Last day of the league season, and the last few days I've dreamed of putting in a big performance; lots of runs and lots of wickets.
As it turned out I didn't do either. But it was a beautiful day and a good game. Pity 1) lady luck deserted me and 2) I was in a touretty mood, but a bad one.
So we bowled first, and things started slowly. Not many wickets, but not many runs. Good bowling. Good fielding. Then when I appeared after 15 or so overs, odd things happened.
Odd but not good. A catch went down in each of my first three overs. Grrrrr. I didn't let it bother me externally, but then I straightaway knew it wasn't going to be my day.
I kept on trying, as the sun shone and the buzzards cried, but even though I was making the ball reverse wing past the batsman's edge loads of times, the nicks stopped coming. I then got hit for a couple of 4s and thus got whisked off after 8 overs, and I was furious with myself for not taking a wicket.
Had a bit of daze for a couple of overs, then was fine. Fielded bloody well after that actually.
Wet Bridgeford Legion, for twas they we played, got 181-7 off 45 overs. Not unbeatable on a flat deck and I thought well if the bowling hasn't worked out, I can make up with it with the bat.
I was still optimistic at tea, which I ate too much of as usual. The sausage rolls at Collingham are A1, I tell you, likewise the scotch eggs. Luckily there were no egg sandwiches to cause flatulence by anyone in the dressing room. There certainly had been back at our HQ, but that's another story.
So yes, batting. I was put down at 11 again, despite being in better form. I was gutted, I thought I might get to go 9 again and get a chance to bat against friendly bowling. I didn't get to bat at all, as it turned out.
As before, I was in a convulsive mood for 15 minutes, then fine. Got rocketed but that's OK. I'm ultra competitive and don't like not being involved. Esepcially as realistically I've only got a year or two more of being even an average player! Psychologically, being told you are the worst bat in the side if you are of my sort of disposition really gets to you. You want to be good at something!
Again, a few ticks and a walk around the ground and I was fine. I even took my short off, although it went back on if anyone came within 50 yards of me. Or I was scrumping apples.
We made a fist of it, but none of our big gun batsmen fired - we made it to 149-7. Then we returned to HG, where a large group of first team players were planning on getting into the shower together.
Must be a sports thing.