More fun from our Australian friends The 17th Man Diary. Let’s hope they won’t be in such a bullish mood after Saturday’s game. Though I suspect they will be.
Scene I
A bright day. The batsmen are consolidating a partnership after lunch. The bowlers have settled into a quiet rhythm. The spectators are restless. A young lad balancing trays of beers for his thirsty companions slips on a burger bun and up ends in the spreading bosom of an old woman amid desultory cheers. In the dressing room Moregain and Broads are playing blackjack. Moregain is padded up in his armour.
MOREGAIN: The cards are laying out tidily
[He flips another card optimistically]BROADS: An ace! Well done my friend. Its the diamond. 18 all told, but not yet 20.
[Broads looks beseechingly at his Captain. Will he flip another card? The chance of a deuce, or 3 to win, is small]MOREGAIN: The red diamond… My luck is more fickle than a chorister’s breeches. Flipping another must surely be my doom. What say you Broads?
[Broads studies his companion. The whites of his eyes so full of hope and wonderment not yet 3 and 30 days past are yellow rimmed, age worn by foul weather and pitches like baked caulk]BROADS: Banish your devils to yonder wilderness, my Captain
[He points unconvincingly to the outer stands waving like reeds in a Mexican wave to his right, beyond the members meadows]On this hallowed part of the cricketing Empire, take heed of divers instinct. Hit yourself.
[Moregain moves to strike himself with a willow block, but strikes his batman Buttler instead, then flips a fifth card]MOREGAIN: It’s a trumped up Queen. I’m busted! Buggered… before I bat….
[He rests his head on the wall behind him. A coal miner on a break could do better. Buttler is bending over as if to receive the cane. The audience (of unionised seamstresses) guffaws and toss thumb rubbers onto the stage in delight]BROADS: Alliteration knows no boundary, Moregain. Fear not. You shall fare well.
[The old dog sneeks a wink to the audience]Think not of past friends in arms – the Cook, swanky Swann, the noble Prioress – they are long gone, scuppered by the black knight Johnson. The tattooed terror is even now parked on the boundary
[Moregain lifts his binoculars to the opposite boundary to focus on the Australian colonial Johnson]MOREGAIN: You are full of fetid wind, Broads. This nemesis is loosening his lower back in a downward dog. Beware! Let not anxiety fumble with your kit,or faster yet shall your wicket tumble.
[Moregain adjusts his protector. A red faced Buttler stands up again. His right hamstring has a twitch. Broads is undeterred]BROADS: Life as a batsman is short and bitter sweet. Have some grapes. There are none more red or juicier in these climes
[He squeezes a grape slowly between his fingers. Juice spills onto the table. A fruit fly dies of waterboarding]MOREGAIN: And it is yet February. The Ides of March are but a spec on the World Cup horizon.
[An unprintable oath follows. To the side, Buttler trips over the heaped willows of the defeated batsmen in the middle of the room]BUTTLER: (An octave higher than normal) Aaarrh, damn inconvenient and inconsiderate. No idea of propriety. Ugly weather vanes. Shall they never save us from batting?
MOREGAIN: (ignoring Buttler’s antics) Buttler, you and Jordan should pad up now. And you too Broads, my long lived friend. A batsman’s time at the crease is less certain than a rat’s life in a snake pit.
BROADS: Good luck my Lord. Bluff and bluster favour the brave heart. Fare thee well. Exeunt.
[Moregain passes his predecessor Bopara who has just been dismissed. He is holding an arm. His leg is broken]BOPARA: It is nothing. The ball passed through my pad.
MOREGAIN: Forget it. Bad luck is no tighter than an ill-fitting box.
Scene II
Moregain takes guard to the black knight. Something is said in the slips. Laughter lifts on the breeze. Moregain surveys the ovaled throng. Beads of sweat gather on his forehead.
Johnson winds up on his run. His double cartwheel looks ungainly. Moregain spots the upright seam as the ball is released.
BROADS: Methinks the Captain is about to forfeit his pilot marker.
[Broads holds up Moregain’s talisman, a dirty rabbit’s foot amid cheers from the swell of dismissed batsmen]ALI: (Dying to contribute to the levity) I deftly removed the off stump pitch pin before walking from the field. Look!
[Attention shifts to the red pinhead on the card table next to the ace of diamonds. Everyone laughs. Pub humour is never misplaced. Another round of drinks arrives]FIELDERS: Yeeeeaaahhhh maaattttteee. You beauty. Whoooo, hoooo.
SHORT LEG: He didn’t play a shot. I’ve never done that.
WICKY: (a shortish veteran of dubious parentage) Too good. Got in his head. Too good.
BROADS: I didn’t see it. I am blind to this. Who saw it? Pray tell us your narrative.
A PLAYER: Aye, Mr Broads. I saw Moregain take strike to the black knight. I saw his eyes. They were glassy Mr Broads, uncannily bifocal, humourless, naive, carefree. THE 12TH MAN: The red orb lit the sky like a meteor. Straight down the ditch of disgust…
JORDAN: He rocked forward as if to hit it Mr Broads. I saw a puff from the pitch. Moregain watched it flash past right under his nose.
A PLAYER: (interrupts laughing) And smash into his off stump.
JORDAN: That is a little unkind? He is a man full of worry, ill at ease.
THE 12TH MAN: A beggar could have hit it, it was so straight up and down. It was as if he couldn’t move, and didn’t.
A PLAYER: Confound it! Why? That was his first ball.
BROADS: It is an ill wind that blows for fair England in this World Cup if the Captain outs himself on a friendly first ball.
[The Coach enters all a bustle with a train of scruffy mud-caked attendants]COACH: There is no wind, Broads, except your own fatuous obsession with the occult. The black knight is after Moregain’s heart, mind and soul. Exeunt
[Moregain arrives in the dressing room, disconsolate. His heart has been ripped out, an eye hangs by a thread. His frontal lobe is misshaped. He struggles into a spare seat attended by marketing girls]BROADS: A cameo appearance?
MOREGAIN: (throws his bat on the pile and motions to the bartender lifting two fingers) A single malt will do.
ALL: (Standing arm in arm) We shall overcome one day
The scene ends with a stirring rendition of God Save our Gracious Queen.
Jeremy Pooley
@17thManDiary
Alas, Sir, ye may mock the mother of all countries lest ye know that tis beset upon us to yield the sword , the blow from which ye will nere recover. We have by Lords removed the tiresome one, have raised ourselves inside the moat of unparalled inpunity thereby removing allst those outside and aligned ourselves with those of greater concern. So your pitiful efforts are no more to bear than the scriblings of Master D’Bell and the former Dmitri of Olde. All lain waste due to our imperious devilment and succinct tactical knowledge. Having the best coache in the land has got us thus far and we promise to not defer rather move on from this
Friends, Romans, Stakeholders……. pipe down!
Nicely done.
And for a brilliant piece worth readin for the writing alone, this by Geoff Lemon on the Guardian Australia..
And Brad McNamara is a dick.
http://www.theguardian.com/sport/blog/2015/feb/13/channel-nine-destroying-cricket-legacy#comment-47519990
“It’s foul to see a professional from a big company crowing his superiority over an ordinary fan.”
I was strangely drawn to that particular sentence…
Sorry, but I don’t find that even remotely funny. The writer has tried way too hard,,and achieved little. What a waste of so many words. My advice to the author is go back to fart jokes. Its more his level.
Oh, and increasingly it seem Aus are a one man team. Johnson is all they ever talk about. Gon a miss him when he’s gone!
Hi Mark we will miss Johnson yes but there are quite a few quickies lining up to take his place, thankfully.
That is one of the biggest piles of dross I’ve ever had the misfortune to lay my eyes on.
What’s going on TFT? Why the drastic lowering of your usual high standards? that absolute garbage written above makes a mockery of this usually great website.
Oh lighten up – this certainly makes a change from yet another post about the ECB, Downton, or continually going on about Pietersen. It’s nice to have some variety, humour and some posts that represent a different view. I enjoyed it for what it was – and I’m an England fan!
One sentence was funny; ref, the water boarded fruit fly.
Yeah, about as funny as finding a lump on your bollock.