Summoned by bells

Our last match was played next door to a pretty church yard. During one of my overs, just as I was running in, the church bells started to peal and I knocked over the batsman's leg stump.

As I was being congratulated, Dev Penn jokingly reminded me of the John Donne quote '..for whom the bell tolls'.

This set me thinking about other famous quotes and how they might relate to cricket, and to the mighty Penn Fourths in particular.

The first one that springs to mind is a Hemingway quote that is perfect in describing my fielding style: "Never confuse movement with action".

Shakepeare would probably have said that my batting prowess was "Much ado about nothing"

It often falls to myself and Chris Rudge to undertake scoring duties and we both get very nervous when watching our batsmen chase a total. Shakespeare again might have said: "Come what come may. Time and hour run through the roughest day." (Macbeth)

There was no match this week as the opposition could not put out a team. This gave me a chance to look for other cricket quotes on the internet. The following are my favourites:

For six days, thou shall push up and down the line, but on the seventh day thou shall swipe.
Doug Padgett, 1969

When you win the toss – bat. If you are in doubt, think about it, then bat. If you have very big doubts, consult a colleague – then bat.
W.G. Grace

Looking backward we could almost see, suspended with the most delicate equipoise above the flat little island, the ghostly shapes of those twin orbs of the Empire, the cricket ball and the blackball.
Patrick Leigh Fermor

A loving wife is better than making 50 at cricket, or even 99, beyond that I will not go
J.M. Barrie

Domestic Questions

This blog has already recorded the invaluable contribution that wives and girlfriends make to the lives of cricketers. However, there is still an unbridgeable divide between those who love cricket, and those who simply don't get it. I have been married for seventeen years and have played cricket all of that time and I still get questions today that I had seventeen years ago. It struck me that this blog might be a way of stating in black and white once and for all, some of the answers.

What time will you be back?
Cricket is not like football my dear where playing time is determined by the clock. Playing time in limited overs cricket is determined by the number of overs bowled, and how long teams bat for. This means that if a match starts at 2pm, it could finish by 5pm, or earlier, or it could last until 8pm, or later. I do not know what time I'll be back.

Why are you going to play cricket if it is raining?
Cricketers must turn up to fulfil a fixture whatever the weather, unless the game is called off in advance. This is determined (usually) by the two captains who will subsequently inform their respective teams in good time before the match is due to start. If I have not received a call from the skipper, I have to turn up at the ground my love.

If it starts raining during a match, why don't you all just come home?
Oh dear heart! If only it were that simple. To give the game the best chance possible of reaching a fair result in rain interrupted games, there are special rules. These rules have to be followed just like the rules that apply on the field of play. If rain interrupts a game, we have to stay until the rules say the game can be officially abandoned. So, my sweet, if it starts to rain, this does not mean I will be home within the hour.

Why do you have to play in white?
So that there is a distinct background for the red ball in play. It is not to annoy those people who (very kindly!) wash the cricket kit. Honestly love of my life.

Why don't you just wear shorts to play when it is really hot?
We are English, we have standards.

Sinatra plays for Penn

This week I got a promotion up the batting order to Number Nine. As I struggled with the altitude sickness and nosebleeds, I did begin to look forward to getting in at the end of the innings and having a good swing at the opposition. And it worked out well. I got to face the final few overs and let the old shoulders loose.

Afterwards, as we took the field to bowl our overs, I suggested to the team (for idle amusement) that our shouts of encouragement to each other should have a Frank Sinatra theme. The contributions were of mixed quality. They ranged from "Don't do Somethin' Stupid" to "Great bowling ParcelFreight! That's yer cargo!" ('Chicago'. Geddit?)

Later, in the outfield, my mind began to wander (see the 'Fred's Concentration' post below) and I started to muse on what Frank would actually have sung had he been a cricket fan.

My Way

And now, the end is near,
And so I face the final over,
I hope to clear the rope,
I'll smash the ball as far as Dover,
My Skip says play it cool,
Take gentle runs, that's not what I say
Oh no, oh no not me, I'll do it my way

Last night, I had a few
But to the Skip I must not mention,
We had a family do, in a rough club, in New Invention
I necked each pint of Mild, with little thought, after all it's Friday
And now my head feels wild, 'cos I did it my way

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I thought I could bat at number two
Then through it all, when there was doubt
They put me in, and I got out
I faced the ball, I missed the call and got run out my way

I've bowled, they laughed and cried
It's 'cos of me the team keeps losing,
And now, as tears subside, they find my blog so amusing
To think if I could bat
They may not say "he's poor so why play?"
Oh please, oh please just once let's get runs my way

For what's number nine, what has he got?
He holds a bat, but has no shots
He plays the way he truly feels, and smacks the ball to one who fields
The record shows I score zeroes 'cos I do it my way!

Fred's concentration

Concentration is very important in cricket, in every aspect of the game. Batting, bowling and especially fielding require focused attention at all times. This is indisputable cricketing truth.

It is also true to say that this rarely happens. It is incredibly difficult for amateur (and sometimes professional) cricketers to concentrate hard for 100% of the time and mistakes do happen.

Some of the most comedic moments I've ever witnessed have been watching fielders react having lost their concentration. These reactions tend to fall into certain categories:

The 'Dignified' Reaction: The batsman plays a simple push to mid off where our fielder (let's call him Fred) is waiting. Unfortunately, Fred at that point in time is thinking about what colour to paint his kitchen ceiling and has no idea the ball is coming towards him. After a shout from one of his team mates, and the scrambled sound of the batsmen taking an unexpected single, Fred jerks to life, picks up the ball and throws it in. All the time he is doing his utmost to make it look as if he knew the ball was coming all along. We know he is embarrassed.

The Panic: This usually happens when the ball is travelling at a fair pace towards Fred who this time is thinking about the girl with long legs in the office. The first symptom is the rising volume of his team mates' pleas as they watch the ball speed towards him. They all realise he's on another planet.

"Fred. Fred. Fred! FRED. FRED!"

Fred's reaction is swift. He starts to sprint towards the centre of the pitch which would normally be OK but the ball is fizzing past him to his left. Fred spots it from the corner of his eye and immediately changes direction to run away from the centre. If he's lucky the ball goes for four and he just has to deal with the furious stares from his team mates. If he's unlucky, he manages to reach the ball before the boundary and fall on it in a breathless heap. Fred then quickly snaps to his feet and with eyes closed and body clenched in a pathetic attempt to make it look as if he's really trying, he launches the ball with all his might right over the middle of the pitch and across to the other side of the field where it runs away for five overthrows.

The Fear: This one usually occurs when everyone on the ground realises that Fred is in danger from a fast approaching ball. Except Fred.

In every case of this type, there will a desperate scream from the team mate closest to him.

"FFRRRRREEDDDD!!!!"

Fred is naturally startled at being awoken from his reverie where he was away jet skiing in the Mediterranean. Again, the result depends upon whether or not he is lucky. If he's lucky he just has to suffer the indignity of the whole ground watching him collapse on the floor with his arms clasped over his head as the ball passes swiftly by for another four runs.

A less fortunate result will see Fred attempt to stop the ball without actually knowing where it is by opening his arms wide like a vicar welcoming his flock. The ball will then usually glance Fred on the forehead and ricochet away for six. Fred again collapses from the knees and in a vague dazed fashion attempts to raise his hands to the wound as he falls.