How often does it happen, bro?

34*

When you turn up at a random club cricket match, there are an endless array of possibilities for what you might be fortunate enough to witness. You’ll always see something, even if it’s a whole lot of nothing to the uninitiated. It starts in the micro – like a simple relaxing dose of elegant and languid batting from a guy making it look easy in a baggy blue cap. A bigger picture develops over time but initially there’s no suggestion that whatever it is you are about to be a part of will stay with you for the rest of your life.

48*

A great innings is carefully constructed brick by brick. It starts with a foundation of carefully feeling out the surface, the bowling attack and the way the ball is behaving in the conditions. Then a framework of confidence is built through ones and twos, picking out gaps in the field and surviving early shouts. After that, finding the boundary a couple of times means you’re ready to take command, forcing bowling and fielding changes, getting those annoying mouthy close-in fielders banished out of earshot.

73*

What you don’t want to do is be that guy who spends a bunch of overs getting a start then gets out just as he’s getting going. It’s almost better to succumb to a fast duck so someone else can build an innings of significance. The 70s are where the Rubicon is crossed. A score of sixty something is unfulfilled potential and an opportunity wasted. A score of seventy something is respectable and the bottom end of a good day at the office for someone whose number one job it is to score runs.

99*

The 90s play all sorts of psychological tricks on you – and I don’t just mean mindfucks like Queen Latifah playing two entirely different characters on Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. It’s called ‘the nervous 90s’ so it’s compulsory to feel nervous during them. And pushing that last single to get off 99 can take a couple of painfully jittery overs. Why? Why is 100 such an important score? It’s only a random number just like 99 is. Why isn’t scoring 128 what everyone dreams of doing? It’s 28 whole runs more than 100, but nobody raises their bat when they do that. It makes no logical sense but, for the record, I’m fully on board.

101*

When you’ve just scored 100, you’ve got two perfectly valid choices best described by the highly sophisticated intellectual phrase: “go hard or go home.” You can get yourself out for 101 and head for the pub – you’ve done your job, why not make someone else do some work? Or, alternatively, if the mood takes you, you can decide to really fuck shit up. It was at this point in time on this particular afternoon that Barrington Rowland decided to really fuck shit up.

120*

Four! Six! Four! Four! Six! Single… FOUR! Fielders spread far and wide. The fielding captain staring intently at his shoes. Umpires getting RSI in their shoulders, elbows and index fingers. Scorers running out of pencil lead. Bowlers wondering what exactly it was they did in a past life to deserve this miserable lot on a stinking hot day – whatever it was, it must have been something exceptionally despicable like getting themselves out for 68 or something…

151*

150s are even weirder than 100s. While it’s a milestone spectators will stand up and clap for, batsmen won’t raise their bat too far above 90 degrees. Sure, on my previous logic it’s fifty whole runs more than 100 so it should be a bigger deal than a century. But it’s not. Because if you’ve made it to 150 you’ve only got one thing on your mind… Four! Four! Four! Six! Two. Three… Four!

199*

The rest of the batting side spread themselves out around the boundary rope in anticipation of the big moment, ready to create a ‘stereo surround sound’ experience for their man of the moment. “How often does it happen, bro?” one asked the player next to him. His mate shrugged. I don’t know either but only six men and two women have scored double tons in 50 odd years of limited overs internationals. So my guess would be, even at club level, very, very, very rarely.

201*

He was dismissed soon after. I guess he figured he’d get himself out and head for the pub – he’d done his job, why not make someone else do some work? I’d headed for the pub myself, so I didn’t see his wicket fall. I’m pleased about that.

Eden Roskill 454/5 (Barrington Rowland 206), Birkenhead 214 all out in reply