Started playing league cricket again. League cricket is often petty, mean, abusive and riven by cliques and factions. It can be full of unhappy souls on Saturday. Perhaps it’s a Middlesex league thing. Maybe it’s different elsewhere but this league attracts a lot of failed pros and those who think they were good enough to be pros and those who think they can play like pros on weekends. It is a happy place for a certain type of animal.
I’d previously played in 4 matches for the South Hampstead 2nds. In my first game I stuck one down deep square leg’s throat; next game, toe ended full toss into covers hand’s; third game long off took a breathtaking catch on the boundary fence. It was obvious I was out of my depth. I was dropped to the 3rds.
War broke out between South Hampstead and Barnes. It wasn’t Man dem crew v South man syndicate but there was a little acrimony. The trouble began when I went into bat and passed the oppo skipper.
“I’ve seen you before, you played last time in your home game.”
“Doubt it I’ve just been dropped to 3s and I’m new at the club.”
“No, I’m sure it was you.”
Barnes’s captain confused me with another black player at SH who’s 6 ft 2, right handed, a bowler and no 11 batsmen. I suppose we all look like.
“I don’t play for the 3rds, you’re thinking of someone else.”
“Normally play in the 4ths do you?”
I laughed with him, then took my guard. Before the first ball, Barnes’s Captain chirped “come on lads, a test match bat has come in. Lets send him packing”.
The score was 90 for 5. We were 90 for 1 a few overs before. Steady as she goes batting was called for. Even reckless me knew what was required. After playing safe for a few balls another Barnes player shouted “come on lads big shot coming.”
None of this is unusual. It is part of cricket. I’ve said ‘big shot coming’. You hear this kind of talk a lot. It’s not even offensive. But the laziness of the comment- not the comment- got to me. The crime: rubbish sledging. Was there nothing original the sledger could come up with? Just for the theatre of it, I picked a row with him and told him his chat was prep school.
“Oh, I’ve got to him,” he said
“Yeah you’re Alex Ferguson, I’m Kevin Keegan. Grow up, mate”.
In this pillocks mind, I’ve succumbed to psych games. It’s not like I need help to get out is it and what the hell’s at stake? Barnes’s wicket keeper joined the row. He was upset about the prep school remark and said ”I didn’t go to a prep school.”
“Ok, his behaviour is state primary school. Do you feel better now? Being obnoxious is a two way street mate. You lot get on with your game and I’ll get on with mine. This is third team cricket not a test match. Your attack is made up of dibbly dobblers not Sylvester Clarke or Shane Warne.”
My response wasn’t that fluent. There were ten or twenty ’fs’ in it. There’s something wrong about this lot. They were too vocal. I’m slightly ashamed to be in the 3rd XI for anything. I get the impression that they are not; their skipper especially. He’s a bit noisy for the dubious honour of captaining the 3rd XI.
I’m not rubbishing 3rds cricket. It’s often packed with goodish players. The rules of the league allow one overseas player per team in the 1st and 2nd teams. This doesn’t apply in the 3rd team. Some sides are packed with talented Saffies and Aussies who should be in higher teams.
Scored 11; hit a few boundaries, edge a few through slips and then holed out to deepish mid off. Cue mass joy and primal screams from Barnes. In my defence, the fielder shouldn’t have been there. He was put there for the earlier assault by our opening batsmen. He fell asleep and kept his position when he should have been ten yards closer.
When Barnes batted I got my own back. Pathetic yes but read on and you’ll find out just how pathetic; remember they started it. Their skipper opened. I stayed quiet to start with and had a look to see if his batting matched his chat. A left hander, he made me look like Frank Woolley. He nicked two boundaries through the slips, played and missed frequently- the nervous tick of an awful player. I should know. I do it a lot.
I volunteered to field under their skipper’s nose. A bright glint on his chest caught the eye. “Nice chain, where did you buy it” I asked. Before he could answer, a team mate shouted “Ratner’s.” To every poor shot he hit or mistimed, to every ball he missed there were cheers of “Ratner’s”. I took no part in this.
A few balls later their skipper’s stumps lay scattered. I smiled when he walked past. I coughed two words that may have sounded like a muffled ‘f off.’
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, just clearing my throat.”
He went ape; silver back mountain gorilla styli. He beat his chest, screamed threats before being sedated with a dart and dragged of the field by his team mates. League cricket don’t you just love it?
There was one more score to settle though. The lad that started the ‘big shot coming’ sledge took his turn a few wickets later. His batting didn’t match his chat as well. What a surprise. The old Jean Knight song ‘Mr Big stuff’, I rephrased to ‘Mr big shot who do you think you are? Mr big shot… you’re never gonna a score run’. Between delivieries, I sang this a few times and whistled it until he cracked.
He ran himself out not too long after. It was my voice. He couldn’t take my singing any longer. League cricket is full of wollies like Mr ‘big shot’. They sledge like Aussie test players but bat like Aussie larger.
The big shot coming jibe hints at something mediocre. It’s not always said to provoke a rush of blood. Instead it is often used to chide an attacking or ambitious bat. It really means ‘you rate yourself don’t you? Coming out here, playing shots…’ And little shots are a thrill aren’t they? We should live for those little, little shots.
Barnes were set 190 odd in 47 overs. Needing 5 runs it went down to the last over and last wicket. A dubious lbw decision at 8.15 pm by our umpire decided it. More vitriol and unpleasant exchanges- not from me though. Barnes were furious. I couldn’t stop laughing.