A WARRIOR's Day on the Green

Cricket's a funny game (yes i know but stay with me here). One minute you're euphoric because you've taken three wickets and an (allegedly) uncatchable catch while running in the same direction as the ball then falling to the ground and rolling six times (for added effect because you know you're wife has just arrived and you want to impress her).You're euphoric because it's the district Grand Final and your team has got the opposition out for a pretty poor total of 107 runs. Pfft. 107. We'll have 'em by drinks.

Then it's the turn of your team to bat. You're still feeling pretty good. You bat at number five - and with such a small total to chase, you probably won't even need to bat....could even sneak in a beer maybe. You watch your wife and daughter and their friend drive away to get coffee, confident in the knowledge that they'll be back in plenty of time to see you bat (if you have to).

Then the funny stuff starts. While your life partner and favourite daughter are away, they get a phone call. He's next in. Holy S, we'd better hurry up. No time for coffee, let's get back. On their way back, they get another phone call...he's on the pitch. The girls miss the first ball you face but get to their seats just in time to see you face your second ball........and get out.......LBW. That euphoria you were feeling not long ago? Not there any more. As you trudge back to the pavilion you practice your swing - IT'S A BIT LATE FOR THAT NOW ISN'T IT???????

Now that the excitement is over for your wife and child, they head home to do other exciting things like herd revaluations and goat feeding. You spend the afternoon on tenterhooks, willing your team to win....and somehow, despite your team being, at one stage, 3 for 7, THEY DO!!! And there's that euphoric feeling again.....and now you think, well maybe I will catch the bus back to Q with the boys....but I'll need someone to come pick me up....hmmm, who can I ask....I know - I'll ask the girls - the love of my life and my little daughty - they'll
come and pick me up at the pub at some late hour because well, they just will. They always have done before. So I'll send them a text and just check...aah yes, a positive response. Excellent. Euphoria all 'round.

So you go back to the Q pub on the bus. You have quite a lot of beers. You sing silly songs whilst standing on the bar. You are the oldest person in the team so you must set a bad example for all your young impressionable teammates. You go to the toilet and remove your jocks because you see what's happening to those other guys who haven't been as smart as you. You try to withdraw money from the ATM machine but the stupid thing won't work. It must be broken. You're sure you're punching in the right numbers. Well, you think you are anyway. Now where were you...oh that's right...you were standing on the bar singing We Are WARRIORS. It's the new Q team anthem. You only taught it to the others this afternoon but no matter, We are WARRIORS. An anthem for a generation.

At some stage your mind becomes a little befuddled. Were those girls going to come and pick you up or not? Hmm. You'd better check. So you send them an unintelligible text message to ask them. Of course they, already on their way to pick you up, can't understand what you're asking. No wonder the ATM didn't work. So you send a text to your mate, maybe he'll come. So he leaves home as well. Now there's two cars coming to get you. Oh, they all must really love you. The girls eventually work out what you're trying to say and remind you, gently, that they're on their way. So you cancel your mate. Well, you think you do. You have another beer and sing another song.

By this stage, you can barely talk 1) because you've had a lot of beers and 2) because you're throat is irreparably damaged from singing the WARRIOR song for the 23rd time. Then the girls arrive. Your favourite daughter comes into the pub to collect you while your patient spouse waits in the car, content to read her ipad....except there is no network reception in this little settlement. So she sits and waits. The rest of the team won't let you leave until you sing the WARRIOR song again. Somehow, you climb up onto the bar and you sing the WARRIOR song-while your wife is still sitting in the car outside, contemplating driving away (except daughty has taken her momma's iphone inside so wifey waits. Quietly. Very Quietly).

Some idiot inside mistakes your daughter for your wife and asks daughty "Who are you here to pick up". She proudly announces that "I'm here to pick up Gibbo". Said idiot says "ARE YOU HIS WIFE??!!!" "No", she replies, "I'm his daughter". Oh. For a few seconds your status as a chick pulling magnet is a thing of legend.

Somehow you make your way out to the car and throw your cricket bag, with all that gear and your dead jocks in it, into the back of the car and you climb in after it. "Hello Sweetie", you greet your wife. She smiles sweetly and asks how you're feeling. You actually feel a rather cold breeze over your shoulder so you sit very quietly, all the way home, and listen to the girls talk between themselves. You stink like a brewery and you emit foul smells but the girls put up with that. Because they love you.

You arrive home and stumble inside, discarding clothes as you go. Not your jocks though - you've already discarded those back at the pub remember. You were smart. You have a little drink of water and a little lie down on the couch. And so ends your euphoric day and night. You're a Winner. But more importantly, You're a WARRIOR.

Discussing tactics - they didn't work.

I might make a hundred today.

Well actually, I mightn't make any at all. Lucky I got three wickets and a spectacular catch.

That's how I should have hit it. Bit late now. Well there's always next season. WARRIOR.