Wearing the Northcliffe CC Baggy Red
Photo by Penny Lane
WASTCA/One Day Div 2
Subi-Marist [1/150] Def Fremantle Mosman Park [9/145]
We arrived in Floreat Park to cold wind, passing showers, and the sun beginning to shine through the clearing cloud.
Speaking of the weather used to be a the hallmark of small talk and banality, rather than an existential denial in the face of western civilisation’s failure to address increasingly destructive climate change. Our government’s policy when South Australia’s failing infrastructure collapsed in an extreme weather event is to scapegoat renewable energies, and insist we invest more in coal…
I mean, really!?!
The only rational response is to shoot yourself, prepare for survival, or spend the afternoon playing cricket.
We chose the latter; and god willing, the wind and rain held for now…
It was a prodigal homecoming of sorts. The old people speak of the genesis of our rag tag one day team, once rebelling from Subi Marist, and finding a new home on the banks of the Swan River, but this younger generation of the WASTiCA family were less than forgiving, and handed out a drubbing, that while not exactly biblical, was certainly less than Christian…
Captain Raymond Garret expertly won the toss and elected to bat. Thankfully because we had all of 7 players in attendance. Two opening batsmen [Ray and Steve], an umpire and a square leg, two scorers and myself padded up at number 3.
Daryl arrived at the start of play still muttering about the committee failing to appreciate his ‘leadership material’, and Quinny following soon after, in an uber, with excuses that were Han Solo-esque:
’It wasn’t my fault!’
The team was rounded out to 10 with young Phoenix’s dad throwing on a training shirt and playing with us as sign of equal parts good parenting, and manly pity…
After some excellent plodding between wickets, Steve went early for a duck, black eye and all [I’m so sorry, dude], popping one up to point, and we were 1 for 10… 9 of those being sundries.
They were a maddeningly poor bowling side but their shit got wickets. Their opening right-hander put it at good length, but I smoked their lefty straight back past him from the first ball.
Ray was caught not long after on 3, and I was joined by Murph. We ticked it over nicely, even talking about guys in shed, and turning it on, before he fell on 28 [LBW] to some pedestrian trash that just gave him too much time to think. Quinny came out, swinging like rusty gate, and unfortunately just got nailed by a pearler that jagged in and took the top of off before he could get his eye in.
Fatigued, I nicked off just after drinks on 41, Curly pushed it around for 4 and Darryl made it to double figures with a couple of boundaries, but it was left to Mikey and Phoenix to play straight and bat out the overs, which they almost did, admirably, until the youngster was caught on 11…
I expect they will be opening next week.
We had what we thought was a defendable 145 at tea, but no one could defend the piss poor service offered by Subiaco; nothing more substantial chocolate biscuits and Samboy chips. I can see why the forefathers left.
Somebody needs to have a chat with their mothers about being old enough to look after themselves, but I will save the discussion about a culture that allows boys to be domestic retards for another time.
It was a clever ploy though, because I think most of us succumbed to a diabetic coma in the field.
They were a batting side. Their openers easily dispatched the usually unplayable Mikey to the boundary, mostly behind square, and they gave Phoenix a pummeling, until he took the only wicket of the day, with Ray catching their most dangerous looking batsmen on 30.
We all bowled, were expensive, their number 2 made 81 not out, and their timid looking number three made 28 more than he probably should have…
You have to think that if we had taken early wickets we might have been in with a sniff, but they made the runs by just after drinks and won by 9 wickets.
An inauspicious start to the season, but the only way is up!
Heartening, though was the camaraderie, Rays opening speech as a captain spoke of everyone getting a go, and winning or losing as a team. And that we did, hanging around for a beer, and a laugh, while removing the bandages, and shuffling off to nurse our stiffness, more determined to come back better and stronger next week.
Hopefully with at least 11 on the field…
photo: Phoenix and his Dad
Photo by Kim Chopping
North Fremantle Mosman Park Pirates