Wasn't Just A Dream

• Ted Currin, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2020

It was the finals. I was feeling fantastic from the moment that I got out of bed. I knew that there was a great day ahead of me. The drive to town was full of suspense, no one knew what was going to happen, let alone what ground we were playing at. The committee had kept it secret. When we got to the club house the suspense was broken. I knew where we were playing, though neither Dad nor I had been there before. It was a senior ground that juniors didn’t usually get to play at, how exciting. We were approaching the ground and I had never seen grass so lush and green. Though I was shocked, when I saw just how small the team shelters were. As soon as I got to the sheds something just clicked in me and I was keen to bat. Then surprisingly I was announced the captain having no experience whatsoever. We won the coin toss. I sent myself in to open the batting with Sky our solid number 2 player. Even being considerably nervous I knew my job. It was the first ball. I faced up with nothing in my head but the red leather. It was wide of the mark so I hit it hesitantly. Soon after that I hit my first ever four in club cricket and followed it up with a quick single. I looked down to the other end where Sky was facing their quick bowler. LBW! She was out. Walking on to the field was our number three batsman, Finn. He scored his first few runs quickly. I couldn’t enjoy our partnership as I was soon called off after facing my designated 20 balls. My eyes fixed on the match that had Lawrence and Finn batting together and I was keen to see their partnership grow. But the umpire’s finger seemed to go up as soon as I left the field. Finn was gone, run out cheaply. With Kutter walking in, it was the Lyn brothers at the crease, usually a good pair to make runs together. Kutter was caught and bowled for a golden duck. Our next handful of players got out without making a combined total of 10 runs. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, this might be our worse collapse of the season. Archer, the last remaining batsman comes off the pitch to walk back in with me as I return to the crease from retirement. He whispers quietly that this will be fun. I'm not sure if he knew, but it was the last ball of the innings he was facing, with me at the other end. He hits it in the air, an easy six, but also, only one metre from the fielder. Everyone cheers in the shed before realising that it’s been plucked from the air by the fielder. Quietly, we all look up at the scoreboard, lucky we’re better with the ball then we are with our bats.