by Brett Lee
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said, feeling nervous. I got a kiss from Mum and Nat, who also wanted to shake my hand.
Jim also gave me a handshake. ‘I’m looking forward to the game, Toby. But remember, that’s all it is—a game. A wonderful game, perhaps the greatest of them all, but still just a game.’
Mum, Dad, Jim and Nat watched me head across to the team area. I turned around once, halfway across the oval with my cricket bag hanging over my shoulder, and waved. They all waved back.
‘We’re batting,’ Jono called, walking over to the team from the coin toss in the middle. I felt a tingly feeling in my stomach, especially on seeing Scott Craven warming up off a run-up that took him almost to the boundary line.
Positive, stay positive, I told myself. ‘Great day for batting,’ I said.
‘Who won the toss, Jono?’ Rahul asked.
‘Scorpions.’
I looked over at Mr Pasquali for a reaction, but he was writing something into his scorebook.
‘Jono, bring everyone over to the small scoreboard here, please, and I’ll announce the team. Then you can read the batting order. After that I’d like you all together for the team photo and a quick chat, okay?’
All 12 of us, the squad Mr Pasquali had announced and introduced at our school assembly, followed him across to where a big magnetic scoreboard leaned against a wooden table that the scorers would use. One of us would also be sitting there, watching, ready to field if one of the team got injured.
Gavin, Georgie, Jay, Jason and even Ally and Martian would all be feeling nervous right now. No one spoke.
‘It’s been a long and successful season, regardless of what happens today and tomorrow,’ Mr Pasquali said, rubbing sunblock into his arms. ‘I said last week that you were a fine team. We agreed at the start of the season that you were happy for me to pick the inform 12 for this game, and that’s what I’ve done. Unfortunately, I have been faced with the difficult task of appointing one of you as 12th man, or woman, as the case may be.’
I glanced at Georgie. She was kicking at something and avoiding all eye contact.
‘I wish it was a game for 12 or even 15 players. But it’s not—cricket is played between two teams of 11. And this is the team of 11 that will take the field in this year’s grand final.’
Mr Pasquali paused, looked up at us, then down at his clipboard again.
‘Jono: captain. Toby: vice-captain.’
A shiver swept through me, this time of excitement. We’d never had a vice-captain before.
‘Then in alphabetical order by first name, because that’s how I know you all…’ Poor Mr Pasquali was finding this difficult. He hated the thought of someone missing out. And someone was about to not play in a grand final. He looked up. ‘Ally, Cameron, Gavin, Georgie, Ivo, Jason, Jimbo, Minh and Rahul. Jay, you are our 12th man for this game.’
Jay was making a brave effort to hide his disappointment. Georgie, Martian and even Gavin weren’t showing any signs of delight, though each would be feeling relieved.
Jono stepped forwards into the circle. ‘It’s pretty well the same as last week,’ he said, unfolding a piece of paper that he’d pulled from his pocket. ‘Cameron and I will be opening, then Jimbo, Rahul, Toby, Martian, Georgie, Minh, Ally, Gavin and Jason.’
We turned back to Mr Pasquali.
‘We have all the time in the world. I will be very disappointed if there are any run-outs or wasted wickets. But keep the runs ticking along, let’s not get bogged down. If the top order can see off Scott Craven, then I’m sure there are plenty of runs for the taking. Remember, there are no limits on batters or bowlers in a grand final. But we have to win the game. The Scorpions finished on top of the ladder so a draw is good enough for them to win the cup.’
I tossed a few deliveries at Cameron then went over to console Jay, who was sitting at the scorers’ table with the Scorpions’ 12th man and a couple of parents.
‘You’re a part of this team, Jay, and you’ll be with us for the celebrations after we’ve won too,’ I said, patting him on the back.
‘Yeah, whatever,’ he mumbled, not looking up.
‘C’mon, Jay. At least you don’t have to face Scott,’ said Georgie, who had joined us.
‘You wanna swap then? Here, you sit on your arse here and do nothing—’
‘Hey, young feller,’ one of the men at the table said, ‘that’s no way to talk. As it is, you’ve got your part to play. Now, let’s get this batting order into the book.’
I walked around to my usual spot, right behind the bowler’s arm, to watch the start of the game. For a moment I was the closest person in the world to Scott Craven at the top of his mark.
‘Good luck, Scott,’ I called, sitting down on the bank.
He turned around and looked at me in amazement. ‘Well, Toby Jones,’ he drawled, ‘luck doesn’t come into it, mate.’ He sniggered, spun around and headed off to bowl to Cameron.
We survived the first five overs before disaster struck. None of us expected the other opening bowler to do much damage; maybe our batters were a bit too relaxed when Scott wasn’t bowling.
First to go was Cameron, caught at mid-off by none other than Scott Craven, who hurled the ball high into the air. Then Jimbo went, caught off the last ball of the same over, and I was making my way back to the group to put on my batting gear.
‘C’mon, Rahul,’ I called. ‘Big knock from you.’ At least give me time to get my gear on, I thought to myself, watching him stride out onto the pitch.
Jason managed to toss me a couple of balls before there was another shout from the field. Scott Craven had just got his first wicket, clean-bowling Rahul. We’d lost three of our top four batters in the space of about six deliveries.
I hadn’t thought I’d be walking out to the middle so soon, and I felt flustered with the rush and the panic that had come over the team. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm my nerves, I arrived at the wicket and paused to adjust my pads and tighten my gloves.
‘Take your time,’ I muttered to myself.
‘Come on, Scott, let’s have him,’ a voice called.
I glanced up to see Mr Smale pacing about down near the third-man boundary. I turned away quickly.
I had one ball to face to see off Scott’s over. I expected a bouncer and was ducking almost before he’d bowled it. The ball flew past my head.
‘Toby, I don’t care how slow we go, we’ve just got to survive, okay?’ Jono said when we met mid-pitch at the end of the over.
‘Okay. Just don’t shield me from Craven,’ I said over my shoulder.
‘I have no intention of doing that,’ he replied.
We survived the next six overs without too much drama, though Scott beat me twice in a row with two beautiful deliveries that moved away from me. After the second one, he came down the wicket a few paces and mouthed some swear words in my direction. I turned my back on him, just like some of the international players do when the heat is on.
I looked out past square leg to see Dad chatting excitedly with Jim, who was nodding as though in agreement. I then gazed at our players—they all looked a bit dejected with the way the first hour had gone. The scoreboard read ‘Riverwall 3/38’.
‘It’s better than 3 for 19,’ Jono said at our first drinks break. Mr Pasquali watched from a distance. He was chatting politely to the other umpire but inside he would be feeling the disappointment.
Scott continued bowling after the break. I played his first two deliveries back up the pitch. He’d slowed down a fraction; maybe he was beginning to tire. His third ball, however, spat and flew from just short of a length. I fended it off my body. A short leg would have gobbled it up. Scott stood and stared, shook his head slowly and wheeled around.
‘Stay focused, Toby,’ Jono called from the other end.
‘Stay alive, more like,’ I muttered, tapping the crease.
The next ball was shorter. I was inside it in a flash, flaying it high and wide over deep backward square leg. I didn�
�t even leave my crease. Car horns blared and the umpire raised both arms. I presumed Scott was glaring at me, but I ignored him and walked up to get a pat on the back from Jono.
Scott bowled another short one, though this time further outside the off-stump. But I was on fire. Again I tried to get inside the line, but the ball was onto me too quickly. It caught the top edge, flew over the slips and down to the boundary for four.
Ten runs in two balls. I stole a glance at Mr Pasquali out at square leg. Slowly he raised a hand. Don’t get carried away, he seemed to be saying.
Where would Scott pitch this last delivery? Would it be another short one? I heard some clapping from the Riverwall supporters as he steamed in and bowled a fast in-swinging yorker. I jammed the bat down on it. Bat, ball and pitch all collided. The ball stopped dead and I kicked it away.
The umpire called the end of over and I headed up the pitch.
‘I want one more,’ Scott yelled at his captain, who was standing in the slips. He got his extra over. Jono glided the first ball down through the gully for a single and then I was clean-bowled with the next delivery. I hardly even saw it.
We had been five balls away from seeing out Scott’s first spell and I’d blown it. I walked off the ground dejected and angry. I didn’t speak to anyone and no one attempted to talk to me. I didn’t care that I’d been bowled by maybe the best ball of the match so far. No ball is too good once you’ve spent some time at the crease, once you’ve nailed a few in the middle and hit the boundary two or three times.
Martian top-edged Scott’s fourth ball over slips for six, but was caught in the gully on the next ball, fending off another short one.
Georgie survived Scott’s last ball, but was out lbw for a duck in the next over. Three for 38 had turned into a disastrous 6 for 55.
How could you stay positive in a situation like this?
Tom Veivers holds the record for the Australian who has bowled the most balls in one innings. Playing in a Test match against England at Manchester in 1964, he sent down 571 deliveries. He bowled 95.1 overs, 36 maidens and took 3 wickets for 155 runs.
16 Out of the Blue
WE scrounged another 39 runs off the Scorpions’ other bowlers. ‘Extras’ ended up being the third top scorer with 13. It was easy to see how frustrated Scott felt at not being able to bowl at our lower order. Perhaps the Scorpions’ captain was being a bit generous in holding him back.
‘I think the Scorpions have made their first mistake,’ Mr Pasquali said, smiling as he threw a ball at us at the changeover.
And with that comment our whole attitude changed.
‘Taking Scott off?’ Jimbo asked, flinging the ball to Ally, who would be keeping.
‘Exactly,’ Mr Pasquali replied.
‘The ball’s doing quite a bit out there. Tight, accurate bowling will be rewarded, I assure you.’ Maybe Mr Pasquali was just trying to get us to be positive. So what? It was working.
Jimbo nudged me and nodded towards a guy standing on his own 10 metres away to our left.
‘It’s Trevor Barnes,’ I whispered. ‘Coach of the Under-18 representative side.’
‘The very same,’ Jimbo said quietly.
I took the new ball and went out to measure my run-up. I thought back to Danny Chapman and the chat we’d had. The Scorpions hadn’t had that experience. Surely that was an advantage for us?
But it wasn’t Danny Chapman with the ball. It was Toby Jones. And that was going to be just as good, I thought, looking around at the field Jono had set. I’d shown him my plan and he was happy to go with it—for the first few overs, anyway. Like Georgie, he was nervous about not having a third man.
‘Minh, go closer to point,’ I shouted. I also directed Martian to go a bit squarer from his position at silly mid-off. That way I had opened up a nice gap through mid-off to tempt the batter into driving at a ball that was either swinging away or not at a length full-enough for driving.
‘C’mon, Toby, go right through ’em,’ a voice I didn’t recognise yelled from the boundary. I didn’t turn around.
‘Play,’ Mr Pasquali called.
I ran in hard, looking every bit like I was going to bowl the fastest possible delivery. Halfway to the wicket, though, I spread my fingers on either side of the ball. It was the perfect slower ball, straight and pitched fuller. The batter’s eyes lit up, but he was into the shot way too early. He had already completed his stroke when the ball hit the bat. Gently the ball ballooned back towards me.
I took it in both hands at knee height. The batter banged his bat into the pitch and walked off, staring at me, while my team-mates all rushed in to celebrate.
‘I thought you were a pace bowler,’ Rahul said, high-fiving me.
‘Not all the time,’ I replied.
‘Body language, everyone,’ Jono said, clapping his hands. He wanted us looking confident and in control.
‘Game on,’ I whispered to Georgie as we headed back to our positions. She was at mid-on.
‘It’s not the only thing on,’ she said, winking at me.
‘C’mon, Toby!’ Jimbo shouted from the gully, clapping his hands.
I let Georgie’s comment slip through to the keeper—I didn’t want any non-cricket issues getting in the way and distracting me.
I took a wicket in my third over, then another in my fourth. The moment we’d all been waiting for arrived when Scott Craven marched out to the crease. The whole team stared at him as he took guard from Mr Pasquali, calling for two legs.
‘One more over?’ Mr Pasquali called over to the other umpire, who looked at his watch, then nodded. What would Scott do with one over to survive before lunch?
I brought Georgie and Minh in closer, hoping to tempt Scott to go over the top. The plan worked—sort of. I should have known better. Scott carved the first two balls over Minh’s head and out to the cover boundary for four each. He clipped the third off his pads for a two. The fourth ball went right through him, but he belted the next back over my head for another four. The last ball he blocked. He’d just belted me for 14 runs.
‘C’mon, guys,’ Jono urged as we walked from the field for lunch. ‘We’re only one wicket away from being level if not ahead in this game.’
He was right, but Scott Craven was a big wicket. The scoreboard had the Scorpions at 3/36 and we were only 58 runs ahead. Splitting up, we headed over to our respective families for food and drink.
Jono gave me two more overs after lunch. The Scorpions had changed their tactics—they were obviously waiting for me to finish my spell, like we’d waited for Scott to finish his.
Slowly and steadily the Scorpions started to accumulate runs with first Jono and Rahul bowling, and then when Jason and Gavin came on.
It was the hottest part of the day and we were struggling, but Scott and his partner had taken their score from the 20s into the 120s without too much sweat or bother.
‘Maybe we should try and buy a wicket,’ I said to the team at the drinks break.
‘Buy a wicket?’ Ally asked. ‘You want to bribe Scott Craven?’
‘No, let’s set him up. He’s itching to put one away; so is the other guy. I reckon they’ve been told to grind us into the dirt.’
‘Toby’s right,’ Jono said. ‘We’ve gotta try something different. It’s not happening for us at the moment.’ He glanced at the scoreboard. ‘They’re 30 odd runs ahead and putting us out of the game. Remember, we’ve got to win.’
‘What exactly did you have in mind, Toby?’ Jimbo asked. He sounded positive.
‘Give Georgie a bowl. She’s accurate and can mix up her pace a bit.’
‘She’ll get pasted,’ Martian said, shaking his head. ‘No offence, Georgie, but you’re up and down—no spin or movement.’
‘Exactly! So they get lulled into doing something stupid.’
‘Or get lulled into belting her over the boundary line,’ Martian said dejectedly.
‘Jono?’ Rahul said, looking over to him.
‘That’s time, bo
ys,’ the Scorpions’ umpire called.
‘Okay. We’ll give it a try. Two overs and then we’ll review. Georgie, which end do you want?’
‘Into the breeze,’ she replied, pointing to the far end. ‘Bloody ripper idea, Tobes,’ she said, clapping me on the back.
‘Thought you’d approve.’
The Scorpions pair played out Rahul’s next over, taking only a couple of singles. Scott was on strike for Georgie’s first ball, and I watched his face closely. He was looking smug, yet determined. He would hate to get out to Georgie. He padded her first ball back down the pitch.
‘Bowled, George,’ Ally said, clapping from behind the stumps.
‘Right there,’ Jimbo called from covers.
But Georgie’s next ball was short and wide. Scott leaned back and hoicked it from outside his off-stump over mid-wicket. The ball landed just inside the boundary.
Jono told Minh to drop back from his position at mid-wicket. Scott watched lazily, chewing his gum and smiling. He put the next ball out over cover. Same result.
Now the field was spread. I didn’t think Scott was interested in singles, and I was right. He blasted the next ball wide past mid-on. It produced four more runs, but the shot lacked control.
‘On your toes, everyone,’ I shouted, clapping my hands.
‘Settle,’ I heard the Scorpions’ coach hiss through clenched teeth from his position at square leg. Scott looked towards him in surprise.
I made a quick movement of my hand to Georgie when she turned to look at me. ‘Faster one,’ I mouthed.
This one was onto Scott much quicker. He slashed at the ball, which was delivered short and outside off-stump, aiming to belt it over mid-wicket again. But instead, the ball shot directly into the sky.
‘Mine!’ I screamed, sensing it was coming in the general direction of square leg.
‘Leave it for Ally!’ someone called.
‘Mine!’ I yelled again. The ball had only just reached its peak. Time stood still. My mind went blank as I stared into space at the little red dot, now hurtling back towards me at alarming speed. I squinted. I was too far forwards. I took a step back, then another, then staggered three more paces.
