Cricket on Ice, the most prestigious annual event in the domestic Swiss cricketing calendar, takes place on the lake of St Moritz every February.
Cricket on Ice in St Moritz is a sensational experience, attracting cricket enthusiasts (some international players, some high-flying business people) from all over the world. The event provides teams the opportunity to participate in the most prestigious annual event in the Swiss cricketing calendar in an atmosphere of fun and sporting brilliance.
It also provides businesses with an exceptionally unique platform for communication, networking and, of course, business. Your team and your brand will shine in the extraordinary setting of the mountains, sun & sport.
The picturesque Swiss resort of St Moritz is famous for the beauty of its ski slopes and the Adrenalin rush of the Cresta Run. But for sheer quirkiness, few sport events can beat the February cricket festival on the ice and snow on the frozen lake.
It would be a pleasure to welcome you to St. Moritz, to offer you a chair in the sun from where you can watch a cricket match & enjoy delicious refreshments in the champagne climate of St Moritz.
Please get in touch with the organising committee if you have any questions.
Cricket on Ice – St. Moritz style.
(Recited at the Gala Dinner on 18.2.2023 by the author)
‘We play it on ice’ he announced, as if this
Was normal. I thought he was taking the piss.
For cricket on ice is of course round the twist,
Which only a nutter would do if not pissed.
‘We have a booze tent on the ice’ he made known,
The whole situation then clearer, I’d grown
To think they were high on something for sure,
And this then explained the whole reason, and more.
I smiled at him thinly while backing away,
Yet watching him closely for though he might say
His friends too were ‘normal’, I thought them insane,
Just like the damned cricket he mentioned again.
Imagine the scene where these loonies cavort
In some frigid melee which they then purport
To make any sense of a game of that sort,
While claiming it somehow is some kind of sport!
Delusion of self is the first step to hell,
Playing cricket on ice surely proves you’re not well,
There is a condition that is medic’ly true,
Altitude, ice and alcohol. I told him that’s YOU.
He railed at such statement and claimed others too,
Would join in this madness as players, some few
Stood out in the freezing ice cold all the day,
He said they were ‘Umpires’. What more need I say!
These high priests of lunacy cannot deny,
For them it is too late and I know just why,
They revel in mustering others like sheep,
Their lust for such power is quite plainly so deep.
With finger aloft like a Caesar in Rome,
Despatching some minion to slouch off alone,
They claim they apply just the rules but I see,
This stark meg’lomania cannot fool me!
The hotels still welcome these nutters so they
Must know something I don’t, most others would say,
This tournament looks like them hosting a farce,
A parade of the lost. Heads up their dumb arse!
So, you will be asking, just why do I come,
If I think them bonkers my presence for some,
Is plain hypocritical. Ah but you see,
I’ve too been infected … the madness got ME!
Thurs. 24.2.2022. 2.44 – 4.05 pm.
(Recited at the Gala Dinner on 19.2.2022 by author John Seymour)
What sound as stirs the summer air comes drifting o’er these fields,
Which strong yet ancient murmur holds our faith and never yields
To shallow changes, ever fly such passing fancies though
They cannot quell this flame still bright which generations know.
As holds this insight written clear while memories return
To colour thoughts of hallowed days and cause old hearts to yearn
For carefree youth. In later years, this passion stays the same,
To hold this truth indelible … Play up - and play the game!
Across this teeming, calloused world this beacon stands to set
Such standards as may serve us all if they can still be met,
Where others strive to better us but where respect remains
Though fierce the fight, to lose this faith is never worth such gains.
So what is this which leaves such mark throughout the lives of all
Who pass through ways so various to answer this fond call,
From village green to urban sprawl, in thronging city’s maw,
On dusty streets or sun baked sands, though privileged or poor.
This game. This Cricket game. This yearning widely held
In many lands as then unite and by this joining meld
Into a brotherhood intense ignoring race or creed,
This common bond of bat and ball. In mind. In heart. In deed.
So when you pass by random chance some fools in flannels who,
Engaged in playing seem remote from your world, know it’s true,
That those in white where ‘ere they be are by tradition bound
To uphold all that went before by our forefathers found.
Not just a game. A guide to life. For all to strive toward.
To face a paceman, courage writ upon a dumb score board,
These are the measures of a man or woman lately too,
And so my friend, this is the test ~ that Cricket asks of …. You?
V’s 1-3. Wed. 19.2.2014. V’s 4 – 7. Sun. 21.2.2014. 11.10 - 12.45pm.