Richard Bean's new comedy, which had its premiere last month in this production from Headlong Theatre, is a state-of-the-nation play - or at least it's about the state of the male half of the nation.
With an all-male cast of 14, it uses a London amateur cricket team as a device to bring together a cross -section of young and middle-aged men, who have little in common apart from their love of the game.
If a number of them appear to have problematic relationships with women, it's not entirely surprising when they insist on devoting half their summer weekends to playing a game that takes all day - something the less addicted might think of as a bit of an anachronism.
The club is run by Will, following in the footsteps of his elderly father, who has to be installed in a chair on the boundary before match preparations can begin. We eventually discover that Will is a disillusioned former 1960s radical now frustrated by the refusal of the liberal left to recognise Islamism as the new fascism. His trenchant views on this subject threaten to drive a wedge between him and Theo, a thoroughly well-meaning Christian GP.
Then there's a wrecked minor rock star, an overstated thespian, a gay Asian, a black curator with the British Council who is on the point of marrying into a military family, and the team captain, a journalist with a crumbling marriage and an obsession with playing by the rules. There is also - I'm sorry to say - an irritating theatrical Brummie with a ridiculous hairstyle I've never seen in New Street.
The outsider making up the numbers is Reg, whose unreconstructed working-class prejudices you sense will prevent him being assimilated into the group, despite his abilities with a bat.
This is a comedy, with a surface of breezy banter overlaying the characters' quiet desperation. But among the laughs you can just hear the unmistakeable creak of contrivance.
* Running time: Two hours, 15 minutes. Until Saturday.
