It was never going to be my husband’s first choice for a Father’s Day to sit and watch cricket for 3 hours on a Sunday morning , but when it comes to my eldest ,his passion for the crease always wins my husband’s vote. So for the 4th Sunday in a row we sat beside a match in an idillic country setting with buzzards circling above . Along with cricket matches comes the strong feeling that we ( my husband has never played cricket) are at the start of learning a foreign language. It’s a muddle. Our world is now full of ducks, bye, dot balls , grubbers ,overs, backing up…..and that is just the start, the rules just leave me scratching my head! Here is Oliver delivering a dot ball of which he consistently does in a straight line , apparently.
Unfortunately with all his teams efforts and dot balls , they were somewhat beaten by another under 10 team who seemed to be developing the next English side of bodyline ( I saw that Australian drama in the 80s about bodyline bowling and just remembered the word . No idea what it means) fast spin bowlers. I am just thankful I was in the protection of the Pavillion with a good cuppa and a mint club bar ,as really would not want to face that hard ball even if padded and with helmet. Absolutely no thank you. When it comes to the match conclusion without failure every time ,it is all very sportsmanlike and English with hip hip hoorays on both sides and gentleman handshakes, plus one lady handshake with our team’s truely dedicated female cricketer. God I admire that 10 year old girl.
(Dot balls, I have learnt ,are good balls from which the batsman cannot score a run. Get me .)
