I don’t like women… they remind me of people. I jest… but it’s not often one gets to talk about women without being interrupted so here goes. A part of me wants to thump my chest, then with arms outstretched burst into some ill-conceived Shakespearean soliloquy whilst defiantly eye balling the infinite sky and boom “I have loved! And I have been loved!!!”… but that’s not where it’s at… or maybe it’s a part of it… where was I?

Inebriated

The day I turned eighteen I went down to the pub and bought a beer. The old man slumped on the bar stool staring into his beer next to me was wearing clothes that matched the carpet, I’ll never forget it. With youthful exuberance I turned to him and exclaimed “G’day mate, how the bloody hell are ya?” He looked up at me with his swimming eyes and said, “you may fuck the women… but in the end, they always fuck you.” Then, downing his beer, he up and left like a helium balloon caught in a cross wind. I felt alone for a couple of reasons.

Motown

There’s a dance that happens between the opposite sexes and some people dance better than others. I’ve always been infinitely jealous of the Don Juan types who are as comfortable with women as I am when I’m on the toilet. You see them at the bars and clubs laughing and dancing with the ones they’re interested in. When I see someone I like I cross the dance floor like peg-legged Pete trying to square dance on a slippery floor, and as I make my hazardous manoeuvres along the uneven terrain, I have one eye invariably pinned on the jerk who’s making an easy time of it. You see, when I meet a woman I like, it is my purist desire to be shrunk down to the height of a pencil and placed lovingly in her front jeans pocket. From there I could peer out over the denim hem and safely survey the world. Then, after looking up lovingly at my captain, I could point to the distant horizon and shout “land ahoy!” But that’s not what women want… they want someone who is capable of consistently hitting the rent.

Bupkis

This is why I drink. Well, not completely. Part of it probably has to do with my father giving me half a bottle of champagne when I was nine years old to help celebrate his third marriage… but I digress. There is a rule I’ve half applied to my life in the same way as I half applied the aforementioned champagne. If a woman doesn’t like you, you don’t have to worry about it… and if a woman does like you, she’ll let you know, in which case… you don’t have to worry about it. It’s the second aspect of the adage that I constantly trip.

Doppelganger

When I get the welcome glance from a woman, I immediately drift into a mind’s eye roller coaster ride of sprawling future outcomes. Does she really like me? What if I let her down? What if I lose interest?… or even worse what if I like her and she loses interest!? Do we have to get married now? Am I going to be stuck with babies for the rest of my life? Are we going to last the distance? Aaaaaand… she’s gone. Probably about five minutes ago.

Hedgewick Park

Have you noticed that this was supposed to be my opinion about woman and all I’ve done is talk about myself? There is a reason for that, and it is universal. No one speaks disparagingly or exultantly about the opposite sex, or the same sex if that is their desire, without speaking about themself. I have heard a thousand different men mock and deride women in a thousand different ways and in every scenario, they said an infinite amount more about themselves than they did about anyone else. And same goes for women. The truth in my opinion is that the whole conversation about men and women is not about men or women, or women or men, or women and men, or men and women… it’s about us. And the sooner we all get with that the better.

Bo Diddley

Which brings us to women’s cricket. I had the usual ignorant response to women’s cricket that most of my friends did. How could these people that have been given no time or resources ever be as good as the people I like to watch who’ve been given millions of dollars to do nothing but focus on cricket? But an incredibly strange thing happened. These people were given a little bit of time and resources and, well I never, they got a bit better! Then they were given even more time and resources and, knock me over with a feathered pen, they got even better again!! It’s high time that someone said women’s cricket has arrived.

Ferris Wheel

The thing that I enjoy the most about watching women’s cricket is that it has revitalised an aspect of the game which has seemed to fade from the men’s game, and that is the pure classical timing of the cricket ball with the bat. The men’s game tends to have an element of trying to bash the ball as hard and far as is humanly possible, and when it comes off, all the boys stand around saying things like “PWOAAAR” and “WOW” as though previously they were sure a ball could only be hit ninety-three meters but now they know it can be hit ninety-four. The women do sometimes fall into the trap of trying to over hit the ball, but more often than not there are shots played that typify what makes the game of cricket such a beautiful game. Not that it should come as a surprise, but I have no hesitation in saying names like Beth Mooney and Meg Lanning in the same sentence as Brian Lara and Ricky Ponting.

This Just In

The game this post is really about was Played between the Southern Vipers and the Western storm at the Utilita Bowl in Southampton.

The Vipers batted first and took control of the game with a great partnership between Elwiss and Adams. Never really looking worried by the bowlers, they knocked and shunted along on their merry little way to 173. The Western Storm got off to a good start with both the openers getting the ball away but, with the spectre of a healthy score hovering over them, couldn’t marry the run rate and although giving an honourable performance ended up fizzling out to land on the number 145.

That’s All She Wrote