Thread
This is an extremely fucking smug and self-satisfied thread. I hope you enjoy it. I hope you find it as much fun as I had this afternoon.
This is how it went down.
I’m on holiday, with Andrew and Julie and the kids, plus Andrew’s parents. They’re all here for the week, sadly…
This is how it went down.
I’m on holiday, with Andrew and Julie and the kids, plus Andrew’s parents. They’re all here for the week, sadly…
…I have to go home on Monday. But it’s still so nice to be away.
Today we walked from our cottage, down to the village for lunch in the pub. A gentle 30-minute walk, at kids’ pace, and a picture-perfect table outside a picture-perfect village pub, right on the corner of the…
Today we walked from our cottage, down to the village for lunch in the pub. A gentle 30-minute walk, at kids’ pace, and a picture-perfect table outside a picture-perfect village pub, right on the corner of the…
…village green.
In the middle of the green, some cricketers were milling about. White jumpers, white trousers… sole doddery old duffers and some slightly fitter looking younger old duffers. A bunch of the players were also hanging around inside and outside our pub, clearly…
In the middle of the green, some cricketers were milling about. White jumpers, white trousers… sole doddery old duffers and some slightly fitter looking younger old duffers. A bunch of the players were also hanging around inside and outside our pub, clearly…
…enjoying a pre-match pint.
With a pint on the go myself, I was thrilled at the prospect of having some cricket to watch over lunch.
Andrew came back from the bar. First thing to know about Andrew: he’s one of those people who TALKS to people. Leave him alone for 5 minutes…
With a pint on the go myself, I was thrilled at the prospect of having some cricket to watch over lunch.
Andrew came back from the bar. First thing to know about Andrew: he’s one of those people who TALKS to people. Leave him alone for 5 minutes…
…at a bus stop and he’ll be best mates with half the people waiting.
Turns out, he’d been making friends with some of the cricketers at the bar.
“The visitors are two players short,” he says. “That’s why they’re still waiting about. They were supposed to start at half past.”
Turns out, he’d been making friends with some of the cricketers at the bar.
“The visitors are two players short,” he says. “That’s why they’re still waiting about. They were supposed to start at half past.”
“Oh, dear,” I said, thinking how nice my pint tasted in the sunshine.
“So now they’re trying to recruit players from the pub. They asked me if I wanted to play.”
This isn’t surprising. Andrew looks like a cricketer. He’s tall & gangly and utterly English looking. He was even…
“So now they’re trying to recruit players from the pub. They asked me if I wanted to play.”
This isn’t surprising. Andrew looks like a cricketer. He’s tall & gangly and utterly English looking. He was even…
…wearing a white T-shirt.
“Are you going to play then?” I asked, taking a long refreshing drink of my pint.
“I will if you will.”
“Seriously? I’m about to have lunch!”
“I’m not playing on my own,” he says. “I barely know the rules.”
I contemplate the wide, tempting…
“Are you going to play then?” I asked, taking a long refreshing drink of my pint.
“I will if you will.”
“Seriously? I’m about to have lunch!”
“I’m not playing on my own,” he says. “I barely know the rules.”
I contemplate the wide, tempting…
…expanse of smooth green lawn in front of me. I have to admit, an impromptu game is fucking tempting.
“Go on,” says Andrew. “You’ll be the best here by miles. It’ll be fun.”
I have to admit, that thought had crossed my mind too. They look like two very much weekend-only…
“Go on,” says Andrew. “You’ll be the best here by miles. It’ll be fun.”
I have to admit, that thought had crossed my mind too. They look like two very much weekend-only…
…amateur village teams.
Now, I’m not Charlotte Edwards or anything. But I captained the girls’ firsts for my school. I played for and occasionally captained my university first team too, and now play for a respected London woman’s team, and occasionally guest for the medics…
Now, I’m not Charlotte Edwards or anything. But I captained the girls’ firsts for my school. I played for and occasionally captained my university first team too, and now play for a respected London woman’s team, and occasionally guest for the medics…
…In short, without blowing my own trumpet, I’m a decent spin bowling all-rounder. I can play.
“What do you think?” I ask Julie. “You be ok with the kids for a couple of hours.”
“Sure,” she says. “If I get bored or they run out of wine, I’ll walk them back.”
I turn to Andrew…
“What do you think?” I ask Julie. “You be ok with the kids for a couple of hours.”
“Sure,” she says. “If I get bored or they run out of wine, I’ll walk them back.”
I turn to Andrew…
…”Ok fuckit. Let’s play.”
We walk across to the middle of the green, where the guest captain has just lost the toss. He looks pleased to see Andrew, less pleased that he appears to have brought his girlfriend along.
“Are you both playing?” he asks? We nod. “Yup.”
“Ok fine.”…
We walk across to the middle of the green, where the guest captain has just lost the toss. He looks pleased to see Andrew, less pleased that he appears to have brought his girlfriend along.
“Are you both playing?” he asks? We nod. “Yup.”
“Ok fine.”…
…I guess he must have been desperate.
“Have you played before?” - the question very much directed at Andrew.
“A bit at school. Not much.”
“Ok fine.” He doesn’t bother asking me. “Can you cope at number 6 you think?”
He clearly can’t get past the idea that anyone who looks…
“Have you played before?” - the question very much directed at Andrew.
“A bit at school. Not much.”
“Ok fine.” He doesn’t bother asking me. “Can you cope at number 6 you think?”
He clearly can’t get past the idea that anyone who looks…
…like Andrew must surely possess strokeplay like David Gower. Andrew shrugs. “I guess.”
“Great.” He turns to me. “Will you be ok at number 9?”
Andrew shoots a glance, and for a second I think he’s going to ruin my fun. But he reads my face. “Fine,” I say, wondering how crap…
“Great.” He turns to me. “Will you be ok at number 9?”
Andrew shoots a glance, and for a second I think he’s going to ruin my fun. But he reads my face. “Fine,” I say, wondering how crap…
…their tailenders must be if he’s out them in AFTER me. “That’s fine.”
I walk back and chat to Julie as the game gets underway. The home side have a couple of fair useful bowlers, including an angry-little accountant-looking dude who has some fairly impressive pace, if little…
I walk back and chat to Julie as the game gets underway. The home side have a couple of fair useful bowlers, including an angry-little accountant-looking dude who has some fairly impressive pace, if little…
…in the way of accuracy.
Still, he makes short work of their openers, then hands over to a sly looking spinner and a sweaty but dangerous looking pace guy, who dispatch the middle order for barely double figures.
Poor Andrew is as out of his depth as expected, flailing…
Still, he makes short work of their openers, then hands over to a sly looking spinner and a sweaty but dangerous looking pace guy, who dispatch the middle order for barely double figures.
Poor Andrew is as out of his depth as expected, flailing…
…hopelessly at a handful of deliveries before being clean bowled by the sweatbox, who is nailing the off stump with every ball despite looking like he’s on the verge of a heart attack.
I pad up - in sweaty borrowed pads - with the score on 97. I kinda wish I was wearing a…
I pad up - in sweaty borrowed pads - with the score on 97. I kinda wish I was wearing a…
…sundress or something to further enhance the incongruity, but I’m in shorts and a T-shirt. My usual.
The home side being Mr angry-accountant back on as I walk to the crease, clearly expecting him to blast through me and the tail-end, without troubling the scorer.
His first…
The home side being Mr angry-accountant back on as I walk to the crease, clearly expecting him to blast through me and the tail-end, without troubling the scorer.
His first…
…delivery is a Harmison-style wide down leg, which I ignore. I consider engaging in some light sledging, but I figure it might dilute the surprise which comes, joyfully, with the very next ball.
He sends it down fast and short, but not short enough. I barely have to change…
He sends it down fast and short, but not short enough. I barely have to change…
…position. I step into it and drive, a beautiful fucking straight drive by any standards, right onto the middle of the bat like I’m Michael fucking Vaughan at his prime.
The ball zings back past Mr Angry, still in the air but he’s far too startled to react, never mind reach…
The ball zings back past Mr Angry, still in the air but he’s far too startled to react, never mind reach…
…it, then zips across the gloriously short-mowed, fielder-free outfield for four.
“Fuck me,” says the wicketkeeper. I turn around at him and grin. The non-striker walks down for a chat.
“That not beginners luck…?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say, enjoying myself immensely. “Let’s…
“Fuck me,” says the wicketkeeper. I turn around at him and grin. The non-striker walks down for a chat.
“That not beginners luck…?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say, enjoying myself immensely. “Let’s…
…score some runs.”
I put on 78 with the tail. They’re decent players, we rotate the strike sensibly, & though mr angry and mr sweaty are not bad bowlers, they’re tired and weren’t expecting to need anything in reserve. I’m finally caught, last-man, trying to lift the spinner…
I put on 78 with the tail. They’re decent players, we rotate the strike sensibly, & though mr angry and mr sweaty are not bad bowlers, they’re tired and weren’t expecting to need anything in reserve. I’m finally caught, last-man, trying to lift the spinner…
…away for six - but I’ve played well. And the best is to come.
Outside the pavilion, the guest captain is in a state of some excitement. “Can you bowl too? Say you can bowl?”
My smugness knows no bounds at this point. “I’m Indian. Of course I can fucking bowl.”
He throws me…
Outside the pavilion, the guest captain is in a state of some excitement. “Can you bowl too? Say you can bowl?”
My smugness knows no bounds at this point. “I’m Indian. Of course I can fucking bowl.”
He throws me…
…the ball, which I catch deliberately and nonchalantly out of my own eyeline. I think I could have married any player on that team at this point.
The home side weren’t bad with the bat. It took me and a nifty little paceman 8 overs and 32 runs to shift their openers, and it…
The home side weren’t bad with the bat. It took me and a nifty little paceman 8 overs and 32 runs to shift their openers, and it…
…wasn’t me that made the breakthrough. But once it was made, I was making hay like a fucking bailing machine. None of the middle-order duffers could play spin. The pitch was hard and grippy and every ball was coming out beautifully… zipping and turning and making me feel like…
…Warney himself as I took 5-8 through their middle order, before the two paceman cleaned up the tail for a glorious 58-run win.
I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a game of cricket so much in my life!!
We’ve come home now to get the kids to bed, but Andrew and I have an open.
I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a game of cricket so much in my life!!
We’ve come home now to get the kids to bed, but Andrew and I have an open.
…invitation to join both teams back in the pub later, where the home team - undeniably the better side but wholly magnanimous in defeat, have offered to buy us both free drinks all night.
An offer I may well be taking them up on.
Told you it was smug. Oh also, I have sunburn!
An offer I may well be taking them up on.
Told you it was smug. Oh also, I have sunburn!
