This is the continuation of the previous story, 'Cringe', regarding the game of cricket and having weathered a series of short deliveries which I found impossible to score off.
As the Captain, I felt obligated to play at each ball and attempt to anchor the non-strikers end, leaving it to Ian Toogood push the run rate along.
Given that I now know a duck was looming I found the task difficult.
This was also a difficult situation for the balance of the team as they were seeing the most reliable of our batting line up getting pummelled and bruised at the hands of this intimidatory bowling.
The easy way out was to “throw” my wicket away, leaving it to another of my team mates to try to swing the game our way. How was this to be done? I could not see an answer.
The answer was blatantly obvious. I needed to get the bit between my teeth and attempt to defend my wicket as there was no sign of a high score.
Ian and I batted on for the best part of the afternoon, only to be trapped in front of the stumps and a confident cry of “Howzat!”
The appeal was of course an LBW.
The umpire for the day deliberated on his decision, long and hard, to make up his mind. By that time in the afternoon my left shin bone was starting to throb after the bruising bowling I’d endured.
I had to hold my ground courageously, though it was only a cricket match.
I was hoping that the Umpire would give me out as I could then walk off the ground with courage and dignity, not just give my wicket away and walk off the ground.
The Umpire eventually gave me out and I was secretly relieved.
--------------------
I had experienced this situation a previous week, not realizing what a battering I had taken as the opening batsman.
In those days it was quite common for school teachers to wear shorts to work. This particular Monday I was wearing shorts. I could not work out why people were looking at my legs, just above the knee, as I walked down the school corridor.
Then it dawned on me! It was the bruising from another short delivery episode.
Godfrey Marple,
October 2015
As the Captain, I felt obligated to play at each ball and attempt to anchor the non-strikers end, leaving it to Ian Toogood push the run rate along.
Given that I now know a duck was looming I found the task difficult.
This was also a difficult situation for the balance of the team as they were seeing the most reliable of our batting line up getting pummelled and bruised at the hands of this intimidatory bowling.
The easy way out was to “throw” my wicket away, leaving it to another of my team mates to try to swing the game our way. How was this to be done? I could not see an answer.
The answer was blatantly obvious. I needed to get the bit between my teeth and attempt to defend my wicket as there was no sign of a high score.
Ian and I batted on for the best part of the afternoon, only to be trapped in front of the stumps and a confident cry of “Howzat!”
The appeal was of course an LBW.
The umpire for the day deliberated on his decision, long and hard, to make up his mind. By that time in the afternoon my left shin bone was starting to throb after the bruising bowling I’d endured.
I had to hold my ground courageously, though it was only a cricket match.
I was hoping that the Umpire would give me out as I could then walk off the ground with courage and dignity, not just give my wicket away and walk off the ground.
The Umpire eventually gave me out and I was secretly relieved.
--------------------
I had experienced this situation a previous week, not realizing what a battering I had taken as the opening batsman.
In those days it was quite common for school teachers to wear shorts to work. This particular Monday I was wearing shorts. I could not work out why people were looking at my legs, just above the knee, as I walked down the school corridor.
Then it dawned on me! It was the bruising from another short delivery episode.
Godfrey Marple,
October 2015
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