Losing is problem that MacGyver himself can't fix
Cuppers = Knockout Tournament; Balliol Cricket Team = knockedout.
Troubled times, I can equate it to the ANU 'Rebels' Side losing in the Grand Final in 2004/5 and the B&G team losing in the match that dared not speak its name.
We bowled first and, my newly found supple joints were enjoying keeping as we made a domineering start to have them 1 for 20 off 10 overs. But then they opened up: I had a stumping which was not given, which makes as angry as an enraged hippopotamus who has just returned from a long day at the swamp to find another hippopotamus in bed with his wife. Two tough catches went down and I felt as rubbish as the tip. Tough times. They made 224 off their 40 overs.
Our opening stand went well, and the action followed me around, as umpire, having to give an LBW decision even though it breaks the cardinal rule of umpiring against your own team. The pitch got a little more Mumbai-esque and we crumbled towards the end. With 7 wickets down we needed 50 runs from 5 overs - then the 8th wicket fell as a young T.S Trudgian (with a haircut taking off years of his looks and a skivvy, shirt, sweater combo [it was sunless and cold] rivalling the poster boys of cricket from the 1890s ) strode to the crease.
In another time, playing for the ANU 'Rebels' against ADFA in similar windy and sunless conditions, joining the captain at 6 wickets down to help steer the side through to victory... there was a sentence there, really, with a clause and a subject... but it all got rather confusing.
I was feeling it - striding out in casual attire, getting ready to execute the 'Matthew Hayden Walk' [charging but moving the back foot first and showing the square barrel chest to the bowler as intimidation], and indeed the number 9 gave my verbal affirmation that a win was a strong possibility. I said, yep, don't get out though - OK... Next ball the number 9 is bowled. Ah dear. Out strides the number 11. OK - get behind it, try to work it around. Number 11 is bowled. I am left with a stunning 0 not out off 0 balls, and a black hole of desire.
We are out of this tournament, but still have the league on Wednesdays, in which we ar currently undefeated. Ah well, moving onwards and upwards. With some 70% dark chocolate and a glass of Laphroaig, the night has become palatable, but barely. Certainly I can say that even Cod Liver Oil tastes better than defeat.
Troubled times, I can equate it to the ANU 'Rebels' Side losing in the Grand Final in 2004/5 and the B&G team losing in the match that dared not speak its name.
We bowled first and, my newly found supple joints were enjoying keeping as we made a domineering start to have them 1 for 20 off 10 overs. But then they opened up: I had a stumping which was not given, which makes as angry as an enraged hippopotamus who has just returned from a long day at the swamp to find another hippopotamus in bed with his wife. Two tough catches went down and I felt as rubbish as the tip. Tough times. They made 224 off their 40 overs.
Our opening stand went well, and the action followed me around, as umpire, having to give an LBW decision even though it breaks the cardinal rule of umpiring against your own team. The pitch got a little more Mumbai-esque and we crumbled towards the end. With 7 wickets down we needed 50 runs from 5 overs - then the 8th wicket fell as a young T.S Trudgian (with a haircut taking off years of his looks and a skivvy, shirt, sweater combo [it was sunless and cold] rivalling the poster boys of cricket from the 1890s ) strode to the crease.
In another time, playing for the ANU 'Rebels' against ADFA in similar windy and sunless conditions, joining the captain at 6 wickets down to help steer the side through to victory... there was a sentence there, really, with a clause and a subject... but it all got rather confusing.
I was feeling it - striding out in casual attire, getting ready to execute the 'Matthew Hayden Walk' [charging but moving the back foot first and showing the square barrel chest to the bowler as intimidation], and indeed the number 9 gave my verbal affirmation that a win was a strong possibility. I said, yep, don't get out though - OK... Next ball the number 9 is bowled. Ah dear. Out strides the number 11. OK - get behind it, try to work it around. Number 11 is bowled. I am left with a stunning 0 not out off 0 balls, and a black hole of desire.
We are out of this tournament, but still have the league on Wednesdays, in which we ar currently undefeated. Ah well, moving onwards and upwards. With some 70% dark chocolate and a glass of Laphroaig, the night has become palatable, but barely. Certainly I can say that even Cod Liver Oil tastes better than defeat.
posted by Tim Trudgian | 9:38 pm
1 Comments:
Well, at least it didn't fuck your average there Tony
Knowlesy
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