The white clouds covered the blue skies of Lancashire cricket academy ground, a cool breeze drifted diagonally across the square and somewhere far away from the pitch, some excited coach was screaming for the young lads to man up and deliver bouncers to rattle the batters. The breeze swaying the grass on the ground and the natural overcast conditions were perfect for a medium pacer to find swing in the air and deliver unplayable deliveries that would put most batters to shame.
At least that's what 12 year old Fineas Finn Holland who was unusally big for his age, hoped for as he had no confidence in his stock delivery because of his pace. The 12 year old watered-down wonder kid stood at the top of his mark, rubbing the new duke ball against his white trousers before holding it up to inspect the seam and mimic the pre-ball movements of international fast bowlers. He was bowling right-arm medium, around the wicket. This was the first innings of the assessment match, he only had one over to show off his bowling and after that everything would depend on his horrible batting skill which was so bad that he missed straight balls. The stage was set, the odds were stacked against him but this was the golden opportunity he had been waiting for all his life, so he was prepared for everything, prepared to go all in but today's result mattered the most because it determined whether he would stay in Lancashire or pack his kit and go home back to his dad who always wanted him to be a rugby player.
Before starting his run up, Fineas inhaled one deep breath and then exhaled the air through his nose to calm his nerves. His aim was to make the ball curve in the air and deliver a perfect in-swinger, a bowl that would sway in the air, baffle Sebastian, knock the top of the middle stump and get him out on the golden duck.
At the opposite end Sebastian patiently waited, his eyes were on the ball. He was six feet tall, only sixteen himself. Sebastian looked less like a schoolboy and more like someone who had given up on his basketball dream and was here to make a name for himself in another sport.
Sebastian's broad shoulders frightened bowlers, his arms had long reach and although his eyes were on the ball, his bat lazily rested on one shoulder as though he was playing a school game rather than attending a trial.
The coach who was acting as the umpire nodded for the start of play. Fineas began his run up. His spikes bit into the turf, each stride measured before his right arm came over. The moment he reached the place where he wanted to reach, he jumped high, landed just near the bowling crease, the ball left his fingers with an upright seam, angling across before curling gently back in through the air.
Fineas had delievered a proper inswinger. For a fraction of second he felt satisfied but the moment Sebastian stepped forward, he knew what was going to happen. Sebastian was as calm as still water, there was no extra power in his stroke, it was all immaculate timing, his bat came through in smooth arc like a golf swing, meeting the ball almost dismissively in the middle before launching it high in the sky over long on for a six. Everyone who was still waiting for their turn watched in awe as Sebastian had hit a six as easy as swatting a fly.
"Six." The umpire screamed, and raised his both hands in the air. Fineas shook his head. He turned around to head back, but from behind his back he heard, "Keep on delievering pies like these mate, and all day long I'll dispatch them out of the ground." Sebastian said.
Fineas wanted to say something, but the umpire's eyes were on him now and he couldn't just blow off his steam, so he swallowed back the obscenity, he was about to scream in the back of his throat.
'It was just the first ball. I was nervous. It was just a lucky shot, calm down Fineas, take a deep breath and this time around knock him down good with a bouncer.'
He walked back to his mark, looking down at the grass, avoiding eye contact with the onlookers.
Just as before Fineas did the same pre-bowling routine but this time around he decided to bowl a back of length delivery, hoping the extra bounce would suprise the batsman into playing early and edging the ball to the keeper who was the lone player on the field.
Fineas delivered a legal delivery, it pitched where he wanted it pitch but it didn't bounce that much as his pace was severly lacking. Sebastian rocked onto the back foot, almost before the ball landed on the pitch, it only came around his waist, so he was easily able to time the most devastatingly sweet pull shot which went sailing over the deep square leg boundary for a six.
After hitting the six, Sebastian grinned like a chesire cat and said, "Mate whom did you learn your bowling from.. was it your grandma? Pick up the pace tortoise, we ain't playing slow-mo here boy!!!"
"I'll shut you up with my next delivery." Fineas promised.
"Yeah, yeah.. like that would ever happen. Go back home kid, you ain't ready for the big leagues, return back in a few years and you might make the second XI of the reserve team."
"I'll become the best bowling all-rounder of the world. You are just another mountain in my away and I'll knock you down with my sheer willpower."
"You might not be a great bowler, but you are funny. This isn't the right place for you, why don't you try stand-up comedy."
"We'll see who is laughing by the end of this."
"Yeah, we'll see, we'll definitely see." Sebastian laughed without a care.
Fineas went back to his mark. The umpire told him to speed it up, others' were also waiting.
Fineas delieverd the third ball, he tried to play it smart by further reducing the speed of the delivery and he bowled a slower ball by rolling his fingers over the seam. Fineas believed maybe by doing this he'd able to make Sebastian react early and play a false shot. But Sebastian had already seen Fineas rolling his fingers over the seam so instead Sebastian waited in the crease like he had all the time in the world.
With precision and grace, Sebastian lifted the slower ball inside-out over extra cover for an over the ropes' six. The umpire raised his hands for the third six, and this time around Sebastian said nothing but showed Fineas the bottom of his bat.
Fineas's heartbeat sped up like a bullet train, he was panicking like crazy, and biting his fingertips to bring down the nervousness he was experiencing.
'Come on, idiot. Just focus. Beat the bat once and you'll be able to do it again.'
Fineas stood at the top of his mark, trying to hide the frustration that had been building throughout the over. He took a measured run-up before changing his grip slightly somewhere in the middle. Instead of his usual seam position, he rolled his fingers awkwardly around the ball to deliver a knuckle ball. As he reached the crease, his wrist stayed firm and the ball floated out slower than his norrmal place. It drifted deceptively through the air, inviting the batter to swing early while dipping just before pitching.
Sebastian immediately recognised the lack of pace. He held his stance for a fraction longer than usual, waited for the bowl to arrive, and then again unleashed a clean pull shot which he did so by making sure that his wrists snapped through the line of delivery, transferring every ounce of his momentum into the stroke. The ball flew up high into the sky, went sailing over the deep square-leg boundary for another six and this time it landed several rows back where the cleaning stuff was still busy with mopping the region.
"Just give up, and go home. You aren't ready for this yet." Sebastian said.
Fineas turned around, jogged to his mark, exhaled sharply before beginning his next run-up. This time he decided to attack with an outswinger. His seam pointed toward first slip, his wrist remained upright and at release his fingers brushed down the side of the ball, giving it just enough rotation to drift away from the right-handed batsman after pitching. Fineas was able to pitch the ball on length in middle and leg before the ball elegantly swung toward outside off.
Sebastian had already thought of an appropriate response. He opened the face of the bat late and played a cut shot, using the pace of delivery, rather than overpowering it with force. For some reason Fineas was able to put pace in this delivery and was able to deliver 110.5 kmph ball. And because of the speed of the ball as well as due to the shorter third man boundary, the ball flew over the gully region, and didn't stop until it cleared the square boundary for an effortless six over the fence which barely landed behind the ropes.
The umpire raised his hands again.
"Your pace is trash, you are trash, trash belong in the dumpster, so do us all a favour and go to the place where you are meant to be."
FIneas ignored the sledge from Sebastian, walked back slowly, his shoulders sagged, everything was over but he refused to abandon the fight as there was still a chance as he hadn't yet delievered his stock delivery.
For the final ball he went back to the basics, he reverted back to his stock delivery; a straight bowl on good length. Just like before he ran in with smooth rhythm, jumped high, planted his front foot behind the line, and released the ball with a perfect upright seam. It landed on length inviting the batter to play a conventional forward defensive shot.
Sebastian had other ideas. He charged confidently down the pitch like a t20 player, reaching the ball before it could do anything off the surface. Meeting it preciesly on the middle of the bat, he extended his arms through the shot in a classical straight drive that quickly went down the ground, sailed magnificiently over the straight boundary and hit the sight screen.
Sebastian flashed a bright smile, he first removed his helmet, then the gloves in his hands, dumped them inside the helmet and walked toward the umpire.
"I'd like to retire out." He said calmly.
The umpire nodded.
Sebastian raised his bat briefly toward the onlookers, like he had scored a hundred.
As he walked past Fineas, he couldn't resist one last remark.
"I've hit six sixes off your pies." Sebastian said. "Now it's your turn to face the music. And fair warning, I'm going to bowl you out on the first ball."
Fineas looked away without replying.
"Fineas, stop looking down, hurry it up already, get those legs moving, go back to the dressing room. Get your batting gear on and be ready within five minutes. Otherwise your innings will be declared a forfeit, and you'll be adjudged timed out."
Fineas nodded slightly, he picked up his pace as he didn't want to embarrass himself like Mr. Matthews.
Fineas trudged back toward the dressing room with heavy steps as if his feet were bound with iron chains. Inside the dressing room he slowly began putting on his batting equipment.
First came the turn of the thigh pads, strapped firmly around both legs to protect the entire region under his knees. Next he fastened the inner thigh guard making sure it sat comfortably beneath his trousers. He secured his batting pads around each shin, tightening every buckle carefully.
Then he wore the most important piece of protective clothing called the abdominal guard or L-Guard securely into his sports briefs to protect himself from embarrassment as well as from great pain. He made sure to check three times that this piece of equiment was properly positioned, otherwise his family jewels would be at the mercy of the sizs, shape and the speed of the ball.
Right after that he slipped onto his spiked batting shoes, stamping each foot against the floor to settle them into place. And the penultimate piece of equiment he put on were the batting gloves, for which he flexed his fingers four times before fastening the straps.
And finally he lifted his helmet, adjusted the helmet until the grille sat comfortably in front of his face, and picked up his bat.
Fully equipped, he stood motionless for several seconds before praying to every god he knew to grant him the strength needed to face a tough ordeal.
During the bowling innings his confidence had drained away at rapid speeds. Every piece of protective equiment seemed heavier than usual—clothes had become heavy like iron armour that weighed him down, and anyone who spied on him at this moment could clearly see the pressure he carried on his young shoulders.
Taking a slow breath, he hesitatingly stepped out of the dressing room doorway. He managed only a few steps before stopping, and running back into the room. He opened his locker, near one corner underneath the picture of a swimsuit model lay a small, green, capsule-shaped Christmas light which he picked up with fear. Fineas took off his gloves, placed it in the pocket of his trousers and then crushed it by applying force with the palm of his hands.
He touched the broken fragments for a moment before leaving the dressing room once more.
Several players who were still waiting for their turn, coaches and the cleaning staff watched him in silence as he slowly made the long walk toward the middle where on the opposite stood his 6 ft tall doom.
The batter's each foot felt heavier than the last. Reaching the batting crease, Fineas tapped the pitch gently with his bat before taking guard. Looking at the umpire, he pointed the toe of his bat toward the middle stump indicating his preferred guard.
The umpire marked the position carefully with his boot.
On the other hand Fineas scratched a small mark beside his back foot, settled into his stance, tapped the crease twice with the edge of his bat, rolled his shoulders, took one last look toward the menacing bowler, and finally became still like a statue.
Seeing that both players were ready, the umpire lowered his arm and called, "Play."
Sebastian immediately charged in like a bull, he was two times more faster than Fineas. He ran hard, accelerating with powerful strides, approaching the bowling crease, he launched himself into his delivery stride with a high leap before landing cleanly behind the popping crease, ensuring it was a legal delivery and giving no breathing space to Fineas on the other end of the crease, who was waiting for the miracle of no ball.
His bowling arm whipped over at full pace, the ball left his hand and pitched right in the slot, giving full invitation to the bastman to play a cover drive.
Fineas reacted instantly, his front foot moved forward and his bat started its downswing, but he completely missed the line of the delivery it was closer to the middle stump and his bat was angled toward the off stump.
The bat was on its way toward a big miss.
The ball was on its way toward the stumps.
The two were about to meet for a fraction of a second. The pace of the delivery would determine everything, whether Fineas belonged in the Lancashire academy or he was just going to be another grade cricketer.