After neither team being about to get a team together for week one of this game – last week was a long weekend – we faced a 32 over a side game today. I had my tender finger taped up, but I knew that if I took a knock on the end of it, I would probably have to cry.
The opposition won the toss and batted in the fresh spring air. They made steady progress with runs and wickets coming at regular intervals. The captain knew not to stretch my spell past two overs after last game’s catastrophe, and they passed without major incident somewhere in the middle overs for 10 runs. 5/140 off 32 was perhaps below par, and the team were rather bouyant at the changeover, sniffing a victory after the flogging in the first game.
Steady starts from the openers brought the power house batsmen together at 2/65. Our elegant No 3 marched along towards his 50 (although he fell short by a few), while BoBo at No 4 went ballistic again, hitting 9 fours in an innings of 49 not out, seeing us through to the win by 6 wickets with nearly 7 overs to spare.
That’s a tidy win, and I’ve got a little more time to work on my batting – I didn’t even get to pad up today.
There was a tennis court next to the cricket ground today, and just after we went into bat a couple of large jolly men in their late thirties showed up to play. I’d guess they had been good players in their time, but plenty of beer, beef and Tim tams had taken their toll on their now ample physiques. That may sound like the pot calling the kettle black, but if I ever play tennis, I’ll be keeping my shirt on and my relatively inadequate man-boobs under wraps. These guys both really needed sports bras on there was so much movement, and massive garments these would have been.
Must lock that away as an idea for a future business venture.
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This work of fiction © Dave Cornford