The lawn patrol

IT IS just after 11.30am on a Thursday. The blue ball in front of me is refusing to go through the little white hoop on the neat, clipped lawn. I grip the mallet with both hands, bend my knees, swing it back between my legs and... it stops right underneath the hoop again, reverberating off the sides for good measure.

"Darn it," I mutter.

"Just slow down and try it again," says Charles Waterfield patiently, the secretary of the Middlesbrough Croquet Club.

I line the shot up again and this time, with a gratifying clunk, the ball goes through the hoop. There's a surge of joy as I score a point, my only point. This must be how John Prescott felt last week when he was playing croquet on the lawn of Dorneywood, his grace-and-favour country mansion in Buckinghamshire, in the middle of the afternoon. Except the only points scored since have been by his rivals.

But, even though his political future may be in turmoil, his meanderings with a mallet have given a welcome boost to the game of croquet. As I write, Asda has announced that sales of croquet sets have gone up 300 per cent (although they omit to say how many they sold before).

Charles, who lives near Stokesley, has recently returned from an Inter-Counties tournament near Brighton where he was playing for Yorkshire and where, he gleefully says, they beat Lancashire 3-0. Down there, all the talk was of John Prescott and whether he'd brought the game into disrepute or given it a much-welcome boost. The consensus, says Charles, was that all publicity is good publicity.

"Croquet does have an image problem," he says in a cut-glass accent. "I'm the only one who talks proper but I'm not a toff. If Prescott plays it, it can't be a toff's game. Croquet has long since moved out of the country house. You can forget about vicars and cucumber sandwiches."

Croquet originated in Ireland with the first set of formal rules established in England in 1851. In the early years, it was largely a garden party game for the rich, but soon croquet clubs - there are now around 130 of them - began to emerge across the country. The North-East has clubs at Tyneside, Bishop Auckland, Belsay Hall in Northumberland and, of course, Middlesbrough, all of them governed by the Croquet Association. It is Middlesbrough's ninth season at Prissick Sports Centre in Marton, members having moved from Ormesby Hall, where they'd played for about eight years.

It has to be said, however, that there is no splendour of the country mansion in this setting. The traffic from busy Marton Road drones in the background. Next to the club's two lawns, which are former bowling greens, is a giant skateboard park, closed today because of the rain. A couple of teenage lads are watching the croquet action in their urban armour - hooded jackets and bicycles.

"It's an interesting contrast, the hip hop park and the croquet lawn," says Charles wryly. "But it's been okay so far."

But on the lawn there's a traditional English scene - the white chalk, the six white hoops and the coloured croquet balls.

The aim is to send the balls through all the hoops in order and back round again - scoring points every time you go through a hoop - before hitting the peg at the end ahead of your opponent. Coloured clips are put on the hoops to remind players which balls have passed through.

It's a game which requires tactics - skill and ability - as opposed to brute strength, which makes it ideal for men and women to play on an equal level. Each game takes around three hours, so it's hardly surprising the majority of members are retired. But there are younger players, and judging by the rapt interest of the two hoodies, Charles could be about to get two new members.

"It's a bit like playing chess in the open," says Phil Terry, one of Middlesbrough's 32 members. "Kathleen, my wife, and I like it because we can play it together and also there's physical aspect to it. You do get addicted to it.

"It's also very, very cheap to play (Middlesbrough's annual fee is £75) so elitism is totally irrelevant. All you need is a mallet and a pair of flat shoes."

Phil is, however, clutching a very nice mallet with a carbon fibre shaft and head complete with brass ends.

"I suspect John Prescott was photographed holding one of these," says Charles, bringing out a common old garden mallet. "It's a pretty awful object and the ends aren't even flat, but the modern ones tend to be squarer, the ends are heavier and the shafts lighter. Most people play for a while before they buy their own. It's a psychological thing, you like to have your own weapon."

Weapons? I thought rumours of viciousness were just that, rumours.

"The inter-club games do get competitive," says Charles, with a mischievous look in his eye. "Well, you don't want the Tynesiders to win do you?"

The club has its own mallets you can borrow. Members aren't just fair weather players either, as Charles demonstrates by handing me a copy of The Croquet Gazette, which has a brave lady playing in the snow on its front cover. "You might also need a waterproof jacket," adds Phil.

A handicapping system operates so players of different standards can compete together. A handicap of 20 would mean you were allowed 20 extra turns at hitting the balls, a bit like having extra goes at the snooker table.

There are club competitions, social days. The game is big in Australia, New Zealand, America but not yet in Japan or China. It's not an Olympic sport but there are the World Championships which were held in England last summer, won by a South African. "That's when you see the Tiger Woods of the sport play," says Charles. "They're in a different league."

A player continues until he runs out of turns or strokes and can earn extra strokes throughout the game. If your ball hits another it's called 'rouquet' which earns you a bonus stroke.

Charles demonstrates by hitting both balls, sending one closer to the hoop and setting up his next shot with the other.

"I'm not allowed to put my foot on it," he says, ruining my image of pistols at lawn. "You're not allowed to put your foot on anything except the ground." He demonstrates more moves, explains how you have to stay one step ahead, teeing up future shots.

Suddenly, our photographer emerges from the bushes but, unlike the paparazzi who snapped Prezza, he announces who he is. He's come to snap Jezza - me. But before we can direct him he's dumped his camera and joined Phil for a bit of instruction. Ten minutes later he's knocking balls through hoops like he's a croquet connoisseur.

"I reckon it's pretty addictive this," he says, swinging his mallet.

"Oh it is. It's very enjoyable and it keeps you active," says Hilary Grant, eyeing up a prospective new member. "It's not a lazy person's sport." Although some would argue otherwise if Prezza plays it. Would Middlesbrough Croquet Club consider letting him join them, especially now he's lost his lawn? "The committee would have to vote to let him join of course," says Charles. "And the committee might not be too happy, especially some of the ladies."

* Contact Middlesbrough Croquet Club on www.middlesbrough croquet.org.uk or Charles Waterfield on (01642) 712551. The Croquet Association is at www.croquet.org.uk or on (01242) 242318.