Orville Higgins | Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory!

Another weekend has come with no sports to watch. Another weekend when it appears that the natural order of the universe has been thrown out of whack. Since there is no sports to look forward to, am I allowed to go back in time? Am I allowed to reminisce on my own time playing sports? Just this once?

Playing sports for me meant playing cricket. I was half decent at some other ball games, but, at cricket, I had skills which could have carried me places. Anyway, I digress.

As a teenager, my community cricket team in Westmoreland would make this annual trek to a place called Joyland in St Elizabeth. It was high up in some hills, accessible by making a right turn before you reached Santa Cruz, coming from Holland Bamboo. We all looked forward to it. There were more crowds at those games than the few diehards we now see at a regional first-class game. The cricket was always great and, to top it off, there would always be a big dance in the night.

On this particular day, we arrived early, maybe two hours before game time. Among the already-building crowd was a very cute young lady. She was in her late teens, just like me. All of the cricketers were interested in getting in a word. Truth be told, we were all over her like so many “harbour sharks” before the game. A little annoyed at our over- zealous approach, and with a little twinkle in her eye, she said she would “par” at the dance later with whoever from our team performed best at the game.

NO STANDOUT

We bowled out Joyland for 79. On a treacherous pitch, it wasn’t as bad a score as it sounded. One ball could hit a spot and rear towards your throat and, from the same length, it may ‘mongoose’ to hit you in the ankle. The wickets were shared. Nobody got more than three. So though we got them out relatively cheaply, no one bowler really stood out.

I opened the batting with a fellow called Raymond Blair, who, for many years, was one of the mainstays in that successful Holmwood team in the early 1990s. Maybe it was because I wanted to impress this girl, but everything I did that day came off. I got to 43 in no time, pulling and driving with authority and disdain. Raymond ‘Parchy’ Blair and I put on 62 for the first wicket before I got out. The girl was mine! Right after I came in and took off the pads, I went over to her and she said she would keep her promise to be my date at the dance later. I was over the moon.

What happened after was the strangest finish I have ever seen to a cricket game. With 18 needed and nine wickets in hand, we got bowled out for 75! To this day, I’m not sure how that was possible. Maybe the rest of the guys didn’t try because they had lost out on the girl. Maybe they were too busy drinking when it appeared that ‘Parchy’ and I would take us home. Whatever it was, we lost the game. Talk about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory!

I had mixed feelings. I did not like to lose, but I didn’t mind losing a game if I could get a highly attractive girl to “par” with at the dance. My teammates were all jealous later. I spent the night ‘renting a tile’ with her while my teammates looked on with straight bad mind in their eyes. I kept rubbing it in their faces that, if only they were as good as me, they would have the girl instead of me. Sports has been good to me over the years, but that was probably my first real prize.