When she was a girl, Rachael Heyhoe Flint used to play cricket with her brother and his friends in the street outside their house. One day, midway through a particularly intense match, they were interrupted by a policeman who said they were blocking the road. He took down all their names and addresses in his little book. All, that is, except hers. “This was too much for me,” she remembered years later, “I reached up, tapped him on the shoulder and pointed out that I had been playing cricket, too.” The policeman looked down and said “Girls don’t play cricket”. It was, she admitted, “about as devastating a blow to my pride as anyone could have delivered.”
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