As I approach my 40th birthday and 200th game for my club I’m facing my mortality as a first eleven player. There’s no doubt that as you get a bit older you start to wonder if you could be bothered with all the extra stuff that comes from being a ones player, as silly as that might sound to those that don’t play at all or those that play Premier Cricket or above. There’s the extra time that you have to arrive at the ground before the game, the longer warm ups, the extra pressure as there’s always someone that wants to take your spot in the team or criticise your performance.
There’s also the expectation that you train all of the training nights that are scheduled. Is this the best way for me to spend my Saturdays? My Tuesday and Thursday nights? Would I be better off just relaxing and playing in the second side or even the third? Would my time be better spent at home with my wife and our young children or does cricket provide the challenge, distraction and enjoyment I need to be relaxed and happy?
The idea that I may have to play some second eleven cricket was flagged to me before the season began. At a meeting with the club leadership group they outlined who they thought would make up their best eleven if everyone was fit and available and my name was not listed. I reconciled myself with this notion and vowed to give the team and club everything I had regardless of where they picked me. I also noted that this was likely to be my last season.
Last year I got my first taste of second eleven cricket since 2001. Coming back from injury and having not started particularly well in the few games leading up to my injury the captain thought it would be best for me to come back through the seconds. The first thing I noticed is that there’s just a more relaxed atmosphere in the rooms and during the warm up. Sure the focus is to get ready to play to the best of your ability, but there seems to be a more casual vibe to the process.
The seconds is a strange mix. There are the guys who used to play firsts but have either run out of motivation, fitness, will power, care factor, all of the aforementioned, or who have been surpassed by younger alternatives. There are the second eleven stalwarts who have played a career in the seconds but never pushed higher. Then there are the young up and comers looking to push their claim to move into the firsts but who haven’t made it there yet so don’t know how the firsts operate. Lastly there are guys like me; those that have been in the ones, know how it all works, and for whatever reason find themselves out of the side and wanting to get back in.
The opposition too seems to lack a degree of intensity, whether or not it is deliberate only they would be able to answer. There’s a distinct lack of sledging and aggression, at least in comparison to what I am used to. That’s not to say that the players aren’t giving their all. They are. It’s that their all is delivered in a different way to that to which I am accustomed.
My stay in the twos last year was one game, after which, having proven my fitness and put together a few runs I was again in the firsts and remained there until we lost the semi-final in what was a very disappointing finish to the season. This year it has been different. After a poor first two games in my club’s top team I made way for another player the skipper thought would fill my position better than I had in my first two outings. I won’t lie and say that it didn’t sting me a little but neither was it truly a great shock to me.
No one plays forever at the peak of their standard; age and a lack of fitness has certainly been catching up with me. This meant I had to face some uncomfortable questions. Was I still good enough to be a firsts player? Did I have the motivation to pick myself up and push to get back into the side in which I’d played over 120 games? Do I care? Should I just play where I am picked and let the results speak for themselves and just not worry about it?
Maybe it was just time to let the notion of being a “firsts” player go. Slip down to the twos, relax and have fun. I’d played with most of the guys in the twos over the years and many of them are good friends so that was a positive. I decided to attempt to not worry about trying to win my place back and just enjoy playing cricket.
Once we started playing it didn’t take me long to discover that I still had the drive to push for higher selection. I quite enjoyed the batting once I got used to the lack of genuine pace bowling but the challenge I’m used to was just not there. Once we got into the field for the second part of the day however I realised that I was not quite ready for this standard just yet. It was frustrating.
So many deliveries from our bowlers drifted either onto the leg stump line or down the leg side. The captain had set his bowlers up with a pretty simple plan and field and it required a fair amount of discipline and the players just didn’t seem capable of putting together a group of six like-minded deliveries. They were trying to put it into practice but it just wasn’t happening. It’s not uncommon for a firsts bowler to have an off day and bowl poorly like I have described above but very rarely does it happen to all of them on the same day.
Then there was the fielding. In the firsts I’m easily the biggest liability in the field so I’m hardly a gun fielder but the amount of runs that were leaked due to poor fielding was nigh on criminal. I was pulling my hair out as I patrolled the fine leg and deep mid-off regions as I watched poor bowling and equally poor fielding gift the opposition with the win and vital six points.
Was this me just being too intense? Was I conditioned to expect too much from my team and was I linking fun with winning or a high degree of skill and competition? Can you still enjoy the day if the usual level of competition is no longer reached on a regular basis? Nobody means to make errors in the field or bowl a bad ball. Could I acclimatise to this different manifestation of the sport and find enjoyment in the game as I had for the previous twenty-odd years?
I was given two more games to find out. The next match I faced only six balls and made six having been caught trying to hit the winning six runs in one shot – hardly my finest hour. The game that followed I felt pretty good at the crease again but I missed out on an opportunity to really make a decent score. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the day, I really did but there was just something missing. I wasn’t quite able to identify what it was, perhaps it’s just feeling like I was doing all the right things but that I was in the wrong place.
After those three games I made my way back into the first eleven. This time however my position was not as an opening batsman but as a specialist number seven batsman. A different role for sure and one that comes with a different set of expectations and pressures but as this role is new to me it was something I was keen to explore and, if possible, conquer. My results in this role have been encouraging but not spectacular and the reduction in pressure is a welcome development. As such I have really enjoyed this role as a less vital cog in the machine. Even my fielding has seen an improvement, though that’s probably the result of extra focus on this aspect at training and embracing some interesting advice from a young teammate. The circle is now complete.
I guess that when it comes down to it I just want to play the best cricket I can in the highest grade where I remain capable, and for the moment I think I still have something left to give in my clubs premier side. Is it a case of ego blinding me to the truth? Time and statistics will probably answer that for me but as long as I have the drive to compete I’ll want to do it as best I can, so I won’t be volunteering to go down the grades. If this season goes to plan and an elusive premiership is obtained, it might be a good way to bow out. It might also be the start of something that I don’t want to miss.
Follow Martin Gibson on Twitter: @murdriggs