Hat Trick! (15 page)

Only twice has a team defeated its opposition by 10 wickets. This is a result where the second team batting passes the first team’s score without losing a wicket. South Africa scored 0/130 to pass Pakistan’s total in a game in 2007 and Austrlaia made 0/102 to defeat Sri Lanka on 20 September, 2007.

WE
all lathered ourselves with sunscreen and jogged out for a few catches before the Benchley Park innings started.

‘Toby and Scott are opening the attack,’ Jono announced. ‘Three overs each. We’ll see how things look before I decide on the next bowlers.’

Mr Pasquali tossed me the cricket ball. I loved the feel of a brand new shining red cricket ball. The white stitches stood out hard. I rubbed it on my trousers, more out of habit as it couldn’t be any shinier, and watched Jono set the field.

‘A couple of slips?’ he called across to me.

‘Yep, third man too, no mid-off.’

‘You sure?’ he asked.

‘Yep. Bring cover around if you like. I want them driving.’

‘Okay.’ (
See Tip 3.
)

It was great how Jono let you have your say if you were bowling. He respected that we had our plans
too. Normally I’d ease into it, my first few balls more like warm-up deliveries. But this time I decided to go flat out from the first ball and see what happened.

I’d measured my run-up and was waiting at the top of my mark for the batter to take his stance. He looked around the field once more then settled over his bat, tapping it against the crease. (
See Tip 6.
)

I strolled in, trying to make it look like this was a warm-up ball. But in my final strides I sped up and sent down a fast delivery heading for off-stump. I don’t think the batter even saw it. The ball clipped the outside of the off-stump and sped away between Ally and Jono at first slip.

The batter looked at the bail lying next to the stumps, shook his head a few times and started the long walk back.

The team raced in, cheering and yelling and high-fiving me and everyone else.

‘Save some for me,’ was all Scott said.

We got back to our positions quickly, Jono asking me if I wanted any adjustments to the field. I wondered what Brett Lee would do now? Bang in a short one? Go for the yorker?

‘Maybe bring mid-wicket in heaps closer,’ I said. ‘Make it Jimbo and put Jay at square leg,’ I added. ‘Yeah?’

‘Sure, you got a plan?’ Jono asked.

‘Yep.’

I called Jay to come in closer from where he was standing next to Mr Pasquali at square leg. Jimbo was
already hovering at short mid-wicket. I also called Scott in another five metres at cover. He walked in three.

I charged in. It was a classic set-up, but needed the perfect delivery to make it work. The batter’s right foot was nudging backwards as I delivered the ball. Everything suggested something short. A bouncer that would be attacking his body. Following him and maybe crashing into his chest. But it was nothing like that. He was taken totally by surprise.

It was a perfect yorker, the ball rattling into the base of the middle and leg stumps. The batter was nowhere near it.

Once again the players rushed in to congratulate me.

‘You don’t have to kiss him!’ Scott said to Georgie, who was patting my shoulder.

‘No, I guess I’ll save that for when you get your first wicket,’ she said, sounding totally sick of his useless comments.

‘Merv Hughes kissed,’ said Jimbo.

‘Who?’

‘Merv Hughes. That big guy with the monster moustache. He kissed a couple of players on the field,’ Jimbo said. It was the most he’d spoken all day.

‘It’s true,’ Rahul added.

‘Just shut up, would ya?’ Scott sneered.

‘You brought it—’

‘Guys, Toby’s on a
hat trick
. What’s the plan?’ Georgie asked.

‘Obvious. Bring everyone in. That’s what they do on the TV,’ said Scott. Scott was an awesome cricketer,
but I wasn’t sure if he knew heaps about tactics. Still, he was basically right. The batter, facing a hat trick, wasn’t going to go the slog. (
See Tip 12.
)

Jono brought the fielders in closer, though no one was allowed to be nearer to the batter than half a pitch length.

‘Maybe the slower one, Toby,’ Jimbo whispered to me as I walked back to my bowling mark.

‘Just what I was thinking,’ I said, and grinned. I’d never got a hat trick. I’d been
on
one a few times, but never taken three wickets in three balls. I stole a look at Dad. The DIY manual was on the ground next to his chair and he was leaning forwards. He held up a hand, his fingers crossed. The two guys by the cars also looked like they were paying careful attention.

I steamed in, a bit quicker even than the last delivery. I tucked my right big finger underneath the seam, the way I’d been shown. The ball was on a good length. The batter pushed at it early and it spooned into the air. (
See Tip 4.
)

I was celebrating even before Scott had taken the catch. Everyone was set to charge in. Mr Pasquali had one foot in the air, anticipating the wicket about to fall. But somehow Scott managed to drop it. He swore loudly and kicked the ball away towards Ally. She wasn’t looking and the batters scampered through for a run.

‘You shouldn’t have run towards me!’ Scott yelled at me, shaking his head.

‘What?’ I said, disgusted.

‘I thought you—’

‘C’mon, heads up,’ called Jono. ‘Let’s have another one, Toby.’

I couldn’t believe what had happened. It was the easiest catch I’d ever seen. And Scott Craven had put it down. On purpose?

After the drama of the first half of my first over, things settled down. I didn’t take another wicket, but Scott took two in his three overs. After six overs we had them 4 for 23. But after that the game changed.

‘You know what they’ve done, don’t you?’ Jimbo said at the first drinks break. It was getting hot and Mr Pasquali had arranged for a couple of breaks.

‘What?’ Ally asked, having downed half a bottle of orange juice.

‘They’ve put their best batters into the middle order.’ It was true. They certainly looked confident and comfortable out there.

‘Maybe it’s because Scott and
that
aren’t bowling,’ said Gavin Bourke, nodding towards me. I was obviously
that
.

‘Maybe,’ said Jimbo. ‘But I don’t think so.’

Their next three batters each made their 30. We then took the remaining six wickets within the space of four overs. It was pathetic. There were two runouts, which looked so set up it wasn’t funny. And the stumping was a joke. Ally had fumbled the ball, but the kid just kept on walking. Not even the batter at the other end yelled at him to get back into his crease.

All of a sudden the two middle-order players, who had knocked up 30 runs each, were back in the middle and hitting us around everywhere. We’d been sucked in big time. Scott and I each had one over left to bowl.

At the next drinks break Jono asked us for our thoughts.

‘Give me the ball and I’ll knock ’em both over,’ Scott told everyone. They were 8 for 142 with eight overs left.

‘I reckon we do it now,’ I said. ‘No point in waiting.’

‘I agree,’ Jimbo said, nodding his head.

‘Rahul?’

‘Yes. They haven’t faced Toby or Scott. Even if we don’t get the wickets, we should slow up the run rate. They need 50 runs off eight overs. That’s six an over. We should be able to hold them if we can get it out to eight an over.’

Jono tossed the ball to Scott. We shouted some words of encouragement and went back to our positions. Scott bowled fast and accurate, but they kept him out. Still, only one run scored meant that now it was up to seven an over.

The ball had lost most of its shine and the stitches were flatter. I worked hard on one side, rubbing it vigorously up and down my leg as Jono positioned the field. I looked around. There was cover on the boundaries for me on both sides of the wicket as well as a deep mid-on. (
See Tip 7.
)

The first three balls were dot balls; no score, but no wickets either. The fourth ball I sent down a bit quicker, outside off-stump. The batter flashed at it and missed.

‘He’s rattled!’ yelled Scott from the covers. Mr Pasquali glared at him. I sent the next one down a little wider. Again he flashed at it. This time there was a noise. Ally took the catch and I charged down the wicket, my arms in the air.

I was just about to high-five with Ally when I heard Jono’s voice.

‘What?’

I turned around. The umpire had his arms outstretched. A wide! I couldn’t believe it. It was wide enough, but the kid had definitely got an edge.

‘Howzat!’ I yelled at the umpire, thinking that maybe no one had appealed and for some dumb reason he needed one to give the batter out. But he just smiled at me and shook his head.

‘Two more, Richard, then we’re clear,’ the umpire called smugly to the batter at the other end.

The next ball was maybe the fastest ball I’d ever bowled. But it did nothing but smack into Ally’s gloves. It hurt too, though she disguised it well. I looked across at Jimbo. He pointed to his chin. I nodded. I wasn’t out to hurt him, just make him know that he was in a cricket match. And maybe get a dot ball out of it too.

I ran in hard and hurled the ball down. It bounced early and careered up towards the batter’s
face. He fended it off and the ball ballooned off the splice of his bat. The runner and I took off together. We both seemed to be heading for the ball. He was blocking me. I shoved him aside and dived full stretch, catching the ball centimetres off the ground.

‘Toby! Bowler!’ Jono was yelling at me and pointing to the bowler’s end. I swung around and hurled the ball at the stumps as the batter scrambled back. The umpire had his arm out for a no ball. I fell back onto the ground as the ball smashed into the stumps, knocking the middle stump flying and causing the umpire to jump out of the way.

Everyone yelled, ‘Howzatt!!!’

We looked at the umpire. Reluctantly he raised his finger. You can’t get a wicket by catching someone off a no ball, but you sure as heck can run someone out. (
See Tip 10.
)

We won the game by 21 runs. Mr Pasquali didn’t mention anything about the weird events of Benchley Park’s innings, but I noticed him having a serious talk to their coach after the game. I also saw him chatting to Trevor Barnes. The other guy had gone.

‘Fantastic, Toby. Well bowled. A bit stiff, I thought, not getting your hat trick.’

‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said. ‘You ever get a hat trick?’

He shook his head. ‘But you’ll get one.’

‘You think so?’

‘I’m sure so. You keep bowling like that, and it might even be for Australia as opposed to Riverwall.’

I stared out the window imagining what it would be like to take three Test wickets in three balls. The crowd would be going berserk. And then I’d be walking down to fine leg at the end of the over. And the crowd would be roaring and chanting, ‘Jo-ones, Jo-ones!’ And I’d give them a little wave…

‘Oh, by the way, a nice chap from the MCG turned up about half an hour ago,’ Dad said to me in the car on the way home. ‘Asked me to give you this.’ He passed over an envelope.

I tore it open. It was an invitation to go to the MCC library and receive an award for rescuing the
Wisden
from the fire.

‘Dad, did you organise this?’

‘What?’

‘This invite to the library at the MCG. To get an award?’

‘No.’ He kept his eyes on the road, but he seemed curious about it. ‘Read it to me.’

Dear Toby,
Brave deeds deserve rewards.
You are invited to the MCC Library
at the MCG
next Monday
at 5.30pm
for a small ceremony
to mark your efforts to save a
Wisden
.

‘And?’ Dad asked.

‘And what?’

‘Who’s it from?’

‘Jim, I guess. There’s no signature. Who gave you the envelope, Dad?’

‘Not sure. Pleasant-looking guy. Said he worked in the library up there at the MCG. He just said, “Mr Jones? A letter for your son.”’

‘Did he stay for the cricket?’

‘Don’t think so. Never saw him again. You might have to go alone, mate. Mum and Nat have ballet class starting this Monday so they won’t be there. I’ve got a builder coming round, you know, to see the site and—’

‘It’s okay, Dad.’

‘But listen, I can cancel. Maybe put him off—’

‘Dad, it’s cool. Georgie will come.’

‘Now that’s a good idea. She’ll love it. And while we’re on the subject of bravery and
Wisden
s, can I ask you just one question?’

I knew what was coming. I’d been waiting all week for it.

‘Why in heaven’s name did you go into the garage to rescue a book?’

‘It was a
Wisden
, Dad.’

‘I don’t care if it was the only surviving copy of the bloody Dead Sea Scrolls, Toby,’ Dad roared. He was upset but trying hard to stay in control. For a while neither of us spoke. I turned and gazed out the side window.

‘It was the only
Wisden
with your name in it,’ I said lamely.

Dad seemed about to speak, then stopped. He shook his head a few times.

‘Hey, Dad?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I reckon we should have a little plaque made—maybe a
Wisden
page or something? You know, for your new studio?’

‘And that’s a dumb idea too!’ But he was smiling—just.

If you’d seen the game played between South Africa and West Indies on 11 September 2007 at Johannesburg, you would have seen the most runs scored in boundaries in a game. Thirty-six fours and 18 sixes were struck during the match for a combined total of 252 runs scored in boundaries.

‘
WILL
you come?’

‘Of course I will, idiot,’ said Georgie. ‘But I’ll meet you there, okay? Mum’s having a panic attack about your birthday. We’ve gotta go shopping after school and it could get ugly. Don’t wait. I’ll get in somehow. Take your phone.’

I did wait, for about 10 minutes, then at five-thirty exactly I made my way through the glass door and up the ramp. No one seemed to be paying me much attention. Perhaps they were used to seeing me around by now.

The library appeared deserted, which was strange for an award ceremony. I pulled out the invitation and checked it again.

‘Toby?’

I jumped at the sound of his voice.

‘You got the message then?’ It was the guy called Phillip who was always hanging around the library.

‘Y-yes.’

‘Good. Well, come in then. Let’s get on with it, shall we?’

This wasn’t sounding right.

‘Where’s Jim?’

‘Oh, Jim said he wasn’t going to be able to make it. He’s not well, you know, Toby. He’s very old.’

The knot in my stomach tightened.

‘I’d better go.’

‘What, and not get your prize? Jim has told me all about it. He’s just so sorry he can’t be here to watch.’

I looked into Phillip’s face. ‘W-who are you?’

‘Me? Oh, I’m just a collector of books. Help out in the library sometimes. In fact, I think I’ve seen you before, yes? With a few of your friends?’

Maybe this guy was okay. Maybe I was just imagining things. Still, it would be nice if Georgie—or even better, Jim—turned up right now.

‘Come along then and I’ll fetch your reward.’ He moved quickly over to a trolley by the main desk where a computer sat. ‘Hmm, now where did he put it?’

‘So Jim organised this?’ I asked, not moving any closer.

‘Oh, we all thought it was a good idea. Here we are.’ He turned around and handed me a small parcel.

‘Well, open it,’ he said excitedly. ‘You’ll like it, I’m sure.’

I unwrapped the package. It was a green-covered
Wisden
. Thinner and shinier than the yellow ones I knew so well.

‘Thank you,’ I said, staring at its cover. It had the same writing as the yellow books.

‘It’s the Australian version. Go on, open it.’

I hesitated, wondering whether I’d see the swirls or normal writing. I opened the front cover. Someone had written my name on the inside.

‘Thanks,’ I said again, not looking up. I placed it on the table in front of me, closing the wrapping paper around it.

‘A pleasure. Now, Jim said that you might like to look in the
Wisden
s’ cupboard. I’m here till six o’clock if you’d like to dip in there and browse. I was supposed to have the bookcase open and ready for you, but I left my keys in the car. But I know Jim has given you a key. You must be a very special boy.’ He went back to the main desk and started typing on the keyboard.

I stood there a moment, wondering how the man knew I had a key. Had he seen Jim pass it to me that day in the library? Or maybe Jim had told him I had a key when he’d organised the reward? I put my hand into my pocket and felt the small key there. I’d carried it with me constantly since Jim had given it to me.

The key fitted the bookcase lock perfectly and turned easily. There was a little click, and the glasspanelled door gently opened outwards. Row upon row of first brown and then yellow
Wisden
s were lined up along the shelves.

Almost the last thing Jim had said to me was that he might not always be here when I came. I reached
into the cupboard to take out the 1931
Wisden
. It was old and brown. This was the
Wisden
that would describe the Test match that Jim had missed as a 10-year-old boy. The 1930 Test match at Leeds. The game he longed to return to, but couldn’t. He’d tried, but had only travelled from the hospital to the library here. There must have been some force stopping him. He’d had all his life to go back.

There was something hidden in the gap behind the
Wisden
.

‘Hey, um—’

‘Mr Smale,’ the man said softly, walking towards me.

‘Mr Smale. It’s the old diary Jim was sent.’

‘Well, well, so it is,’ he whispered, holding his hand out. ‘Best you give that to me, Toby. It’s very precious. I can’t imagine why Jim would hide it in there.’

I’m not sure what prompted me—perhaps the fact that no one else seemed to know about the invitation and the award or maybe because Mr Smale seemed to know too much about the
Wisden
s and yet not quite enough—but suddenly I bolted. I had the 1931
Wisden
in one hand and the diary in the other as I charged towards the door.

‘Toby?’ Mr Smale sounded surprised. For a moment I hesitated.

‘Stop!’ This time I heard his anger. I ran.

I belted round the corner and headed for the stairs. I could hear his footsteps not far behind. I tore down the steps, three—four—at a time, almost overbalancing.

‘Stop him! He’s stolen a valuable book!’ Phillip Smale cried from the top of the stairs.

‘Hey!’

I had cannoned into a lady coming up. But I was past her before she could do anything. I got to the bottom and spun around. I heard more footsteps coming from the opposite direction. A voice called from behind. I tucked the diary inside my shirt and bolted to the right. I was in the long tunnel that ran around the ground.

I glanced back over my shoulder, still running. A man stood at the bottom of some steps, talking into a phone. Maybe he was security, organising for all the exits to be closed.

I ran on until I was out of his line of sight, then ducked behind a drinks stand and pulled out my mobile. I pressed 2, then hit send.

‘Georgie? Is that you?’

‘Toby, geez, I’m sorry. Have I—’

‘Doesn’t m-matter,’ I said, panting. ‘I’m in strife. Listen. How far away are you?’

‘Toby, I’m here.’

‘Where?’

‘In the library. But where—’

‘Doesn’t matter. Come down those stairs just near the kitchen, but watch out for the guy with…Georgie? Georgie?’ I shouted.

‘Toby? Is that you?’ There was a new voice on the phone. ‘You silly boy, what on earth has got into you? Now come on up and return those books. I’d
hate to think what Jim would say if he knew what was going on.’

I turned the phone off. Was it time to call in help? Or was I the person at fault here? I mean, what had the guy actually done? Sure, he’d acted a bit weird. But maybe guys who collected old books were a bit weird. Or maybe it was me that was acting weird. Maybe the
Wisden
s were doing something to me.

Still, there was no choice now that Georgie was up there with him. I’d go up to the library, give him the diary and then Georgie and I would clear out fast.

‘Well, thank heavens for that,’ Phillip Smale said, holding out his hand for the diary. He was smiling pleasantly. I didn’t even get to open it, I thought, as I went to pass it to him.

‘Wait!’ called Georgie. ‘Did you find the scorecard in there?’ she asked me.

‘Wha—’

‘It’s very precious to Jim, and you promised him you’d never let it leave your sight.’ Georgie had just put her foot in it, big time. I didn’t have the scorecard and she knew it.

We were both looking at her now.

‘What are you talking about?’ I said.

‘Let me look!’ Phillip Smale grabbed the diary and flicked through it quickly, holding it upside down.

‘Where is it?’ he snapped.

‘I don’t know,’ I said, making a face at Georgie. It was the truth.

‘Jim must have it,’ Georgie said. ‘We’ve never actually seen it.’

‘You’re lying!’ Smale shouted.

‘We
aren’t
lying,’ Georgie said. She was starting to sound frightened.

‘Look, I think for Jim’s sake we’d all better have a quick hunt for it. He
is
getting a bit forgetful. What do you say? Five minutes?’ The cheeriness had come back into Mr Smale’s voice but now I could tell it was fake.

I licked my lips and nodded. Georgie didn’t say anything.

‘C’mon, Georgie, let’s start on the
Wisden
s,’ I said.

But Georgie seemed to be in a panic. Her face went white and she began breathing in gasps.

‘Why don’t you just sit down, young lady, while Toby and I search,’ said Smale.

I couldn’t understand Georgie’s behaviour. Normally she was the brave one. The first in for a dare; the first up for a challenge. But now she was sobbing. Her shoulders heaved as her breathing became more hysterical.

‘Goodness me!’ Phillip Smale cried, sounding exasperated, but trying to keep some calm in his voice.

‘Georgie,’ I said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her gently. She moved a little so that I was standing between her and Smale, who was rummaging through Jim’s desk. She looked down, still gasping and wheezing. I followed her gaze. Somehow
she had got hold of the diary while Smale was distracted by searching for the scorecard. She nodded slightly towards the
Wisden
in my hand.

‘C’mon, Georgie, we’ll be fine,’ I said, opening it and staring intently at the page. If I could do it to escape fire, I could do it from here. I still held her shoulders and my grip tightened as the words began to appear.

Georgie kept on sobbing, but more quietly now. I was almost there. The word ‘Leeds’ flashed into my consciousness, then disappeared. Then, suddenly, ‘334’.

No, it can’t be! I thought, my eyes racing across the page to see more words.

‘Right. Calmed down, has she?’

Ignoring Mr Smale, I locked onto that one number again—maybe one of the most famous scores in Australian cricket history. The numbers spun, merged, then formed again: ‘334’. I could even make out the name close by: ‘Bradman’.

‘Hold on, Georgie.’

‘Hey! Where’s the…’

But Mr Smale’s voice drifted away into the distance, or else we did. For a moment I was aware of Georgie and me and nothing else.