bad timing

Cricket on the green. Sat in the beer garden watching village life the way it ought to be everywhere. No heavy traffic. No screaming kids. Just the sound of leather on willow and polite clapping from the sparse circle of barely interested spectators, most sat down on a bric a brac of plastic chairs, blankets, or even directly on the grass, picking daisy chains and talking privately.

The captain of Brindley is facing fierce deliveries with grace and poise. He opened the batting 2 hours ago and had survived whilst two of his team mates had stupidly lost their wickets by rushing. You just can't rush these things. This game, like life, is all about the timing. Wayne Eldersley raises his bat in recognition of the 50 he has put on in the last hour. Not the first of his career and he knows it. Garstang's captain is nursing one hell of a hangover, standing in the slips, waiting for a catch that will never come. Thwack! Another run, just 17 more to win off 3 overs. 18 balls, 17 runs. Wayne facing, piece of cake.

Altaf Azari, the fastest bowler in the league, steps up. This is risky. Fast gets wickets but also risks runs. Wayne has batted himself in and won't be easily intimidated. Altaf storms towards the wicket and delivers a wicked bouncer. Wayne steps to the side and hooks it out for a six, high to the off side. The nearest fielder sets off on the long walk to retrieve the ball.

Wayne looks up in admiration and then sees her. Walking past with that half-smile. She was one hell of a conquest last night, he'd took his time and struck when it mattered. The local weirdo. She was a little tipsy and he, the captain, had stepped in and took the spoils. He walked her home.

As Sandra saw him, she sneered. The sicko wouldn't leave her alone last night. He'd plied her with drink and when she could barely walk, he struck. The ball rolls right up to her feet. She picks the ball up and says one or two words, she then playfully throws it to the fielder who thanks her and the game continues.

Ball tampering is illegal in the game, nibbling at the seam of the ball with fingernails over a period of time gives it that aero-dynamic edge, a reverse swing that catches batsmen out on cloud covered days. Altaf will be spoken to by the police afterwards. That seam is as rough as they come despite his protestations. The way that ball moved was wicked, Wayne didn't have a chance as it hammered into his temple.

For now, Sandra walks away whilst everyone else rushes in. She's always been an outsider in that village. It goes way back, like her family. Strong women. At times not appreciated in these parts.

What did she say to the ball?

it's all about the timing Wayne.