Born of Frustration

This past weekend is as close as I have come to finally growing up and quitting playing cricket.  The sense of disillusionment felt over the weekend’s events left me questioning why I bother.

The timeline – Friday, mid afternoon and the skipper emails the team list and directions to the ground in Dalgety Bay.  We have 9 players, but as we beat them comfortably earlier in the year while similarly short handed it’s not at this point a concern.

Friday 6:30pm and Mrs C informs me she’s going to have to work Saturday afternoon, leaving me with Master C, except it’s now too late to call off and leave the team with eight bodies.  He’ll just have to come with me, not ideal, but best I can do.

Saturday 11am – skipper calls.  It seems the 2nd XI captain threw his toys out the pram at midnight over not being able to get a full team out.  He’s told the club president to “stick it” and flounced off.  As a result of league rules, we cannot default a 2nd XI game and fulfil a 3rd XI one.  This means that six of the 3rd XI are co-opted into the 2’s to go play at Livingston.  The 3’s have to default, which means we get credited with a loss and 0 points.  We slip from second to third in the table and lose the promotion slot we’ve been working bloody hard for.

Saturday 1230 – turn up at Livingston’s ground, and it’s possibly the wettest cricket field I’ve ever had to play on.  We probably should have refused to play, as a bowler, I found it near impossible to bowl as my front foot would slide out from under me every time…the crease looked like a ploughed field by the end of my six over spell.  We bowled fairly well, despite it all and dismissed them for 165.  At 97 for 2 with around 20 overs left we looked to be well on course, we then somehow contrived to collapse to 114 all out.  Not the greatest day all round.  Despite more than half the team jumping five divisions in the space of an hour that morning, we should have given a better account of ourselves.

The good news is that we still carry promotion in our own hands, if we match the results of Edinburgh up until the last game of the season, we play them in a winner take all clash.  The sticky bit is going to be in fulfilling our games as it seems players are getting a bit pissed off with all the political manoeuvring.

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Who makes adverts?  Or more to the point, who is responsible for deciding that some of them are the best representation of their product/brand?

I can’t be the only person hoping Gloria Hunnifords’ cholesterol level shoots up to fatal very very soon, or that bint in the Sainsbury’s ad, chokes on one of her sossaigezzz…and as for that kid who want’s to do a poo at Pauls…..a swift slap across the chops is required there.

I don’t think I’ve ever bought something because of an advert.  I tend to buy the same brands I’ve always used, or if I see something on the shelf that looks nice, I may try it, but never do I see an ad, and think ‘of course, why haven’t I seen it before, that’s exactly what I need’ and rushed out to get it first chance I got.

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