by Brett Lee
‘What?’ I cried.
‘No, no. The real surprise is that Danny will be bowling to some of you.’ Mr Pasquali tossed him a brand new cricket ball. ‘Pace,’ he added, nodding his head at Danny.
‘P…pace?’ Jay stuttered. ‘As in from the top of his run, flat-out pace?’
‘They will have full gear and protection on, won’t they?’ Danny asked, looking at Mr Pasquali.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, nodding. ‘Absolutely. It’s school rules.’
I caught the faintest hint of a smile on Danny’s face.
‘Okay. Rahul, Jimbo, Cameron, Jono, Toby, Martian and Georgie, can you head over to the nets please?’ Mr Pasquali said. He took the rest of the team out onto the field for some fielding drills. We were the ‘lucky’ ones chosen to face up to Danny Chapman.
‘He won’t bowl express, will he?’ Georgie asked.
‘Geez, I hope he does. What an experience,’ Jimbo said. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Danny Chapman since he’d arrived.
‘No way,’ I told Georgie. ‘We’re about to play in a grand final. How stupid would it look if half the batting line-up was out with hand injuries and cracked skulls because the coach decided to make them face up to the fastest bowler in town—maybe in the state—two days before the game,’ I said, hoping I sounded convincing.
‘It’d be the master stroke of all time,’ Jimbo said, his eyes flashing with excitement. He was already putting the pads on! ‘He’s too professional to hurt us. He won’t bowl bouncers. But imagine how confident we’ll feel against Scott Craven if we’ve been able to face up to Danny Chapman?’
‘Are you Jimbo?’ Danny asked him.
Jimbo dropped a pad in surprise. ‘Yeah,’ he said, shaking the hand that Danny had stretched out towards him.
‘Your coach said that you were to bat last.’
‘Oh, okay,’ Jimbo said, looking disappointed.
Danny winked. ‘That’s when I’ll be warmed up and at my quickest.’
‘Oh, right. Excellent! Who wants the pads?’
‘Are you gonna start off with a bit of spin?’ Georgie asked, one hand out for the pads Jimbo was offering.
‘Maybe,’ Danny laughed. ‘Okay, sit down for a moment, guys, and I’ll give you a few tips on facing fast bowling. I hear you’ve got a good bowler heading your way this Saturday?’
‘Scott Craven,’ I muttered. The others nodded their heads, mumbling.
‘Not looking forward to it?’ Danny said, eyeing each of us in turn.
Only Jimbo offered up anything positive about the looming showdown.
‘And therein lies your major problem,’ Danny said, squatting down. ‘You guys are the batters of the team. Your job is to score the runs, but you won’t score anything if you don’t want to be out there in the first place. Okay, this guy can bowl. Maybe he can bowl fast. But you guys can bat—you’ve proved that all season. You’re in the final, you’re up to this.’
He paused, looking at each of us closely. ‘When you walk out there to bat on Saturday, you want to be going out there licking your lips in anticipation. Focus on rock-solid defence but look for runs, especially boundaries. Defy this Scott guy with good batting technique and a positive attitude. You’ve got to look like winners even before you start playing like winners.’
His words were stirring and the passion in his voice was evident. Danny Chapman, the town’s fast-bowling sensation, maybe a future Australian fast bowler, was talking to us—the Under–13s from Riverwall. By the time he’d finished we were all bursting to get the pads on and show him what we could do.
‘I’ll look at your technique, but that’s not going to change too much over the next 36 hours. What can change, though, is your attitude. Maybe it already has?’
‘Well, I can’t speak for the others, but I reckon mine’s done a 180-degree flip in the last few minutes,’ Georgie said.
For the next 20 minutes we took turns in the nets, facing Danny’s deliveries. We hung on his every word about what we were doing well and how we could improve. Rahul needed to get his back foot positioned more effectively for the shorter deliveries. Jono had a tendency to step onto his front foot as his first movement, so Danny dug a few balls in short—not super fast ones, but they got Jono stepping back better. Cameron was told to roll his wrists more for his cross-bat shots and Georgie to hit through the line of the ball; she’d probably spend half the night in front of a mirror working on her follow-through.
‘Toby, you’re lazy with your back lift.’ Danny had come down the wicket to talk to me. ‘I think you’re sometimes jamming down on the ball because you’re a little late. With fast bowlers this could get you into a bit of strife.’
‘Like it did with Shoaib,’ I said, tossing Danny the ball that had whizzed past my off-stump. Danny was just ambling in, taking a few gentle paces, and yet he was sending round, red bullets down the wicket!
‘Shoaib? As in Shoaib Akhtar?’ he laughed.
‘Yep,’ I nodded. I told him all about the virtual cricket machine. ‘I could have faced up to you,’ I added, suddenly feeling a bit guilty. ‘You could bat against state or international bowlers, but I wanted to play for Australia.’
‘Fair enough. I want to play for Australia too.’ He rubbed the ball on his trousers. ‘The dream always comes first,’ he added.
‘C’mon, Toby. Let’s have a look at you,’ Mr Pasquali said, walking across to our net. I told him what Danny had said about my lazy back lift. After five minutes with Danny Chapman in front, bowling to me and Mr Pasquali behind, offering more advice, I felt like I could play anyone, even Danny Chapman at top pace!
Mr Pasquali didn’t mind us all watching Danny bowl to Jimbo last. After a few early words of encouragement from Danny, their battle turned into a quiet, determined game. Jimbo wasn’t there just to survive—he was actually putting a few balls away.
‘Coach?’ Danny called, indicating a longer run-up with a nod of his head.
‘Jimbo, are you okay in there?’ Mr Pasquali asked quietly.
‘I’m ready,’ Jimbo said, determination etched on his face. Mr Pasquali went and stood as umpire. Danny moved back another 10 paces or so then ran in, smooth as ever.
Jimbo let the first two balls go through to the keeper then clipped the next one off his pads into the side netting. Everyone cheered when Mr Pasquali signalled four by waving his left arm around. The next ball, even quicker, smashed through Jimbo’s defence, knocking over the yellow stump set. Danny eased up after that but he was still full of praise for Jimbo when they’d finished.
I spent the last 15 minutes of practice bowling while Danny watched. We worked on my outswinger and my slower ball as well as accuracy. He told me I had heaps of potential as a pace bowler, and with my batting maybe I could be a future all-rounder for Australia!
After 10 minutes spent signing autographs Danny said goodbye, and we watched the white car disappear down the road.
Mr Pasquali had pulled off the biggest surprise of all time. We promised him he wouldn’t have to touch a piece of cricket equipment for the rest of the season.
‘But that was our last practice!’ he moaned, throwing his hands up.
‘You’re just going to have to plan a bit better next year, Mr P,’ Jimbo said dryly, sitting back and closing his eyes. He’d had the practice of his dreams. The Scorpions had their trump card: Scott Craven, bowler. But we had ours: Jimbo, batter.
Mr Pasquali smiled and looked at Jimbo. ‘Even with all the planning in the world some things just come out of the blue.’
‘Like Jimbo?’ Cameron asked.
Mr Pasquali just smiled.
During the 1972 tour of England, Ian Chappell took 10 wickets at an average of 10.6 runs per wicket. He topped the Australian bowling averages for players who bowled in 10 or more innings and took 10 or more wickets.
12 Who’s Pixie?
Thursday—evening
AFTER tea I went up and stared at the computer. I desperately wanted to go back and look at th
e secret Father Time site, but was worried about what Ben had said.
It wouldn’t hurt to go to the main Scorpions page, I thought, opening it in my browser. I scrolled down and left the cursor hovering over the blank area, as Ben had done the previous evening.
And anyway, my IP address was different to Ben’s, so there was nothing to worry about as far as tracing the computer went, I tried to tell myself.
The new blank screen appeared and I scrolled down to the faint watermark of Father Time.
My hand paused on the mouse. I stared at the image, its ghostly lines almost invisible on the white background. Then, before I could change my mind, I clicked on the picture.
When the new page appeared I quickly punched in the username and password, then spun around to check that no one was at the half-open door. I hurried over and kicked it shut. My heart was racing.
‘Toby!’ Mum called from downstairs. ‘Phone!’
I looked back at the screen, the page only half loaded. I sighed and closed the browser.
‘Coming!’ I met Mum on the stairs and headed back up to my room with the phone.
‘Toby, it’s me, Ally,’ came the breathless voice on the other end.
‘Ally?’
‘I’m in. I’ve confirmed that I’m the fifth person and—’
‘Ally!’ I screamed. ‘You’ve what?’
There was silence. Her voice was a lot quieter. ‘I…um, you know, I went into the site and wrote in that text box up at the top, saying…’
‘Saying?’ I tried to make my voice sound calm. I guess I shouldn’t be sounding so high and mighty—after all, what had I been about to do? Though maybe I wouldn’t have had the courage to do what Ally had just done…or was it stupidity?
‘I’ve stuffed up, haven’t I?’ she said.
‘Not yet,’ I told her, trying to sound confident. ‘Smale doesn’t know who you are, does he?’
‘Nope.’
‘And I’m not sure he’s smart enough to work out all that IP stuff Ben was talking about.’ Silence. ‘And even if he did, well, what have you done wrong by going into a website? I mean, you haven’t broken any law, have you?’
‘Exactly,’ Ally said, not sounding reassured at all.
‘So, what happened?’ I asked.
‘Well, nothing. Nothing at all. I just wrote that I was making contact. You know, that I was the fifth person.’
‘Did you say who you were?’
‘Of course not, you idiot. I used your name.’
‘WHAT?!?’
‘I’m joking,’ she giggled. There was another pause. ‘So what happens now?’
‘How long ago did you do it?’ I asked, wondering whether there might be a change on the website.
‘An hour, maybe an hour and a half. Why?’
‘I’m going to check the site. Don’t do anything. I’ll call you back soon, okay?’
‘Okay, Tobler, whatever,’ she sighed.
I tossed the phone onto my bed and logged back in, scrolling down to the bottom of the page.
Once again I was interrupted, this time by a gentle tapping on the door. I quickly hit the ‘Print Screen’ button as Jim poked his head around the door.
‘Jim!’ I cried, jumping up, but closing my browser first. He entered, his eyes immediately going to my small collection of Wisdens on the bookshelf by the window.
‘Hello, Toby. I just called by to see how your father’s studio is progressing. And, of course, to say hello to you as well.’
‘Jim, I think we’ve got a problem,’ I told him, offering him my seat. Instead he plonked himself onto my bed.
‘Our friend Phillip Smale?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows.
‘How did you know?’
Jim smiled. ‘An old man’s intuition. What’s concerning you?’
Grabbing the printed sheets from Ben’s computer, I told Jim about the card we’d seen and the Internet site we’d hooked into. Jim took the pages and studied them, looking darker by the minute.
‘Well, I think this needs investigating,’ Jim said. ‘I warned Phillip of the terrible potential for danger in playing with all of this, but he doesn’t seem to have heeded my warning, does he, Toby?’
I shook my head. ‘But what do we do?’
‘We reveal a secret weapon,’ Jim said with relish, rubbing his hands together.
‘A secret weapon?’
‘Pixie,’ he said firmly, slapping his thighs and standing up.
‘Pixie?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Pixie, though by name only. She looks and performs like no pixie you will ever encounter, Toby Jones, I can assure you.’
I had no idea what Jim was talking about. ‘Well, Pixie will have to get a move on,’ I said to him, turning back to the keyboard. ‘Have a look at this.’ I opened up Word, and pasted in the webpage I’d copied. Jim walked over to the screen and read the final entry.
Thursday
Well, now we have confirmation from all. Number Five, I shall arrive tomorrow morning before 7 a.m. to deliver your instructions. You have made a wise decision that I know you won’t regret.
‘Well, it looks like an early start for one of us,’ he chuckled, shuffling towards the door.
‘One of us?’
‘Toby, let me handle this one. Phillip Smale is a dangerous man. I’ve a good mind to alert the authorities, however I fear they’d take me for a doddering old fool who was talking through his hat. Our friend Smale is a slippery customer, but I’m not sure he’s done anything illegal.’
‘Yet,’ I said, quietly.
‘Yet,’ he repeated. ‘Come along, Toby. Peter sent me up to see if you were in bed…’
‘But what about the scorecard? He forced you to give that to him!’
‘He did, but the fewer people who know about this the better. Now, come along—’
‘Jim,’ I interrupted. ‘What will you do? Who’s Pixie? Can’t I come too?’
‘I shall follow our intrepid friend; Pixie is a car; and no, you can’t come too. Now, I believe you have some teeth that need attention, then it’s bed.’
‘Is Dad taking you home now?’ I asked.
‘That’s right. We’ll talk some more tomorrow, okay?’
Jim headed for the door. I waited a few moments, grabbed a small notebook and pencil, then followed him. Creeping downstairs, my back scraping along the wall, I listened for the sound of adult voices. They were coming from the kitchen, and I could hear the jangle of keys.
I snuck out past the laundry, sped around the side of the house and arrived at the back of the car. It was a big four-wheel drive with loads of room in the rear section. Would the car be open? I wondered. Yes! I opened the hatch a little and slipped in as quietly as possible, closing it behind me. I commando-crawled over to the enormous blue tarpaulin Dad used for tip runs and scrambled beneath it. A few seconds later I heard the front doors open and Dad and Jim get in.
The engine started. I stayed still, pencil at the ready to describe as well as I could the trip Dad was about to take. The plan had only half-formed in my head as Jim was leaving my bedroom, and even now I didn’t know quite why I was doing this, but somehow I knew that Jim was too old to tackle Phillip Smale alone. If he was going to follow Smale in Pixie, then I was going to be there with him. But first, I needed to know where on earth Jim lived. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too far away.
Dad broke the silence. ‘He is really very fond of you, Jim.’
‘And I of him, Peter. But I can’t possibly impose on you like this. You are a young family. You have so many things that you’ll want to do without the burden of an old man…’
‘Jim, I’m not quite sure you understand. We’ve all discussed this at length. Jane, Toby, Nat and I would dearly like you to join us, perhaps on a trial basis if you like—a month with the Joneses. I’m sure that would be enough for you anyway!’
‘I shall indeed think about your very generous offer, Peter.’
There was silence for a while then Dad spoke ag
ain. ‘You know, you and Toby have an amazing affinity…some sort of connection.’
I held my breath, wondering whether Jim would spill the beans.
‘He has a passion for cricket and a knowledge of the game quite remarkable for one so young. He reminds me so much of myself when I was his age.’
‘Well, it would seem you benefit from him as much as Toby benefits from you, Jim.’
‘Oh, I’ve no doubt about that, Peter. No doubt whatsoever.’
Their chat moved on to other things and I concentrated hard on noting down left turns and right turns, but it was difficult. Finally, after about 10 minutes we came to a stop and Dad turned off the engine.
Walk Jim to his door, Dad, I thought to myself. Luckily I heard both doors open and, very slowly, I lifted my head to sneak a look. Dad and Jim were standing by his door. It was a tiny little house, one in a row of them. There were no front gardens, just a long thin porch that connected each building. A dim light glowed over Jim’s front door, but the rest of the street was dark and I couldn’t see any road signs anywhere.
Before Dad returned I angled myself better beneath the tarp, leaving myself a line of sight through the back-left window. All I needed to see was a street sign or a special feature—something recognisable.
After only a minute of the return journey I got my break: a service station with a big green and gold sign. Then it was gone. But I knew where we were.
In 1999, Wasim Akram took a hat trick in two consecutive Test matches against Sri Lanka. The first was in Lahore, Pakistan, and the second was in Dhaka, Bangladesh, in the final of the Asian Test Championship. Wasim Akram was named Man of the Series.
13 I’m Not the Paperboy
Friday—morning (early)
I woke up to the muffled ringing of my mobile phone, buried beneath my pillow. Last night I’d texted Georgie and told her my plan. I looked at the digital clock on my bedside table: 5.50 a.m. I swore, and grabbed the phone, pressing the ‘On’ button.
