A good few years ago there was a book written whose title began ,”The Joy of…”, I’m not sure how it finished but I do know that it involved one woman, a scarily bearded man and a lot for the keen naturist to observe. I’ve been wracking my meagre brains to think what that final word could have been, I’m not sure it was ‘The Joy of Nets’ but that would certainly make a decent offering although practice au natural may not be the most pleasant viewing.
(Heading for the 4th Team???)
One of the ‘Joys of Nets’ is not actually a joy at all, as nets usually guarantees a decent bruise or two the morning after. The floor inside is usually a lot more bouncy than you are used to and certainly a lot more springy than any early season wicket you are likely to encounter. Combine this with a distinct lack of visibility as well as the understandable ‘ring rust’ involved and you can understand why batsman can end up wearing the ball instead of hitting it.
Let us suppose for one moment though that the batsman does actually make contact with the ball, what then? Any bowler worth his salt will always look to claim a victim so any minor edge will always fly in the general direction of either the Wicketkeeper or First Slip where the ball will unquestionably carry and be snared by the ‘fielder’ who will automatically be gifted in the field like Jonty Rhodes rather than Paul Abbott.
To get round this particular dilemma the batsman will either have to metaphorically (or physically) wave two fingers to the bowlers or open their shoulders and have a biff. Here though the bowlers gets the upper hand again as they will again claim to have a fielder in whatever position the ball looked like it would have headed if the nets weren’t in the way. Therefore it is entirely legitimate during the course of a net to claim to have about 15 fielders in the most unorthodox positions to catch any shot played, including one on the long off boundary who is absolutely allowed to be standing on a step ladder to catch any towering hits. In all this should be have any sympathy for the batsman? Certainly not, they have it all their own way as it is.
So if you can bat without having your poles redistributed or the having the ball ‘caught’ at every position from Fly Slip to ridiculously short leg you only then have the dubious privilege of bowling (even if that isn’t your speciality) at batsman who are primed and ready to have a dash as there is usually no consequence for error. From that point of view some of the ‘Cricket’ on view can be violently entertaining, however you do have to careful not to turn your back on the action for fear on a seam embedded into your skull.
The real joy of nets though is apparent to anyone who has been to the Junior sessions. The enthusiasm shown is fantastic to witness, all the way from the very smallest to those preparing themselves for entry into Men’s Cricket. I’ve seen one of two under 13’s where the ball seems a good deal larger than their hand somehow able to bowl some more than respectable leg spin and I’ve seen one under 11 who would comfortably fail an audition for one of Snow White’s playmates hit a ball high into the far wall of the Sports Hall using a plastic bat.
Certainly the banter and laughs make the bruises we ‘big ones’ suffer an insignificance but the real joy of Nets comes in small packages. Well, that is until you get home and realise your place in the side will soon be under threat by someone who grew up more with Teletubbies than Bagpuss and then you start feeling really, really old.
A good few years ago there was a book written whose title began ,”The Joy of…”, I’m not sure how it finished but I do know that it involved one woman, a scarily bearded man and a lot for the keen naturist to observe. I’ve been wracking my meagre brains to think what that final word could have been, I’m not sure it was ‘The Joy of Nets’ but that would certainly make a decent offering although practice au natural may not be the most pleasant viewing.