Against the Spin

by Michael Panckridge

  Finally, Mr Bronsen told us to save our answers into our folders then open the Interactive Quiz icon on the desktop. He turned the lights down and handed each of us a set of headphones. We plugged them in, popped on the ear pieces, and waited.

  A few seconds later Mr Bronsen’s voice came through loud and clear. Everyone looked up at him, and Mr Bronsen beamed back at us.

  I clicked on another icon – of a cricket ball – and immediately saw that a program was loading. After a few moments, a picture – no, a film – replaced everything on the screen. A film of a cricket match.

  ‘Watch carefully. Every few minutes I will ask you a question about the game you are watching,’ Mr Bronsen’s voice was saying.

  ‘You can pause the action by pressing F9 and then record your answer by pressing F3 to bring up the quiz screen. Use the same buttons to swap from the quiz to the action.’

  Steve Smith was batting. I think it was against New Zealand. He’d just smashed a four through mid-wicket. Mr Bronsen’s voice came through the headphones again.

  ‘Question one. Describe the last delivery bowled in terms of its line and length.’

  A replay of the delivery appeared on the screen. Although Smith had just belted it out through the on-side, the ball was actually a pretty good length ball that had pitched on his off stump. Another angle gave an even clearer view. I paused the game and then pressed F3. A table appeared with boxes for the answers.

  I typed in my answer, wondering whether I was right in saying that it was actually a good ball that had just been smacked for four.

  I cleared the quiz bit from the screen and hit F9 again to restart the game.

  This time it was a section of play from a BBL game. The Melbourne Renegades batter had just been struck on the pads. The bowler, along with the keeper and a few other close-in fielders all appealed. The action froze.

  ‘You’re the third umpire and have been asked for a correct decision,’ Mr Bronsen’s voice spoke through the head phones. We got to see where the bowler’s foot landed before reviewing Hot Spot, Hawkeye and Snickometer. To me, the batter looked plumb LBW.

  I reckon if I’d scored more than six or seven out of ten, I would have done okay. We were all a bit dazed and tired after it was over. Mr Bronsen told us to get a good night’s rest for tomorrow’s challenge – the skills session.

  ‘Well, whaddya reckon?’ I asked Jack when we were outside. ‘Was that awesome, or what?’

  ‘Brilliant,’ he replied.

  ‘Too easy,’ boasted Fisk, behind us. ‘Could’ve finished it in half the time, but I didn’t want to make out I was that good.’

  ‘Like me?’ asked Bryce, staring at Fisk. ‘Think you’ve done as well as me, do you, Travis?’

  ‘At least, Nerdhead,’ he sneered. Then he walked off after Jimmy Paisley.

  ‘Hmmm, he might just be right there,’ said Bryce, quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Jack.

  But I didn’t have time to hear his answer. Luci had appeared and was asking me what I thought about the quiz.

  ‘Luci, what about that bowling question? You know, the one about how overarm bowling started?’

  She smiled.

  ‘Perhaps it was just a story.’

  ‘You mean–’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Mitchell, don’t worry. One question is not going to be the difference between you being or not being the Legend of Cricket.’

  I got to school early the following morning and went straight to the Legends noticeboard. It was divided into eight sections. The current Legend sport, cricket, was highlighted with a colourful border and bright headings. There were always kids here, checking up on news and dates and general information. Jack said that closer to the end of the year, kids would spend entire recesses and lunchtimes here, waiting for score updates and doing their own calculations. There were no results up from yesterday’s quiz. I didn’t really expect there would be.

  It was impossible to know who was leading after the quiz section. If you believed Fisk, he was miles in front – but then, so was Bryce, probably.

  Bryce would fall back quickly now that the physical stuff was starting. There were plenty of boys who were all-round okay, but probably not going to win the Legend of Cricket because they weren’t outstanding in batting, bowling and fielding. There was only one kid who was so good at one of those things that he could have given the whole competition a shake, but he wasn’t participating anymore. That kid, of course, was Bubba.

  With the girls, it was a lot closer. Luci was brainy – really brainy. But Mia was really good at any sport. Sometimes it seemed as if Mia didn’t really care much and didn’t put in the effort like some of the other girls. Luci and Rebecca really had drive and passion.

  There was a notice telling us what the groups were for today’s skills test. There were groups of ten – well, one with nine because of Bubba, who wasn’t allowed back at school for the rest of the week. Luci and I were in the same group as Travis Fisk and Jimmy Paisley. Why Fisk and Paisley continued to be put together amazed me. It was just luck, I suppose, that Richard Mazis wasn’t in our group, too. He was with Jack and Bryce in the fourth group.

  Each group had an hour at each skill area – fielding on the oval, batting in the nets with the bowling machine and bowling out at the centre wicket. Our group started with bowling, which was definitely Fisk’s strength.

  Mr Spears, who was looking after the bowling, explained what we had to do. The main aim was to hit the stumps. He would give a score of up to five points for each delivery. Hitting the stumps was a guaranteed ‘three’. A full toss or a really short ball that maybe bounced twice but hit the stumps would still get a ‘three’. To score a ‘four’ or a ‘five’, you would have to bowl a perfect length as well as line.

  We were allowed three warm-up balls, then we each had to bowl eighteen balls in a row. We were given our bowling order. Fisk was first. He only had one warm-up ball, which just missed the stumps.

  ‘I’m ready, Mr Spears,’ he called.

  Fisk, more than anyone (I thought), was at a disadvantage because of his long run-up. Surely after a couple of overs, he’d start to tire. We soon found out.

  His first ball knocked back the off stump. His next three also hit the stumps. The keeper was doing nothing but rearranging the stumps and putting the bails back. Mr Spears, with his clipboard in his hand, just kept nodding and marking a score next to Fisk’s name as ball after ball cannoned into the stumps.

  ‘He can bowl, can’t he?’ I whispered to Luci and Rebecca. Luci was just shaking her head in wonder.

  ‘I’ll be lucky to hit them at all.’ She grimaced. I knew Luci better than that, though.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ scoffed Rebecca. ‘You’ll hit them more times than me.’

  ‘Becky, if you’re not the Legend of Cricket in a week’s time, then I’m not your best friend,’ said Luci.

  I had heard that Rebecca – Becky – was very good at most sports. She seemed like a nice kid, too.

  ‘I’ll bet you hit them more times than you don’t,’ I teased Luci.

  ‘How much?’

  I wasn’t actually expecting a bet. ‘Well, whatever happens, how about Mexican at my place?’ I offered. It was the first thing that came into my head. It seemed to work for Bubba.

  ‘You mean Mexican food?’

  ‘Of course I mean–’

  There was a loud curse from Fisk at the bowling end. I looked in amazement at the stumps. Surely he hadn’t missed? And then, very gently, a bail toppled and fell to the pitch.

  ‘C’mon!’ Fisk screamed, raising his fist.

  Fisk was not dropping his pace. If anything, he seemed to be warming to the task and bowling even faster. After two overs – twelve balls – it was obvious he had hit the stumps heaps more times than he had missed them. His line and length were near perfect.

  Fisk was going to get near the perfect 90. A maximum of five points for at least fifteen deliveries. In fact,
I couldn’t see how Mr Spears could have scored a ‘four’ for any of his deliveries. They were perfect. He finished off as strongly as he started, his last ball smashing into the middle stump and sending it cartwheeling.

  No one would get near Fisk in the bowling section. Mr Spears basically admitted that with his comment to the rest of us as he came over to call up the next bowler.

  ‘Right, well there’s something for you to chase, hey people?’

  My name was called out about twenty minutes later. I took my three warm-up balls. Each was closer than the previous one to hitting the stumps, but didn’t hit them.

  I looked over at Luci, who was talking to Fisk. For a moment my mind went blank from cricket, as I wondered what on earth they could be talking about. I turned away and walked back to my bowling mark. I could bowl spin or medium pace, but had opted for the medium pace. I knew that if I could get into a rhythm, I could do better than 70 per cent, perhaps even 80 per cent, by bowling a tight line and length.

  I took a deep breath, checked my mark on the ground, my grip on the ball, then trotted in. The ball pitched nicely on middle stump, moved away slightly, and caught the off stump about three-quarters of the way up. If that didn’t score a ‘five’, then nothing would, I thought to myself.

  ‘That okay?’ I whispered to Mr Spears as I walked past him.

  ‘Perfect.’ He smiled.

  Great. I only had to do it fourteen more times – and that just to be equal with Fisk. I went for a flat and straight ball next. No problem. It banged into the middle stump – as did the next. I was starting to get into a groove.

  I tried to focus my energy on each delivery and put aside all the distractions.

  I’m bowling for Australia. It’s a one-day international at the MCG. Six balls to go. India needs only five runs to win. It is up to Grady. There are 60 000 screaming fans. The first ball strikes the batsman on the pads. I scream for the LBW, but Mr Spears just shakes his head. The next two balls are bang on line and would have hit the stumps, but their gun batsman just manages to keep them out.

  Three balls left. What will he be expecting? Probably something well pitched up. He’ll dance down the wicket and try and get to the ball on the full. So I bang this one in a bit shorter. It skids through, smacking him on the knee roll of his pad. Four balls and the best one day player in the world hasn’t scored off me. I steal a look into the Southern Stand and see Fisk with his face up close to Luci. I can’t tell whether she’s trying to move away or not.

  My next ball is short and wide. The batsman steps inside the line and hikes it over deep backward square leg for six. Game over.

  All I could do now was to try and stay as close to Fisk as possible. I vowed not to look anywhere except down the wicket. I eased off a little and concentrated on the three stumps at the other end of the pitch. I missed once more, but felt I hadn’t done too badly overall. If I’d scored more than 70 points, I would be happy. That would be an average of just under four points per ball. And Fisk could not have scored the full 90 points.

  I ambled back to Luci. She was sitting on her own.

  ‘Hey, you did great,’ she called enthusiastically.

  When her turn came, Luci bowled well. She hit the stumps eleven times and went close to them with plenty of her other deliveries.

  Dad was up for another batch of Mexican – but he’d be cool.

  The next skill was fielding. There was throwing over a variety of distances, as well as catching and stopping. One of the events was catching off the slips cradle. The slips cradle, made of plastic, looked big and useless to me, but my opinion soon changed.

  Groups of kids stood at either end, with a gap of about three metres between them and the edge of the cradle.

  We had to throw the ball onto the curve-shaped cradle. When it hit the surface, the ball flew off at an angle, giving the kids on the other side hardly any time before the ball was onto them.

  The event was fast and dangerous.

  Mr Landsbury was in charge of the fielding. We started with the cradle. Mr Landsbury gave us each ten catches. The two kids with the highest score would then face off against each other. I managed to catch eight of the ten Mr Landsbury threw on the cradle to me. So did Fisk. He seemed to throw at us a bit harder than the others.

  Fisk had the first go in the face-off. He hurled the ball and it smashed into the frame of the cradle. First blood to me, I thought. He went to throw again, but Mr Landsbury told him he’d already had his turn.

  ‘Hardly matters,’ he said.

  ‘Remember. The first person to drop two catches is out,’ Mr Landsbury said.

  I threw the ball high to the right side of the cradle. It flew off at an easy angle and Fisk caught it in front of his face. He hurled it back at the same spot on the cradle. It seemed to come off much faster. I put a hand up in front of my face, mostly out of self-protection. The ball thudded into my thumb joint and spilled to the ground. Fortunately, for the final, we were using an ‘Incrediball’ – not the normal hard leather ball. A test of skill, not bravery, Mr Landsbury had said.

  I aimed at the edge of the cradle, trying to get as much angle as possible. The ball moved a bit, but not enough to cause Fisk any problems. He went for the high angle again, but this time I was ready and caught the ball easily. I wound up and with all my might flung the ball into the cradle. This time I caught the edge of the cradle right on. The ball flew off, almost at right angles. Fisk dived to his left and actually did well to get a hand to it. It spilled out, though.

  ‘Sudden death,’ Mr Landsbury called out. A crowd had gathered to watch.

  Again Fisk went high, and again I was ready. My next throw caught the end of the cradle and shot out at Fisk in a flat line, right at his shins. It was the worst place to take a catch. It was a risky throw. Another few centimetres and I would have missed the whole cradle, giving Fisk the next throw. But the ball smacked into his legs before he could even bend halfway down.

  ‘He had first throw! I should get one more throw,’ cried Fisk. For a moment, Mr Landsbury looked flustered.

  ‘No, you had first throw and hit the front of the cradle, remember?’ Luci said, half to Fisk and half to Mr Landsbury.

  A few others agreed.

  ‘Right then. Full points for slips catching to you, Mitchell Grady. Travis, you’ve scored one point less. Let’s move on to the outfield catching, shall we?’ said Mr Landsbury.

  ‘Grady,’ Fisk hissed at me, ‘the only time you ever beat me is by pure luck.’

  ‘I aimed for the edge, Travis. You hit the same spot three times.’

  Fisk moved towards me, threateningly.

  ‘You fluked it, Grady, you–’

  Fisk was interrupted by Mr Landsbury calling out the order for outfield catching.

  The rest of the fielding went well. Fisk and I were pretty even over most of the events. He threw better with the long throws, but I did a bit better with the short, accurate throws. He was brilliant with his general ground fielding and I did okay with the close-in stuff.

  We were all pretty tired at the end of it. Luckily there was a drinks break before the final event.

  ‘Jack, how are the girls going?’ Luci was very interested in what the other girls were up to.

  ‘I don’t know about Becky, but Mia is doing pretty well. How are you going?’

  ‘Oh, you know–’

  ‘She’s doing really well,’ I interrupted. ‘How about you, Bryce?’

  ‘Well, after my quiz debacle, I feel it’s–’

  ‘Debacle? What do you mean, debacle?’

  ‘Debacle. Catastrophe. Disaster. Well, perhaps not catastrophe, but–’

  ‘But you know everything about cricket. You finished so early,’ Jack pointed out. Bryce sauntered off.

  ‘Bryce, are you upset?’ I called out.

  ‘No, not a bit,’ he called back, heading over to the cordial and biscuits.

  ‘That guy is something else,’ Luci said. I had to agree with her. And yet, I wonde
red whether something was going on. Time would tell.

  Jack asked me for tips about the slips cradle and I asked him about the bowling machine. I still felt this was my best strength – batting. And soon we were there; our final venue for the day. In my case, the nets and Lurch, the school’s bowling machine.

  Like everyone else, I had put my name down on the practice lists during the past few weeks. I had gone to some sessions with Lurch and Miss Scott – the person who operated the machine.

  Miss Scott explained to us how the batting skills session would work.

  ‘I have programmed in a random arrangement of 24 deliveries. Random, except for the pace of the delivery. The first six will be slow. The next twelve will be medium pace. The final six are fast. These last six are optional – you do not have to face them, but, if you choose not to, you cannot score any points from them. Mr Bronsen will allocate a score out of five for the way you play each ball. Make sure each of you is fully padded up, with helmet on, and ready to bat. Check the list here for your order. Are there any questions?’

  ‘Can we just slog every ball?’

  ‘Travis, I have one line of advice for you, indeed for all of you,’ responded Mr Bronsen. ‘Play each ball on its merits.’

  This time Fisk was well down the order. I was third, Luci fifth.

  ‘That’s what I meant to ask Jack,’ she said to me, putting on her pads.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whether any of the girls faced Lurch’s fast balls.’

  ‘Would it change your mind?’

  She looked at me for a moment, then grinned. ‘Nah. Just curious.’

  ‘Want a tip?’ I asked her.

  ‘Sure, what?’

  ‘With the fast ones, they’ll probably be pitched up. Just stick your front foot down the pitch and block them out.’

  ‘Yep. Good thinking, Mitch.’

  ‘If it’s there to hit, hit it and hit it hard.’