Par
kville seamer Steven Healy sending one down to me as the wicket keeper and slips watch on. Brian "Happy" Hannon is backing up at the non strikers end.
If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.
~Proverb - attributed to T. H. Palmer 1840
Most people would argue that sequels are rarely as good as the original, and most of the time they would be correct – but today’s game could make an argument to the contrary plausible.
Due to a quirk in scheduling, we were slated to play last weekends opponent Parkville yet again. Not only that, we were playing them at our home ground – again.
Last week we meekly capitulated for seventy six and then watched Parkville pass our total with eight wickets in hand en-route to a respectable total off their forty five overs. Winning the toss and sending us in on a green top certainly aided their cause, however, our uncustomary ineptitude with the bat let us down badly.
Upon learning that we would be playing Parkville again, I could not help thinking all week about what we would do differently this time. I knew one thing for sure, I was going to be keeping an eye out for any over pitched Yorkers to avoid a repeat of last weeks freak dismissal.
Our selected team contained no less than five changes with Bobby Fisher, Sam Mitchell-Head, Conrad De Souza and Timmy Miller returning and Chris “CC” Connelly playing his first game of the year for the Fifths.
While we had lost some bowling fire power, we had gained some batting strength and regained the services of a specialist keeper in Timmy “Corky” Miller in place of the reluctantly deputizing Strachany.
Another subtle change that was going to effect me was Nat “Mr Natural” Williams intimating to me that he had a preference to opening rather than waiting around to come in at number three. I passed this info onto Strachany who admitted he was already thinking of making the change in any case. So Nat went up one in the order and I went down one. I really didn’t mind as I actually have a slight preference for number three, though to be truthful, I have come to realize that there is very little difference.
So my thinking all week was along the lines of, “if we can bat to our potential, we will be in with a big show”. I have no doubt that the other lads in the team were thinking along the same lines. While we were pole axed last week by very accurate bowling on a seam friendly pitch, Parkville themselves on an improving wicket only posted 145, though they lost only three wickets and batted in no great discomfort (other than when Harry Potter was whistling them around their ears).
This weekends match also had the special significance of being Amit Mehta’s last for the club before returning to India to work in the family business. Amit is a quiet, solid citizen and is well liked by all. I took a liking to the man from the first time I met him, so like everyone else, I was sad to see him go. Amit is always one of the first with a quiet positive word at training and after every game. I resolved that it would be a fitting send off if we could win this game for him, but fairy tales don’t always have ideal endings – so I was hopeful more than brimming with confidence.
There were so many feelings of déjà vu as I arrived at the ground and saw our lads warming up and the Parkville players also going through their pre-game routines. “Different result this week guys, different result” I thought to myself.
Strachany lost the toss yet again and we were sent in to bat…yet again! While I padded up I had a few quiet words with Amit and I am sure he was feeling emotional at the response from the lads. Today was day of payback for last weeks humiliation. At least that is what I was thinking.
Happy and Nat kicked off proceedings as I sat padded up waiting my turn. I had a morale boosting visit of a friend of mine who had specifically come along to see me play and I was keen to do well to make his long drive worth it.
The going was somewhat slow and when Nat was out bowled to Parkville seamer Healy for an uncharacteristically subdued ten in the sixteenth over, our score was only twenty six.
I charged onto the ground ready to enter the fray. I was feeling rather confident and ready to go. I met up with Happy as I arrived in the middle and he offered the following sage advice: “They are keeping low, so get on the front foot as much as possible. This bloke (Healy) swings the occasional one in too”. So keeping all that in mind, I faced up to my first delivery and as is my custom lately, the ball thudded off my pads for leg byes.
Waiting for the next delivery, bat in the air, eyes fixed on the bowler.
It was rather noticeable that the Parkville bowlers were considerably younger than ours lads. In fact, most of them looked like they had yet to start shaving. I faced up next over to the other Parkville change bowler and eventually I got a delivery angled into my problem area of my pads and lo and behold, I played a nice fore arm jab to the vacant mid on area for a single to get off the mark. It goes to show, all those leg bruising practice sessions with Happy and the bowling machine were starting to pay off.
My sole concern was when I set off for my first single, I immediately strained anew my right quadricep muscle. “Just great” I thought to myself – "this injury never seems to go away". The big positive (if there was one) is that Happy is a leisurely runner between wickets, thus it would be unlikely that I would be called through for any sharp singles.
The bowling was tight over the next couple of overs and I accumulated another two and a single all scored with the same on drive to the vacant mid on region that had hitherto been a no fly zone for me due to my technical weakness in that area. So, I was starting to feel good about the world and confident that these bowlers had no hidden tricks up their sleeve that would duly worry me.
Mid pitch discussion between overs with "Happy". I seem to be inspecting the toe of my bat, but I am actually quietly informing Happy that I have strained my quad muscle again.
What was this business of the pitch keeping low and this young chap Healy swinging the occasional one in that Happy was warning against? It was all under control as far as I could see. In fact, the only alarm had come when an errant throw from the Parkville square leg fielder smashed into my right shoulder blade as I was completing a run at the strikers end. It was a searing blow that caused me to drop my bat after making my ground. Sportingly the Parkville wicket keeper and the offending fielder came over to check if I was alright and to offer their contrition, but I could see the funny side to it all and waved them away with the words that I was OK.
The moment of impact. I am propping with pain as the ball has hit me on the shoulder blade from a wayward throw from the outfield.
Then much to my surprise, the umpires called “drinks” at the twenty over mark, not the usual twenty third over as is customary in forty five over games. This was to cost me at least another three overs of getting my eye in before playing some expansive strokes.
As I took a quick drink Strachany wondered over to Happy and I and told us (while all the while looking at me in the eye) to “push things along”. I was staggered as I was still relatively new to the crease. However, I was under no illusions he was talking to me and me only as Happy is not a big shot player and cannot change his game no matter what the circumstances.
I am not a big shot player either, preferring to stroke the ball around. The only “big” shots I possess in my armoury are the cut shot, the pull shot and the hook shot as I am essentially a back foot player. Big rain maker drives and hoicks to cow corner are simply not part of my game, but what could I do now? I mentioned my sore quad more in the hope that Strachany would understand that I was more intent on placing the ball around rather than outright brutalizing it...however, my protestations fell on deaf ears as Strachany’s next words were “it’s death or glory, go out swinging mate, it is only forty overs each today”. Later, after I was dismissed, I was to find out that it was in actual fact, a forty five over game as per normal though Strachany couldn't have known this at the time.
I was feeling rather like a sacrificial lamb at this stage and I couldn’t help thinking as I made my way back to the crease why I was being asked to throw my wicket away – because while the directive was seemingly to both batsman, there was no way that Happy would throw his wicket away for anyone no matter what the circumstances and the state of the game. Why me? I was starting to feel comfortable and I could feel a big innings coming, a good solid fifty or sixty on which to build my confidence for the rest of the season.
The first ball after drinks I duly pulled away for four runs as was my directive to play aggressively. While it was satisfying to smash a boundary from a not altogether bad ball, I was already thinking how long would I be able to keep this up before I would make a mistake? It was going to be a game of Russian Roulette, but with bat and ball instead of revolver. The next ball was not quite short enough and too close to my body to cut, but I tried to anyway and I only succeeded in bunting the ball straight down onto the pitch for no run.
The third ball was pitched invitingly about six inches outside the line of off stump at a nice length to aim a huge off drive. I had decided that as it was slightly wide of my stumps I could risk a big swipe at it as if I missed, it would likely pass harmlessly past my stumps. Moreover, as I bat a meter out of my crease, I was confident that even if by some miracle it jagged back in, it would surely bounce over my wicket. So, keeping all that in mind in the nanosecond I had to make up my mind that I was going for a big drive, I put one big stride down the wicket and swung my bat through in a huge arc. To my horror, the ball did swing in alarmingly and by playing through the line I missed and the ball somehow kept low enough that it clipped my off stump about a third of the way up.
For a bowler to pitch a delivery six or so inches outside off stump and then make it dart back in to clip off stump was world class unto itself. The fact that it also kept low so it would not harmlessly bounce over the top of the stumps was nothing short of astonishing. I congratulated the bowler after the game on his great delivery and he actually apologized with the words "it is the best ball I have ever bowled in my life". No need to apologize mate - I am still in awe.
When you consider that from the stumps to the popping crease it is nearly a meter and half. Factor in that I bat about a meter out of my crease and that the ball bounced a further meter and half in front of me when I lurched forward to drive. That would mean that the ball bounced at the very least three and half meters from the wickets and still did not bounce over the stumps as you would reasonably expect. The bowler certainly intended to bowl an inswinger, but there was no way known he could have anticipated that the ball would skid through so low and hit my off stump about half way up. Not even the top of the off stump mind you!
Simply unreal.
Playing a defensive push to cover.
Unlike other weeks, this time I was extremely angry with myself and my over optimistic shot selection. I was rendered hors de combat by a ball that was far too good to be disrespected by my overly ambitious attempt at crashing an off drive to a ball that seamed off the pitch almost sideways and kept low in the bargain.
In any normal course of events, I would have thrust my arched defensive bat with my front pad somewhere near. Even in the likely event that I played down the wrong line (it was an excellent ball after all), I most likely would have inside edged the delivery either into my pad where the ball would have probably bounced harmlessly away or if I played with the bat in front of the pad, the ball may have even squirted away to square leg and a possible single.
Either way, I would have lived to fight another day, but alas, it was not to be and I was out for a very brief innings of eight. I really did feel there were many more runs left in me this day.
In any case, after watching the bombastic stroke play of my successor, Chris “CC” Connelly, I quickly realized I was merely hors d’oeuvres to the main course served up by this leviathan’s Sunday afternoon matinee display of power hitting. Chris Connelly has been playing at South Yarra for some years, but has only in recent times started to show the latent talent that has remained hidden until now.
“CC” is about six foot three in height with huge shoulders. In height and build he reminds very much of a right handed Matthew Hayden and his short back and sides and protruding ears make CC look like a throw back to the ANZAC’s. I could easily picture him in a slouch hat and khaki in a sepia tinted photo.
Almost from the first ball he faced, CC was smacking the ball to all parts of the ground like a kid playing in his backyard. No bowler was safe from punishment as he thrust his front foot down the pitch and swung his bat like a wood choppers axe.
Chris Connelly bludgeoned his way to sixty seven in little more than about seventeen overs. There was no finessing and the innings was not chanceless by any means, but boy, did this man give the ball a serious whack. When CC hit the ball, it stayed hit and many of his best hits bounced over the boundary with ease. But for some inspired fielding by at least one of the Parkville boundary riders, CC would have scored many, many more runs. All these fireworks from a bloke who rarely even shows up to training!
Finally, Parkville introduced to the attack a young slightly built South African lad by the name of Daniel Bense as their fifth change bowler. They obviously either didn’t think much of the boys bowling, or they had not seen him bowl before, because Bense immediately sprang to notice by uprooting the obdurate Brian “Happy” Hannon’s middle stump. Happy had made a laborious thirty nine when he was finally dismissed in the thirty fifth over of the innings, but his stubborn vigil had ensured that our innings was to at least attain a level of respectability.
The hitherto unheralded Bense was bowling appreciably faster than his Parkville comrades and from a height of no more than five foot nine generated surprising speed and bounce which first unnerved, then decimated our middle order which folded before this unexpected onslaught. CC’s great knock ended when he was bowled by Bense, then hero of Round Two against Canterbury - Conrad de Souza fell LBW to Bense. The rest sadly were mown down with Sam “Fairfax” Mitchell-Head perhaps a trifle unlucky that a chest high full toss he bunted straight back to the bowler (Bense yet again) was not called a no ball and Timmy “Corky” Miller getting a thick edge on the ball en-route to his pad being given LBW (also Bense).
Only Strachany managed to avoid becoming a victim of Bense’s onslaught as he was run out for a “diamond” duck when he took on the Parkville fielders arm going for a sharp single. The Parkville man had one stump to aim at from about fifteen meters and he duly hit the target running the unfortunate Strachany out by about a meter.
Bense had finished with the remarkable figures of 7 for 17 off just short of eight overs. All that his teammates had known of him was that he was a hard hitting batsman who had scored seventy two the previous week in the fourths. It was sensational stuff, but the multi talented Bense was not finished yet on what was to prove to be an auspicious day for the youngster from Durban.
Parkville commenced their innings chasing a challenging 165 to win. A reasonable total, but probably forty or so short of what it looked like it would be when “CC” was in full flight and the score was 2 for 125. The loss of eight wickets for forty runs was a dramatic collapse that changed the momentum of the game.
Bobby Fisher and Conrad De Souza opened the bowling, but no break through came as the Parkville batsmen showed great resolve in chasing the target. The score had reached none for forty three with danger-man Andy McGregor on thirty eight doing all the scoring. I could sense that all our lads were thinking “how are we going to get a wicket here?”
In such situations, I always imagine myself taking a diving catch to lift my team mates. I want the ball to come to me every ball because I want that match defining moment to come my way. The reality is that the ball usually comes along the ground and I am required only to perform teh mundane task of saving some runs, but today, it was different.
McGregor who was looking set for a very big score was batting beautifully and had not given us a single chance when he flashed at one just wide of his off stump from the bowling of Conrad “Conair” De Souza. The ball was keeping low, so it was not really high enough to cut, so McGregor hit the ball from slightly lower than stump height getting a thickish edge which flew no more than a foot and half off the ground and dropping fast to me at gully.
I instinctively realized that the ball was about to bounce about six feet in front of me when I dived full stretch forward to get both my hands under the ball by now not much more than an inch or two above the turf. As the ball smacked into my hands, I suddenly realized that every other time in my life when I had attempted a diving catch, the ball always jolted from my hands as my elbows hit the ground, so somehow I lurched into a death roll to protect my elbows as much as possible from the full impact of landing on the ground.
As my roll ended with the ball still clasped firmly in one of my hands, I found myself looking up to the sky. I suddenly realized in a flash that perhaps the umpires might think that I had taken the catch on the bounce and thus was not celebrating because it was not out. So while still prostrate on my back I threw the ball triumphantly into the air and as I laid there watching the ball heading heaven wards, I could hear the whoops of joy from my team mates. All of the above happened inside two seconds. How my brain processed everything and in perfect synergy triggered all the correct movements and trajectory of my diving body while making mental adjustments in a flash is simply amazing. It is also living proof that I can write a lot about a little!
I got to my feet just in time to be mobbed from all directions by appreciative team mates and an overjoyed Conrad who blurted out in the magic of the moment “I could kiss you”. Not macho stuff…but under the circumstances, I completely understood, though I did shoot back “a hand shake will do Conair!” I also blurted out "my wifes going to kill me when she sees how dirty I am" as I inspected my now less than pristine whites to much accompanying laughter from the boys.
Looking around at the smiling faces of my team mates, I could see in their eyes the look of renewed hope. It was as the pundits claim “a shift in momentum”. I could feel the energy levels rise.
While I had imagined myself in the overs leading up to the key moment taking a diving catch, I had actually imagined taking a sideways diving catch. Not one where I had to dive forward to a ball that was travelling fast and not carrying. The degree of difficulty was harder than what I imagined myself doing, but if I tried to imagine myself taking such a catch as transpired, I would have doubted myself and my head would have been filled with negative thoughts of dropping a catch.
In truth, the catch itself was as a result of the long hours practicing catching at both Tuesday and Thursday training sessions (our first out doors for the year). At both sessions I participated in catching drill after catching drill until my hands were throbbing with pain and my right palm going purple from bruising. I also badly jarred two fingers, one of which I still cannot bend properly nearly a week on.
But, the practice helped. If the catch came a week earlier, I would not have caught it. I either would have let it bounce in front of me and taken it on the bounce and no one would have thought any less of me. Or if by some chance I did dive, it would have bounced out of my hands.
The value of hours of practice, in some cases painful and unpleasant, gave me one of my greatest feelings on a cricket field.
Back to the game, the in coming Parkville batsman was the redoubtable Craig Baulch who had held us up last week with a well made thirty. How Harry Potter didn’t kill him is a testament to Baulch’s ducking skills. He yet again batted well and this time he made forty five before he got too adventurous and he skied a delivery from Johnny Scurry to Chris Connelly at backward point.
In the interim however, the other junior opener was dismissed by being bowled by John Scurry in the middle of a purple patch before he was to be later man handled along with our other bowlers in the partnership of the match. With the dismissal of Baulch, Parkville were 3 for 107 and still requiring fifty nine runs in about sixteen overs. A challenging task if we could keep the pressure up.
Strachany then grabbed the wicket of Foletta leaving Parkville 4 for 112 and I am sure we all started thinking that the initiative had again tipped further in our favour. Parkville batsman Stu Mills was joined at the crease by bowling hero Danial Bense. Mills must be about six foot four tall and one hundred and twenty kilos. A veritable man mountain. He contrasted sharply with Bense who as stated earlier is about five foot nine and would have to run around the shower to get wet.
The two Parkville batsmen then set about dismantling our bowling in an assault that was as brutal as it was unexpected. Both batsmen seemed to have little trouble in not only finding the boundary, but in many cases clearing it by a long way. Mills made fifty four not out to see Parkville home, though he was dropped on at least one occasion. Bense the seven wicket hero was dismissed for a barn storming forty five which included four big sixes. One of which cleared both our boundary riders on the “fat”side of the ground (the pavilion end) when they were standing on the chalk. The ball cleared the boundary, the embankment and narrowly averted killing the scorers. The pint sized South African proved to be an inspired cricketer who is easily better than the level he was selected to play.
Parkville requiring nearly four runs an over after the loss of their fourth wicket with sixteen or so overs to play, passed our total with ten overs to spare and then continued onto the fortieth over where they finally declared with the fall of Benses wicket and the score resting on 5 for 210.
Even though we played much better than the week before, we were yet again hammered. The depth of Parkville was either astonishing or they simply have no idea what they have on their hands with some of the players playing their first or second game of the year against us.
Yet again I felt absolutely devastated to have lost. It is apparent that we are appreciably older on a per capita basis than most of our opponents, but the gulf in age between our bowlers and Parkvilles attack was stark.
At the end of the game back in the club house, Strachany kept an upbeat, positive perspective on the days events. Chris Connelly was easily man of the match for the Yarras and got to drink his hard earned free beer from the pewter goblet. The encouragement award which isn’t actually an award per se, just an honourable mention went surprisingly to me for my catch and all round effort in the field as well as my effort to keep the talk up.
I actually am not a talker on the field (though a prolific one off it), but constant encouragement is a necessity to keep spirits up on the field. Strachany is our resident cheer leader who keeps the onfield chatter going even when others tire and go quiet. I had noticed when Strachany is bowling and thus unable to be the cheer leader because of the concentration required to bowl, we go all quiet. So I stepped up to keep the chat going, particularly when Strachany was bowling.
It is one of the more unglamorous facets of the game – but everybody has to do it.
Irrespective, sitting back in the club room, I was shattered and wondering how we can get on the winners list. I also was annoyed that I had failed with the bat two weeks in a row. I need a big score and I need it soon. I am batting well, but so far the score book is not showing it. However, I know the big score will come, I just hope it comes soon.
See you all next week!
Vic Nicholas
Melbourne
N Williams b S Healy 10
B Hannanb D Bense 39
VJ Nicholas b S Healy 8
C Connellyb D Bense 67
CA De Souza lbw b D Bense 5
S Mitchell-Head c & b D Bense 3
A Mehta c DJ Marson b D Bense 0
*D Strachan run out(G Foletta)0
T Miller lbw b D Bense 1
J Scurry b D Bense 0
R Fisher not out 0
Extras (0nb,16w,8b,8lb) 32
Total 165
Overs 45
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