It was The Turbanator's evening off, so the Daughter of the British Raj, The Prince of Port-of-Spain and the Captain of the Dubai International Cricket team decided to create the Cottesloe Beach Two Over Evening Beach Cricket Series.
Play started at 6.50pm in front of the elegant limestone facade of the Indiana Teahouse on Cottesloe Beach, with a thin crowd of dinner time bathers watching languidly from the lawn.
The bowling was consistent, the batting erratic and The Prince got The Turbanator out on her first bowl (yay me), the red tennis ball hitting the milk crate with a sound altogether different to the sound of leather on willow. The Turbanator ended up taking the series however with four overs of excellent batting, including a six dropped right into the surf.
The Daughter of the British Raj came second with some steady batting leaving The Prince and The Captain in a tie for third due to flashy batting that lead to the only two catches of the game. While The Daughter of the British Raj attracted the attention of the two young bucks kicking the ball around on the sand next to the pitch, it was The Captain who provided us with the lasting image of the evening.
The Captain had brought a novelty sized tennis ball and the wind caught it during play and sent it speeding across the strand towards the sea and the Madagascar Yacht Club at a fine clip. The Captain set out at a graceful yet speedy run after the escaping ball and the other players stood and marvelled at her great pace and economical style of locomotion.
This same freedom-loving ball provided light entertainment at the end of the Match as the players had a brief turn at European Football, two on two, which ended smartly due to general exhaustion and dirty play. With that, the stars of the fixture retired to the local fish and chip shop for the Fisherman's Basket and some ice creams with nuts.
There is much to be said for a swim in the warm ocean (keeping a wary eye out for those sharks that have been hunting off our city beaches for the last month), playing an easy-going game of cricket on the grey sand as the orange sun sunk below the horizon, and ending the evening in the corner of a local chippie in high, adrenalin pumped spirits.
Play started at 6.50pm in front of the elegant limestone facade of the Indiana Teahouse on Cottesloe Beach, with a thin crowd of dinner time bathers watching languidly from the lawn.
The bowling was consistent, the batting erratic and The Prince got The Turbanator out on her first bowl (yay me), the red tennis ball hitting the milk crate with a sound altogether different to the sound of leather on willow. The Turbanator ended up taking the series however with four overs of excellent batting, including a six dropped right into the surf.
The Daughter of the British Raj came second with some steady batting leaving The Prince and The Captain in a tie for third due to flashy batting that lead to the only two catches of the game. While The Daughter of the British Raj attracted the attention of the two young bucks kicking the ball around on the sand next to the pitch, it was The Captain who provided us with the lasting image of the evening.
The Captain had brought a novelty sized tennis ball and the wind caught it during play and sent it speeding across the strand towards the sea and the Madagascar Yacht Club at a fine clip. The Captain set out at a graceful yet speedy run after the escaping ball and the other players stood and marvelled at her great pace and economical style of locomotion.
This same freedom-loving ball provided light entertainment at the end of the Match as the players had a brief turn at European Football, two on two, which ended smartly due to general exhaustion and dirty play. With that, the stars of the fixture retired to the local fish and chip shop for the Fisherman's Basket and some ice creams with nuts.
There is much to be said for a swim in the warm ocean (keeping a wary eye out for those sharks that have been hunting off our city beaches for the last month), playing an easy-going game of cricket on the grey sand as the orange sun sunk below the horizon, and ending the evening in the corner of a local chippie in high, adrenalin pumped spirits.
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