Friday, 10 April 2009

I'm not playing

I'm sportin rings and things, that's what money brings
If you act like you know I'll put you under my wing
If you act otherwise, and try to demise me
Take me for granted, then try to surprise me
I'm not a dreg, I'll break your legs
Because you're yellow, just like the yolk of an egg
He's DJ Diamond D, and I'm the Master Rob
MC's bitin my rhymes like they were corn on the cob
Or should I say cake, from the bites you take
Know what I'm sayin? I'm not playin

Thanks for that, Ultimate Force. Whoever you are. Wise words I think you'll all agree.

But I'm not playing. Not this year. My kit bag with my 70% off helmet, 70% off pads and full price, mid range thigh pad aren't seeing the light of day until at least next year.

When I moved out of the middle of Limpsville [also known as Coventry] to a nice small villagey towny place I thought it'd be a great way to get involved with the community by tracking down the local cricket club and having a go. I went to net sessions at Edgbaston an the likes, spending many many days in considerable pain due to rock bottom fitness levels and the likes. But after a hell of a lot of good intentions and availability I've been asked to play one measley match in 2 years, successfully blocking out the last 3 overs of a dead match and standing at long leg the rest of the time.

I've got bitter, oh yeah you bet. I want to be up there painting the pavilion and shifting piles of loam, but if I'm not even wanted unless *ALL* the 12 year old kids are ill in bed then maybe I'll just take the hint, huh?

With a bit of luck by this time next year I'll be living in a different villagey town type thing as a home owner and I'll try again by golly gosh. Few years down the line my little boy will hopefully be interested in playing in the kids matches, and I'd like to think I'd happily be turning up to put out the pointy flags 20 metres inside the boundary line for them. We'll see.