The backyard spin bowling bonanza always begins with a pause to psych out the young charge and build tension, then it's four or five strides at walking pace, two quicker steps and a leap into the delivery stride attempting to rip the perfect leg spinner that drifts into the right hander's legs and then spins viciously away off a dry spot where pesky paspalum was recently poisoned with glyphosate.
Read MoreYears ago, I traded the board games Monopoly and Battleships to my older brother for games of cricket.
They are yet to be returned.
Both games were gifted by Santa Claus, bright and shiny and full of promise with crisp cash notes distributed and naval destroyers placed in waters that would, hopefully, be undetectable to radar, sonar, and the latest ‘guessing’ technology.
Read MoreOn Christmas Day, in a family backyard, I bowled my heart out for Australia.
At 45 years of age, I was seven years older than the late Robert (Bob) “Dutchy” Holland OAM who debuted for the Australian Men’s Test Team, donning the baggy green for the 1984/85 series against the mighty West Indies who were the world’s cricket powerhouse of the era.
The pitch was grassy, the wickets an outdoor chair, and there were vociferous appeals bordering on unsportsmanlike conduct, particularly when there is, without question, no leg before wicket in backyard cricket.
Read MoreTim Paine would be the first to tell you he did wrong, sending lewd texts to a former Cricket Tasmania colleague. It was dumb and inappropriate and cruel and eventually, career-limiting.
But this is not just about Tim and Bonnie Paine - they are the high-profile casualties. There is also a victim who felt sexually harassed and if we have learnt anything in recent times, not believing or blaming the victim is wrong, damaging, and permanent.
There is also another victim, Cricket Tasmania, which allegedly lost money, with the former employee currently facing criminal charges. This is a separate matter, but, for completeness, must be mentioned.
Read MoreMany years ago, I could not wait for summer. The anticipation of longer days and sunlit evenings, which meant permission to hang at the Basin pool acting cool, was almost too much to bear.
But it was not just the Cataract Gorge nor the burning sun on pale skin of Northern Irish heritage that generated excitement, rather, it was the sound and smell of cricket.
The stale pong of a kit bag neatly put away at the end of the previous season with sweat remaining in the fabric from hands and legs seeping into protective wear.
Read MoreApproaching our 20th wedding anniversary I want to tell you about my first love - test cricket.
A passion so difficult to describe that it raises the ire of those devoid of similar desire.
Watching or listening to every ball of a test match is blissfully right, full of expectation and contentment. It's a muse that demands attention.
My greedy love affair has rarely been in question. A fleeting fancy with one day cricket and modified formats like Twenty20 momentarily grabbed my attention, but both were unable to secure my affection.
Read MoreThe door should not have been left slightly open; it was an accident; a forgotten formality after tasks were completed. It did not really matter but created an accidental air of excitement and expectation. I should not have been looking but it was impossible to avoid the quickest glance en route to the bathroom again...
Struggling to sleep with excitement and with anxious feelings preventing shut-eye, I was desperate to see the presents yet petrified that I may come face to face with Santa Claus.
He was such an unknown and there was a clear and present threat that gifts could be rescinded should I disturb him at his work.
Read MoreTriumph is often associated with war, competition and, ultimately, victory. Great achievements borne of great struggle and sacrifice become stuff of legend.
Tragedy, conversely, quickly shelves the euphoria associated with triumph and balances the highs of victory.
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