An English summer's day.

It was a bright summer day. The sky was clear and blue, there was no cloud in sight for as far as the eye could see. Sunshine bathed everything and everyone present around me. The stage was set for the first of the toughest battles of the summer. One such battle was already underway.

The batsman had taken guard, the bowler was at the bowling mark. Their eyes were locked onto each other. This was a battle for honour, for first blood, for victory. The bowler began the run up, arms flailing about and hair blowing away in the gentle breeze. A delivery leap later, the ball hurled towards the batsman. He swung zealously but missed the ball. It was a moral victory for the bowler. In came the bowler a second time and the effort yielded a similar result. Six times the bowler hurled the ball and six times the batsman swung wildly without connecting a single time. This carried on for a few more minutes. Finally the bowler took mercy on the batsman, for he was seething with anger and almost in tears. The bowler walked up to the batsman, smiled at him, ruffled his hair and then gave him a big hug.

The bowler in question was a young girl, roughly 8 years old and she was bowling to her little brother. Such a dedicated display of devotion I never saw before. Tirelessly she toiled under the beating sun in order to make him happy. Quite clearly she knew what cricket was about; her father must have taught her. She had a beautiful run up and a smooth straight arm action. Her golden, back-length hair fluttered in the wind as she ran towards the crease. Her younger brother tried his best to hit the ball. After many failed attempts she started bowling under-arm to him. It seemed the least she could do to bring a smile to his face. When all else failed, she sat him down, opened a bag of crisps and they enjoyed a light snack. After that she sat him on her bicycle and took him for a pleasant ride. A touching moment on the cricket field, if ever there was one, was this.

If my sisters had ever taken a similar level of effort, my brother would have become a better cricketer !

A few yards away Sale were playing Irby. It was the first match of the season and both were keen to earn maximum points. It was more important for Sale as they were playing at home. A few people had gathered on the sunny day. Somewhere in the distance a barbecue had been lit. The aroma wafted with the breeze into the ground. It stirred up hunger. Players wanted to finish the game early and head off for a good evening meal. It had been a sedate affair with Irby losing wickets regularly and Sale scoring at a good clip. Although there was no clear phase of dominance it was safe to say that Sale were always in control of the match. There wasn’t much to separate the two teams but Sale’s approach and attitude towards the game made the difference between defeat and victory. The men were after all men and the boys were still learning.