Eastly’s bowling attack wasn’t exactly the best in the village
championship, but Pete still managed to edge a fast paced ball. It
went straight into the waiting hands of the fielder at second slip.
They were twelve for one.
Thommo came to the crease,
his bulky frame barely contained by his cricket whites.
“Thommo,” Paul said,
nodding in his captain’s direction.
Thommo ignored him.
Paul tried to put aside
his personal animosity; he’d been friends with the bloke for years.
“You need to watch that guy’s top spin. It’s deceptive,” Paul said,
pointing at the current bowler.
Thommo shrugged, giving
Paul the impression he wasn’t going to take any notice. As they
were in the middle of the over and the batsmen hadn’t crossed,
Thommo was on strike.
The Eastly bowler ran up,
bowled,
