Cricket on Ice

Cricket on Ice, the premier annual event in the Swiss cricketing calendar, takes place every February on the frozen lake of St. Moritz. 

Cricket on Ice, St Moritz

This remarkable event draws cricket enthusiasts, including international players and high-profile business professionals, from around the globe. Participants have the opportunity to compete in an atmosphere of both enjoyment and sporting excellence.


The event also offers a unique platform for businesses to engage in communication, networking, and brand promotion. Your team and brand will stand out against the stunning backdrop of mountains, sunshine, and sport.

A view across the cricket field and the lake at Cricket on Ice 2019 (14-16.2.2019)
A view across the cricket field and the lake at Cricket on Ice 2019 (14-16.2.2019)

The picturesque Swiss resort of St. Moritz is renowned for its stunning ski slopes and the adrenaline rush of the Cresta Run. However, few sporting events can match the distinctive charm of the February cricket festival, held on the frozen lake amidst the ice and snow.

We would be delighted to welcome you to St. Moritz, where you can enjoy a cricket match from a sunny vantage point while savouring exquisite refreshments in the champagne climate of this renowned resort.

Please get in touch with the organising committee if you have any questions.

Read the latest Cricket on Ice news or the reports on past Cricket on Ice events:



Team Talk!

(Recited at the Gala Dinner on 17.2.2024 by the author)


I have thought that each team is not all it would seem, 

There is much that has gone undeclared,

So I list those rumours that they would like hid,

Which they would prefer were not shared!

Them Guards as a unit are steadfast and true,

Not easy ignored or dismissed,

The problem is that when let loose on the ice,

They always end up getting pissed!

They of course play the game with the right spirit, true,

As long as the 'spirit' is booze,

Alas, after drinking their crates of cold beer,

They spend half their time in the loos!

Now cricket in Deutschland is not widely known,

Though our German team 'aint the first,

But their Philipp Bachstadt has bought them this far,

By claiming they won't be the vurst!

A shame it must be then they choose to don whites,

The cricketing clothing we knows,

The rest of us hoped they would do the right thing,

And play in their cute lederhose.

Now praise the Lyceum, Alpinum no less,

This long standing tournament team,

Though younger in years they are true to the faith,

Performing beyond what they seem. 

'Twould seem the Chumleons have troubles enough,

Deciding just how we should say,

Their name Chol/mel/eians, which beggars belief,

Like them, quite confused all the day!

From Highgate they come here, last home of Karl Marx,

Who fits what we know of this crew, 

A disperate rabble from hither and yon,

Comprised of mad dogs through and through!

All hail to the Roggenhorns, mountainous tribe,

  Named after their rugged terrain,

Located near Klosters, so just down the road,

To play there is almost insane.


Chris Southwell their leader, who has no excuse,

They play quite infrequently due,

To lack of flat surfaces to make a pitch,

No wonder their runs are so few!

Now Cavaliers lately have graced this strange scene,

Appearing in years long before,

They therefore must take all the blame for the fact,

Their intake of booze is so poor!

But spare them a'while for they are getting on,

No longer the first flush of youth,

Tonight they have said they will empty the bar,

To show that such claim 'aint the truth!

We welcome frrom Delhi this WCL Sports,

A team who have travelled afar,

If wanting some friends here at Cricket on Ice,

You'll find all the Guards ~ at the bar!

And lastly St. Moritz who host the whole thing,

'Invited' to join so I see,

They can't be that special because you might know,

A past player, oh Ye Gods! ... was ME.


John Seymour.

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!

John Seymour.
Thurs. 24.2.2022. 2.44 – 4.05 pm.

The Game.

(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?


John Seymour.

V’s 1-3. Wed. 19.2.2014. V’s 4 – 7. Sun. 21.2.2014. 11.10  - 12.45pm.