Glenn Maxwell 3 Page 3

  He stood there for a long moment in shock before one of the New South Wales fielders gave Will a wave. ‘Come on mate, take a walk.’

  Will walked away from the pitch cursing himself.

  He cursed himself even more when the second innings began and Victoria had to defend a paltry 117. It was time to make amends for his poor batting performance.

  ‘Mike, you have to put me on, I can get these guys out,’ pleaded Will.

  ‘Not yet, Will, let the fast bowlers have a go. There’s no turn on this pitch, anyway – what makes you think you can take a wicket?’

  ‘I took three last game, don’t you remember? If you set the right field I –’

  But Mike wasn’t interested in hearing another word.

  ‘Will, I’m captain, I’ll put you on when I think we need you,’ barked Mike. ‘And don’t ask me again, or I’ll find someone else to bowl.’

  But six overs into the innings, after watching his four fast bowlers – including Darren – get belted all around the ground, Mike had changed his mind.

  He called Will over. ‘All right, you’re up. Where do you want the field?’

  Will smiled, happy to be proven right. He gave Mike fielding instructions, then he headed to the northern end of the pitch.

  Okay, let’s start with a nice offie, nothing fancy, he told himself.

  But his off-break was a little off target and devoid of flight. The New South Wales captain and opener, whose name on the scoreboard read T Gregg, smashed it to the boundary fence with one mighty sweep.

  Okay, not a good start. Stay calm, Will. It’s just the first ball.

  On the second ball, Will decided to send down the topspinner but the result was much the same: T Gregg employed the sweep shot again and this time the ball made it over the fence and was caught by a rather large lady in the crowd.

  Who does he think he is, Glenn Maxwell? wondered Will.

  Will looked over at Mike. He did not look happy.

  Okay, time to pull out the big guns. Let’s see how he handles the carrom ball.

  Will had developed his version of the carrom ball after Maxi had suggested he work on his spin bowling. He’d been working hard on perfecting it and he knew if he got it right, it could fool any batsman.

  But T Gregg, the New South Wales opener, obviously was not just any batsman. He was good. Really good. And poor Will could only stand and watch as his carrom ball delivery – the one he had worked so hard on – disappeared into the blue sky.

  Another six. And it didn’t end there. Every ball that Will bowled in his first over went to the boundary. He was 30 off six. Great figures for a batsman, terrible for a bowler.

  After an equally poor second over, Mike removed Will from the attack. Not that it made much difference. New South Wales needed just 12 runs to win.

  It was all over in a matter of minutes and when New South Wales scored the winning runs, Will watched on powerlessly. He felt as helpless as a fish out of water, but this time it was no dream.

  HUMBLE PIE

  Will wearily climbed the stairs of the academy centre. As he passed through the glass entrance door, he winced at the big bold letters of the academy motto staring down at him: Team above self. Heart above all else.

  The game against New South Wales was all he’d thought about for the past two days. On the night of the match he’d gone to bed thinking about it, the next day he had woken up thinking about it and, of course, he had thought about it all that day. That was Wednesday and Thursday. Today was Friday, and Will was dreading training.

  After the game against New South Wales, the mood in the change rooms had been terrible. It had been deathly quiet. No one had said a word. Except for Jack, who had spoken in a low, soft tone, as if he were talking at a funeral.

  ‘Boys, we can take a few things away from losing the game. New South Wales played very well. Sometimes, you get outplayed and there’s nothing you can do. We were outgunned today, simple as that. Now we have to move on …’

  Even though most of his teammates had their heads down at the time, Will was sure he could feel them all glaring at him, blaming him for the team’s loss.

  Now he was dragging his feet into training. He knew he would have to face similar glaring and silent blame. He also knew that he’d have to eat a large plate of humble pie, as his dad would say.

  ‘Oi! Will!’

  He turned to see the buoyant smiling face of Shavil.

  At least Shavil wasn’t ignoring him.

  ‘Fancy a hit?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure,’ said Will.

  ‘You bowl first,’ said Shavil, tossing Will a ball. ‘Give us that carrom ball; I want to know how good it is,’ said Shavil.

  Will smiled for the first time that day, but when he came in and delivered the ball, flicking it out to the right, it skidded off the edge of the green synthetic pitch and crashed into the back of the net.

  ‘What was that?’ asked a puzzled Shavil.

  Will shrugged. He didn’t know. He’d practised that ball over and over. Sure, he didn’t always get it right – but he didn’t usually get it that wrong.

  When he stepped up and attempted the carrom ball a second time …

  CRASH!

  … he missed the pitch completely.

  What the heck?

  ‘Hello, Will, I’m over here?’ joked Shavil with a cute little wave.

  ‘I just …’ Will looked down at his fingers, expecting to see some of them missing. ‘I need to warm up my fingers first,’ said Will.

  ‘Fine, I’ll bowl first, then,’ announced Shavil, trotting down the pitch and swapping bat for ball. ‘It will give me a chance to test out my own mystery ball. I call it … The Mongoose.’ His eyes lit up and he bounced his eyebrows up and down excitedly, making Will laugh a little.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Will, grabbing his trusty Kookaburra from his bag. He took up the crease and stared back down the lane at Shavil.

  But when Shavil tossed down the ball and Will took a swing, there was a large hollow clank on the metal practice stumps.

  He’d been clean-bowled by Shavil.

  THE LONG WALK BACK

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ said Shavil, after training finished and they were heading out the exit gate of the academy. ‘Everyone has off days. I bet even Maxi does.’

  ‘But I’ve been off all week,’ said Will, thinking of his poor performance against New South Wales.

  ‘What if I’m the same against Tasmania tomorrow?’

  ‘Will, relax. You worry too much,’ said Shavil. ‘You’re probably just tired. A good night’s sleep and you’ll be fine,’ he added helpfully.

  But Will did not sleep well that night and when he got to the academy the next day for the final group game, he felt far from fine.

  Tasmania won the toss but elected to bowl. Shavil and Riley both started well. When Shavil nicked a well-angled ball straight to first slip, Victoria was already on 76 runs off nine overs so Will shouldn’t have been feeling too much pressure when he went on to replace him. But as he walked out to the middle, his stomach began growling like a dog at an unexpected knock at the door.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Shavil as they passed each other in the outfield. ‘Look out for that left-hander, he’s tough to get away.’

  Will nodded and tried to stay positive, but right from the first ball he knew that something was wrong. His rhythm was gone; he couldn’t get his feet and arms working together.

  The bowler that Shavil had warned him about – a long-legged left-hander – delivered six razor-sharp balls in a row and Will failed to connect his bat to a single one. The final ball hit his glove so hard he dropped his bat. Luckily the ball fell short of the keeper.

  ‘You’re out already, you just don’t know it,’ said the Tasmanian wicketkeeper. Then he yelled loudly to the rest of his teammates. ‘Come on, we’ve got this one, boys!’

  I can’t get out. Just stick at it. Runs will come, Will told himself.

  But the next o
ver was more of the same from the Tasmanian bowlers. It was a different bowler but with the same result: Will just couldn’t score. The few shots he did manage to play went straight to fielders. Six dot balls was bad enough in T20, but after ten, even Riley at the non-striker’s end was getting worried. When yet another ball skated by Will, Riley raised his arms in the air as if to ask, ‘What’s wrong?’

  Will shrugged, but having his batting partner hurry him up didn’t inspire him with confidence. Will was even less focused on the next delivery, a well-pitched thumper that darted up off the pitch and struck Will hard in the ribs. He had to walk away from the crease and take a breath.

  On the last ball, though, he got lucky. He was so distracted by the pain echoing through his body that he didn’t think, and somehow he managed to push it away to mid-off for a quick single.

  Finally he was off the mark – but by scoring his first run off the last ball of the over, he had unwittingly retained the strike and now had to face the long-legged leftie again. After three more dot balls, Will was crumbling under the pressure. When he struck the fourth ball cleanly and it went straight to a fielder at long-on who quickly cut off the single, Will couldn’t help hanging his head in despair.

  ‘It’s Twenty20. You’re supposed to score, remember?’ taunted the wickie in Will’s ear.

  Will couldn’t stand it any longer.

  All right. Enough mucking about, just go for it!

  On the last ball of the over, Will charged down the pitch with the intention of finding the boundary at any cost. Instead, he lifted the ball straight up into the air and found the fieldsman at mid-off.

  ‘Nice work, mate,’ shot the wicketkeeper. ‘Come back any time.’

  Will was out for just one off 18. A golden duck would have been less shameful. The walk back to the pavilion was the longest in Will’s life.

  BATTLE SCARS

  ‘Tough out there today?’ asked Jack when Will got back to the Victorian players’ area.

  Will nodded. He looked down at the dried blood around his thumbnail and the purple patch of bruise spread across his knuckles from the ball that had hit his glove. His ribs were still stinging too. But the worst sting of all was knowing that this was probably his poorest batting performance ever.

  It was lucky that Mike and Darren managed to put a good seventh-wicket partnership together and build a respectable total. Victoria had reached 124 by the twentieth over, but they would have to bowl and field out of their skin to defend it.

  ‘Let’s get out there and win this thing!’ said Jack, a huge grin splashed across his face.

  At least someone’s still positive, thought Will. He wasn’t looking forward to the next hour one bit.

  Will stood at square leg. He felt the breeze whipping across the academy oval and the midday sun streaming through some fast-moving clouds above. Then he noticed Shavil standing over at mid-wicket, making silly faces at him. Will made one back.

  And that was all it took. One silly face for him to realise that maybe things weren’t so bleak. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Then he remembered what Zoe had said: the team was more than just him. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope yet.

  When Darren took two quick wickets, Will’s glimmer of hope became a supernova. Victoria was still in the game.

  Will kept his head down and focused on fielding well. He didn’t want to make any mistakes or let the team down again. Soon Mike was signalling him.

  ‘Start warming up,’ he said.

  ‘You still want me to bowl? After last time?’ asked Will.

  ‘Of course, we need your spin,’ said Mike. ‘As long as the field is up to your satisfaction, of course.’

  Will looked around at the field placing and nodded. ‘Looks okay … Oh, you’re being sarcastic, huh?’

  Mike gave Will a ‘no kidding’ look. ‘Just take some wickets, Will, and don’t give away any runs – it’s not that hard.’

  Will hoped Mike was right.

  After he warmed up a little, Will took up the ball and stood at the northern end of the pitch, contemplating his first ball. Nothing fancy, just a regulation off-break.

  He probably should have tried something a little more fancy as the Tasmanian batsman simply hoicked the ball over the fence for six.

  Will tried to swallow down the large lump of embarrassment that had formed in his throat. He looked over at Mike, who was rubbing his eyes with his hands, probably trying to remove the image of Will’s first ball from his eyes.

  Not a good start.

  Will delivered his second ball, another off-break but with more pace. It landed in almost the same spot, right at the batsman’s feet, and he pounded it to the fence for four.

  AAARGH! Will screamed inside.

  When the fielder finally retrieved the ball and threw it to Will, he took it in one hand, raised it to his eye and nodded. He had no idea what his plan was but he didn’t want the batsman to know. He didn’t want Mike and the rest of the team to know, either.

  So make a plan! he told himself.

  Will looked at the ball again and it came to him, simple and clear.

  Spin the ball.

  It sounded obvious, but when Will thought about it he realised that was exactly where he had been going wrong. He needed to get the ball turning through the air and hope that it hit the pitch and turned some more.

  He really just had to rip it.

  So on his third ball he did exactly that. He threw all his power into his right wrist and slammed his foot down on the crease as he let the ball rip from his fingers.

  It wasn’t the most accurate ball but it beat the bat.

  Now the topspinner. Rip it!

  He gave it everything. He tried to imagine every little ounce of energy – every single atom coursing inside his body – suddenly being expelled through his hand.

  He bowled the topspinner. It didn’t just beat the bat, it bounced up off the pitch and took out leg stump.

  Will had his wicket. And it had only taken four balls.

  The team rushed in to congratulate him.

  ‘Nice one, Will!’ said Mike, almost throttling Will’s neck in celebration. ‘You had me worried there for a second.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Will, stunned.

  In his second over, Will took another wicket, then another in his fourth. After that, Killer came back on and chipped in with two more quick wickets.

  Despite their modest total, Victoria bowled out Tasmania and won the match with 17 balls to spare.

  And although Will couldn’t help but be happy that his team was through to the semifinal, he wasn’t happy with himself. Sure, he’d taken some wickets, but there was still the issue of his dismal batting. He needed to fix it. But how?

  MAXI TO THE RESCUE

  Will entered the practice room with his cricket kitbag on his shoulder and fumbled for the light panel on the wall. He switched on the lights and the large overhead fluorescents flickered to life. Will stared for a moment at the empty practice nets and the big empty space. Where normally there would be a heap of boys running and throwing, bowling and batting, today it was just him. He had decided to come in two hours before training to try to get his batting action under control before the semifinal.

  He moved the bowling machine to the top of the first lane, filled the feeder with the specially designed, dimpled plastic balls, and set the machine to random delivery mode. Then he grabbed the remote, headed to the back of the lane and pressed the release button.

  Beep.

  A ball flew from the machine. Will went after it … and missed.

  Beep.

  Out flew another. This time, Will got his bat to it but it nicked the edge and went behind him.

  Will faced ball after ball from the machine, some fast, some slow, some medium-paced, some spin. But even with no match pressure and no one else around, he just couldn’t get his rhythm back.

  After half an hour of swinging away at all types of deliveries, Will was about to pack it in when he was startled
by a loud accusing voice.

  ‘What the heck do you think you’re up to?’ Will jumped and turned to find a familiar, twinkling smile beaming away at him.

  ‘Gotcha,’ said Zoe, impressed with herself. ‘Why are you here this early, anyway?’

  Will hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about his crisis of confidence with Zoe but then he figured she’d probably already heard all about it.

  ‘Trying to improve my batting. You?’

  ‘Came to help my uncle with his mountains of paperwork … So, batting issues, huh?’ Zoe asked.

  Will shrugged. ‘I think I’ve forgotten how to bat.’ He was only half-joking.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll just get Maxi up here. He’ll remind you,’ said Zoe with a devious smile.

  Zoe took out her phone and began tapping away with her good hand.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Shhh,’ she said, dismissing Will’s question. ‘Done.’

  ‘No way, you did not just text Maxi. How do you even have his number?’ asked a bemused Will.

  ‘My uncle, of course.’

  Suddenly, Zoe’s phone beeped. ‘He’s on his way,’ she said.

  ‘What? Really?’ asked Will. But Zoe didn’t have a chance to reply. The lift door opened and in walked Glenn with his phone in his hand and a large smile on his face.

  Will’s mouth dropped.

  ‘Hey, Will,’ said Glenn. ‘I got a text. “Batting emergency at the academy – come ASAP.”’

  Zoe couldn’t help herself. She burst into a fit of hysterical laughter while Will just shook his head. ‘You set me up,’ said Will.