A spell at last

3 or 4 years later, <after this story> I was in Canada, far removed from cricket. A chance remark by a friend at dinner found me searching out a cricket club in Canada.

Their first question “Do you keep wickets?”

“No, I don’t , but I bat a bit and bowl a bit.”

They were unimpressed by my bowling skill. Twenty years of rust were hard to shake off. Once again I found myself batting at #5, #9 and then, of course, #3. That old familiar state of affairs. I looked like a batsman, therefore I must be. I played for the club for 4 years and did not bowl a ball. I would get some action at practice sessions, 10-12 deliveries at best. Like giving a patient with a broken leg (more…)

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Forward Defensive

< This is a continuation of an earlier post written many, many months ago. Why has it taken so long to get to this one? Well, TheLastWord outranks me in the office and he was off writing about trips to Nepal and France. This gave no one else a word in edgeways. They say I wasn’t motivated enough. I talked about opportunities and the fact that the LastWord was taking so much room in my head and a couple of stormy meetings ensued. So, anyway, we then had the divorce and I came here to run my own blog devoted only to cricket. 

Also, I’m not sure anyone is reading this. Anyway, it is here now. >

Batting was about survival, because I knew only how to play off the front foot. It was in my final year in school that I finally found my name on the board. This was it. I was on the school cricket team. This is how it happened. (more…)

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