New Kit

It has been icy in the streets around Fantasy Bob's abode in recent days.  He has been slipping and sliding and has been lucky not to have measured his length.  The doughty groundsmen of the council seem to have run out of the copius amounts of sawdust required to secure his footholds.

But Mrs FB has come to the rescue.  After an encounter on the doorstep with an Amazonian, she came into the room where FB languished reviewing the scoresheets from some of his long forgotten bowling spells.  Many would suggest they were justly forgotten.  

She thrust a parcel in his direction, down the corridor of uncertainty.

'What's that?'  FB gruffly inquired, for he had been disturbed in the middle of an over in which (on his recollection) a couple of simple catches had been grassed.

'Open it and find out,' she said seductively.

FB did as instructed and revealed the treasure within.

'Croutons!' he exclaimed.

Mrs FB sighed, either at his ignorance or his pathetic punning.  Or quite possibly both.

'Crampons.  They should help next time you go out for the milk,' she said, a hint of an instruction in her voice.

FB tried them out and was pleased to find that when it came to milk delivery, his stride was now secure.  He acknowledged the wisdom of her investment to Mrs FB.

'Good', she said, 'I'm sure you'll get lots of use out of them.'

'I think you're right,' he said with a gleam in his eye.

As he returned to contemplate the scoresheets of games long ago, FB felt confident that could now avoid investment in new footwear for the coming cricket season.

Holiday News

Speaking on behalf of all lower league skippers Fantasy Bob welcomed the news that Scotland's National Clinical Director yesterday who has been reported as advising not to book a holiday this year.

FB said, 'This is a welcome development by the Government.   For too long holidays have made July a nightmare for us skippers.  Players disappear for weeks on end.  Selection becomes a nightmare.'

FB has long campaigned for Government intervention in particular advocating a one out - one in approach.  'No cricketer should be allowed to leave the country on holiday unless another cricketer enters and is available for play.   Now the Government say its regained has control of the borders, it is the least they can do.'

FB added, 'It is tragic that it has taken a global pandemic to make them act.  Let us just hope that there is something like a normal cricket season so we can see the positive impact of this policy switch.'

Shanty Time

The sea shanty has a new lease of life. Heave away, haul away. A singing postman from Ayrshire has TikTok'd his way to the front of the nation's attention.  And we're bound for South Australia.

And good for him.  Heave away, haul away.  Although he is reported to have given up his post-manning. And we're bound for South Australia.  

Presumably he's running away to sea.  Heave...(FB notes that it will be an even more annoying experience than usual for his handful of readers if he persists in this juvenile interspersion of sea shantyisms....so he invites readers to voice them themselves, should they be so inclined).

In FB's experience, cricketers are not habitual users of shanties.  Even though in his long and undistinguished career Fantasy Bob has seen a lot of heaving.  It would have been against the spirit of cricket for him to sing out 'Heave away, Haul away' or some such nautical response after each frantic swing across the line.  It would have made no difference, in the elite leagues that FB inhabits, the heave across the line is what most batsmen consider their best shot,  It has to be because it is usually their only shot.  And they are determined to use it.  Blow the Man Down.

If shanties don't bring cricketing thoughts to FB's mind, they do remind him of his days sailing the ocean blue.  He recalls one instance when some shantying of the heave away haul away kind might have helped a tricky situation. 

Cruising round Majorca (someone has to), skipper FB and his crew (aka Mrs FB, her Sister and the young heir to FB's priceless collection of used cricket bats) decided - or more correctly the crew decided - to drop anchor in a pleasant little cliffl- lined inlet for a spot of lunch.   No problem - a standard drill - head to wind, drop the anchor and fall back on it till it bites.  Parked.  Done it a thousand times.  

The crew adopted action stations (or in the case of son and heir in-action stations).  Mrs FB on the foredeck, anchor chain in hand.  Sis giving stylistic advice as FB put the nose into the wind and cut the engine.   The yacht came to a standstill. Perfect.  'Drop it!' 

Mrs FB let go and the yacht began to drift astern.  Perfect.  FB began to contemplate that cold drink.  The yacht would settle on the anchor.  It would just take a moment.  Just a moment.  The moment became longer.  Not so perfect. 

'Eh, FB,' said Sis with a little tremor in her voice, 'There's a big cliff behind us.  And it's getting closer!'  FB was minded to remonstrate that this could not be - if anything it was the yacht getting closer to the cliff.  But he decided that this might not be the best moment for pedantry.  There was a problem.  The anchor hadn't bitten.

'Haul her up,' he shouted to Mrs FB.  She heaved and hauled.  (Actually she didn't, the yacht had an electric winch which saved her all that shanty type stuff.)  Once it cleared the surface FB would engage the engine and motor away from the danger. 

'Eh, FB,' piped up Sis again, 'Remember that cliff.  It's closer.'

'Is it up?'  

'I can't see it.'  Mrs FB kept heaving and hauling electronically but the anchor didn't break the surface.  The end of the chain did.  Mrs FB duly reported to the skipper.  'The anchor has gone.' 

'What do you mean it's gone?'

'It's not there.'   

This didn't really help FB's understanding.  Visual information proving more effective than verbal, Mrs FB waved the empty end of the chain.  Further discussion seemed unnecessary, FB gunned the engine, the propeller bit and the yacht moved to safety.  Looking over the side, the ship's company could see the anchor lying forlornly on the sea bed.  Full fathom five.

A neighbouring yacht whose sunbathing crew had enjoyed a ring side view of the action, radioed to offer assistance.  A young man with high capacity lungs dived to the anchor attach a warp and - heave away haul away - recover the anchor.   Way, Hey up she rises. Inspection suggested the shackle had failed. A pleasant lunch was had after all.  

A rousing shanty would undoubtedly have helped.  Maybe the singing postman could compose one.

Exemption

After a long period of consultation with himself, an extended review period and proper due diligence conducted with himself, Fantasy Bob is confident he can never be as unfunny as Laurence Fox.  However he is pleased to have received the badge shown below in good time for next season.

Vaccination Blues

 

An overheard phone conversation:

Is that the Head Vaccinator?

Can I help you?

I hope so.  I have just used this calculator thingie which has told me that there are 10,865,832 people ahead of me in the jab queue.

Yes.

But it says priority is being given to the extremely vulnerable.

That's right.  

Well I  qualify.

And what is your vulnerability?

Leg spin.

Leg spin?

Leg spin.  Just can't play it.  It's an extreme vulnerability.

But that isn't a medical condition.

I beg to differ.   Everyone in the team says it's chronic.

So what are the symptoms?

I break out in sweats, I shake all over.  In fact the symptoms are exactly those listed on your web-site.

And have you ever had medical treatment?

Oh yes - the doctor gave me the treatment alright.

How did he do that?

He was the leg spin bowler I was facing.

Tea Ladies Revolt

There has been widespread criticism from tea ladies throughout England over the food packs received under the Free Cricket Teas scheme.  (Fantasy Bob should make clear that he uses the term Tea Ladies in its non-genderist sense - any pronoun will do).

The scheme which was introduced after much controversy is designed to ensure poorer cricketers (ie 4th XI standard or lower) do not face hunger during the current lockdown.  But the quality of provision has not impressed many.  

'How am I meant to provide for 22 hungry cricketers from this box of stale biscuits and 2 shrivelled apples?'

'Call this a cricket tea - where's the lemon drizzle cake?'

'This is just typical - the First XI had their Eat Out to Help Out with subsidised smoked salmon and cream scones.  And this is all they can provide for the lower XIs.'

The company at the heart of the controversy has apologised and suggested it might be better if players  brought tea for two.

Things seem differently organised in Scotland, where lower team players have continued to enjoy a reliable supply of empire biscuits.

Nifty Footwork?

It was one of those strange coincidences.  A colleague sought guidance today from Fantasy Bob as to whether the word nifty still occupies a proper place in the English language.  

FB confidently asserted that it did, although the only usages that he could bring to mind was of nifty footwork whether applied to Bill Bailey on Strictly Dancing, Marcus Rashford in the penalty box (or in communication with Government Ministers) or, and here is the coincidence, a batsman at the crease.

For FB as the question was put, had been contemplating the reports of Steve Smith's footwork during the final day of the recent Test Match with India.  He was idly wondering to himself whether Smith's alleged attempt to erase Risbah Pant's guard was an instance of nifty footwork.  'Nifty?  No!!' screamed the Twitterati, 'SHIFTY!?!' You bet!'

Aussie skipper Tim Paine defended Smith from the allegation that he had been trying to put one over on Pant.  He said it was just one of Steve Smith's mannerisms to always be mentally at the crease.  He is known for his addiction to shadow batting, the tap tap of his bat on his bedroom floor echoing round the team's hotel long into the night.  Paine suggested that even when he was not actually batting, Smith frequently stood at the crease, and he often went through some of his rituals including marking his guard.  So his action was nothing untoward.  

In any case, Pant came back from his drinks break and promptly took a fresh guard from the umpire, as many players do after such interruptions in play.   So FB is unpersuaded that there is fuss to be had here. 

But lots of fuss applies to the rituals of taking guard. Fantasy Bob discussed guard taking rituals a long time ago and how they don't differ that much in the test arena and the lower reaches of the game that he inhabits. He noted that taking guard 'is a manifesto. It is a fashion statement. It is a declaration of intent. It is performance art.' 

For FB it is all these - it is the high point of his innings, when favourable comparisons with the greats can be made.  Viv Richards, David Gower, Ben Stokes never asked for 2 legs with the style and panache that FB can muster.  His footwork scraping his mark is as nifty as Tendulkar - it might even have a touch of the Kohli about it. It is only after this ritual has been played out that the reality dawns on those watching.  All too frequently, FB's holding his bat up for the umpire is the only use he makes of it.

To return to Risbah Pant,  his innings of 97 made a huge contribution to India's valiant effort in saving the match.  He had 3 sixes and a SR over 80.  Steve Smith or no Steve Smith - in anyone's language that's pretty nifty.