Almanac Cricket: Pulling on the pads, for the first time in thirty years – what a blast!

 

 

 

 

 

I was so glad my eldest had decided to play cricket again. I made sure I went down to watch. After a few seasons away from the game, he joined up with half a dozen of his mates he’d played with in the junior ranks. On one of the smaller grounds at Yarra Bend they seemed to be having a great old time, enjoying their run chase, applauding and laughing at their own mates’ efforts, the near run outs, the French cut for four, a massive tonk over mid wicket…

 

It was all played in a great spirit. Upon my arrival I was excitedly told about an incredible diving one-handed catch, taken by one of the guys from the other team, Clifton Hill. I took a stroll around the ground to watch my son bat. It’s hard not to be distracted sitting amongst a group of lads I’d known since their Kanga cricket days. 

 

After a leisurely lap, quietly happy he was still out there, I rejoined his team and started to keep the small scoreboard leaning up against a massive gum tree up to date. Conversation was at its cricketing best. The main focus was on the game, but the nature of cricket lends itself so well to catching up. Replies to questions asked before a ball is bowled are often answered much later, after a dodgy LB or or bad call that led to a near clumsy run out. ‘It’s Wait, Yes or No – nothing else, not a running commentary’. 

 

‘Have you been studying?… How’d ya find lectures online? …What’s your brother doing?… Where are you working?… Is your Mum still running the Library?

 

– No hurry in asking, but genuine interest, especially after the last few years we’ve had. What a nice bunch I thought. So good my bloke has such mates.

 

‘I’d heard you’d retired Kieran.’ 

 

‘Yep. And I’m going to start doing things again I want to do.’

 

I volunteered to score or even umpire if needed in the future. I don’t recall any specific conversation about playing but with impending Covid absences it seems my name was somehow down to make up the numbers if they were ever short.

 

Just like how the last couple of years have been a bit of a blur, when it comes to putting events in any chronological order, my memory of things suddenly lurch to a week or so later arriving to a game, and, after helping out putting out chairs and the scorer’s table, I sat down to lace up the shoes I’d borrowed from my brother during the week. He’d recently finished a few seasons in the veterans and luckily he had a full kit. I still had my pants from the 80s, the proof being the Gray Nicholls tag “Made in Australia”. I also had my bat I was given in ’86, a light SS Jumbo, but with a new grip courtesy of my neighbour the night before.

 

Apparently we won the toss, my son was to open. Draf, our skipper, took a deep drag on his cigarette and asked ‘would anyone like to open?’

 

‘Oh yeah, I will if you like.’ I heard myself saying…

 

First on were the velcro pads. So easy compared to those old buckles and no need to fold the end back under the little roller to stop being incorrectly given out caught down leg. My biggest problem was my helmet – I’d never really worn one but I managed to eventually get it on.

 

Here I was, walking out to open with my son. A memory I’ll always cherish. Unfortunately he was soon given out LBW. I did think our captain was a little generous to the other team in raising his finger, but like all the decisions made that day, there were no complaints. 

 

Wow – I’m really out here – this young bloke’s tearing in and I’m facing. I soon remembered why they invented thigh pads. That’ll go from red to blue to purple through the week I thought. I missed a couple down leg and I think I was falling over to the off a little, I readjusted my stance and setup. It’s not like I’d been to nets or anything – this was literally the first time I’d pulled on the pads for thirty years. I managed to stay out there for four or five overs, was happy I’d played a few shots and got four singles. I felt a lot more comfortable and decided to be more aggressive. I launched myself into a cover drive. If I had connected, it may have cleared the boundary, but I didn’t. What I had done was seem to tear every muscle across my entire torso. Next over I was quite happy with a late cut down to third man. I think there were a couple of younger players on the other team who’d never seen one played before. I’ve only ever seen a ramp shot myself on TV.

 

But just as I thought this was all very doable I was gone. The young bloke was quite nippy and he was moving that two-piecer a fair way. I put my front foot out but as it started to swing away late I withdrew my bat. However, not only did it continue to swing away, it also bounced, caught the edge and ricocheted back onto off stump. I acknowledged a good ball and went on my way.

 

Although it was a short innings, I loved every second. Why had I denied myself this joy for so long? One thing was for sure – I’d play next week if they needed me. It had been a real blast.  

 

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I ended up playing the rest of the season for the Edinburgh Cricket Club, the mighty ‘Burra, in the LOC 7s. It was not only my first season for over 30 years, it was one of my most enjoyable.

 

Kieran Dempsey 

 

 

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