With the Ashes about to begin again, this time in Australia, I’ve found myself thinking about boundaries. Not just the rope around the edge of the cricket field, but the kind we’re encouraged to set in our personal and working lives.
I loved the 2005 Ashes. I was utterly absorbed, listening to Test Match Special, watching as many deliveries as I could as England snatched that unforgettable victory from Australia. I remember one of my friends sharing his love for cricket by saying “It’s such an amazing game: you can play for five days and come out with a draw”.
But as the Ashes has come around this time, the idea of boundaries has been playing on my mind in an unexpected way.
Boundaries everywhere…except in cricket
We’re encouraged, rightly, for the most part, to set clear personal boundaries which are healthy. Gen Z in particular is frequently praised for being better than previous generations at setting and holding them. When we understand what is acceptable to us and what is not, we create the conditions to flourish.
Most sports reflect the same logic. Boundaries define the limits of play and help maintain control. Step outside the line in rugby, football, netball, basketball, or hockey, and play stops. The boundary represents the edge, or the point at which play halts and the boundary-crosser loses control.
Cricket inverts this logic. 🏏
In cricket, breaking the boundary is celebrated. If the ball reaches it along the ground, the batting side earns four runs; if it sails clean over, they earn six.
The boundary isn’t a barrier…it’s a marker of success!
Where most sports insist you stay within the lines to keep playing, cricket rewards you for going beyond them.
A different kind of limit
That swap feels worth exploring. It suggests that not all boundaries exist to constrain us. Some are meant to be crossed. Some show us what success looks like.
Think of hierarchical boundaries, policy boundaries, cultural boundaries, or the quiet habitual boundaries we rarely question. Some are essential and protective. Others are flexible. Some are assumptions hiding as rules. And some, perhaps, sit far too close to us, defining a comfort zone we’ve mistaken for a limit.
Cricket illustrates this beautifully. When a ball is clearly racing away towards the rope, commentators often say the fielders shouldn’t bother chasing. It’s gone too far. The runs are already earned. The boundary, in that moment, is not an obstacle but a signal of achievement.
The long game
I’m not advocating a Bazball approach to life – swinging wildly in every direction in the hope of racking up runs. Like Test cricket, life usually needs a blend of patience and ambition. Sometimes we play a defensive shot. Sometimes we take the single. And sometimes we take a lovely cover drive that carries us beyond the rope.
In a Test match, the game unfolds over long periods of time, with momentum shifting subtly over hours or days. Success isn’t just about bold strikes, it’s about understanding the game’s rhythm.
So perhaps the question isn’t: Should I have boundaries?
But rather: What kind of boundary is this – and what is it for?
Useful boundaries, debatable boundaries, and the ones worth playing with
I know from experience that clear personal and professional boundaries support my wellbeing. They help me focus, recover, and make thoughtful choices.
But it’s possibly true that some boundaries deserve scrutiny.
Some are rigid and non-negotiable, some are assumptions we inherited, some mark the edges of our fears rather than our true limits.
Some are there to protect us and some might just be pointing us towards what success could look like—if we dared to push further.
A thought to take into the Series
As we settle into another Ashes series of five days, five matches, and all the drama, there remains an intriguing paradox: Cricket is played within boundaries…yet it celebrates the moments when those boundaries are crossed.
Perhaps the same is true in life? Not all lines are drawn to keep us in – sometimes they show us how far we can go.
P.S. I’ve taken a different approach to writing this blog. I did lots of rambling into a voice note and refined it with an LLM. Then I’ve polished it and put my own ‘spin’ back on it. What do you think?
Sam Grayston 