46 in Totowa (The Jerseyites will know where that is). I grabbed her by the back of the collar as she started to fall out of the car, and pulled the door shut. My mom was white as a ghost. That was when I really understood the reason for the child proof locks in the back seat.

It was so nice to see herds of free range kids up in New Hampshire -- some places, they still do "allow" it, not so common in the middle class suburbs here.

Yes, but somebody always got picked last (e.g. me).

Ah, this leads in to one of my proudest sporting moments. I too was always picked last on any sporting occasion, and rightly so. (Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration. I actually did pretty well in defensive positions in games like soccer and water polo - I have pretty fast reflexes. But on the whole, can't argue with their choice.) Now, while I was in the freak-ass church, we had a singles' weekend in Wagga Wagga. Lots of young singles attended from rural NSW, and there were four of us from Canberra too.

One activity in which we indulged was indoor cricket. This game is faster-paced than the full-field variety. It's played inside an enclosure, so the ball can't travel too far in any direction; and getting out doesn't actually send you off, it deducts five runs instead. Four teams were picked, and we four from Canberra were the last to be chosen. And of us four, I was the last of all.

So, again, rightly so. I'm crap at cricket. Or at least, so it would usually be. But this time things went a little differently. I'm watching the teams play, and an interesting point struck me: if the runner started running as soon as the ball was bowled, the fielders on pretty much every team were too slow to get anyone out. While the other teams were waiting to hit the ball before they tried anything, suddenly our team was making a run with every delivery. The others caught on eventually of course, and started trying the same thing; but we'd already built a match-winning lead.

Ok, so that didn't have much to do with my sporting prowess. But it was at least one occasion where a team was happy to get the last pick.

the equipment seems really expensive and the pace very slow.

[link]

£20 for all you need. As to the slowness, Flashman answers that:

"When the boy's a man and he has to crouch all day under the Afghan sun, he'll be glad of the practice!"

A village cricket match on a sunny day with a picnic and some beer is one of life's great pleasure.