Dev and the Case of the Missing Pint

After the injury to my Gluteus Maximus described in the last entry (see 16th August post), Dev Penn offered to buy me a pint.

Strangely, I was first in the bar that evening and ended up buying him one without getting one in return.

The following week, Dev didn't come back to the pub with us so I missed out again. I suppose Dev can't be blamed for the next week when the match was rained off, but he could have bought me a four pack at least.

I played a mid-week match with Dev on a blisteringly hot day last week, and I tumbled gasping into the bar to find Dev all showered and relaxed with a cold pint of lager. Only one pint. He promised to rectify the situation at the weekend where once again we were due to play together.

I spent more time prior to the weekend's match wondering whether my pint would materialise than I did the game itself.

Rather suspiciously, on the day of the game, Dev was mysteriously promoted to the Seconds and so I missed out yet again. I'm amazed at the lengths he is going to avoid buying me a drink.

I wonder what his excuse will be this week?

Me and Dev

It's important to maintain good relationships with your fellow team members as this contributes enormously to the performance of the team as a whole. Unfortunately, my relationship with one of my team mates has deteriorated a little in recent weeks.

I refer to our master spin bowler and all round top bloke Dev Penn.

Dev is unquestionably a good guy and so I can only assume the decline in our friendship is entirely down to myself.

It all started a couple of weeks ago when, while sprinting in the outfield I pulled a muscle in my left buttock. This severely hampered my (admittedly limited) ability to run. I'd heard from somewhere that it was a good idea to treat pulled muscles quickly so I asked Dev if he'd massage the injured area. Dev replied that he thought it might look a little odd from the boundary if I was bent over and he started rubbing my bottom. I offered him the option of massaging me as I stood facing him but this made him really cross. I understood his concern but thought he'd at least take the embarrassment to help me and the team.

The following week saw Dev standing in as captain. The opposing team were late arriving which gives the home captain the option of deciding whether to bat or bowl first without having to toss a coin. Dev took a range of advice on whether to enforce this rule. I suggested not as I thought we could beat the team whether we won or lost the toss. So Dev sportingly allowed the toss to take place, promptly lost it, and we didn't win the match.

During the match Dev called me on to bowl. I sent down seven overs including three maidens and picked up a wicket for only seven runs. Dev took me off and I walked to my fielding position feeling I'd done OK. Next over, Dev called me across.

"D'ya wanna know why I took you off Pottsy?" quoth he.

"Why?" I said.

"Because your bowling was kak."

Looking back now, yet again Dev was correct.

This week I'm going to try to put things right. I'm going to stand right by his side all match and offer any help or advice I can. I'm sure that will work.

St. Dympna's Well

It is not my habit to write about events that I've not witnessed, but sometimes stories get passed around cricket dressing rooms that are just too good to go unreported.

Last week, our opening bowler Stewart Gill (a good church going boy) went on a pilgrimage to the Republic of Ireland where he did a tour of sacred catholic shrines. One of these visits was to St. Dympna's Well. For those of you who like your historical context, St. Dympna is the patron saint of mental illness and those of us who know Stewart well will spot the irony.

Apparently, tradition dictates that pilgrims approach the well and dip a part of themselves into the water, usually a hand or an elbow. Stewart, being the unconventional type decided that he would dip his St. Christopher pendant. Personally, I would have removed the pendant from my neck first.

As Stewart bent over, he steadied himself on the wrought metalwork that surrounded the well. This metalwork was of soothing and reverential design topped with the unsurprising title 'ST. DYMPNA'S WELL'.

Unfortunately, the metalwork, though aesthetically pleasing, was not designed to support the weight of our big Stew and it gave way. This meant that Stewart plunged headlong into the sacred waters and got trapped with his head submerged and his legs kicking furiously for attention.

Fortunately, Stewart's 11 year old son James was at hand and pulled his father free which was some feat for a little lad who presumably was holding his sides at the same time.

Stewart emerged dazed and spluttering and frantically shaking his head free of the holy H2O.

Obviously a quick exit was the order of the day but as he scarpered, Stewart risked a backward glance at the scene of his embarrassment. The ornate metalwork was now a tangled mess and he had somehow managed to destroy parts of the lettering that named this holy place.

The sacred revered shrine that has given comfort to pilgrims from all over the world for hundreds of years now bears the legend 'ST DYM'S WILI'.