From a young boy to a young man, I had the pleasure of playing cricket with my son, may it continue.

Last night Edward and I went over to school to practice in the cricket nets. “You batting first Dad ?” “Okay Ed”. Padded up, protective gloves on, bat in hand I strolled down the nets, turned round to face the bowling. It suddenly dawned on me, looking down the wicket at my boy, he was a boy no more. There before me stood a young man, square across the shoulders, tall and straight.

As he walked away to start his run up, the sun was shining over his shoulder, silhouetting his form before me, then I knew this day was going to be different. He eventually turned round, swung his arms several times to make sure he was loosened up, then, down the wicket he came. Faster and faster, my only thought was “OH NO !” The ball came at me like a rocket, making a gesture with my bat, the ball ripped past me, well I survived that one, just.

After several overs of ducking and side stepping, Edward said “Dad, why are you stepping away from the wicket ?” I replied “It is tactical son”, “Tactical Dad ?” he asked, “Yes son, it is called fear !!”

By Richard Ridding
A Storyteller from Burntwood.