Rain Delays Impending Widowhood

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Rain Delays Impending Widowhood

September 6th 2008 04:22

Cricket-tragic, like is father before him.

Birthday one day, Sydney Test the next...

Today was meant to be the start of the Cricket season for my husband. Thus he has been getting that twinke in his eye, whilst mine are brimming with tears. How short the winter? Normally, I get about five months of Saturdays before training and matches steal my man away, but they were C Grade Church Cricket Champions last year. Hubby retired from A grade to play in our local church's team, and he had a cracker of a season! 111 not out was his top score, and he took some great catches and batted consistently well against the less than stellar bowlers he faced.

But believe me, this stretched the season out, with everything short of a tickertape parade and an Alan Border Medal-type "do" to celebrate, wore a bit thin for me. Whilst I'm very happy for them, they banged on about it more than the sports media would about an Aussie Ashes win.
It's a quondry for me. I struggle not to plant the thumbprint on his forehead, because he loves Cricket so much. It gives him so much joy, and such a sparkle in his eye all summer, which I cannot manufacture.
Yet we've been married 11.5 years, and each year, I go solo on Saturdays. I used to go watch every now and then in the BC era (Before Children), but then there was a bloke on the team who was labelled a "Right Arm Trouserless" bowler, and it became all too embarrassing to witness the cracks on the pitch (which shouldn't have been there at all, seeing all the piches were astroturf)! Two words, Fabian: DRAW STRING!!!!!!!!!!

Between that and the box-sharing, and long, hot days on ovals with no facilities or shade, and the prospect of chasing the kids across open ground for five hours, without the benefit of a relaxed pub steak meal afterwards, I became far less enamoured with the brain explosions of these amateur cricketers, and more interested in the prospect of sitting next to the husband, watching professional brain explosions at the SCG.
But Sydney is having one almighty rain delay this weekend. Which is a good thing for me, but not for the makers of NapiSan, or the cricket starved moping men like my husband. I'm just pleased to have him around for another Saturday, and pleased to not have to get grass stains out of the back (yes, the back) of his whites from his overenthusiastic wicket-taking catches. For soon enough, he'll don the "Baggy Maroon" and be off. Then I'll grieve.

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