It flew off a thick outside edge. But thankfully went very low to the slip and the fielder at slip could not catch it. It instead hit him on the ankle. He winced in pain. I could hear the shriek!
Oh, wait! Did I tell you I went to play cricket? Real, tough cricket! In a beautiful green ground, we can only dream of in India. The pitch was real as well. Forty overs a side. We even had an electronic scoreboard.
So I opened the innings. The last I did was in school. Quite some time ago. I mean, a long time ago. We were chasing 189 in 40 overs and had a difficult start losing 3 wickets early. I was there at one end with another friend who was settling down. The required rate had just gone above 6.00 runs per over and so I had to accelerate. I had started off slowly, rather trepidatiously. I was also feeling my legs about that time. Fielding 40 overs and batting for almost 20 till then had taken its toll on me. The body was cramping as well. Then that happened.
I nicked a ball to the slip. That man in the slip cordon was himself in the middle of an excellent spell from the other end and had settled down at the slip. One ball went off my edge hit his ankle and he was visibly hurt. I could see him wincing in pain. Are you alright sir? I asked him concerned. Oh yes, I'm fine! I will be alright; came the reply. I could see the swollen ankle. His white feet looked bloody red. He started to limp badly.
"I think you should rest sir", I said cautiously; "You are afraid of getting out to me? ain't you?" He replied, tongue in cheek! I laughed it off.
"My grandson is watching I can't quit"! He said again. "Grandson? Who is that?" I asked him. That kid who bowled fast, he is my grandson, he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. He is 16. I'm 60! He finished before walking back to his fielding position. He went on to bowl two more really tight overs in that spell before walking off to take some pain killers.
Sixty! That is his age. SIXTY!
It hit me really hard. Here is a man double my age playing with wincing pain and I am almost quitting coz' of cramps.
I'm not quitting, I told myself. Not before winning this. And went on to bat till the end, though it ended in a lost cause.
Well, it was one of the best days of my short cricketing career. Coz, I did not quit. Coz, that man, that old man, taught me, quitting is never an option. Not in cricket. Never in life!
Some photos from the cricket match
Cricket in whites
Oh, wait! Did I tell you I went to play cricket? Real, tough cricket! In a beautiful green ground, we can only dream of in India. The pitch was real as well. Forty overs a side. We even had an electronic scoreboard.
So I opened the innings. The last I did was in school. Quite some time ago. I mean, a long time ago. We were chasing 189 in 40 overs and had a difficult start losing 3 wickets early. I was there at one end with another friend who was settling down. The required rate had just gone above 6.00 runs per over and so I had to accelerate. I had started off slowly, rather trepidatiously. I was also feeling my legs about that time. Fielding 40 overs and batting for almost 20 till then had taken its toll on me. The body was cramping as well. Then that happened.
I nicked a ball to the slip. That man in the slip cordon was himself in the middle of an excellent spell from the other end and had settled down at the slip. One ball went off my edge hit his ankle and he was visibly hurt. I could see him wincing in pain. Are you alright sir? I asked him concerned. Oh yes, I'm fine! I will be alright; came the reply. I could see the swollen ankle. His white feet looked bloody red. He started to limp badly.
"I think you should rest sir", I said cautiously; "You are afraid of getting out to me? ain't you?" He replied, tongue in cheek! I laughed it off.
"My grandson is watching I can't quit"! He said again. "Grandson? Who is that?" I asked him. That kid who bowled fast, he is my grandson, he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. He is 16. I'm 60! He finished before walking back to his fielding position. He went on to bowl two more really tight overs in that spell before walking off to take some pain killers.
Sixty! That is his age. SIXTY!
It hit me really hard. Here is a man double my age playing with wincing pain and I am almost quitting coz' of cramps.
I'm not quitting, I told myself. Not before winning this. And went on to bat till the end, though it ended in a lost cause.
Well, it was one of the best days of my short cricketing career. Coz, I did not quit. Coz, that man, that old man, taught me, quitting is never an option. Not in cricket. Never in life!
Some photos from the cricket match
Cricket in whites
Getting ready to open - on the left
Lush green outfield
1 comment:
Good one Sam..
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