Diamond duck

So I decided to join a cricket team this year despite not playing since school (and even in school I wasn't particularly good). I had only had one training session last Wednesday but someone dropped out of a friendly match yesterday meaning there was a spot for me so despite not being at the crease since school (I hadn't even had a bat at the training session, only a bowl) I stepped up and decided to give it a go.

Was shitting myself walking in to bat, I even momentarily forgot my bat when walking to the crease (thankfully a team mate pointed this out straight away so the opposition didn't see, sparing me a few sledges) with my biggest worry that of being out first ball. The nerves had time to build due to the last wicket being taken at the end of the previous over so I had a few deliveries standing at the non strikers end. First three balls my partner defended but on the 4th he called for an insane run that wasn't there and left me stranded, being run out without facing a delivery.

What a return to cricket!

Pretty much shattered my confidence so I didn't ask for a bowl when we were fielding despite bowling pretty well in the nets on Wednesday. I added a couple of misfields to my CV to round off what was an absolute nightmare day performance wise.

But... Fark me it was great to be playing cricket again, can't believe I wasted my 20s by not playing. My worry in my 20s was that I would be shite, and of course I would be having not played a great deal, but I still had a great day, we won the match and on the plus side, it can't get much worse so hopefully the only way is up!


Anyone else have any nightmares to share from their playing days?

Heh, fair play mate. I haven't played for an age either, not sure I could get back on that horse... my shoulder isn't the greatest, so can't get my arm over - sort of would have to sling it more - I may even chuck for all I know. I'm no real batsman, despite slogging some big runs in the past.

When I was playing, one game was against the United Social... full of Windian expats. They had a bowler called 'Curtley' and the nickname was apt. He worked me over, hitting me every time - two or three times (my memory fades) - getting sledged by a keeper with a spliff in his gob. The third/fourth ball was full, let's just say it was almost Chris Read embarrassing.... done and dusted. Laughter all around.

Still playing. Too many embarrassments to recount. Sunburnt tonsils at times, watching my deliveries despatched. In between these disasters there have been moments of ridiculous pleasure when something goes right. Last season, aged 55, I hit the first six I have ever hit in any form of competition cricket, as an opening batsman, off the opposition opening bowler. I would like to say it was elegant but it was an outrageous premeditated slog over deep long on, and this minor 'achievement' has undoubtedly given me more pleasure than any better shots I might have once managed. I should say that I was out to a skier a couple of balls later, trying to repeat the feat!

Good work! I haven't played since school either. The chap who lives upstairs from me captains a local team and invited me to come and train with them when he found out I used to bowl (rubbish, which I was clear to emphasize) leg spin, but I politely declined, partly out of fear of making a tit of myself and also because I quite often find myself having to get some work done on Sundays. But, this gives me hope that when I finish my PhD and get a car like a real person I might be able to play a bit again.

I had a peculiar cricket career. Stopped playing at about 14 in school. When I left the army played for 2/3 years for a local club in my early 20's and stopped. In my 30's started playing indoor cricket and was invited to play outdoor and did another 5 seasons. Played my last game in my 40's when my sons' team was short a player.

Good for you Vilky for having a go...my career was a colossal embarrassment - some days I could not take the simplest chance (I was a keeper) or when batting - knock the ball off the square...other days when fortune shone, I would glove a few and knock out a few runs...seemed to be arbitrary when fortune shone or was hidden in cloud.

Irrespective I have v happy memories of comradeship and some team success...I miss it to this day. While I love my golf and enjoy the company of golfing mates, it is not quite the same.

Persist Vilky

Aye, I definitely will H, despite my personal nightmare of a performance they were a good bunch of lads and we still won which was a great feeling despite my limited contribution!

And winkle, you should definitely give it a go, like I said I wasn't even any good in school but it's still a fun game and I'm not completely awful, I know how to hold a bat and I can get the ball from one end to the other fairly accurate and with acceptable pace. That's all you need to be able to have a game. I'm a little annoyed I missed out on playing in my 20s but there's still time for a few decent years in my 30s, same goes for you.

You're a long time retired.

Apart from a few social games, I didn't play at all after finishing school in 1976 until 1985, when I resumed play for a few seasons; nor between 1992 and 2007. I expected to play just a few fill-in games in 2007-08 when I wandered up to have a hit with mates, but kept getting picked (mostly) and have thoroughly enjoyed the last 8 seasons (around 115 games) since. They'll have to drag me out kicking and screaming, and even then I'll still be there for a few beers. As horrie has already said, persist.

or take up umpiring

embee wrote:or take up umpiring

That's why I took bowls up at 40. Squash partners were becoming erratic.

Brass Monkey wrote: Heh, fair play mate. I haven't played for an age either, not sure I could get back on that horse... my shoulder isn't the greatest, so can't get my arm over - sort of would have to sling it more - I may even chuck for all I know. I'm no real batsman, despite slogging some big runs in the past.

When I was playing, one game was against the United Social... full of Windian expats. They had a bowler called 'Curtley' and the nickname was apt. He worked me over, hitting me every time - two or three times (my memory fades) - getting sledged by a keeper with a spliff in his gob. The third/fourth ball was full, let's just say it was almost Chris Read embarrassing.... done and dusted. Laughter all around.

Good memories. I played on and off in a pub league that had a few Windian teams. Unfortch none had bowlers whose heroes were Lance Gibbs or Sonny Ramadhin.

Apart from social cricket & a few house games at school, i did'nt play much in my younger days as rowing was my preferred sport. It was'nt until an injury forced me to quit rowing that i turned to Cricket. I had a bit of pace in those days & must have impressed the captain in my net sessions as he threw me the ball as first change in my first game.
I obviously tried too hard as my first two balls flew way down the leg side. As i turned for my third ball, the cheeky bugger of a batsman was taking guard at square leg, much to everyones amusement.
I'd like to say i got even but it was'nt to be. It took a few games before i started to pick up a few.

I went on a summer holiday cricket course when I was about 10, the last session we were split into two teams for a match and I was run out for a diamond duck!

My cricket career didn't get much better after that - one season I regularly played for village junior team and a couple of times for midweek/2nd XI when they were desperate, but think my only ever century was made on a beach in Cornwall against friendly family bowling, have stuck to watching for many years, not even tempted by the people trying to get a team together for office games...

The last time I turned my arm over - "for a giggle" - in the nets, I beamed a middle-aged fat bloke of minimal sporting prowess right in the stomach with a fast, England-style yorker (i.e. miles off target). He crumpled like a stale breadstick as I began my grovelling apologies.

For the safety of mankind, I pretty much retired my lethal weapons there and then.

As for nightmare in-game incidents: I was fielding at fine leg. Ish. I was fielding at fine leg in the manner of a wandering free spirit who thinks positions are for squares and interprets "on the boundary" as "in general view of the boundary, I'm sure you know best". Basically, I was in no man's land, minding my own business, when the batsman absolutely violated a short ball in my direction. It was the proverbial tracer bullet - low, a constant two feet off the ground, hurtling towards me like a motherbastard.

I should point out that it was cold that day. F*cking freezing, in fact. The kind of day where you'd probably be forgiven for pussying out of a catch whilst shrieking like a girl. That was my thinking, at any rate. Only the ball was upon me before I could decide how best to sell my "effort" - was I going to dive over the ball, let it through my hands, play the old "I didn't pick it up" whilst tracking my head around like a befuddled Stevie Wonder?

Too late.

The ball cannoned into my partially cradled hands with an audible crack, spanking the boney part where palm meets wrist, deflecting upwards and sconning me straight on the forehead before looping off towards the boundary.

Man down. Call a f*cking ambulance. Or my mum. Maybe both. There's a weird sort of numbness that overcomes you when smacked in the head in low temperatures. It's like it doesn't immediately hurt, but the trade off is that you're face down on the ground lolloping in slow motion while you struggle to come to terms with the magnitude of your injuries and the ringing in your ears, like a cliched Hollywood representation of the aftermath of a bomb blast. I could hear shouting...

Sympathetic to the last, my teammates were shouting to inform me that I had skilfully taken the pace off the ball with my face and it had, in fact, pulled up just short of the boundary. So I had to suffer the ignominy of not only dropping the catch, breaking my head and rolling around on the floor like a 1980s West German footballer after a sliding tackle, but also dusting myself off and trudging to the boundary to prevent them running five.

I wish I could tell you I quickly got to my feet, recovered my bearings and chased down the ball in an elegant and manly fashion that involved no staggering, slaloming or self-pitying whining. I wish I could tell you that when I got to the ball, I thundered in an impressive throw directly over the stumps which in no way bounced twice and didn't even make it halfway to the intended target. I wish I could tell you I wasn't then sick on myself.

I wish I could tell you that - but cricket is no fairy tale world.

Thank you for that, has made my evening, still chuckling .

Having spent the rest of the innings sat in the marginally warmer pavilion feeling sorry for myself, I silently vowed to reassert my masculinity when it was our turn to bat.

Still somewhat dazed and confused, I had no idea what the score or the match situation was when I strode out to the middle in the key batting position of number eight. I didn't care. I was there to make a statement: I am a man. Hear me roar.

So I ran down the track, first ball, and aimed a mighty, muscular thrash at the poor spinner's feeble, puny offering.

I'm not sure if I was bowled or stumped. I didn't bother to turn around and check. From the mixture of pity and perplexity on the fielders' faces, I was pretty certain things had gone awry and just kept walking, reflecting on a grand day's cricket in which I'd been mortally wounded in the field and gotten out first ball in a manner akin to Seppuku.

Stupid game for stupid people.

Well, it's take two today. Not helped by the fact I was on an (unsuccessful) date yesterday which involved walking around Richmond Park for hours meaning my legs are already f*cked and I would rather not leave the house today.

Dello's story above is giving me faith. If it goes better than the above then that's something positive (2 ball duck is better than my diamond duck) but if somehow it goes worse, well it will be a story for the ages.

Richmond Park? Nice. Close to my one and only cricket playing experience in England, on the green down near the Princes Head, a perfect day.