Howzat!

by Brett Lee

  ‘Toby, just lie back down—’

  ‘The Wisden, Dad. It’s just over there.’ I pointed to the bookshelf.

  ‘There’s something you haven’t been telling me, isn’t there?’ he said softly, getting up off the bed.

  ‘How long have I been back?’

  ‘Back?’

  ‘Where was I? How did I get here?’

  ‘Well, you and Georgie were found in Rahul’s garden. You were unconscious and Georgie wasn’t much better.’

  ‘And the others? Jimbo?’

  ‘They’ve all called. Even Scott.’ I leaned back against the pillow and sighed.

  ‘Dad, I’m going to explain everything,’ I said. ‘I promise. But first, you’ve got to open the Wisden.’

  ‘Which one?’ It sounded like he was playing along with my game, humouring me to keep me happy.

  ‘Any one. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Okay. You want me to read to you?’

  ‘No. I want you to open it up to a scorecard.’

  ‘Any scorecard?’

  ‘Yes. Find a zero.’

  ‘Well, there’s plenty of those. Look at them all.’ Dad held the book open for me.

  ‘I can’t see them, Dad.’

  ‘What do you mean you can’t see them? Is there something wrong with your eyes?’ He came back to sit next to me, looking from me to the open page.

  ‘Nothing, it’s just that I can’t ever see the writing in a Wisden.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘Well, that’s another thing I’ve got to explain to you. Where’s the zero, Dad? Can you put my finger on it?’

  ‘Sure, Toby.’ He took hold of my hand and slowly guided my finger into the mysterious cloud of black and white.

  ‘Dad, don’t let go,’ I said quickly, as a zero rose from the page.

  The first thing I felt was warmth on my bare arms. For a fleeting moment I thought I must have come to the wrong place, but there in front of us, only 50 metres away, was the cricket oval. I’m not sure who was the more surprised. Dad just stood there, his mouth wide open, staring at the scene in front of him.

  I was gawping too. The cold, grey, desolate place that had been the Timeless Cricket Match was now green and beautiful. There was a small scattering of people, sitting in the sunshine watching the game out in the middle.

  Quickly I looked over to the scoreboard. It still looked old and run-down and had obviously been patched up in places, but there were no broken pieces of wood lying on the lush green ground below.

  ‘Come on, Dad.’ I took his hand and we ambled slowly away to our left.

  ‘T-Toby, what’s going on?’

  ‘I’m going to let Jim explain all that,’ I grinned. Gentle applause broke out around the ground. The batter had just stroked the ball neatly through the covers. I looked closely at the fielder chasing the ball, recognising him straight away. He was the old man whose body we had seen transform into a spirit. I glanced up into the stand; the place where he had been sitting was empty.

  The thought suddenly occurred to me that at some long distant point in the future, I might be playing out there. Glancing at Dad’s pale and anxious face I quickened the pace, hoping desperately that Jim would be where I left him; and alive too.

  Ignoring Dad’s gasps of surprise and wonder, I climbed the steps into the first level of the scoreboard.

  ‘Jim?’ My voice echoed around the bare wooden room.

  ‘Toby?’ Jim’s voice rang out from the level above.

  ‘C’mon, Dad,’ I shouted, dragging him across the room. I let go his hand and flew up the stairs, rushing into Jim’s outstretched arms. ‘You’re okay,’ I said, as he held me close.

  ‘As good as gold,’ he beamed, looking me up and down. ‘Peter!’ Dad looked from me to Jim, astonishment written all over his face. ‘Toby, why don’t you score here while I take Peter upstairs and show him the sights?’

  ‘Where’s the old scorebook?’ I asked, looking around for the table it had been on last time I was here.

  ‘Ah, we have official scorers now,’ he beamed. ‘Over in the main stand. There have been a lot of changes around here, as you probably saw.’

  ‘It’s certainly a nice spot to be,’ I agreed, turning to sit on a small chair. I looked out through an opening onto the ground below. Jim led Dad up the next flight of stairs. I had plenty of my own questions for Jim, but they were going to have to wait.

  It must have been almost an hour later when Dad finally emerged, carefully descending the metal stairs.

  ‘Of course I knew all along,’ he said, walking slowly towards me. Jim was just behind him.

  ‘Knew what? That I could time travel?’

  ‘No, no. That you’ll play Test cricket one day.’ I glanced at Jim. He was smiling.

  ‘Nothing is certain, Peter.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Dad said. The three of us stood there for a moment in a comfortable silence.

  ‘All the Grubbers have gone?’ I asked Jim, looking back out the small opening towards the stand.

  ‘All the bad ones, yes. And we have spectators slowly arriving so the Timeless Cricket Match is safe again.’

  ‘And Father Time? He’s gone too?’

  ‘Thanks to you, Toby. He made a terrible mistake. His arrogance destroyed him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You remember up here in the scoreboard? He regressed you. I could see it happening through my own eyes yet I was powerless to do anything to stop him. But then he aged you, Toby. And that was his mistake.’

  I recalled my gnarled and wrinkled hands and arms and the painful effort required to throw the cricket ball.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You are a Cricket Lord, Toby, but a very young one. Your powers are nowhere near developed to their full potential. But when he aged you, suddenly he was confronted by all those years of wisdom and knowledge. Between the two of us, in those brief few minutes, we were able to overwhelm him.’

  ‘But why didn’t he just age me to death?’

  ‘You are a Cricket Lord, Toby. It’s not quite that easy.’ I thought about the weird dreams I’d had as I’d moved forward and backwards in time. I mentioned them to Jim.

  ‘Have I really been into the future?’

  Jim smiled, slowly shaking his head. ‘It is a future you won’t recognise, Toby.’

  ‘So it won’t happen the way I saw it?’

  ‘No, I believe not.’

  ‘And Georgie? I thought she was dead.’

  ‘For a little while there, she may well have been. But I waited.’ Jim took out one of the wooden pieces, replacing it with another board.

  ‘Waited?’

  ‘I waited for you boys to return.’

  ‘You mean Scott and Jimbo? You knew we’d come back?’

  ‘Oh yes. When you’ve travelled around time as much as I have, Toby, you come to know all sorts of things that have happened or are going to happen.’

  ‘And the Grubbers?’

  ‘They wouldn’t have harmed anyone.’

  ‘But they attacked me and you.’

  ‘That’s true. We are Cricket Lords, and they knew that. As Cricket Lords we are also time travellers. We were vehicles for them to escape the Timeless Cricket Match and return to real cricket.’

  ‘So that’s why they didn’t attack anyone else?’

  ‘No. They were never meant to return.’

  ‘But why didn’t the Grubbers destroy the turnstile?’

  ‘Because it never existed until you answered those questions.’

  ‘From the guy in the grey coat?’ I asked. Jim nodded. ‘But—’

  ‘Enough for now, Toby. It’s time for you to take Peter home again. There is as much to do there as there is here.’ Dad moved away from the opening.

  ‘Will you come back with us?’ I asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘Soon, Toby, but not yet.’ He rested a hand on my shoulder, sensing my disappointment. ‘Soon.’

&nb
sp; Epilogue

  Thursday—morning

  For the next few days, the news was full of the events surrounding the strange disappearances. Jim had instructed Dad to keep me away from any media attention and I’d managed to make sure the others, including Scott, also gave nothing away. Officials at Cricket Australia, with the assistance of various people at the MCG and even David, were working overtime to keep things as calm as possible.

  We returned to the MCG for a training session on Thursday morning. The first World Cup game was only two weeks away and although not all of the players were present, the workouts we had were intense and enjoyable.

  Jimbo, Scott and I met Dad outside the Hugh Trumble Café at five o’clock, as arranged.

  ‘How about we go up to the MCC library and say hi to David,’ Dad suggested. Scott groaned. Although showered and changed, we were exhausted and hungry after the day’s session. ‘Come on, won’t be for long.’ Jimbo stared forlornly at the food behind the counter. ‘You never know. You might even find some snacks in the library.’

  ‘Yeah right,’ Scott laughed, lugging his bag over his shoulder and following Dad. We headed off towards the library. ‘Hey, isn’t that him there?’ Scott asked, pointing to a man at the top of the stairs balancing what looked like a tray of party pies on one hand and a jug of something in the other. I froze, knowing straight away what was about to happen. This was the time of David’s accident. I had to stall, if only for a few seconds. I grabbed Scott’s arm, crying out suddenly.

  ‘What is it?’ he said, turning sharply.

  ‘Cramp,’ I lied, clutching my leg. The others gathered in close. Dropping my kit, I stretched the leg out, glancing up to the top of the stairs. David hadn’t noticed us and was walking slowly towards the library entrance. ‘Phew, that’s better,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You sure?’ Jimbo looked concerned.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

  ‘Damn it,’ Scott sighed. ‘I was gonna call out and get him to bring the food down to us here.’ He laughed, setting off for the stairs.

  ‘Unbelievable,’ I said under my breath, a smile spreading across my face. Had I just then saved David from falling down the stairs?

  We got to the library a few moments later. It was decked out in green and gold. A table in the front, draped in a white tablecloth, had an array of small trophies and plaques spread across it. Other tables held enormous plates of food.

  ‘Wow!’ Jimbo said, dumping his bag and racing off to the nearest table. The place was packed with people. I recognised kids, coaches and parents from the other teams in the Under-13 cricket competition. The only club that seemed thinly represented was the Scorpions. There were rumours that it was folding. Already players were looking for other clubs. Mr Smale, its owner, had supposedly disappeared up north. No one knew exactly where.

  Mr Pasquali, our cricket coach, and Alistair, owner of the amazing Master Blaster virtual cricket machine, were both there. It was good to see the two of them chatting and both looking excited. Maybe Mr Pasquali was doing a deal to get the Master Blaster to school? I would definitely have a chat with him about it.

  It turned out that some of the coaches, along with Dad and David, had organised for the Best and Fairest night to be held here at the MCG—in the library. They just hadn’t got around to telling me. Jimbo, Scott and all the others knew.

  I grabbed a seat next to Georgie when David finally got hold of the microphone to start the formal part of the evening. He told a few funny cricket stories and then passed the microphone over to Mr Pasquali, who as winning coach got the job of calling out the votes. The player with the most votes from each team automatically won their club’s best and fairest. The player with the most votes won the overall Len Dalton Best Player award.

  After three rounds it became pretty obvious that it was out of three players—Scott, a kid called Dean Turnbull and myself.

  ‘You know what your problem is?’ Georgie leaned over and whispered in my ear, as Mr Pasquali cleared his throat to start the fourth round of votes.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Our team was so damn good that we’re all taking votes from you.’ I’d had the same thought myself, but now that Georgie had spelled it out I relaxed a little. I’d had a big enough year cricket-wise—and otherwise.

  Scott ended up winning.

  ‘Geez, what’s changed him?’ Georgie whispered as he politely shook hands with the officials out the front. He stepped over to the microphone. From nowhere the image of Scott being taken over by a Grubber suddenly flashed into my mind, the spirit of an old cricketer somehow causing the major personality change. Shaking my head, I tried to banish the thought from my brain.

  ‘What?’ Georgie whispered.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ I said, staring intently at Scott’s face. Surely not! He began speaking.

  ‘Um, yeah, well it’s been a pretty eventful season, what with me changing clubs halfway through and everything.’ He looked up and met my gaze. ‘Um, I guess I really owe this to the guys at Riverwall, where I’ve played nearly all my cricket, and especially Toby Jones, who’s shown me a few things about cricket…’ I shook my head slightly. He grinned. ‘And if he and the others at Riverwall will let me come back and play then that’d be awesome.’

  He stepped away from the microphone looking almost embarrassed at the long ovation he was receiving.

  While Dad and David reminisced, we walked outside to the viewing area, finding a row of seats that looked out over the ground. For a while none of us spoke, each person soaking up the atmosphere of the MCG and reliving the amazing adventures of the past few months.

  ‘I’m looking forward to staying in my own time and playing cricket,’ I said finally, sighing.

  ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself.’ Jimbo slapped his legs and stood up.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked, moving in my seat.

  ‘Never you mind.’ The others stood but Georgie suddenly squeezed my hand.

  ‘Stay a moment longer,’ she said, smiling. I shrugged, relaxing back in the seat. We sat there in silence again, gazing out over the ground. Georgie’s hand was still in mine when a quiet voice started speaking from the row behind.

  ‘Toby, my boy, you were right about that scoreboard.’

  ‘Jim!’ I cried, jumping up. Behind him was a wall of people, staring down at us and smiling, Mum, Dad and Natalie in the middle of them all. They’d snuck up behind us. Slowly they moved down, but Georgie and I managed to grab the two seats on either side of him. ‘The scoreboard?’

  Jim nodded towards the large electronic scoreboard. ‘Well, we felt it was necessary to modernise a few aspects of the Timeless Cricket Match,’ he smiled. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that the old scoreboard is still there, but there’s no need for me to be there with it.’

  ‘And the game’s going well?’

  ‘Oh, it’s chugging along at a rare old rate. There’s a good crowd building and one day I’ll return, as will you, Toby.’

  ‘But not yet, Jim.’

  Jim looked at me, his eyes twinkling. ‘Oh no, Toby Jones. Not yet. We’ve much to do here first.’

  ‘Like?’ I said, suddenly fearing another frightening encounter of some sort with a spook from cricket’s past.

  ‘Well, for a start we need to get that cover drive of yours working; and then there’s a leg cutter which I want you to develop—’

  ‘Oh, is that all?’

  ‘Is that all?’ For the first time in ages I saw Jim laugh; really laugh. From the belly. Finally he stopped shaking. ‘Well, perhaps the odd little escape to a cricket match in the past. What do you think, Toby?’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

  It wasn’t our home ground, but it was close enough. The organisers of the Junior World Cup had scheduled cricket matches across the suburbs. International coaches and talent scouts mingled with old men walking their dogs and people strolling with pushers. It was World Cup cricket in their backyard! But Jimbo, Scott
and I, the three Victorian representatives, were familiar enough with the ground. It was the Scorpions’ home ground, and although we hadn’t played on this particular oval, it was close enough.

  We lined up opposite the New Zealand team for the national anthems.

  ‘You reckon they’ll do a haka?’ Scott whispered as we moved forwards to shake hands a few minutes later.

  ‘Good luck,’ I mumbled nervously, shaking hands with each of them. We had lost the toss and were fielding. I would be bowling the first over of the game.

  The day was cool and overcast but there was still a huge crowd of people gathered around the ground. Cars filled the surrounding streets. Dad and Jim had arrived earlier and grabbed a great spot. I noticed that lots of other families from the Riverwall team, including Georgie, Ally and the rest of the gang, had joined them.

  There was a real tension in the air and a sudden calm descended over the ground as our captain, a guy from Western Australia, made some last-minute adjustments to the field. I tossed the ball from hand to hand, looking around the oval.

  ‘Play!’ the umpire finally called, dropping his arm. Someone in the crowd started clapping and noise and excitement filled the air.

  ‘Come on, Toby!’ two deep, male voices suddenly yelled out. Despite my nerves I smiled. I knew who they were.

  When the West Indies scored 7/131 against South Africa in an international Twenty/20 in 2008, the highest contributor to their innings were extras—who ‘scored’ 29 runs!

  Note

  The Twenty/20 records and general cricket information contained in Howzat! were correct when the book was written. But cricket records change all the time, especially in Twenty/20!

  To keep up with the latest, check out the worldwide web. Sites like www.cricinfo.com have all kinds of statistics.

  Glossary

  bails Two small pieces of wood that sit on top of the stumps. At least one has to fall off the stumps for a bowled or run-out decision to be made.

  centre-wicket practice Team practice played out on a cricket field, as opposed to in the nets. Sometimes two or more bowlers are used, one after the other, to speed up the practice. If the batter goes out, he or she usually stays on for more batting practice.