Batting

Up to the crease, take centre guard

A pace on short ball, I’ll cream it hard 

Big swing and a miss, just my luck 

Out for the dreaded golden duck

 

Bowling

Polished the ball, I’ll make it swing 

Outside off, he won’t see a thing 

Down leg, a wide and snakes alive

It’s gone to the rope (that’s for five)

 

Fielding

Four to them and they win the match 

But wait, here comes a dolly catch 

Oh no! I’ve put it on the floor 

And look, it’s rolled away for four 

 

After the match, Mr Elliot, the games teacher took me to one side.

‘Young Oggy,’ he said, ‘have you ever thought about football? I think it might be right up your street.’

‘Ohno, Sir,’ I replied, ‘cricket’s the game for me, I love it.’

He blinked, nodded and patted me on the shoulder.

As he walked away I did notice a small tear in his eye.