Representative Clash

by Michael Panckridge

  ‘Good job, boys,’ Mr Price said to Tommy and Jake. ‘Get your pads off and come back into the field.’

  Tommy had done all he could. Now it was down to what the others could show with the bat, especially Ralph, and whether he could do something awesome in either bowling or fielding.

  Monday afternoon

  Ralph batted as well as Tommy had ever seen him bat, striking the ball crisply and somehow always managing to find the gaps between the fielders. They’d probably scored a similar amount of runs.

  Tommy tried his hardest in the field, but was unlucky to have to complete a couple of long chases when stationed in the deep. Both times the batters were able to take an extra run, even though Tommy could throw the ball as long and hard as senior cricketers. It just took him a while to get to the ball.

  Ralph, on the other hand was fast and agile. Tommy did pull off a brilliant save when he was fielding at square leg, his speedy reflexes helping him pick up the path the ball was making. A metre either side, and Tommy knew the ball would have got past him.

  When he finally got to his favourite position, first slip, Tommy took a neat catch. The only downside? The bowler was Ralph, and worst of all, it was his third wicket. Tommy had bowled two wicketless overs and he’d been belted to the boundary once in each over.

  ‘Righto, everyone, that’ll do us,’ Mr Price called. Each player had batted, bowled and fielded. He called everyone over to the pitch. A guy appeared on a little golf cart with a trailer. He was carting a huge supply of drinks and snacks. ‘I reckon you’ve all earned some food and a drink,’ Mr Price said with a grin. He thanked Cameron and the cricketers he’d brought along and explained that he’d be putting up a selection notice in the admin office first thing tomorrow morning.

  Tommy trudged off. He’d done all he could. He just wanted to find his bat and get home. There was nothing more he could do.

  ‘Reckon you’re a shoo-in,’ Ali said, jogging out to meet him.

  ‘Thanks, Ali.’ Tommy smiled, accepting the bottle of water she held out to him. ‘I’m not so sure. Hey, don’t suppose my bat’s turned up?’

  Ali shook her head.

  Lazarus had told Tommy’s family what had happened when they arrived. And he’d reported the theft at the school office.

  ‘Let’s all search for half an hour then call it quits, okay?’ Mr King said, his arm around Tommy’s shoulders.

  ‘Yup, okay, Dad,’ Tommy agreed.

  ‘Let’s split up,’ Ali suggested.

  ‘Yes, I’ll go back to the quad and the classrooms,’ Lazarus said. ‘Ali, you go to all the girls’ bathrooms and change rooms –’

  ‘Laz, my cricket bat’s not going to be in a girl’s toilet,’ Tommy said.

  ‘Just covering all bases,’ Lazarus replied. ‘Tommy, you go back to the gym and maybe, Mr King, you go around the oval and near the trees and playgrounds.’

  ‘Roger that, Lazarus.’ Mr King looked at his watch. ‘Let’s meet at the front office at 4.15 pm, okay?’

  By the time Tommy reached the other side of the oval, the players and last of the spectators had all but disappeared.

  ‘You lost something, feller?’ Shirley, the school cleaner, asked Tommy.

  ‘Lost my cricket bat, Shirley,’ Tommy said.

  ‘Your cricket bat? That’s no good. Well, if I see one lying around you’ll be the first to know, my friend.’ She strolled off, whistling a tune.

  Tommy searched everywhere – in obvious spots and in ridiculous spots like under the blue gym mats and in the broom cupboards. Nothing. And it was the same with the others when they gathered at the front of the school.

  ‘Okay, let’s see what tomorrow brings, shall we?’ Mr King suggested. ‘There’s nothing more to be done now.’

  The trip over the Tasman Bridge to watch the Hobart Hurricanes train proved to be a great distraction. For a couple of hours as Tommy, Ali and Lazarus wandered around the practice nets and out onto Bellerive Oval, he was able to almost forget about his bat.

  It was only when Dan Christian saw Tommy and asked him if he’d brought his bat that Tommy thought about it again. Dan wanted to see if he could belt Cameron Boyce over the Ricky Ponting Stand. Cameron Boyce was a cheeky and cool-looking spin bowler who played for the Hobart Hurricanes.

  ‘What’s up, mate?’ Dan asked, seeing Tommy’s face crumple.

  Ali stepped in and explained everything.

  ‘Whoa, that’s not good, do you reckon someone’s nabbed it?’

  ‘I’d be checking on eBay,’ Meg Phillips said, shaking her head. ‘Bat like that could fetch hundreds.’ Meg was an awesome talent with bat and ball who’d first played for Australia at the age of 16.

  ‘Especially if they saw Dan here hit that ball out of the park up at your school,’ Julie Hunter added.

  ‘Wait there, Tommy,’ Dan said, trotting up the race and into the dressing rooms. He appeared a moment later carrying some tiny bats and balls. ‘Not quite the same I know, but great fun for indoor cricket.’ He gave each of them a small bat and a little bouncy, purple Hobart Hurricanes ball.

  ‘Thanks so much, Dan,’ Tommy said, tossing the ball in the air.

  Tommy was the first to arrive at school the following morning. Rushing into the foyer, he raced over to the glass noticeboard where special announcements were pinned. He saw Mr Price’s letter straight away.

  Tommy glared at Ralph’s name for almost two minutes, his mood changing from anger to resignation, before picking up his bag and slowly heading for the door. A wave of disappointment washed over him, so strong that it almost hurt. With shoulders slumped, Tommy dropped his bag outside his classroom and ambled aimlessly towards the oval. Apart from a few smaller kids playing down ball, the place was empty.

  Tommy managed to avoid everyone but when the morning school bell rang, he took a deep breath, raised his chin and walked as confidently as he could to class.

  His classmates knew, but Mr Broadbent kept everyone busy and distracted for the first two lessons of the day.

  During those two hours, Tommy thought hard about what he’d do next. He got his opportunity almost immediately after the bell rang for recess.

  ‘Hey, no hard feelings, mate,’ Ralph said, thrusting out his hand to Tommy.

  ‘You stole my bat,’ Tommy seethed, glaring into Ralph’s eyes, trying to see if they’d show his guilt.

  ‘I did not steal your bat,’ Ralph replied, quietly but firmly, meeting Tommy’s gaze. A small crowd had gathered around the pair.

  ‘You set off the fire alarm,’ Tommy shouted. ‘You texted –’

  ‘Oh, Tommy, really? Can’t you just accept that you were beaten by a better cricketer?’ Ralph sneered.

  Tommy took a step back. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe Ralph didn’t have anything to do with it after all. Maybe he was a better cricketer.

  ‘Molly,’ Lazarus said. A few kids stepped back as he wheeled himself into the middle of the circle. ‘Molly, what have you got to say?’

  ‘Molly has got nothing to do with this,’ Ralph snapped, turning on Lazarus.

  ‘Let Molly tell us that,’ Lazarus replied, his voice calm and smooth like honey.

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, looking up.

  ‘Forget it, everyone,’ Tommy muttered, embarrassed with the cluster of students. Ralph stormed off and the crowd dispersed.

  Thinking he was finally on his own, Tommy slumped down on the steps leading to the classrooms. ‘He’s got everything,’ Tommy groaned to himself.

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’

  Tommy froze. He slowly turned around and saw Molly standing over him. Tommy couldn’t understand why she was talking to him and he didn’t have the patience to listen to Ralph’s best friend right now.

  ‘Yes, he does. He’s got TV screens and a bar fridge in every room in his house. He’s got an indoor swimming pool. He’s got –’

  ‘He doesn’t have friends,’ Molly said softly. ‘And one day, maybe, he’ll realise that on
e friend is way more important than all of those things.’

  ‘But, aren’t you his friend?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘Was,’ Molly said. She kicked an empty carton down the steps. ‘I watch you, Tommy King. I watch you with Lazarus. How you help him out and stuff. Used to really annoy me.’

  ‘Annoy you? Why?’ Tommy asked.

  Molly shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter. Good luck for Thursday, Tommy.’

  ‘B-but–’

  Molly had obviously said enough. She darted off down the steps and scooted out of sight around the corner.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Ali asked. Lazarus was just behind her.

  ‘No idea,’ Tommy said. ‘Though she did say good luck for Thursday.’

  ‘Thursday? That’s weird,’ Ali said. ‘She must have meant it for Ralph.’

  Tommy nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He followed the others over to the playground. His steps suddenly felt lighter. Was something about to happen that would change everything?

  Tuesday afternoon

  Every second Tuesday afternoon was ‘Buddy Afternoon’ with the prep kids.

  ‘Now listen up, everyone,’ Miss Bates, the prep teacher, said, clapping her hand. ‘Molly has organised a special game for us to play.’

  ‘What game?’ a little preppie blurted out.

  ‘Molly, would you like to explain?’ Miss Bates suggested.

  ‘What’s got into Molly?’ Ali whispered to Tommy. ‘Not like her to get involved with these things.’

  Tommy shrugged. ‘Beats me.’ He was staring at a large parcel wrapped in newspaper sitting in the middle of the circle his class and the preps had made.

  ‘So, it’s a game of pass the parcel,’ Molly said. The preppies clapped and cheered.

  ‘It’s big!’ a boy said excitedly, eyes wide.

  ‘It’ll get smaller and smaller as we keep opening it,’ Miss Bates said. ‘When the music stops, whoever has the parcel gets to unwrap a layer of newspaper.’

  Ralph scowled, passing the bundle quickly when it got to him.

  ‘Benny, you have to pass it on,’ Miss Bates said kindly to a small prep boy.

  ‘But I want to open it,’ he moaned, clutching the heavy parcel clumsily to his chest.

  ‘Benny, pass it!’ another girl shouted.

  Molly stopped the music.

  ‘Yay,’ Benny squealed, tearing at the newspaper.

  Around and around the parcel went. It was so heavy some of the prep students struggled with it. As layer after layer was peeled away, its rectangular shape remained, then one of the older students tore away a chunk of cardboard and the shape changed to something long and thin.

  ‘No way,’ Ali said, glancing over at Molly who was smiling.

  ‘It’s a tennis racquet,’ someone shouted.

  ‘It’s a hockey stick,’ another voice called.

  ‘It could be a jelly bean,’ Miss Bates laughed.

  The only person not having fun was Ralph and his face grew even longer when the music stopped before he could pass the parcel on. As slowly as he could, he fiddled with the paper.

  ‘Come on, Ralph,’ his prep buddy called.

  Ralph was waiting for the music to begin, but Molly had other ideas. And suddenly Ralph knew that the parcel wouldn’t be moving anymore. He’d been set up by Molly.

  Angrily, he tore off the final layers of paper.

  ‘It’s a cricket bat!’ a prep student cried.

  Tommy gasped. A red-faced Ralph was holding Tommy’s magical bat.

  Tommy’s bubbling excitement about the return of his bat and the punishment that would be delivered to Ralph was soon crushed by a sympathetic but firm Mr Price.

  ‘As far as the cricket selection goes, nothing changes,’ he explained. ‘I’m sorry. You had a cricket bat to use, Tommy. Yes, I know it wasn’t yours and you were distracted and upset, but Cameron and I made the decision and that decision stands. Would it have been different if you’d had your special bat? Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll certainly be talking to Mrs Lehmann about what Molly told me and I’m sure Ralph will face the consequences of his actions.’

  Tommy, Ali and Molly had nothing to say. Mr Price wouldn’t be budging. Even Lazarus couldn’t come up with anything.

  ‘Well, that’s it then.’ Tommy sighed. ‘But thanks, Molly. At least I’ve got my bat back.’

  ‘I’ve got to make this right, Tommy. You’re the one who deserves to play, not Ralph,’ Molly grumbled, stomping off.

  ‘She’s on a mission,’ Lazarus said, shaking his head.

  ‘Why the sudden change?’ Ali wondered.

  ‘I think she’s beginning to see the value of real friends,’ Tommy explained.

  ‘Hey Grandpa,’ Tommy called, peeking into Grandpa King’s workshop. ‘I got my bat back.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Grandpa King sighed. ‘I was just lining up a nice piece of willow for a new one.’

  ‘Were you?’ Tommy asked. ‘I could always do with a spare.’

  Grandpa King chuckled. ‘I’ll bet you could!’

  For a while the two sat in silence. Tommy loved watching his grandpa tinkering away in his shed. He was always making some new crazy invention.

  ‘You need a project, lad,’ Grandpa King finally said.

  ‘Gramps, I’ve got heaps of school projects.’

  ‘Not one of those,’ Grandpa King continued, spitting on a piece of dirty rag then polishing some sort of brass fitting. ‘You need a proper project. Something to take your mind off things at school.’

  Tommy thought for a moment, maybe a new project would be good for him. Then it hit him. He’d been so preoccupied with Ralph and the trials that he’d completely forgotten about the plan Ali had come up with to help Lazarus play cricket.

  ‘Wheelchairs!’ Tommy cried, jumping to his feet.

  ‘Wheelchairs?’

  ‘Wheelchair cricket. It’s what Ali was saying. We’ve got the people, we just need the wheelchairs.’

  ‘Wheelchairs?’ Grandpa King repeated. ‘You should give Maud a ring at the Homestead. Plenty of old folk out there and plenty of wheelchairs too. Dozens of ’em.’

  ‘Maud?’

  ‘Mrs Rushbrook to you. Now off you go. Can’t you see I’m up to my neck here?’

  On Wednesday night, the Kings received an unexpected phone call.

  ‘Hi Tommy, it’s Mr Price. I’m afraid Ralph injured himself today at the training session and won’t be able to play the rep game tomorrow. Are you good to go?’

  ‘Um, yes, of course. Is Ralph okay?’

  ‘Yes. I wasn’t there but it’s nothing serious. Could you put Mum or Dad on and I’ll just go through the arrangements. You’ll need to be at Stateside Oval by one o’clock, okay? And don’t worry about missing the afternoon of school, I’ve spoken with Mrs Lehmann.’

  ‘For sure,’ Tommy squeaked, feeling the excitement rush to his face.

  ‘Oh, and Tommy?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Price?’

  ‘Don’t forget your bat.’

  ‘No chance,’ Tommy said. He handed the phone to his dad, then jumped into the air, whooping a cry of delight.

  Thursday afternoon

  ‘Welcome to the team, Tommy,’ Malcolm the Hobart City coach said. The rest of the team clapped as Tommy was presented with his City cap. ‘Will, as you’re captain, can you head over to the coin toss? Runs on the board, remember?’

  Tommy’s stomach knotted. It sounded like the coach was keen to bat if the toss was won.

  ‘So, Ralph copped a bit of an injury?’ Tommy asked one of the players.

  ‘Sounds like it, yeah,’ she replied. ‘That’s what Coach Malcolm told us.’

  ‘You didn’t see it?’ Tommy asked, surprised. ‘Mr Price had said he’d injured himself while training yesterday.’

  The girl shrugged. ‘Must have been last night. We finished with a lap of the oval and he was 100 metres ahead of everyone else. Practically sprinted the whole way.’

  ‘Weird,’ Tommy mut
tered.

  ‘Unlucky,’ the girl said. ‘He was probably our best batter.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Tommy didn’t mean to sound surprised. ‘I mean, of course. He’s awesome.’

  ‘Pressure’s on you.’ The girl laughed. ‘I’m Amber.’ Amber took off her cap and shook out her long red hair.

  ‘Tommy.’

  ‘We’re batting,’ Will said, re-joining the group. Will was a tough-looking guy with a sun-tanned face, probably from the hours and hours he spent outside playing cricket. He read out the batting order. ‘Tommy, Ralph was second drop, so we’ll do a straight swap, okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ Tommy said, smiling.

  Taking a deep breath, Tommy started to pad up. He was feeling great – excited, a little nervous and super keen to do well. There was only a small crowd, but that didn’t bother him. His whole family was here to support him, along with Mr Price. He also knew there’d be selectors and other coaches from various clubs and organisations. This was his chance.

  Tommy marched to the wicket with the score at two for 11, and the City team on the back foot. But in the space of three overs the situation flipped completely.

  Tommy blasted three sixes and two fours from his first over to leave everyone watching, both on the field and beyond the boundary rope, utterly speechless. It wasn’t so much the 26 runs but more the power and extraordinary timing of his shots. Both fours crashed into the wooden fence, bouncing back onto the oval. The sixes cleared the boundary easily – two landing halfway up a grassy hill, the third into row M of the old grandstand on the other side of the ground.

  To everyone’s delight, Amber sprinted a single off the first ball of the next over to get Tommy back on strike.

  And the carnage happened all over again. Two more sixes and another three fours.

  ‘What on earth,’ the opposition captain exclaimed, shaking his head and looking appealingly to the boundary line. His coach could only stand there and stare. It was the same at the Hobart City bench.

  ‘Who is this kid?’ Coach Malcolm asked.

  ‘I think I can explain.’ Mr Price grinned, stepping up alongside him.