Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Keeping The Peace	By : Lazvernius Category: Individual Celebrities > Cricket Views: 1321 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the people I am writing about in this fanfiction. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Once again I will reitierate, this is absolute fiction, this tour never took place and although the games are based on actual games those are stolen from all over the show. I do not own these people. They are people selvselves, and if they should find out about this work, I hope they have a functioning sense of humour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh shit…”

“Yes Louey?” Lou Vincent had his nose stuck out the bus window and was looking at the Aussies. Mathew Sinclair had asked the question, for some reason he had less patience for Lou's antics than the rest of us. Lou turned from the window with a grin.

“Brett Lee must have used a whole can of gel doing his hair this morning.” This fairly average piece of information was met with an “oooooooooooooh” of foreboding from the rest of the team.

“What?” I asked. Stephen leant over and said

“It is rumoured Lees speed correlates to how severe his hairstyle is. hat hat Louey says is true, we could be in for an interesting day.”

My day had been interesting enough already. Shane woke me up at disgustingly early, cheery like he always was, while I smarted from lack of sleep. Remembering what I thought about the night before I could barely look Shane in the face. Fortunately he took that for tiredness and nerves.

And nervous I was. Breakfast spent about five minutes in my stomach before I threw it up again. No-one took this too seriously; the team had toured the sub-continent last year.

Stephen came into my roo doo do his captains “good luck, be calm” speech, and to check I had all my gear. Two sets of pads, batting and keeping; two sets of gloves; helmet; mouthguard; inners; bat; spare bat; various pads to prevent my bones breaking; my case ended up heavier than I could carry.

“Jesus,” panted Stephen “wicketkeepers sure have a lot of crap. Are you guys compensating for something?” in my current frame of mind I did not want to be accused of compensating for anything, so I didn’t reply. Glag atg at my face, Stephen realised he’d pushed it too far.

“Sorry mate. Just trying to lighten the atmosphere.”

I glanced up at the sky, a perfect, cloudless blue.

“You don’t need to; it’s not going to rain.” I expected Stephen to roll his eyes at this incredibly lame pun. Instead he frowned and said

“I hope so.”

Together we finally managed to stow my bulging bag in the bus.

We won the toss, and sent them in to bat. This was good, because it meant I didn’t have to sit I the stand, stewing in my own nervous juices. I was doing things. Surely when I was doing things I could forget the butterfly mosh pit my stomach had become.

Daryl Tuffey was bowling first over. He always did, apparently. This was the one superstition Stephen subscribed to; it was some kind of spiritual appeasement having a Maori guy bowl first.

Superstition or not, this was good news for me. While Daryl is quick, he’s not truly express, not like Shane. The first over would be a good warm-up.

Stephen set the field. Not that it mattered much to me; a wicketkeeper does only that, he sits behind the wicket.

For fast bowlers the trick is to get the batsman to snick it, and have him caught behind, so I had plenty of company. Three slips- Stephen, Nathan Astle, and Scott Styris lined up on my right; Craig McMillain at leg gully on my left. It was nice having them there, telling me ‘you’ll be right, MiniMac’, but it reminded me all the more that I didn’t want to let them down.

Daryl began his run up, and I began to think in incomplete sentences. Crouch. Hands out. Watch Daryl. Check the balls trajectory. It’s medium length. Switch to the batsman. Watch his shot. None offered. Watch the ball. Catch. Breathe. With that, my international career started.

Daryl did not manage to snag a wicket in that first over, but I didn’t drop a thing. At the end of the first over it was two for none. Then Shane bowled. It is difficult to impress just how fast he is. While Darryl was bowling somewhere around 75-80 mph, Shane could hit 85-90mph. Try stopping that. Then again I was going to be batting against someone who, on a really good day, could crack the hundred-mile mark. Brett Lee may not be the most physically intimidating bloke, but there was definitely a reason batsmen feared him.

Shane, fortunately, was very considerate, telling me the line he was planning to bowl that over, and how may bouncers he wanted to hurl at the hapless batsmen. Of curse this was a prefect case scenario, likely to change at any time, but it was nice to be forewarned for the first ball at least.

One of the batsmen, Gilchrist, was having an off day. Shane was bowling according to plan, and Gilchrist had no clue. Third ball was a bouncer, and he just flailed at it. Shane wore a dangerous smile, like a cobra about to strike. And strike he did, a slower outswinger that Glichrist connected with, sending it wildly off course. Stephen was standing wide at first slip, and the batsman didn’t push that hard. It looked as though it would drop into the no-mans land between myself and Stephen. No way! I launched myself sideways desperately to reach the ball before it hit the ground. Hands stretched…almost…almost… GOT IT! A spectacular superman catch, snatched a centimetre off the ground.

“HOWZAAAAAAAAT!” The entire slips cordon leapt into the air, and the umpire put up his index finger. I scraped myself off the ground, still clutching the ball. Two for one. Shane ran down the wicket, being patted on the back by Lou. I felt someone patting my back too, and twisted round to see Stephen grinning like a happy little boy.

“No problems, eh Brendon?”

“Nah, easy.”

Shane sauntered up to me, then quite suddenly grabbed me and heft me into the air.

“Sorry MiniMac,” He said, when I was safely back on the ground “But that was great!” If my smile got any bigger, it would have turned my face inside out.

“Come on boys,” said Craig McMillain who was known as BigMac, “we’ve got the rest of the game yet!”

Bring it on.

Two hundred and twelve. Their middle order stuck around a bit, but on the batting track at the WACA, where two fifty was not out of reach, two hundred and twelve was pretty easy.

BigMac continued his run of bad form, getting out for two, but Nathan Astle, who replaced him, and Stephen set up a good attack, getting sixty two and thirty nine, respectively.

By the time I went in we were perching on a hundred and fifty two for five wickets. Although we were only sixty runs off our target, if Louey or I got out quickly, it would totally halt our momentum. Lou was on eight when I joined him, after Chris Cairns was caught in the deep.

“Alright, MiniMac, here’s the plan. Run. We have been having trouble hitting it out of the circle, so just prod it and run” I could only nod, my mouth dry. “Oh, and heads up, they’re thinking of bringing gel-boy back.”

In the next two overs we ran nine runs. Lou was exceptionally quick, and constantly pushed me to turn a single into a double. After those two overs my dry mouth had hit desert level, but I came on at a fortunate time. At thirty overs is a drinks break and I came to the crease at twenty-eight. I swigged as much water as possible in the five-minute break.

The Australians brought back Brett Lee. He had five overs remaining, meaning he would finish in the fortieth over. By then we would either be completely screwed or well on the way to winning. It all depended on how well Lou and I coped now. Pressure anyone?

I had never really experienced the incredible arrogance Lee displayed. He looked down his nose at me and asked where the kiwis got all these schoolboys from. I didn’t reply, simply determined to, before I got out, hit him out of the park.

His run up was a long one; he started in a trot, to a jog, a run, a sprint, I squinted and raised my bat, his arm flashed over and I swung.

THWACK! The ball didn’t hit my bat or, luckily, my wicket. No, it slammed straight into my stomach. The pain shot outward, my eyes bugged out and I tried to remember how to breathe. I staggered to the side of the wicket, dropped to my knees, and threw up the water I had taken in just before.

“Lie back flat mate.” An unidentifiable bloke with an Australian accent pushed on my shoulders until I lay down.

“Deep breaths.” I breathe in, breathe out, until things come back into focus. Half the Australian team was crowded around me, including Lee. It seemed the guy who told me to lie down was none other than Adam Gilchrist, who I caught out in the second over. I sat up with Lou’s help, and confirmed that I was still alive, and still able to play.

“Sure your okay?” asked Lee, with obviously feigned concern.

“I’m fine.” Lee leaned closer to me.

“Welcome to real cricket, schoolboy.” Lou answered for me.

“Fuck off, cunt.” Not exactly eloquent, but nevertheless effective.

We scored no runs that over, mostly because I could no more have run a quick single than flown to the moon. By next over the pain was beginning to subside and Louey was making me run.

Lou was the next to face Lee and he made a show of dropping to his knees and pretending to pray. That could have been the reason the first ball sped in at head height.

“Touchy, aincha?” I asked. Lee glared. I might have been showing the bull a red flag, but I’m a wicketkeeper, sledging comes naturally.

Next ball Lou managed to push a single and I was back on strike. Lee’s eyes were nasty little slits and I felt flutters of panic behind the throbbing in my stomach. That guy was REALLY angry.

Once again with that long run up, once again I squinted and raised my bat.

The anger backfired. Lee bowled short, way too short, the ball popping up at a nice speed in front of me. I swung at it with all my might, and connected with it on the up. It soared. Over the boundary rope, hell it cleared the fence. As Lee snarled at me I grinned.

“Now THAT’S real cricket!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you have any questions about the finerys of the game of cricket, please do not hesitate to ask. I like explaining. Please review.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Keeping The Peace