So three games to whip through here, as the season wound its way down. First up, we had London Fields, where my contribution was a) Nearly getting run out for 0 and then b) Getting out next ball, for 0, trying to get off the mark by sending the ball HOME, HOME being somewhere in the general direction of cow about three miles away. As I mentioned to someone at the time, the problem with fucking up in cricket is that whatever then transpires, you're going to feel a bit crap. If the team don't get any runs (which we didn't) you feel like it's all your fault, and if they do then you sit there fuming wishing it was you scoring them. This time around it was the former, which I think is arguably worse.
Next up were the wonderful surrounds of Chiswick House:
And this one didn't go to plan either, unless the plan was to accidentally take guard using my right handed opening partner's mark, stand on off stump, miss a half volley that I thought was miles down the leg side, stare aghast as the umpire's finger went up, then turn around to realise I was standing in front of all three stumps. 'That won't happen again,' remarked one of our players, sympathetically. And how right he is. Something else bloody will. Then I couldn't bowl properly because the pitch got wet, so had to try and bowl spin, and that didn't quite work either, except for the fact that my array of slow full tosses managed to get one of my team mates (playing for the oppo) a quickfire 50. Enjoyable game though - my main team's last game, which we won. I might have enjoyed the beers more than the match but hell...that's really the point isn't it?
Fortunately it all came good again in the last game of the season, at a marvellous ground in Essex. Not with the ball mind. Their opener had apparently just come off smacking Darren Gough around in a charity game, so I felt I had to be on my game. Which I was. Two leg-cutters, big inswinger, trapped bang in front, thanks for coming and tell your story walking pal. Except their umpire didn't see it that way. Usually I don't get too narked about questionable LBW decisions - anyone who's played friendly cricket knows that it's often far too much hassle to give one unless it's on the back pad in front of middle and the batsman's already started walking. But if you've got a proper player in your team then I think you have to make some effort to umpire properly.
Lo and behold, he cruised to an entirely inevitable 100, because myself and a couple of others apart (who are merely crap) we're absolutely terrible with the ball. All the while I got more and more pissed off. By the time I was brought back, the 200 was up, which was approximately 150 more than we can usually be confident of getting when we're batting, and I have to confess I lost it. I just sprayed the ball around and didn't give a toss where it was going. As you'll see, a smooth side-on action giving way to a perfectly-braced front leg and non-bowling arm finishing firmly beside it - the MCC would approve, apart from the bit about my eyes being shut and the general hope being to knock someone's fucking block off.
And needless to say I went for loads, mostly in byes and wides. But things picked up markedly when I went in to bat. The opposition were fairly talented, but a ghastly bunch. Despite the fact they'd set us 7 an over from the outset and bowled some pretty nippy stuff at our geriatric openers before sticking three men on the boundary, they were sledging us left right and centre for not scoring quickly enough. That said, it was quite refreshing to be on the end of some verbals. I was annoyed that the two players doing most of the sledging had contributed the grand total of 12 runs between them, but could it ever be otherwise? One particularly gobby chap came on to bowl and I smashed him out of the attack, which was pleasing. No need to be that altruistic, fella. Having brought up my 50 and with the game safe, I was finally out with three balls to go, attempting to reverse sweep their opening bowler. It was a rather pleasing riposte: if you're going to get out, at least make it clear that it's only because you find their bowling too easy.
And there's the moral of the season. Cricket can fuck with your head, it really can. There's often a dark cloud looming over everything you do. But hang in there. There's always something on the horizon...
Next up were the wonderful surrounds of Chiswick House:
And this one didn't go to plan either, unless the plan was to accidentally take guard using my right handed opening partner's mark, stand on off stump, miss a half volley that I thought was miles down the leg side, stare aghast as the umpire's finger went up, then turn around to realise I was standing in front of all three stumps. 'That won't happen again,' remarked one of our players, sympathetically. And how right he is. Something else bloody will. Then I couldn't bowl properly because the pitch got wet, so had to try and bowl spin, and that didn't quite work either, except for the fact that my array of slow full tosses managed to get one of my team mates (playing for the oppo) a quickfire 50. Enjoyable game though - my main team's last game, which we won. I might have enjoyed the beers more than the match but hell...that's really the point isn't it?
Fortunately it all came good again in the last game of the season, at a marvellous ground in Essex. Not with the ball mind. Their opener had apparently just come off smacking Darren Gough around in a charity game, so I felt I had to be on my game. Which I was. Two leg-cutters, big inswinger, trapped bang in front, thanks for coming and tell your story walking pal. Except their umpire didn't see it that way. Usually I don't get too narked about questionable LBW decisions - anyone who's played friendly cricket knows that it's often far too much hassle to give one unless it's on the back pad in front of middle and the batsman's already started walking. But if you've got a proper player in your team then I think you have to make some effort to umpire properly.
Lo and behold, he cruised to an entirely inevitable 100, because myself and a couple of others apart (who are merely crap) we're absolutely terrible with the ball. All the while I got more and more pissed off. By the time I was brought back, the 200 was up, which was approximately 150 more than we can usually be confident of getting when we're batting, and I have to confess I lost it. I just sprayed the ball around and didn't give a toss where it was going. As you'll see, a smooth side-on action giving way to a perfectly-braced front leg and non-bowling arm finishing firmly beside it - the MCC would approve, apart from the bit about my eyes being shut and the general hope being to knock someone's fucking block off.
And needless to say I went for loads, mostly in byes and wides. But things picked up markedly when I went in to bat. The opposition were fairly talented, but a ghastly bunch. Despite the fact they'd set us 7 an over from the outset and bowled some pretty nippy stuff at our geriatric openers before sticking three men on the boundary, they were sledging us left right and centre for not scoring quickly enough. That said, it was quite refreshing to be on the end of some verbals. I was annoyed that the two players doing most of the sledging had contributed the grand total of 12 runs between them, but could it ever be otherwise? One particularly gobby chap came on to bowl and I smashed him out of the attack, which was pleasing. No need to be that altruistic, fella. Having brought up my 50 and with the game safe, I was finally out with three balls to go, attempting to reverse sweep their opening bowler. It was a rather pleasing riposte: if you're going to get out, at least make it clear that it's only because you find their bowling too easy.
And there's the moral of the season. Cricket can fuck with your head, it really can. There's often a dark cloud looming over everything you do. But hang in there. There's always something on the horizon...
CC in 2011:
613 runs@40.86, 6 x 50s, 1 x bruise from international bowler, 2 x childish tantrums.
Some wickets at 'quite a lot'.
