One of the great things – many would say the only thing – about playing cricket is the social aspect. The comaraderie. The shit-hurling. The mateship.
My club, Emerald Hill, has always been a friendly outfit – and not just because of the abundance of greenery at the Bowler. So when I returned to the fold this season – after a season off to learn the ropes as a first-time dad – I wasn't daunted by the many unfamiliar faces. In fact, I revelled in it. Without trying to sound gay (although it probably does), the oppurtunity to meet plenty of new blokes excited me no end. The EHCC Dragons have always had an uncanny knack of pulling in 'knockabout, laidback, piss-sinking, I'll-take-whatever-comes' types, and the ones who have joined over the past two seasons are no exception. (Except for Brownie, that is. I've never met such a quiet, reserved, non-combative gent.)
So, despite hardly playing before Christmas due to a mixture of unavailablity and wet weather, the new faces became not-so-knew, and I settled into Farmer's one-day team. While it quickly became clear we were a competitive, finals-bound outfit, the season's early games offered no real insight as to whether we were a genuine flag chance. Rarely playing to our collective ability, we ended the home and away season in third place.
Two weeks ago we faced a sudden-death semi against Toorak-Prahran, a side that accounted for us twice before Santa's fat white (or maybe it's black) ass got stuck in many a chimney. We batted first that day and, despite a solid start, things went a little haywire in the middle order, and everything pointed towards a loss. At 6/91, and with Farmer having to dash to emergency where his wife was, the general mood among the boys was grim. That's when the next man in, Jimmy Adams, the savior so many times off the field, hauled himself up and said, 'see you at the end of the innings'. There was a tone of self-belief in his words that had us believing. And so it proved. When Jimmy graced us with his presence again – “got a ciggie, anyone?” – he'd compiled 34 valuable runs, and, with the help of the evergreen Raph, helped the team to 155.
Although we now had a total we could defend, we knew we had to carry Jimmy's positive energy into the field; the score was hardly imposing on a small ground. Brownie took over as skipper, and I said a few words as we took the field. Raph and Commie Carl were eager and ready to take the new ball. With former club premiership player Mal Stark as sub (thanks, mate), we had 11 men ready to go into battle; a melding the new and the old who were all leaders in their own right.
With a nice breeze to suit the bowlers, early wickets tumbled. Carl was on fire, hitting the length almost every ball to finish with 4/19. With Toorak's tail starting in the middle order, it was all over at drinks: 9/50. Eventually they were bowled out without getting half our score, and Brownie relayed the news to Farmer. It was probably the most stirring victory I've been involved in in near-on 20 years of senior cricket.
I had total confidence that we'd carry that spirit into the preliminary final against East Oakleigh, who lived up to their tag as chokers. Plenty of mouths in the team, no doubt, but no real substance with bat or ball. We rolled them for 130, which, due to our fielding, was about 30 more than they deserved, and then got the runs six down with seven overs to spare. A few hairy moments, no doubt, but our batting depth ensures we're the most rounded team in the competition. And it's this, whatyousay, roundedness (not sure that's a word but can't be farked checking) that ensures we can beat another team of mouths, Cavs, to win the flag on Saturday.
Add Dragon spirit (the kind that ensured the club not only avoided folding at the start of last season, but snared two flags), and mix in discipline, a little luck and lots of self-belief, and we can do it. Easily.
Bad luck to Checkers' one-day team who bowed out on Saturday, and best of luck to the two-day team. You've massacred the opposition all year; do the job on the weekend.
With so many good blokes (who just happen to be handy cricketers), it promises to be one hell of a party...
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