Coming out of retirement Part VI
Last week, Virtualgaz offered to bowl at me in the nets before the next club cricket game. So on Saturday, we dragged our ageing carcasses down to the local school nets and practised for an hour. Gaz turned up with a bat that appeared to predate the Bradman era, heavily taped with chunks taken out of it indicating it may have been used as a shield during World War I (we both opted to use my new Grey Nichols instead). Although our bodies felt the impact of 60 minutes of hard batting and bowling the next morning, it was definitely worthwhile - I worked on developing some consistency with my legspinners. In other words, reduce my "pie rate" (motivated by Stuart Macgill as a cautionary tale).
In the afternoon, I arrived at the ground just after a downpour with a puddle at one end of the pitch. Naturally the opposition sent us in and when both our openers fell for ducks, I was walking in at 2 for 1. The situation required defensive batting - fortunately the only style I know. I blocked out the overs and the field tightened and closed in.
At one point, I was struck on the body by a rearing delivery. Having learnt you never rub the sore spot when hit by the bowler, I stood stoically, pointedly not rubbing the spot. I don't think anyone noticed but I was still proud of myself :-) Next over, Belly got hit in the box. A distinct "clonk" was clearly heard across the field. One of the slips called out "it's okay to rub it, mate". An obvious exception to the no rub rule.
Eventually, I nicked a full outswinger. Batting for 18 overs, I left at 4 for 50 but only amassed 12 runs. I'm starting to think the Jason Gillespie style of batting is not working - if I'm gonna be out in the middle for so long, I need to add some scoring strokes to my kit bag (the bulk of my scoring came from a top edged pull shot and a late cut through the slip cordon). Maybe we'll work on that next weekend, Gaz?
Our innings collapsed badly from there, all out for 82. And unfortunately, the opposition were known for their batting, not their bowling. We took the field and got tonked. I was desperately keen to have a bowl and test out my newly honed legspin action. But the afternoon wore on and every single player in the side had a bowl before me... including the wicketkeeper! Eventually, with half an hour before stumps and the opposition on 3 for 280, the interim captain (our usual captain was not in charge today) asked if I wanted to bowl.
"Yeah!" I exclaimed.
"Uh... what do you bowl?"
So after what seemed an interminable wait, I finally came on, keen to test out my leggies. My first delivery bounced twice before reaching the batsman. Not quite John Howard level of incompetence but still embarrassing! The tall, gangly batsman (who'd just notched a half-century) tried sweeping but somehow missed and tripped over himself. Dodged a bullet there.
Okay, so my first ball was marred by Steve Harmison style nerves. However, the second delivery also bounced twice. Bizarrely, gangly guy played a studious forward defence - like he was facing a rampant Murali on a 5th day Sri Lankan turner rather than Stuart Macgill on a belter with a sore elbow. Fortunately, I found my length for the rest of the over and got through it with just a few singles.
Traditionally (at least in the two instances I'd bowled to date), my second over is where the batsmen decide they've had their sighter and wind up for some big hitting. Today was no different. Gangly guy for some reason was having trouble putting me away but the other batsman, a short, stocky guy, was quick on his feet. I'd deliver a good length ball and he'd dance down, smashing it on the full over my head. The shorter balls were pulled or cut. My second over conceded several boundaries. Yep, yet another two over spell.
However, the captain said I could have one more over (I like this interim leader). A lucky reprieve, or so I thought. Stocky guy continued to put me away at will - unfortunately our slowest fieldsman was at deep mid-off and I don't think his heart was in chasing down the straight hits. For my last delivery, I thought I might as well have a punt and give the ball more flight, hoping to tempt stocky guy down the pitch and get a stumping. He charged and made it a low full toss, hitting across the line and slicing it straight back at me for a simple caught and bowled. Sweet!
So that wicket bought me a fourth over - well into unchartered territory. Even better, I was bowling to a new batsman and gangly guy who was all at sea facing legspin. Late in the over, he charged, missed and was stumped! The umpire called an end of play - a wicket on the last ball of the day and figures of 2 for 23. The next day, I flicked through the Sunday Mail - buried in the sports scores were the results from our game:
Sure, the text is two millimetres tall. But it's still pretty cool seeing your bowling figures in print. Even more satisfying was getting to bowl a four over spell. Next week, we bat to save the match.
| Posted by JC on Tue 20 Nov |  7 comments |
Posted by TA on 2007-11-20 18:53:00
Posted by Moses on 2007-11-21 10:16:53
... don't like our chances, actually :-(
Posted by JC on 2007-11-21 11:02:32
Posted by Scorpicity on 2007-11-21 17:18:04
So, you serve as a nightwatchman, you bat at No.4, come in as a pinch-hitter on occasion, come on to bowl at the end of the day and grab a couple of scalps... MATE, you're the club version of ANDREW SYMONDS!!!!!!
Posted by virtualgaz on 2007-11-21 20:59:35
Re the Andrew Symonds comparison, a more accurate term would be "pinch blocker".
Posted by JC on 2007-11-21 21:12:47
DON'T!
The glory days of 1981 where I took 2 in 2 was cleary buried in the depths of nostalgia as I fronted up to our beloved JC - over what seemed like 44yds. I was only able to serve him up a platter of pies, double bouncers, John Howard's and the (very) occasional length ball 26yrs after my halcyon days. The fact that it took almost 5 days to recover and get mobile again should be warning enough!
Posted by virtualgaz on 2007-11-21 22:11:06
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