Our last home Sunday game of the year was against Attenborough - the third time we had played them this season - on a day of tremendous humidity where we fully expected the weather to finally break after a blisteringly hot week.
They had a strong side of hungry young players. We had ten players, one of which was my sister playing her first ever game of cricket. I was confident she would be ok having had a bit of a practice with her the day before. Upon winning the toss, I was confident also that we would be able to make a decent fist of things despite only having ten players.
Well gee whickers, was I wrong.
It started as badly as it did against them last time we played them, when we were 1 for 3. That time, someone bashed 94 to keep us in the game. This time he wasn't able to repeat this miracle, although he did try his best.
Within 10 or so overs, we were five wickets down, batsman diddled by good bowling and some rather strange shot making in a couple of cases. Now, this is not the sort of thing that is supposed to happen on a Sunday, and it certainly doesn't happen on my watch when I'm captain. We want a full game of it for everyone, for our batters and bowlers, and for the opposition batters and bowlers too.
You don't keep the good bowlers on, hotknife-through-butter through the batting while cheering and celebrating like maniacs as if you were playing Australia at Lords. So I felt slightly aggrieved, and so did others on the team.
I sent my sister into bat ahead of me, and she managed to lay bat on ball a few times, before dollying a caught and bowled. No shame there! I went in and batted for thirteen balls without scoring a run, so honours even for us.
Forty-nine all out in about 18 overs. Jeez.
"Right then" I thought. Young kids or not, they were going to get a reminder that we could play hardball too.
Opening with our two fastest bowlers, we gave them a pretty torrid time as well, having them three down for not many, before I was glad to get their somewhat, not-happy, captain out LBW, while the chairman got a wicket during a fine spell of bowling too.
41 for 5. The sky was grey. It was raining heavily. The plan, such as I had one, to spin the game out as long as possible so that weather could intervene, relied on one thing. That a flash of lightning would be seen, which by ECB rules means we have to get the hell off the ground pronto.
All eyes were trained to the sky, apart from by the players on my team who were rather shamefully trying to pretend it was too dangerous to play by deliberately falling over in unconvincing ways.
A few minutes passed. Then, FLAAAAASSSSSSH! It happened.
Some of our players made it to the dressing room faster than Usain Bolt.
This lightning rule states that you can't go back out there for at least half an hour after the last visible strike. But in truth, although I told the players to be respectful, there was no-way anyone was going back out there. To be fair, all our white kit was soaked, and I can't blame them. I didn't either.
The groundsman and I made a show of inpecting the ground, which lightning or not was a near mud patch.
When we told the captain, he looked like he'd been told his home had exploded. A bit excessive for a Sunday game. But, it was that kind of day.
At least I was very proud of my sister.
Si
All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 13.09.23
