Alice Henderson On Debut

Five

Our batting innings goes exactly as expected. No-one else put their hands up to open the batting with Rory, so it was left to me. Rory got us off to a flyer but holed out in the deep on twenty-five when he got a bit too excited about an Adam Henderson bouncer. After that, it was like watching a slow-motion car crash. Unfortunately for me, I could only watch it happen from the non-strikers' end because none of our batsmen were even giving me a chance to get to the strikers' end to face any balls.

By the time our last batsman, Trent, meets me in the middle, we're a paltry 9 for 54. Apart from Rory's twenty-five, I'm the next highest run scorer on eighteen, and the next highest after that is the extras. We've only got five overs left to face, but I doubt we're going to be able to see out the innings if Trent's jitteriness is anything to go by.

"How's the pitch playing?" Trent asks. He doesn't really want to know the answer. He's just asking out of habit. Besides, it's flat as a tack and Trent's not a batsman, so it's completely irrelevant what I tell him.

"Not as fast as it looks," I reply and pat him on the shoulder with a gloved hand. As Trent does some stretches, I take a quick look around at the field that Adam and Jason are setting. Adam's got two more balls left so Trent just needs to survive them and leave me on strike for the next one. It looks like Adam wants to give Trent some heat judging by the extra slip he's put in. He's also bringing all his fielders up into catching positions. It's intimidation pure and simple and one look at Trent's face tells me it's working.

"Just get bat on ball," I tell him. "You'll be right."

"Easy for you to say," he replies.

The umpire tells us to face up and I give Trent one last thumbs up as he heads to the strikers' end. He stands off to the side of the crease and pats down every piece of protective equipment he's wearing, and some he's not. Finally, he loosens his shoulders and steps onto the pitch. I am absolutely certain this will be the last ball of the match.

I look back at Adam at the top of his run up and I can practically see the gleam in his eye. These are the moments fast bowlers live for, getting the other teams' bowlers on strike, giving them a taste of their own medicine. Only Trent's a spinner, so it's not really a fair comparison.

Adam runs in and he bowls one straight at Trent's body, making him play. Trent manages to get his bat on it and drop it down and in his panic he takes off for a run. I send him back and he only just makes it back into his ground. Once the wicketkeeper has the ball, I meet Trent in the middle of the pitch and poke at the grass. "Keep your eye on the ball," I tell him. "Don't panic. This'll be the last one you have to face, I promise."

Trent takes a couple of ragged breaths and nods.

Adam's final ball screams past Trent's ears and he does a really bad job of trying to look like it didn't affect him. We meet back in the middle of the pitch, ready for the change of ends. The next bowler is a spinner. "Can you handle spin?" I ask.

Trent shrugs. "Probably better than pace."

"Okay. I'll try to hit the fence if I can, but no singles until the end of the over. That way you don't have to face up. Deal?"

"Deal," Trent says.

I manage to hit two fours and a six and then on the second last ball, I hit a single to mid-wicket that should be an easy one, but Trent almost stuffs it up by ball-watching. I have to run wide off the pitch and only just manage to avoid being run out. Thankfully, he makes it up to me by surviving the last ball and leaving me on strike to face Adam's last over.

Rory runs out some water to Trent and I and whispers, "You need to keep Trent off strike. He looks like he's going to faint."

"He'll be fine," I reply, even though I don't think Trent will be fine at all. He pulls his helmet down on his head and adjusts the chin strap, shaking his head a couple of times to make sure it's tight. I look over to Adam, standing at the top of his mark, tossing the ball up and catching it. I can see the smirk on his face from here. It's the same one he gives me in the back yard when he thinks he's got a plan that will get me out. Rory runs back off the field and as I wander back to the pitch with Trent, I overhear Jason's dad, who's run water out for his team, say, "We've got this covered, boys. These two aren't threats at all." Adam and the rest of his team agree with laughter. I want to smack them in the head with my bat. I look over to the canteen where the scouts are standing and see John Waverly leaning on the boundary fence. I decide then and there to teach the A team a lesson.