I had Perin drop me off and we ended up playing soccer with a group of older Asian guys for a while as the rest of the lads arrived. We beat the other team (although they'd been playing for hours and we just showed up) and they left when all our players arrived.
We set up the wickets to get the cricket started and formed teams. I thought I'd be the worst but as an American, at least I have some theory of baseball and an idea of how to hit a moving ball with a bat. I was better than both of the Germans who played. While I was a satisfactory batter, my bowling (pitching) was atrocious. While attempting to bowl a spin-ball at a high velocity, I misjudged the release time and threw the ball straight down by my feet. Twice. Even the Germans laughed at me.
We had all kinds of rules to speed up the game and increase scoring, so it wasn't as boring as normal. But even with all the "action" when I played outfield I couldn't believe how much concentration it took to always be ready. I gained a whole new appreciation for those cricketers (I think that's what they're called) that stand around in the hot sun for days-on-end concentrating on everyone standing around. Cricket would be a terribly difficult sport for anyone with ADD.
Our match ended a little after 90 minutes and my team won (I think). We might have played some more overs (kind of like innings) but a bunch of teenagers showed up and started playing soccer nearby. With a few beers in all of us, we had to leave the cricket behind and assert our alpha-maleness over those punks.
The teenagers were sober, fitter, quicker, and had spikes (cleats) on. We were all wearing running shoes. And so the game was in the teenagers' favor to start with. Fortunately, the goalkeeper having the baby is my height and has about 15 pounds on me (and is quite skilled on the field). We ended up taking control of the middle of the field. If one of those punks tried to dribble around either of us, they got a heavy shoulder or a punishing elbow to slow them down and we could steal the ball. They could be gentlemen and pass the ball around us, but we weren't about to be dribbled around.
I kicked the legs out from under one of the kids (mostly because he was too quick and by the time my foot got there, the ball was gone) and he yelled, "Foul! Foul!" I said, yes, he was correct and stopped playing to allow him a free kick. But then he was sprinting down the sideline looking over his shoulder at me laughing and saying "game on!" Paul started talking about himself in the third-person and he wasn't about to let the punk get away with that! So I chased him down the field and viciously shouldered him to the ground. I let him know that he "should've taken the free kick."
While the teenagers were probably better players individually, they didn't play well as a team and we beat them 5-4. Alpha male dominance was asserted. Beers followed. Great Lads Day Out.
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