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As we’re warming up for our game against Cities North, Shari pulls me aside.
“Hey,” she says. “Paris is gunning for you today.”
“I figured she would be,” I reply. I pull my water bottle from my bag and have a drink.
“No, I mean, you’re enemy number one for her this week. She’s been talking about it since she heard you’d be playing for the Development Squad.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m friends with Casey, one of the spinners in the team. She zeroes in on batters in club as well.”
I laugh at that. “Maybe I might pick her to target in the match too.”
Shari smiles. “I’d love to see that.”
Karen calls us over to do some stretches and warm-ups before running us through some drills. She gives us a quick break before we head to the nets for some batting practice. I glance over to the other practice field where Cities North are warming up. Paris is bowling to a coach on the centre wicket on the field and she looks fast. “Is it just me, or does she have a longer run-up?”
Shari nods. “It’s something she’s been working on all season.” She tosses a ball in the air absentmindedly and then she turns to me. “I’m not as fast as Paris, but I know how she bowls. I’ll bowl to you if you like, get you ready?”
“Sure. That would be great. Can you bowl yorkers?”
Shari shakes her head. “Not as well as she can, but I can try.”
I pull on my pads and helmet and carry my bat and gloves into the nets. I try to put the prospect of facing Paris in a little over an hour out of my mind, and concentrate on what I’m doing. It’s no easy task considering every time I play a square shot she’s in my line of sight.
***
Lauren gets a captain’s hat-trick, winning the toss for the third time in a row, and decides to field first. We seem to be doing better when we chase, so that makes sense. We do well in the first innings, keeping Cities North to 138 for six wickets.
I don’t end up bowling this time around, which suits me fine because I really have to concentrate on my batting this match. I feel like I’m starting to find my rhythm. If I get to bat today, Paris is probably going to test me out, but with the way I played yesterday, I think I’m going to do okay.
When we get off the field in the innings break, Karen pulls me aside. “Alice, I’m going to send you in at three again.”
“Okay,” I reply. I like getting more balls to hit, and if our coaches are right, and the Super League coaches are watching the tournament, the more batting time I get, the better. Not that I want our openers to get out early or anything. It’s just there’s much more chance of me getting a bat early at three than there is in the middle with our team.
“We could do with a bit more momentum at the top. Brydie will likely accumulate early but I’ve given Trina permission to take control of the power play, try to get some quick runs on the board. She might get out in the first few overs if she goes too hard so I want you to be ready.”
“So you want me to be a bit careful when I get in?”
“I just want you to play your natural game.”
I nod, and finish putting on my pads.
I don’t have to wait too long to get my chance. Trina gets out in the third over, Paris’s first, one ball after taking a bad knock to her hand. Her wicket puts us on 1 for 15, so not a bad start despite losing the early wicket. As I pull on my gloves, Karen says, “We still have three overs left in the power play so use the space out there. If you get us a quick thirty or forty and not many dots, I’ll be happy. Just don’t get bogged down.” I nod and head out to the middle.
When I get out there, Brydie and I bump gloves and she says, “She’s fast.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I reply.
“Anything from Karen?”
“She wants quick runs,” I reply. “But I think I’ll see out these last two balls from Paris and see who they bring on next.”
“Got it,” Brydie says, and we head to our ends.
The first ball from Paris is fast, straight and right on my toes, but I get enough bat on it to squirt it past the circle for a single which sends my ‘fan club’ in the stands crazy. I try not to let it distract me, but it’s nice to hear them cheering and know it’s for me.
Brydie manages to keep the next ball out too which leaves me on strike for the next over. At the change of ends, Brydie and I decide on a number we’ll be happy with at the end of the power play, which gives us something to aim at and keep the runs ticking over. I take my time facing up, have a quick check of the field, and walk over to the pitch. I scratch out my guard, and take a quick look up at the stands where my friends are sitting and let out a breath. I tell myself to just get bat on ball and see what happens.
The next over is a big one. I get nine runs off of it and Brydie gets four, which leaves me back on strike again.
Instead of bringing Paris on again, though, they bring on a different fast bowler. One of Paris’s new bowling posse. She glares at me like Paris does. At least she tries to, but she just looks like she’s got wind.
I get single off the first ball, and then Brydie gets another. Paris is fielding at mid-off, and I don’t need to look at her to feel her eyes boring into me. I shake out my shoulders and try to ignore her, and face up.
I hit the next ball on the full, whipping it away down the legside, and it races to the boundary. Brydie and I high-five, and when I face up again, the field changes. The fielder at third comes up off the fence and moves around to fine leg. I smile to myself. The bowler didn’t like me scoring that boundary.
I get Brydie on strike with a quick single, and then Brydie hits one straight and takes off for a run. The ball has gone straight to Paris. I take off down the pitch, running as fast as I can because I don’t want to leave Brydie stranded.
As I ground my bat in the crease, the ball slams into my calf, I stumble forward and fall flat on my face. Brydie rushes over to make sure I’m okay, and I tell her I’m fine. I squint my eyes shut, willing the pain to go away as I rub my calf and walk it out. It’s going to be one heck of a bruise.
This time, it’s Brydie who glares at Paris, and says something to the umpires about the throw, but Paris just shrugs her shoulders and claims it was an accident. I don’t believe her, and neither does Brydie, but the umpires tells us to move on.
I hit the last ball for another single, and even though the last thing I want to do is run, I jog down the pitch because I don’t want Paris to see that I’m in pain.
And of course it’s Paris who steps up to bowl the next over.
As I face up, I tell myself I just have to watch the ball. Forget about the last over and Paris trying to get into my head. Just watch the ball.
Her first ball is short but it’s wide and I rock back and get my bat under it, knocking it over gully. Thanks to the pace of it, it flies high and lands just on the other side of the rope for 6. I hear Ravi and the rest of my club team cheering in the stands. Brydie taps me on my helmet as we pass each other on the pitch and I face up to the next ball, ready for whatever comes next.
What I’m expecting is a fast yorker, but that’s not what I get. Instead, it’s another wide ball, almost in my hitting zone, so I rock back again to try to cut it, aiming for the boundary in front of point. What actually happens is I misjudge the speed of it, and it takes the bottom edge of my bat and chops back onto my stumps. I close my eyes and throw my head back, trying to ignore Paris’s wild celebrations. As I trudge back past her she licks her finger and makes a mark in the air, chalking up one to her. Charlie was right. She’s much better than she was at camp and she didn’t even get me with a slower ball.
When I get back to the bench, I toss my bat and helmet onto my bag, rip my gloves off and drop onto a chair. Then I watch as Paris and the rest of the Cities North bowlers rip the heart out of our middle order, and then finally finish us off before we reach triple figures. It’s hard to describe the humiliation I’m feeling, for me and for our team and I feel even worse when Paris walks straight past me, smirking, refusing to shaking my hand. I expect her to have something smart to say but her not saying anything is worse.
“Right,” Karen says as we all sit around on the grass, packing up our bags in silence. “We’re going to go drown our sorrows in pizza, have a quick chat about what we can improve on, and then we’re going to move on. Got it?”
We all nod silently. I glance over to the other bench where Cities North are packing up their gear. Paris looks up and we lock eyes. Judging by the sneer on her face, I don’t think she’s going to let me move on from this loss at all.