The Big Game is just one more sleep away. After a busy week at work, I’m dog-tired so at I have a fair chance of getting to sleep. Otherwise, there would be a fair chance of laying awake all night in the face of the myriad potential embarrassments that await on the field tomorrow.
I’m trying not to think off all the things that could go wrong:
- Dropping a hat trick catch off either of my sons’ bowling
- Getting a first ball duck
- Getting out with 1 run to win
- Bowling a long hop with the other team needing six to win off the last ball. On the other hand, if the captain chose me to bowl the last over, it wold serve him right.
- Breaking a finger dropping a catch.
- Taking a “nasty blow to the gentleman’s area.”
It has just come to me that a couple of my better batting performances followed what you might euphemistically call a “big night.” One I remember well was against this huge nasty guy who was making the ball bounce viciously off a new astro turf wicket. I was standing up to him OK, but the rest of the team folded like a piece of damp loo paper – although to be fair, the average 5th grader in Perth South Suburban cricket in the pre-helmet days didn’t have the technique to keep their noggins safe. I think I eeked out 25 out of a total of 88 all out.
Everyone else has gone to bed so I decided to double check that my new helmet still fits. This has put to rest the irrational fear that somehow I’ll be forced to bat without a lid tomorrow. It fits quite well, and there is no way that a ball will fit between the grill and the peak. Yes, I checked it. ONly time will tell if I can actually see enough to play the ball – the game situation will be more challenging than my only cursory and damp net session.
Read the next entry in Dad’s Cricket Diary here
This work of fiction © Dave Cornford