Hello
On great demand from key members of the team I’ll be sharing with you guys the events of a match that our team played in April, of this year, where we weren’t totally outclassed by our opponents.
That was our first match together as a team and even we had no idea of each other’s capabilities. As I’ve mentioned in an earlier blog our team is made up of family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances – so basically it’s an alliance of the willing.
That day we were totally frustrated by a batsman who simply refused to allow the bowlers to get him out even if it meant not scoring. It was a display of the deadest of dead bats and zero back lift. Covering the stumps he would block half volleys and full tosses just as readily as balls pitched just short of a length. Luck also aided him. He went in to open the innings and, but for a brief period when he was called out by his captain and then returned, remained unbeaten at the end of the allotted 30 overs.
I’m sure some of you must be wondering why such a batsman managed to frustrate our team when obviously if the opponents aren’t scoring you’re basically happy with the state of the game? How could uttering the name of one person cause 11 grown men to cringe and look around them for refuge?
The reason is simple. He was OUR TEAM'S opening bat!
He was in the team because we were one man short. So, without being overly grateful, I have to admit that without his presence we wouldn't have been playing that day.
To cut a long story short, Chuckie, the batting specialist, went in to open our innings after we had won the toss and decided to bat on what looked to be a flat and insipid wicket. It was soon apparent that he was in no mood to score and placed a high premium on his wicket. The score just wouldn't pick up because he was hogging most of the strike and the team was getting jittery.
So, it turned out was his opening partner. In sheer frustration he threw away his wicket just to try and get the scoreboard moving. Soon thereafter another wicket fell simply because the new batsman felt it was his duty to pick up the scoring rate. He simply didn't give himself enough time to settle in.
As I was striding in to bat our captain advised me to take my time settling in and to just relax. I agreed that it would be the best way to go about it. However, both of us had failed to realise what a calming influence our friend Chuckie was able to exert on his partner in the middle.
The second wicket had fallen off the first ball of the over and I was on strike. I decided to show the full face of the bat to the first few balls I faced and found that I was middling the ball well and striking it with power. Having blocked the first three balls I faced, I dabbed the next ball towards point, where the fielder was standing deep enough for us to pick up a single, called for a run and started off when to my surprise I saw Chuckie rooted to the crease with his palm raised like a traffic policeman. I promptly returned to my end and all was well.
Next over I got an opportunity to observe up close that awe inspiring batting style which would come to populate my dreams, of the darker variety, for quite some time. Chuckie played without any back lift and obviously without any follow through either. What was more he never moved backward or forward beyond the crease either and the only movement which I could discern was him moving across to block sight of the stumps.
Pretty soon he managed to block all balls but one in the over and I got a sneaking suspicion that the opposition was deliberately bowling to him outside his stumps so as to ensure that he didn't get out bowled unintentionally. Off the last ball he called for a single and we crossed over.
Next over was a repeat of the first and off the last ball Chuckie was caught plumb in front of the stumps and there was a loud shout for leg before but only from the bowler, which the umpire turned down. The ball was trickling towards the fielder at point who was charging in to field. Seeing as there was no run there I turned my back on Chuckie (forgetting totally to say no to him) and glared at the umpire - maybe by denying the umpire a glimpse of the stumps Chuckie might've created some doubt in the umpire's mind. Too late I realised that Chuckie was charging down the track bent on retaining the strike. I called to him to turn back - I wasn't about to throw away my wicket to save him. He managed to get back into his crease just in time.
And then he walked up to me and very politely and patronisingly advised me to be attentive. I apologised and said I would do so in future. I had learnt that he was hell bent on batting as much as possible and ensuring that he did not get out even if it meant that we lost the game.
Out went my composure and I started trying to hit the ball past the infield in search of fours and doubles so that I could keep the strike and keep the score ticking along. I was striking the ball hard but straight to the fielders because I simply wasn't settled in propoerly. Maybe I should've concentrated on taking singles but knowing that a single meant 3 or 4 dot balls and loss of strike in the next over I threw logic and prudence to the wind. However, it was soon confirmed that you can't really force the pace of the game unless you are settled in and I clearly wasn't. Having hit a 4 and run two doubles in quick succession I was extremely short of breath and was soon bowled off a straight low delivery.
After that I simply saw a procession of batsmen going in confidently trying to pick up the pace of the game and returning dejectedly after having been dismissed. Through it all Chuckie in his broad brimmed hat was having a field day blocking every ball that he faced except when he wanted to retain strike.
Frustrated, our captain decided to call him in and replace him so that we could manage more runs in the last 5 overs but the die was cast and it was too late for such measures. Soon with only 2 overs to go we were down to the last pair and Chuckie strode purposefully back in to take his place. Mercifully we didn't get bowled out but only managed to score 168 for 9 off our allotted 30 overs.
Now for the clincher. Can you guess how many runs he managed to score? 30 is all he scored in slightly more than half the total balls bowled, i.e., at least 90 balls faced. And what's more he didn't get out and at the end of our innings he strode out proudly. Like a peacock...
We lost by 8 wickets after a disatsrous first over from myself where I ended up bowling 13 deliveries and must've conceded more than 19 runs at least. Unfortunately, I can't say that this was also somehow due to Chuckie's presence on the field but that was all me.
To cut a long story short, Chuckie, the batting specialist, went in to open our innings after we had won the toss and decided to bat on what looked to be a flat and insipid wicket. It was soon apparent that he was in no mood to score and placed a high premium on his wicket. The score just wouldn't pick up because he was hogging most of the strike and the team was getting jittery.
So, it turned out was his opening partner. In sheer frustration he threw away his wicket just to try and get the scoreboard moving. Soon thereafter another wicket fell simply because the new batsman felt it was his duty to pick up the scoring rate. He simply didn't give himself enough time to settle in.
As I was striding in to bat our captain advised me to take my time settling in and to just relax. I agreed that it would be the best way to go about it. However, both of us had failed to realise what a calming influence our friend Chuckie was able to exert on his partner in the middle.
The second wicket had fallen off the first ball of the over and I was on strike. I decided to show the full face of the bat to the first few balls I faced and found that I was middling the ball well and striking it with power. Having blocked the first three balls I faced, I dabbed the next ball towards point, where the fielder was standing deep enough for us to pick up a single, called for a run and started off when to my surprise I saw Chuckie rooted to the crease with his palm raised like a traffic policeman. I promptly returned to my end and all was well.
Next over I got an opportunity to observe up close that awe inspiring batting style which would come to populate my dreams, of the darker variety, for quite some time. Chuckie played without any back lift and obviously without any follow through either. What was more he never moved backward or forward beyond the crease either and the only movement which I could discern was him moving across to block sight of the stumps.
Pretty soon he managed to block all balls but one in the over and I got a sneaking suspicion that the opposition was deliberately bowling to him outside his stumps so as to ensure that he didn't get out bowled unintentionally. Off the last ball he called for a single and we crossed over.
Next over was a repeat of the first and off the last ball Chuckie was caught plumb in front of the stumps and there was a loud shout for leg before but only from the bowler, which the umpire turned down. The ball was trickling towards the fielder at point who was charging in to field. Seeing as there was no run there I turned my back on Chuckie (forgetting totally to say no to him) and glared at the umpire - maybe by denying the umpire a glimpse of the stumps Chuckie might've created some doubt in the umpire's mind. Too late I realised that Chuckie was charging down the track bent on retaining the strike. I called to him to turn back - I wasn't about to throw away my wicket to save him. He managed to get back into his crease just in time.
And then he walked up to me and very politely and patronisingly advised me to be attentive. I apologised and said I would do so in future. I had learnt that he was hell bent on batting as much as possible and ensuring that he did not get out even if it meant that we lost the game.
Out went my composure and I started trying to hit the ball past the infield in search of fours and doubles so that I could keep the strike and keep the score ticking along. I was striking the ball hard but straight to the fielders because I simply wasn't settled in propoerly. Maybe I should've concentrated on taking singles but knowing that a single meant 3 or 4 dot balls and loss of strike in the next over I threw logic and prudence to the wind. However, it was soon confirmed that you can't really force the pace of the game unless you are settled in and I clearly wasn't. Having hit a 4 and run two doubles in quick succession I was extremely short of breath and was soon bowled off a straight low delivery.
After that I simply saw a procession of batsmen going in confidently trying to pick up the pace of the game and returning dejectedly after having been dismissed. Through it all Chuckie in his broad brimmed hat was having a field day blocking every ball that he faced except when he wanted to retain strike.
Frustrated, our captain decided to call him in and replace him so that we could manage more runs in the last 5 overs but the die was cast and it was too late for such measures. Soon with only 2 overs to go we were down to the last pair and Chuckie strode purposefully back in to take his place. Mercifully we didn't get bowled out but only managed to score 168 for 9 off our allotted 30 overs.
Now for the clincher. Can you guess how many runs he managed to score? 30 is all he scored in slightly more than half the total balls bowled, i.e., at least 90 balls faced. And what's more he didn't get out and at the end of our innings he strode out proudly. Like a peacock...
We lost by 8 wickets after a disatsrous first over from myself where I ended up bowling 13 deliveries and must've conceded more than 19 runs at least. Unfortunately, I can't say that this was also somehow due to Chuckie's presence on the field but that was all me.
I don't get the cricket stuff, but i like descriptions
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