Corbridge 'Heyhoe' Angels

Its a long, lonely walk back to the clubhouse when you’ve just been caught out for a duck on the third ball of the game.

That stupid Hair Bear Bunch man from 10cc was singing in my head as I tucked my bat under my arm to begin the humiliating trudge back.

‘I don’t like cricket...oh no....I love it...’

‘Well actually Mr Dreadlock Holiday, you’re right – I don’t like cricket...in fact I hate it,’ I muttered, stomping past my cowering team mates.

 ‘I absolutely hate it,’ I snarled, throwing my bat onto my bag.

‘What a stupid bloody game,’ I cursed, chucking my gloves into the bag and ripping the Velcro on my pads. It made a satisfying noise – like today's page of the score book being torn out and shredded into little pieces.

Thank God no-one came along at that point to offer advice, like - 

‘You should always hit the ball along the ground...’

Because they may well have ended up with the rest of my kit – stuffed angrily into my sweaty bag, zipped up tight and hoyed in the boot of the car.

After the game, I wondered if this reaction to being ‘oot’ was normal.

Are you expected to just say ‘Oh dear, out again, jolly well bowled, and great catch...’ before skipping back to the clubhouse with a warm smile of affection for the game, for the opposition and for life itself...

I wondered, briefly, if Rachael Heyhoe Flint - the most famous of all England lady cricketers was really called Rachel Flint. Maybe her team mates added the 'Heyhoe,' due to her jolly sporting attitude when she was 'oot.'...'Heyhoe gals, out again, not to worry, better luck next time... '

Rachel Heyhoe Flint cheerfully taking her pads off after being
out for a duck on the third ball of the game.

So I googled 'Feeling very cross about being out in cricket,' and was relieved to see that some of the supercool stars of the cricketing world have been known to react badly.

Even Nasser gets mad

Nasser Hussein and Mark Ramprakash were both known as dressing room destroyers. Hussein once put his fist through a wooden locker door (and couldn't get it out again) and Ramprakash bashed his team-mate's  helmet around the changing rooms with his bat until the grille was completely buckled and mangled.

Even the calm, and somewhat dull Michael Atherton kicked a set of weighing scales so hard that he broke his big toe.

They were all very cross about being 'oot.'

So I don't feel so bad now. Being cross about being 'oot' is normal. And at least I didn't smash anything.  I had a bit of a rant, but then thought 'Heyhoe' and went back outside to support my team mates....

...who, one by one, slowly trudged off to that familiar tune in their heads -  'I don't like cricket....'

We were playing Hexham Leazes, and, put into bat first, were heading for an almighty whopper of rubbish score.

Last lady in for us was our captain. If ever there was a match when we needed her to give that little red ball a damned good thumping, it was NOW.

'Whack! Whack! Thwhack!'

Thank the Lord! The score soon soared into the 30's - and we were saved from total humiliation.

Sadly, it didn't take too long for Leazes to notch up the winning runs, but not before THE CATCH OF THE CENTURY. 

Debbie, placed strategically in that deep-mid-on-hooky-nooky position near the river, watched the ball sail high and long into the air before calmly getting two firm, safe hands around it. Totally brilliant. 

After Leazes got the runs they needed, we were treated to something their umpire called a 'beer' game. Except there wasn't any beer. Just more....cricket.

All in all, apart from our captain and Chomse's partnership, Debbie's catch and the very delicious tea afterwards, it was a disappointing afternoon...

...BUT!!! the changing rooms are intact. All the windows have glass in them, the helmets are in one piece and Henry Hoover is still alive....just.

Because, 'Heyhoe,' Angels, there's always Greenside on Wednesday.... :-)