The Grade Cricketer by Sam Perry and Ian Higgins

Few books manage to balance satire, affection, and existential despair quite like The Grade Cricketer, a fictional autobiography-esque piece that distils the full absurdity of amateur cricket culture. Written by Sam Perry and Ian Higgins, the creators behind the viral Twitter persona and hit podcast of the same name, the book expands their short-form wit into a surprisingly rich comic narrative. What begins as a collection of locker-room anecdotes quickly evolves into a darkly funny exploration of identity, masculinity, and the fragile pursuit of relevance through sport.

The book (I was going to say novel here, but that doesn’t quite work either) follows our grade cricketer, a self-proclaimed “everyman” of the Australian grade cricket circuit, who views life entirely through the warped prism of the game. His obsession with statistics, status, and self-image reflects the peculiar blend of delusion and hope that defines so many semi-professional athletes. The reality of his situation in the club land is much more humble that the delusions of grandeur: mid-order collapses, fading promise, and endless post-match drinking rituals with teammates known only by monosyllabic nicknames. Beneath the comedy lies something uncomfortably real, it’s a study of men who measure their worth through competition long after the dream has died.

Perry and Higgins write with an insider’s ear for the language and rhythms of the dressing room. Their dialogue captures the bravado and thinly veiled insecurity that coexist in male sporting environments, while their prose toggles deftly between farce and melancholy. What makes The Grade Cricketer so effective is its refusal to idealise the game it skewers. Cricket, in this world, is both sacred and ridiculous. A source of meaning and a symptom of arrested development. Each character’s endless self-interrogation about fitness, form, and fleeting glory becomes a kind of tragicomedy, one familiar to anyone who has ever clung too tightly to a passion that no longer loves them back.

The humour is biting, often crude, but rarely over the top. It draws on a deep understanding of the rituals and hierarchies that govern club sport: the senior players who never retire, the unspoken codes of selection politics, and the way masculinity is reinforced through mockery and silence. Yet amid the satire, the authors allow for moments of tenderness. Strained relationships with fathers, misfired attempts at romance, and the occasional flashes of self-awareness lend emotional ballast to the comedy. The result is a narrative that feels both specific to cricket and universally human.

The Grade Cricketer owes much to the confessional mode popularised by writers such as Nick Hornby. The voice is arch and self-lacerating, simultaneously aware of its absurdity and unable to escape it. Perry and Higgins exploit that contradiction with precision, transforming niche sporting experience into a commentary on male identity in contemporary culture.

Ultimately, The Grade Cricketer stands as more than a comedy about sport. It is a wry, unflinching portrait of modern masculinity, performed through the rituals of cricket but resonating far beyond the boundary rope. Beneath its swagger lies a poignant truth: that every game, like every life, is a battle between aspiration and acceptance.

Reviewer: Chris Reed

Allen & Unwin