End Of An Umpire

Joe was taking cricket after school. I
went to look 'n he asked if I could give
a hand - "me? I know nothing about cricket."
"That's OK I'll do most of it, if you
do square leg?" And anyway it was
just a casual knock on the asphalt.

The boys arrived laden with gear -
Ansell, Julien, Derek, Bovell 'n a
little troupe all Black 'n happy outside.
Joe asked "Who's for bat or bowl?" And every
one knew. Neil - who was forever in trouble-
bounced up 'n down "Sir! Bat AND Bowl, Sir!!"
"Do we have a wicket keeper?" Yes, Neil
was that as well.

So I stayed quiet and left it all to Joe,
concentrated on not looking too dumb.
They played with joy 'n easy grace, a laugh
whenever a hit landed on the roof.
Neil went in to bat, hit two 'n then
missed 'n the ball hit his pad 'n even
I knew LBW so I pointed at the sky.

Neil slumped his shoulders, unbuckled the pads.
On they played until 5 o'clock, put away
the stuff and off home still in the sunshine.
As Joe and I went up Kingsland Road we
chatted away 'n then he mentioned a by
the way, casually, quietly, gently, from
the corner of his mouth, "when the batsman
attempts a stroke he can't be LBW".

I was horrified - Neil should have had
a screaming fit! "But no one said anything!"
"The boys know their cricket - they know
in cricket the umpire is ALWAYS right."