The Grade Cricketer

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Kiwi Eagle

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Staff member
anyone follow this guy ? **** he puts some great yarns up, always has me cracking up. Here is a sample of one of them
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"Anybody got a spare hat?" asked Chris to no one in particular.

Despite the harsh Australian sun being the only other constant, along with me lying to anybody that asked if I 'got a good ball', someone in this god-forsaken team would invariably have arrived at the ground without a hat.

It's summer. The sun's going to be out. Three of our top four shouldered arms to the opposition's opening med, who was bowling (gentle) inswingers, so it's fair to say that there were blokes in this team that needn't have even brought their sticks, but you've always got to bring a hat!

"Tanning is skin cells in trauma" cried Fester.

I rummaged through my own kit to find my sunscreen. It was a secret stash I hid from plain sight like a drug mule looking to bring home some of Colombia's finest headphones. The key to bringing sunscreen into a cricket dressing room is to not let anyone else know that you have it. That **** is expensive and personally I'd rather let these 10 other ****wits get various forms of aggressive melanoma before I gave them two fingers worth of my SPF 50+ Banana Boat.

"Who's got the team cream?" called Robbo, our captain and fearless leader.

Robbo was in the midst of a painful divorce that had left him financially stricken and on the cusp of emotional and literal bankruptcy. Having cheated on his wife at every single post-match circuit I'd ever seen him on, it was fair to say that he was already bereft of any morals. But when it was revealed that Sarah - his wife of 11 months - had been sleeping with a bloke from her office, he didn't seem to appreciate the delicious irony that Nuggsy liked to point out at any given opportunity and he was now prone to fits of rage.

"Leave the covers open, Robbo!" Nuggsy would often cry at the top of his mark, ball in hand, one hip on his shoulder.

"Just like your missus did for that bloke from accounts!"

Even the elderly umpire with wearing knees and abhorrent hearing would laugh at that one. He said he "didn't hear anything" for an edge that went to third slip two overs prior, but he never missed one of Nuggsy's cutting barbs.

"Move into gully for this bloke please, Skipper. And can I get my wedding gift back while you're there?"

Of course, Nuggsy never bought a wedding gift, but Robbo's public humiliation would be complete. Saying that, these gags were only funny for the first two rounds of the season, but given that Nuggsy had now found a 'banker', he continued these jokes every time we took the field. It got ****ing tough after Christmas.

"Seriously! Which one of you ****s has got the ****ing team cream!!" Robbo bellowed.

It was always hard to take a man seriously while he was wearing nothing but a sweat-stained jock strap, but there was something incongruously hilarious about Robbo - a man who vociferously defended the right to vote No to marriage equality- demanding that someone apply free sunscreen to him.

At this time, our captain went into a fit of rage, rifling through every kit possible in search of sunscreen. All he could find was a few bottles of reef oil and Nathan's tanning goggles that looked like they belonged on the set of The Matrix.

Defending our meager total of 147 on one of the flattest pitches in the competition, Robbo - still searching for sun protection - began to list off a few of the team's KPI's in his pre-fielding speech.

"Let's just work hard and get these ****s out!"

Inspiring stuff indeed. Churchill probably said the same about the Germans.

"Bowl to your field!"

"No loose ****!"

We were a poor 4th grade side. The appearance of 'loose ****' was paying $1.01

Spinning around violently, losing all composure and whatever dignity he had left, Robbo stood directly on my bag, pressing his foot squarely on my precious bottle of Banana Boat. An explosion erupted that I could only compare to the atomic bomb test at Bikini Atoll in 1946. Or one of Nuggsy's "extreme bukkake" scenes he often showed me on his phone.

The contents of the squeeze-bottle emptied all over my kit, most noticeably ensconcing the half-eaten banana that I'd had in there since mid-2015. It had largely turned into mulch now but that wasn't even the worst of it.

My gloves, pads, bat and box were now all covered in a thick layer of creamy suncream. Of course, it is sacrilegious for any fluid (other than linseed oil if you bought your bat in an era where it probably contains traces of asbestos) to touch your blade. It's the most shocking of all crimes.

"Noooooooooooooooo!!!" I cried. Buckling at the knees, my arms stretched out like a mother trying to save her babies.

"That bottle cost me $14.50 you dickhead!"

The room fell eerily silent. A moment of calm for a soldier lost. No one dared even exhale such was the still reticence that filled the air.

Several seconds passed. It felt like an eternity. A knock on the door ensued. An elderly umpire waddled three steps into the dressing room. A scene of utter decay and humanity lost greeted him.

"On our way lads" he murmured. Confused. Dazed. Deaf.

Chris broke the silence.

"Seriously, guys, has anybody got a spare hat?"
 
I knew that day that I was in love; that she was the one for me.

The way the light glistened off her soft, perfect face, kissed her shoulders and spiralled off her toned back as I spun her around in my arms.

We danced together that day in the sunshine. Two bodies in perfect sync.

The way she responded to my every move like a leaf being blown in the autumn wind. The way my hands trembled, scared of letting her go like every other mistake I'd ever made. The way my heart fluttered as I embraced her with each precious touch. Each tender moment. We could have stayed in this moment forever, together.

"What is it 2'9?" I asked the bat salesman.

"2'10" he quipped.

"Hmm.. feels like 2'9"

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‪The most satisfying thing in cricket is telling the incoming batsman "yeah, he's swinging them away" while you sit on your bat, grinning like a Cheshire Cat at the non-striker's end, just waiting for the bowler's stock inswinger to cannon into middle and leg. ‬
 
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There is a podcast as well (and the books are pretty decent)
 
Yes been following them on twitter for ages. Also they got the podcast going last summer. Some funny stuff - we often share it around the team as it's all too familiar.
 
If you are into podcasts then check out The Howie Games which is the commentator Mark Howard interviewing all manner of sports stars. Some good cricket ones on there. They go for about an hour or so each.
 
Team P W L PD Pts
3 3 0 48 6
4 3 1 28 6
3 2 1 10 6
4 2 2 39 4
3 2 1 28 4
3 2 1 15 4
3 2 1 14 4
2 1 1 13 4
2 1 1 6 4
3 2 1 -3 4
3 1 2 0 2
3 1 2 -5 2
3 1 2 -15 2
3 1 2 -22 2
3 1 2 -36 2
2 0 2 -56 2
3 0 3 -64 0
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