Yesterday, we played a cricket match. LInacre vs SBS. It was a lovely day, sunny with blue skies... until we got onto the field. The clouds decided the cricket season had ended and that they had enough mediocre cricket to last them a season.
Mr. Cumulus Nimbus warned us with a few drizzles, but we heeded not such trivial warnings. The match was ghastly. Tom Wrobel who was captain is certainly the worst captain I have ever played under. Reasons : He is a over-rated player, he is too English i.e.he doesn't have a feel for the game, he is a pompous ass.
Anyway, we lost the match. I am becoming a better bowler than keeper. I really do not like keeping anymore. I wish I had started bowling earlier. I might have made my mark in an easier fashion. What I need to do, is to read some technical manuals on keeping. I can keep to the quicks, but somehow standing up is very difficult for me. Also, I have a feeling I have lost the quick hand-eye co-ordination I possesed in my YOUTH!!! So, It has become even more important for me to be techincally better. I aim to play either for the Rhodes team or at least at a higher level, next year.
I now am truly in awe of the International Cricketers. Never again shall I criticise a player for technical flaws. These guys are so much better than us, that it is shameful for us to criticize and analyse them. I remember playing this declaration game for Heratorai, a wandering cricket club of Old Oxonians, where I stood in the field and bowled for six and a half hours. It was tiring work. I truly believe that its only when you actually perform yourself and experience the fatigue of fielding for a day, that you stop begrudging sportsmen their salaries.
Back to the Monsoons. The match was finished in poor light and wet weather. Captain Tom made off with half the kit, while Richard and me helped Samit et al with the covers, during which we got soaked, Indian style. It poured and poured for almost four hours, and both Richard and me lamented our Good Samaritan personalities and acts.
Thought for the day :
That best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love.
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