Mattk
08-19-2006, 09:28 AM
Well, as no one seems inclined to talk cricket I'm going to tell you a story, with a little help from a friend of mine, named 'Crusoe'. It'll keep you all on the edge of your seats I'm sure. This chap, 'Crusoe' was, in his time, a stalwart of his local cricket team. A mediocre bowler and batsman he may have been, but he had done a long stint at that venerable institution, the university of life. It happened that, under the leadership of their green-behind-the-ears wetback public school captain, the team was in second place in the league, and was facing a crunch match against long-time table toppers and local rivals, Loamshire.
It was a well-known fact that the secret to beating Loamshire lay in dismissing their star batsman, a chap named Bill Higgins. So the precocious skipper took Crusoe down to the pub before the match to plot one of his all too frequent cunning plans. This particular scheme involved the recruitment of a star 16-year-old into the first team. The boy, who we shall call Simon, was reknowned as a brilliant fielder, with a very strong arm in the outfield. The skipper chuckled to himself with machiavellian glee as he announced his plan. For the match, Simon was to field and throw with his left arm only. Then, when Bill Higgins was confident that every time the boy was hit the ball there were two runs for the taking, the skipper would give a signal. At this point, Simon would hurl the ball in full-throttle and, things being as he hoped, Bill Higgins would be caught unawares and run out.
Crusoe wasn't best sure of this plan but agreed to go along with it anyway. Come the day of the match, Higgins was indeed batting superbly. Simon, in the deep, had endured the catcalls and whistles of the spectators all day as he practised his wrong-handed throwing. Then, Higgins guided the ball out to the boy and calld for two runs. At that point the skipper gave the signal. Simon picked up right handed and fizzed the ball into the stumps. The run-out looked certain.
There was only one problem Crusoe reflected to himself. And he was right. The captain had failed to tell the wicketkeeper about his scheme. The wickie was more astounded than anyone by Simon's lightening quick return, which came arrowing in towards his head. Understandably, he ducked out of the way. The ball struck the Skipper, who was already half-way through his appeal, flush on the head. He fell to the floor, thoroughly unconscious, and was then stretchered from the field.
Crusoe, as senior player, took control of the side, but first he had to attend to his Skipper. There was a considerable break in play as he followed the stretcher off to the changing room. The team doctor called an ambulance, and concerned that the sight of so much blood may upset the spectators, covered the stretcher over with a blanket. As Crusoe later told me, it was a very hot day, so as he walked the stretcher out to the ambulance he removed his cap and held it behind his back. The word quickly went around the ground that the Skipper, under a blanket, had been carted off in a cortege to the hospital.
Crusoe returned to the field to the uderstandably apprehensive players. Higgins approached him, ashen-faced, and enquired in a tremulous voice: "Is it true about your skipper being carried away under a blanket?". "Indeed" replied Crusoe. It almost drove Higgins, who was an excessively sentimental man, to tears. "But" Crusoe added "we should carry on with the game. It is what he would have wanted." Higgins nodded, guilt stricken and horrified by the supposed fatality. Crusoe, grinning to himself, promptly brought himself on to bowl.
Loamshire we're, of course, in no mood for cricket. Higgins slumped his shoulders to a straight, slow ball and was castled. The rest of the side, in a similarly dispirited mood, succumbed in similar fashion, and Crusoe too his career-best figures of 7 for 9, leading his side to a title-clinching win. A fact he was only too keen to share with his shaken but unharmed Skipper, when he joined him at his bedside later that day.
By Andy Bull, Guardian Unlimited journalist.
It was a well-known fact that the secret to beating Loamshire lay in dismissing their star batsman, a chap named Bill Higgins. So the precocious skipper took Crusoe down to the pub before the match to plot one of his all too frequent cunning plans. This particular scheme involved the recruitment of a star 16-year-old into the first team. The boy, who we shall call Simon, was reknowned as a brilliant fielder, with a very strong arm in the outfield. The skipper chuckled to himself with machiavellian glee as he announced his plan. For the match, Simon was to field and throw with his left arm only. Then, when Bill Higgins was confident that every time the boy was hit the ball there were two runs for the taking, the skipper would give a signal. At this point, Simon would hurl the ball in full-throttle and, things being as he hoped, Bill Higgins would be caught unawares and run out.
Crusoe wasn't best sure of this plan but agreed to go along with it anyway. Come the day of the match, Higgins was indeed batting superbly. Simon, in the deep, had endured the catcalls and whistles of the spectators all day as he practised his wrong-handed throwing. Then, Higgins guided the ball out to the boy and calld for two runs. At that point the skipper gave the signal. Simon picked up right handed and fizzed the ball into the stumps. The run-out looked certain.
There was only one problem Crusoe reflected to himself. And he was right. The captain had failed to tell the wicketkeeper about his scheme. The wickie was more astounded than anyone by Simon's lightening quick return, which came arrowing in towards his head. Understandably, he ducked out of the way. The ball struck the Skipper, who was already half-way through his appeal, flush on the head. He fell to the floor, thoroughly unconscious, and was then stretchered from the field.
Crusoe, as senior player, took control of the side, but first he had to attend to his Skipper. There was a considerable break in play as he followed the stretcher off to the changing room. The team doctor called an ambulance, and concerned that the sight of so much blood may upset the spectators, covered the stretcher over with a blanket. As Crusoe later told me, it was a very hot day, so as he walked the stretcher out to the ambulance he removed his cap and held it behind his back. The word quickly went around the ground that the Skipper, under a blanket, had been carted off in a cortege to the hospital.
Crusoe returned to the field to the uderstandably apprehensive players. Higgins approached him, ashen-faced, and enquired in a tremulous voice: "Is it true about your skipper being carried away under a blanket?". "Indeed" replied Crusoe. It almost drove Higgins, who was an excessively sentimental man, to tears. "But" Crusoe added "we should carry on with the game. It is what he would have wanted." Higgins nodded, guilt stricken and horrified by the supposed fatality. Crusoe, grinning to himself, promptly brought himself on to bowl.
Loamshire we're, of course, in no mood for cricket. Higgins slumped his shoulders to a straight, slow ball and was castled. The rest of the side, in a similarly dispirited mood, succumbed in similar fashion, and Crusoe too his career-best figures of 7 for 9, leading his side to a title-clinching win. A fact he was only too keen to share with his shaken but unharmed Skipper, when he joined him at his bedside later that day.
By Andy Bull, Guardian Unlimited journalist.