Make 'em laugh

Over the years I've seen numerous ways of winning a cricket match, and not all of them have been strictly legitimate. However, I played a central role this week in the discovery of a new way to win. Make 'em laugh!

Here's the background. It was a low scoring game on a terrible wicket. We had dismissed the opposition (Wombourne) fairly quickly and were making horribly slow progress towards our target of 95. Regular blog readers will know that my own talents as a batsman are even less than my talents as a bowler but as we were short of recognised willow wielders, I got promoted up the order to number seven. This was where the fun started.

I got in when we were 78 for 5. This was more precarious than it sounds as we were scraping through at one an over due to the awful unpredictability of the track. At the other end was fourteen years old Richard Kimberlin.

After a decent enough push through the covers for two, everything fell to pieces. For reasons I am still unable to explain, I proceeded to give one of the most ludicrous batting performances that the game of cricket has ever witnessed. It's difficult to describe what happened in cricketing terms because the game has not yet evolved the appropriate language. That may now change. Suffice to say that the opposition were laughing so much, it was seriously impairing their ability to bowl and field properly. It went something like this:

Shot No.1: Imagine a giant spider doing a star jump. Then, at the apex of his leap, he is peppered with a hail of machine gun fire. It looked a bit like that. At this stage, the Wombourne guys were merely incredulous and incomprehending. Fortunately, the ball missed everything.

Opposition comment: "This one needs a bell in the ball"

Shot No. 2: I get a quickish ball fired down the leg side. Remember the song 'Jake the Peg'? Well, my legs were spread wide with my bat directly between forming the 'extra leg'. The ball shot through my legs and we managed to scramble two byes. During the running of the second bye, both of my shoe laces fell undone and my right batting pad came adrift. Some of the fielders are now visibly holding their sides.

Opposition comment: "Bowl him a piano, see if he can play that!"

Umpire comment (This was our own umpire and he was laughing): "Hey Dave. You got a name for that shot?" Perhaps I should have said it was the 'Jake the Peg' shot.

Shot No. 3: My eyes were closed for this one. No foot movement. No elbow movement. Just a limp upturn of the wrists and the bottom of the bat ends up pointing at the heavens. The ball missed everything and the bowler wasn't happy.

Opposition comment (through the laughing): "Christ! What must the rest be like?"

One of the great things about batting with some younger batsmen is their keenness to do well and their willingness to learn. At the end of the over, young Richard approached me and asked for advice on how to play the next over. I just said "Learn from me Richard. Watch everything I do, and make bloody sure you do the opposite."

Richard heeded my advice and carried us through to victory. As for me, well the inevitable happened and I lost my off stump but my eccentric partnership with Richard did carry us through to within three runs of the target. I left the field to raucous laughter from the opposition and my team mates waiting outside the pavilion were bent double.

To cap it all, my earlier bowling performance where I had taken three wickets for nine runs had been incorrectly entered into the book by my own skipper Chris Rudge. The history of Penn Cricket Club will now forever record that on the 8th July 2006, three wickets for nine runs were taken against Wombourne by a Mr. D Perks.

Thanks Rudgie.