Luckily Will (who's real name was confusingly Adam) who offered to give me a game for The Claremont Fifths, sorted me out with some whites, and a lift to the ground.
I must at this stage admit that I haven't actually played cricket in a long time. While I've been watching and writing about cricket all around the world (literally) for a number of reasons I hadn't actually played a proper match of cricket in about two and a half years. Ouch.
My last game, for a very low-level Caterham side, was away to Sevenoaks. I volunteered to wicket-keep (and as such have claimed to be a wicket-keeper who also bats and bowls) in a game that only lasted about fifteen overs before being hit by the Kentish rain. However, in the intervening few years, I've cleaned up in all forms of the game - desk cricket, garden cricket, French cricket, and beach cricket. Games that require the players to be jack-of-all-trades all-rounders. So when asked by Will/Adam what sort of player I was, I told him I was a left-arm spinning all-rounder in the (and this is a direct quote) "Michael Yardy mould".
I must at this point reveal that I made a duck, and wasn't asked to bowl.
After being introduced to the rest of my teammates (learning nine names in one minute meant I'd forgotten them all immediately), and finding I was to bat at a lofty number ten (only ten had turned up - I was unproven, so was used down the order despite my all-round claims), we were asked to provide two umpires after Adam/Will won the toss and chose to bat. Being the new boy, I volunteered, thinking it would be a bit of fun. I'd never umpired before, but using the "I know the rules and I've seen it on TV loads so I'll be fine" method, I strolled out to stand at the pavilion end. After announcing the bowler ("right arm over") and giving Adam/Will his guard, I watched the first few balls of the game. Partway through the over, the bowler turned to me, and asked how many balls he had left. Panic set in. Was I meant to be counting? I looked around, hoping for a giant electronic scoreboard with all of the relevant details, plus a speedometer, and a third umpire in case a run out was close. Sadly I didn't have any of that at my disposal. Using what could only be called a "stab in the dark" I went for two, completely out of nowhere. It wasn't that I hadn't been paying attention - but that I'd been paying too much attention. Being my first umpiring experience, I'd been keenly watching the bowler's front foot in case of a no-ball, and was watching the delivery like a hawk in case there was an lbw appeal that I'd have to adjudge on. As well as that, I was checking that there were eleven fielders on the pitch, and that there weren't too many behind square on the leg-side, just in case the very medium pacer decided to try a revival of Bodyline. So with all of that going on, it's no wonder that I'd forgotten the umpire's simplest task - counting to six. And holding the bowler's hat while he bowls.
All in all I stood for about 20 overs of the 35 over a side game, before I was recalled to the pavilion because I'd need to pad up (there was a fairly major collapse). And all passed without incident - there was one very optimistic appeal for a caught behind that passed about three yards away from the bat in all of the time I was up at the stumps. However, I did give a wicket when at square leg - putting up the finger to confirm a run out. After all of that excitement, I went off to pad up, and after 28 overs, the eight wicket fell. I was in.
I'd sort of been annoyed that I'd been put in at number ten. Didn't Adam/Will hear me earlier? I said I was an all-rounder. All-rounders don't bat at number ten. My experiences of beach / garden cricket, where I'd dispatched all comers to all parts of the beach / garden had given me confidence. As I walked out, I tried to look as professional as possible, to let the bowlers know that I meant business. As I was the tenth man of ten to bat, and there were still 7 overs left, my mission was to stay in and bat the final overs, and take any runs that are on offer. But don't get out. I watched the first six balls of the partnership from the non-strikers end, and loudly called "YES!" for one that was edged by my partner down to the boundary. We ran two. There was a wide as well, taking the partnership up to three. I hadn't faced yet, but if we won by one run, I'd be the hero, as if I'd got out, we wouldn't have got those three runs.
My partner and I touched hands at the end of the over, and I was to face the opposition's opening fast bowler, who'd been bought on for the death overs. I was confident. He ran up, and arrowed in his first delivery. It was through me before I knew where it was. It can't have missed the stumps by much, and by all rights I deserved to get out to it, as I played an awful attempt at a forward defence, about 10 seconds after the ball had hit the wicket-keepers gloves.
All of my confidence disappeared, as I got a sense of realisation. The only reason I'd been good at beach / garden cricket (especially in South Africa) was because I'd been playing against kids of half my age. Normally with a tennis ball. This bowler was ten years older than me, and was using a hard cricket ball. While I'd hoped I'd be good, I suddenly realised that ten was too high for me. I hadn't batted in a game for a long time, and as such, was horrendously out of practice. While all of this hit me in a wave, I looked up to see he was about to bowl his next ball. It was a bit off line, and while I hoped to just get bat on ball with a defensive stroke, the ball whistled past me. I wasn't even good enough to edge it.
The third ball was better, it was right on the stumps, but I pushed forward at it, and the ball hit the middle of the bat, and ran away. I was pleased - as all cricketers say, there's nothing better than getting bat on ball. Feeling pleased to have done it once, I got my head over the ball with yet another solid defence off the fourth ball. I was doing my job as the tail-ender, hanging around so my partner could score at the other end. The fifth ball was wider, hoping to get me to play (and as such, edge it), but knowing my role (and more importantly, my limitations) I left it with an air of authority. I lifted the bat high out of the way, and watched it sail past me. I had no intention of scoring runs, but why should I? The final ball of the over drifted down the leg side, and I again blocked it. A solid over. The bowler walked away happy because he'd bowled a maiden with only a few overs left of the innings, and I was happy because I hadn't got out.
After watching my partner face six from the other end, we took a well-judged two, to take the partnership to five. Crucial runs that couldn't have been made without me. At the end of the over, I was informed that another player had shown up, so with only three overs to go and the safety net of another batsman, I should play some shots, and actually try and score some runs.
The fast bowler who I'd faced in the previous over couldn't be bothered to waste excess energy bowling fast to me, so after a chat with his captain, decided he would bowl off-spin. Spin should be easy, it was much slower, so I could hack it away. He bowled his first ball, and then I played what can only be described as the worst shot in the history of cricket.
It was quite a full ball, on my leg stump. Not really knowing what to do with this delivery, I thought about coming down the ground and heaving it away straight. I thought about getting down on one knee, and sweeping it behind me. And I thought about a little deft touch around my legs. As it was, I ended up taking half a stride to nowhere, and playing a shot which even had ball hit bat wouldn't have gone anywhere. I then committed the cricket coaches cardinal sin of having my "head fall over" - or in simple terms, losing my balance and missing it. I didn't see the ball hit the stumps, but I didn't need to. I heard it.
I walked back to the pavilion, took my pads off, and looked in the scorers book, to check to see if I'd scored some runs that I'd forgotten about. All it said was
Number 10:
But instead of a 0, someone had actually taken the time to draw a very well-designed duck.
After all of that, and after the final wicket fell soon after I'd taken my pads off, we set them a target of 163 for victory off 35. And we should have won it.
The opening bowlers bowled well, taking a few wickets to leave them struggling at 19/2 after 12 overs. It was like a proper test match. But unlike a test match, the standard of umpiring was awful (unless the test match includes Daryl Harper... cricket banter!). Just as we'd had to during our innings, the oppo had put forward two blokes to umpire, and while we'd been giving each appeal on its merits, they were taking the view that "it is never out". Without being facetious, we must have had 10-15 appeals for lbw, of which 7/8 looked absolutely plumb. While I didn't have a view from my square leg fielding position, the other boys certainly thought that at least a few deserved to be given, and were understandably not too pleased about the decisions. Especially seeing as one batsman had 4 big appeals before he reached ten, and he eventually scored an unbeaten sixty something as they won by 5 wickets.
So my own performance in the field? Fielding is probably my strong point (which says more about my standard of batting and bowling) mainly because I like throwing my self about. Fielding at a very short square leg, I got to have a go at some probably unnecessary full length dives, and had a couple of shies at the stumps. But I had no catches, and due to the strong bowling attack, I didn't even get a chance to show off my Yardy-darts.
So that was my first cricket game in ages, and judging from what you've read, it's probably best that I stick to writing about it, rather than playing. However, I do love getting out there, so if any of you want to find me a cricket club for some games over the summer, I'll give some whole-hearted performances if nothing else. And hopefully if I start actually practicing and playing in nets then I'll be able to get back to the glory days which saw me to the lofty heights of the Caterham School Under 14 Captain (B team).
Until next time (and apologies about the epic, but I do like writing about cricket and I did get on a bit of a roll...), Will
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