"Green Arena" (AU)

[Bagheera]

“Green Arena” - an AU Fic

Background: It's early Season 4. Willow attends UC Sunnydale, but there is no such thing as a wicca group. She has decided to get out and do something with her spare time - by joining a sports team. As you do.

Rating: R, Adult themes, language (maybe)

Feedback: Please. This story isn't completely written yet, and I need an excuse to sit down and see it through to the end.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, it's just a made-up story. USA-based Kittens warning: The story is about a sport you might not know very much about. Don't be alarmed, I have tried to write this with the complete novice in mind.

“Cricket!” Buffy exclaimed. Willow nodded. The redhead was sitting demurely, cross-legged on her bed in the dorm room she shared with the Slayer, attempting once again to explain the reasons for her choice of pastime.

“Gotta say, you’re always full of surprises, Will,” Xander observed from his position, seated at one of the desks. “If you’re going to take up an obscure English sport, I can’t for the life of me understand why you passed up on the charms of fox-hunting and curling.”

“I’ve been doing the reading!” Willow exclaimed in her defence, holding up a loose-leaf copy of the Laws of Cricket. She had downloaded it from the impressively named Lord’s Web site and had been leafing through it in her spare time for the past couple of days. “It’s an interesting game, and it’s very civilised. It’s got a preamble and everything.”

“A preamble?” Xander wondered. “As in ‘fourscore and seven years ago…’”

“That’s the Gettysburg Address, not the Preamble,” Willow interrupted, a little heatedly. “The Spirit of Cricket…”

“It that like a ghost or something?” Buffy butted in, grinning teasingly. “Should we exorcise it and lay it to rest?”

Willow subsided into a wounded silence. She wanted to tell them about the stated ideals of the Spirit of Cricket, and how they involve respect for one’s opponents, one’s captain, one’s team, the role of the umpires and the game’s traditional values. It sounded wonderfully idealistic and Will wanted to share her enthusiasm about what she had discovered. But there was something about pearls and porcine ungulates that made her hold her tongue for the moment.

“Well, I think it’s good that you’re getting out, Will,” Buffy eventually said. “And I’m sure that Giles will be very proud when he hears of it, and he’ll come to watch when you play your first Test, or whatever it’s called.”

“Test matches are only played at international level,” Willow corrected her friend. “I’m just playing intramural.” She could have added, but didn’t: if they’ll have me, if I’m good enough, and if they don’t hate me.

“The Test comes later right?” Xander speculated. “After the reading.” He nodded in the direction of the leaves of paper in Willow’s hands.

“Oh, painfully funny,” said Will dryly.

“When’s the first training?” Buffy asked.

“This afternoon.” Willow was glad no-one had mentioned Oz leaving.


“Okay, now who has never played cricket before?” Dr. Lisa Everitt asked the assembled hopefuls. Dr. Everitt, captain and coach of the UC Sunnydale Flames Cricket Club, was a wiry middle-aged woman with brown freckled skin and short brown hair. She had an easy smile, but there was a glint in her eye that suggested that she expected respect and that she would rarely, if ever, suffer fools. In response to her question, five or six of the dozen or so gathered around her raised their hands. Shyly, relieved that she was not alone, Willow half-raised a tentative paw along with the rest of the neophytes. “All right, good. The rest of you that have played before, set up one net for practice; once you’ve all had a bat, we’ll bring the whole team together for some fielding drills.” The experienced players wandered over to one of the nearby practice nets.

Turning back to the new players, Dr. Everitt quickly explained the rudiments of the game and the major differences between it and its offspring, baseball and softball. After the first five minutes, Willow began to fret and started to wish that she had brought pen and notepaper with her. I take things in a lot better when I have a pen in my hand, the redhead thought to herself unhappily. Preferably two pens of different colours. For clarity and emphasis.

The good doctor must have sensed some restlessness among her charges, for she suddenly relented and said: “All right, that’s enough for now. I see enough glazing before me to make a good-sized herbarium. The easiest way to learn this game is to play it. Who would like to bat first?” No-one volunteered, and to Willow’s immense relief Dr Everitt selected one of the others to go first. “The rest of you take an old ball each out of the kit and warm up for bowling.”

Bowling, Willow thought fearfully. I thought maybe we could stand by and watch, like an educational film. I’m good at watching training films, I bet I could learn this whole game by watching how it’s done. Oh, dear. The redhead obediently picked up a ball, running her fingers tentatively over the six rows of stitching that ran in tight parallel bands around its equator, joining the two halves of red leather together. It was scuffed and the stitches were mostly worn away. It was difficult to understand how it stayed in one piece, but somehow it did. The surface had just a bit of give, but there was an underlying hardness that reminded Willow of a baseball or a brand-new softball. If it struck you at any speed, it would hurt. And on the fielding side, only one player, the wicket keeper, is allowed to wear gloves. We have to catch this missile with our bare hands, Willow thought to herself.

Dr. Everitt helped the first batswoman strap on her leg guards and thigh pad and don her batting gloves. She then showed her how to hold the bat. “It’s unlikely that any bowler here will hurt you”, she explained, “but getting used to moving around and running with the pads on is something you should learn about straight away.”

The neophyte batswoman took her place in the second of the practice nets, while her bowlers, Willow included, milled about at the far end, as yet uncertain what they were supposed to be doing - Willow glanced over at the experienced players in the adjoining net, hoping to glean a few tips. A tall athletically built black woman was jogging in to bowl. As Willow watched, the bowler cocked her left arm, sprang into the air, and as her feet came down her right arm swung over in a swift arc and the ball left her hand at a seemingly impossible speed. Willow followed the blur of it to the opposite end of the net, where a blonde about Willow’s age and height waited, bat poised. But the ball was flying towards her at such speed that Willow couldn’t see how it was possible that the batswoman would be able to see it in time, let alone hit it. As Willow watched, the ball slammed into the pitch about six yards in front of the batswoman and reared dangerously. My, it’s going to kill her! Willow thought, terrified. She tried to shout a warning, but she was too late. An age too late.

But the batswoman was already on the move, stepping back and away from the line of the ball. Her bat flashed through, there was a loud crack of wood striking leather, and the ball crashed away harmlessly into the side netting. Willow’s strangled warning shout was drowned by a call of “Nice shot, Mac!” from one of the other bowlers waiting her turn. Casually, as if nothing untoward had happened, the batswoman half-smiled shyly, nodded, picked up the ball and underarmed it back to the bowler. The blonde then walked the few paces back to her position and settled down over her bat, waiting for the next bowler to run in. In contrast to the casual air of the participants in the tiny incident, the watching Willow’s heart was pounding wildly in her chest.

“Excuse me, are you ready to bowl?” came a voice in Willow’s ear.

The redhead whirled. Dr Everitt had addressed her. “What, me?” she croaked. The doctor nodded. Willow swallowed in a dry throat, glancing nervously at the waiting batswoman. Her heart, already racing, slipped madly into overdrive.

(To be continued)

[SakuraEtsuko]

dibs!!!!!

********************

Well well well, this was certainly a fascinating start to what i believe will be an awesome fic! i dont know much about cricket but im sure i will by the time the fic is over!! great job characterizing willow, as well as Buffy and xander..there punny comments were too much!

~K~

[watty]

omg, a cricket crossover! This is fabulous, yes, fabulous! Now, are we gonna have a nail-biting match where our team (whichever the team that has Willow and Tara) win by 2 runs? I'm at this, cos I can imagine the fun you'll have with terms like bodyline, bowling a maiden over, mid-on / mid-off, follow-on, yorker and googly in this fic. That is, if you use them. Oh! Do women cricketers need to wear a box, oh god I'm giggling insanely now.

I can't wait to learn about Willow's reaction to this strange and new sport. I'm thinking Tara is the one to teach her? Nice set up.

It was difficult to understand how it stayed in one piece, but somehow it did.

Somehow I think that can be used to describe a great many things in life, not just a cricket ball. The government, for example.

[AntigoneUnbound]

Bagheera!! Hello again, old friend! You were the one who showed me the ways of the Kitten board (including EZ codes!) and helped me start posting. It's good to see you here again.

And Green Arena...I'm so glad to see you posting. As you know, I'm a huge baseball freak and I love learning about its parent sport.

Plus---Willow and Tara in sweaty athletic goodness...Oh my...

Looking forward to it, Bagheera!
Mary

[Bagheera]

SakuraEtsuko: Dibs indeed. I've been MIA on this Board for many moons now. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it's going stronger than ever, given the energy of the folks that run it and its inclusive and welcoming nature. This tradition of "dibs" on a new fic, f'rinstance. It's a new one on me, but it has the happy result that nobody who posts a piece to this Board misses out on at least one Feedback post. And that's important. Feedback is oxygen to a fic writer, ask anyone. Thanks for letting me breathe easier.

watson: Hi! That's a neatly put together Web site you've got linked to your profile, btw. And that's some eye you've got for photography, too. I'll try to put in a bit of cricket jargon in this story, just enough to keep the cunning linguists satisfied. Boxes? I think Belinda Clark (Aussie Test cricketer) was asked this on TV a year or two back. The answer is yes, but not all the time or by everybody. It's kind of a personal choice.

AntigoneUnbound

Hello again, old friend! You were the one who showed me the ways of the Kitten board (including EZ codes!) and helped me start posting.

Hello, yourself. Well, let's be honest here, all you really needed was somebody to tell you that you could do this and to just go ahead and post. And the Arena is finally being put out for public view. It's been a while, hasn't it? But I re-read a section of it a few weeks back and thought it still sounded okay and it probably ought to be published. It's not finished just yet, but the bare bones of the story are in place.

Irene: Hi and welcome! So far your understanding is pretty much spot on. The bowlers (there must always be at least 2) are like pitchers. The key differences will be explained in the next part (if I recall correctly), when Willow has a go at rolling the arm over. According to the Laws of Cricket, the player with the bat is called a "batsman" irrespective of gender. I have ignored this edict for this story because - well, they're all batswomen in this story, and I think it sounds better. Where softball and baseball have three bases and home plate, in cricket there are two "wickets" at either end of a prepared 22-yard strip of grass or synthetic surface called a pitch. Just to totally confuse things, the pitch is also sometimes referred to as "the wicket", and a wicket is also a term for what happens when a batsman is dismissed (or out); as in: "a wicket has just fallen, yes she's out!". With me so far? And as for the identity of the mystery blonde with the elegant style at the crease (um, pardon?), did you catch her nickname: "Mac"? Short for a surname you might have heard in the past? Well noticed, anyway, and hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

I've been hellishly busy the last week or so, but I will make a special effort to do a final proof on Part 2 and get it posted within a couple of days.

Regards,
B

[Bagheera]

Part 2 – Gosh this part is short. I hadn’t realised.
Rating: PG at worst.

“Bowl?” Willow squeaked. She looked around for an escape route, but there didn’t seem to be one readily available. The batswoman standing at the other end of the practice net was waiting patiently.

They’re all looking at me, Willow thought to herself desperately. I’m a klutz and they’re all looking at me. Suppressing a shiver, Willow took a deep breath and waddled up to the bowling crease. She rolled her arm over, more in hope than expectation and was not surprised when the ball sailed lazily out of her hand like an overfed duck, flopped onto the pitch half-way down and rolled off to one side. Politely, the batswoman left her place and fetched it, lobbing it gently back to Willow, who obligingly fumbled it and the ball went to ground once more. Pink with embarrassment, Willow began to walk to the back of the waiting group of bowlers in the sure knowledge that she was the worst player on the team and had no hope of being picked. Dr Everitt stopped her.

“First bowl ever?” the doctor asked. Willow, eyes cast down, nodded mutely. “It landed on the pitch; I call that an okay start. Let’s see how you grip that ball.” Willow held it up for inspection and the coach shifted Willow’s fingers so that they settled onto the seam. “Ah, I see,” the doctor commented. “Small fingers.”

Small fingers? I have small fingers? And you know what they say about girls with small fingers - they wear small gloves. Not only am I a klutz, but I’m not physically equipped to play this game. The Laws of Cricket never said anything about needing long spidery fingers to play. You’d think the Law Lords would have said something. Anything.

“How about you try holding it this way,” Lisa continued, changing Willow’s grip completely. “Now you’re cupping the ball in your whole hand. Try again. And remember, from the time your arm passes the horizontal until you let go, you don't straighten your elbow. That's why it's called bowling.” The coach abruptly left Willow to attend to another of the beginners. The redhead looked at the ball in her hand and to her it seemed that it had settled there. As if it belonged.

When her turn next came to bowl, Willow gave it rather more shoulder. This time the ball sailed through the air and reached the batswoman without bouncing. There was an inelegant swing of the bat and Willow’s ball was despatched into the side netting.. She trotted over and picked it up. As she was walking back, Lisa stopped her.

“Did that feel any better coming out?” she asked, nodding at the ball.

“A little,” Willow said tentatively.

“You gave it a bit too much air though,” Dr Everitt added. “Full tosses are pretty easy to hit.”

“Where should I aim?” Willow asked suddenly.

“Excellent question,” the doctor smiled. “If you pitch up too far - if the ball bounces too close to the batswoman - it’s easy for her to get onto the front foot and drive you. Too short, and the batswoman can cut or pull off the back foot. You want the ball to land,” the doctor leaned forward with a keen twinkle in her eye, “so that the batswoman is not sure whether to play forward or back to the ball.”

“But where’s that?” the redhead persisted.

“Ah, it depends. It changes with the state of the pitch, the skill of your opponent, the range of shots they are able to play, whether they’ve just come to the crease or if they’re well set - and on how fast you bowl. Among other things.” Willow’s head swam with the complexity of it all. And she thought the Laws of Cricket were complicated enough; it turned out they were just the beginning! “You’ll learn as you go. Bowl a few more, and once you’re confident it’s coming out okay, see if you can roll your hand and fingers across the ball as you let it go - I want to see if you can make it turn. Your shoulder action suggests you could be a spinner.”

A spinner? Willow nodded and, fired by curiosity, made her way back to the queue. She bowled a few more balls of more or less indifferent quality, but she seemed to be getting some idea of where on the pitch they were supposed to be landing, at least for the inexperienced batswoman at the other end. At last she decided to try what the coach had suggested.

The ball seemed to leave her hand much as the others had done, and Willow was relieved that it seemed to be going in the right direction. The batswoman was poised to take a swipe at it. But then a curious thing happened: the ball bounced, but it deviated. Instead of the blade of the bat meeting the ball, it swished at empty air. The ball carried on and struck the back netting. Willow gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She’d made the ball turn off the pitch, and it had beaten the bat. She’d done that.

“N-nice bowling,” came a warm, soft voice by Willow’s side. The redhead blushed and looked in the direction of the sound. The blonde who had been batting earlier in the experienced players’ net, the one who’d cheated death, or so it had seemed to Will, was standing a few feet away and looking directly at the redhead. She had removed her batting paraphernalia and was waiting her turn for a bowl. She was strikingly good looking, with long fair hair and soft liquid blue eyes. Her lips were curved in a small lopsided smile.

“Thanks,” Willow replied, self-consciously lowering her head. “I’m not really sure how I did that, but thanks.”

“Y-you…” the blonde began to say, “oh l-look out, here comes your ball.” The batswoman in Willow’s net had retrieved the ball and here it was, rolling towards the redhead, who picked it up. She turned back to the blonde.

Dr Everitt interrupted any further conversation at that point. “Well bowled. Would you put the pads on and get ready to bat next?” The coach addressed Willow.

Willow blushed, because for some reason she couldn’t quite understand, she was reluctant to take her eyes off the young blonde woman standing before her. “I better go and - get ready,” she managed to say.

“Yes,” was all the blonde said.

(To be continued)

[Still Waters T]

Interesting fic. I kinda like baseball and softball, though I haven't been too interested in cricket. The beginning of this had me glued to the screen reading though. The way you wrote it had me fascinated with the game, and what would happen next in the fic. Can't wait to read more!

Liv

[watty]

oh, Willow is the next Shane Warne?

Fascinating, never thought a lesson on how to bowl a cricket ball can be so fascinating. Willow would be someone who takes the science of bowling seriously and when she learns a bit more, experiment with the different styles and grips. I can see her becoming a good, calculating, hard-to-read bowler.

Nice introduction of Willow to Tara. The girl who cheated death indeed.

Very pleasant update, btw. Has the gentle Sunday afternoon feel that cricket reminds me of, thank you. Thanks for the compliments on the website, too.

[robotguru]

Ooh, cricket, i love it

I bowl wrist spin (leg breaks and googlies) myself so i'm glad to see it in this story I can only do two spin varieties myself, but a mind like Willow's...Warney better watch out lol.

Now if only i could do that flipper...kicks ass but i can't figure out how to get the underspin. Anyways, this looks to be off to a great start, thanks for sharing it with us.

[grimlock72]

Hmm... I recall reading a story YEARS ago from a writer called Bagheera, one and the same ??:)

Educational story this is going to be, I'm learning Opera stuff and terms over on the _Butterfly_ story and some things about cricket over here. Cricket seems awfully complicated though it has nice terms, heh.

Tara is in a more experienced team it appears. I wonder if they give out grants for good cricket players as with baseball and such . At least Willow could talk to Tara about cricket, none of her current friends share that particulair interest (which was sad to read )

'Green Arena' sounds rather harsh, ticket ain't that much of a contact sport is it ??

Willow has lots of things to think about concerning both cricket and miss MaClay. Knowing Willow she could probably make up a formula to compute where to throw the ball

I do hope she doesn't get hit to hard when on-bat. (I'm fairly sure Tara will agree here

Grimmy

[bigandblue]

Ohhhhhh cricket I love it! 4th test tomorrow, the aussies won't escape this time .
I've been a lurker around Pens for ages and I've read your other fics which are FAB! I can tell I'm gonna be just as hooked on this fic as I was with your others!!
So if Willow's the next Shane Warne, could Tara, or 'Mac' be the next Freddie Flintoff, coz you got the nickname and everything down! Maybe she'll help Willow with her technique huh? Can't wait to see Buffy and Xander go to one of Willow's matches and try to figure out the rules, especially if Giles has to explain it to them lol Can't wait till your next update Bagheera!!
Libbyxxxx

[robotguru]

heh, Grimlock...

"Cricket isn't that much a contact sport, is it?"

Try telling that to the guys that have been hit with 80 mile per hour bouncers on the old noggin

For the record, a bouncer is a short pitched ball that is meant to intimidate the batsman, often used against tail enders (the less able batspeople if you will) who will most likely be returning the favour next innings seeing as they're the bowlers. Bouncers can hit anywhere from the thigh up to the head. The ribs are probably the worst place to be hit seeing as the head, thighs, hands and front forearm at least has some sort of protection.

My appolagies to the author, thought if i can confuse people with terms like that, better explain them too

[Bagheera]

Still Waters T - Thanks for those kind and encouraging words. Hope this didn't make you wait too long.

watson - You're very welcome. "Willow the next Shane Warne"? Now I've gone to a very scary visual place and the USA Kitties are completely lost and confused. And personally I think Willow would identify more with Murali.

robotguru - Now I will have to be very careful with getting my facts straight. I can't bowl at all, to be honest. I know the theory, but my bowling is like lightning - never strikes the same place twice.

Grimmy - Yes, I wrote the other stories on this Board posted under the same name. Not sure if I'm the same, though. Cricket has an extraordinary language all its own, which I hope to explore a bit more as this story copntinues. I have mapped out in my head the story of how Tara got interested in the game and I will try to commit it to paper in the near future.

bigandblue - Well you were certainly right about the 4th Ashes Test, and the decider is about to begin, too. Note also the Australian Women lost the Ashes to England a couple of weeks back - first time in a century or too, I think it was. Very unusual to see Karen Rolton and Belinda Clark failing to make big scores, and apart from Cath Fitzpatrick, the Australian bowlers didn't seem to have too many tricks. Thanks for your comments and I love the speculation in your feedback - some of it may come to fruition.

robotguru - Thanks for that explanation, it's given me something I can use a few parts down the track in this story.

And now, on with the show. Once I get the formatting done, Part 3 will be posted. It's still kind of short.

B.

[Bagheera]

Part 3

The first item to strap on was a thigh pad, a rather mundane-looking slab of foam rubber with a grimy cotton cover. It was strapped to the outside of the front thigh, so for a right-hander like Willow, it went on her left leg. Normally it would go under her clothes, but no-one was bothering with such details that day. Next came a pair of leg guards, very similar to a field hockey goalie’s. Velcro straps secured them to Willow’s lower legs. They felt heavy and Willow seemed to waddle as she walked in them. The redhead pulled on her batting gloves, which were made of cotton and leather, with thick sausages of rubber protecting the knuckles and backs of the hands. Now there was a curious thing - there was no padding on the left thumb at all, while the right thumb sported a particularly thick chunk of padding as well as a stiff rubber cap protecting the tip of the digit. Willow could feel it in there. When she picked the bat up, Willow immediately understood why the gloves were different; her left hand was at the top of the handle, with her thumb safely tucked behind the handle out of harm’s way. The bottom hand, Willow’s right, would be sitting just above the blade, with her right thumb forlorn and exposed at the front, right in the firing line if any balls happened to bounce a little higher than expected.

The bat was a curiously shaped piece of wood. The handle was round and encased in a rubber grip. The blade was almost rectangular, with a front surface that was ever so slightly convex. It was pitted with little surface cracks and round splotches of red pigment that spoke of long and hard use. The back of the blade had a ridge, a “V” of thick wood running most of the way down the bat to the toe, which was gently curved. Willow guessed (correctly) that it probably weighed just a bit over two pounds. It felt strange in her hands, most unlike the slender lines and familiar radial symmetry of a softball bat. She swung it this way and that experimentally - decidedly odd, to say the least.

I’m so not ready for this, Willow thought to herself. Feeling a bit like Joan of Arc here in my suit of armour. Preparing to do battle with the English and their slings and arrows. She jogged up and down a bit, the tops of her pads flapping as she did so. Very odd. At least I won’t get hurt with all this padding on.

All of a sudden it was Willow’s turn, the batswoman was leaving the practice net and the redhead was expected to go into bat. The bowlers waited patiently at the far end. It’s like a cage, Willow thought, glancing at the wire mesh that seemed to surround her. Cautiously, she approached the metal wicket at the end of the net. It consisted of three upright posts, knee-high or maybe a little higher, with a thinner metal rod at the top. In a real game, she knew, this would be made of three wooden stumps with a pair of small wooden bails at the top. The primary object of the game for the batswoman was to stop the bowler from hitting the wicket with the ball. The secondary objective was that while protecting her wicket, she should also try to hit the ball into the field (without being caught) to score runs.

Willow took a couple of deep breaths and settled over her bat, taking up a position four feet in front of her wicket, where a line was roughly marked on the pitch. This was Willow’s batting crease. She tapped her bat on the ground a couple of times, watching the first bowler as she came running in. She’d seen the other batswomen tapping their bats, and it seemed a good idea. At least it gave her something to do with her hands. Much better than just standing there like a deer trapped in headlights. Or a doofus. Or a complete klutz.

The bowler released, and the ball came speeding towards Willow; but it was pitched short and misdirected, slanting across Willow’s body and down the leg side. The redhead tried to flick the bat at it as it flew past but was nowhere near it. It hit the back net near the corner and bobbled at her feet. Willow picked it up and tossed it back. The next bowler trotted in more slowly, unlike the first girl who had obviously been striving to generate some pace. This one bounced on a length; Willow swung the bat at it, and missed. It struck the rear netting, and Will tossed it back too.

“Try not to play with an angled bat,” Dr Everitt warned, watching from behind the side netting. Huh? The next ball was a straight slow one, and Willow managed to get the bat onto it and tap it back up the pitch to the bowler.

“I’m sorry?” Willow asked the coach.

“You were playing away from your body,” the doctor explained hurriedly. The bowlers waited a moment while the doctor illustrated. “When you’re playing off the front foot, you want to have the bat as close to perpendicular to the ground as you can. If you hang the bat out, you’re only going to edge it.”

Aha. The next ball was another straight one, and Willow stepped forward and played at it, and again she managed to play it back up the pitch to the bowler. What an odd feeling. As she played the shot, Willow noticed that her left elbow, left hand and the blade of the bat all occupied the same vertical line. Elegant. But the ball after that was a wide one, and as she once again tried to play a straight bat, Willow got nowhere near it. Ohhhh!

“Okay, wide ones like that, you can step back and cut, playing with a horizontal bat. Lots of runs if you can play a good cut shot,” the doctor winked. Now wait a minute, Willow thought, this is getting complicated. Oh, I see, different shots for different balls. Shot selection - I change my shot depending if the ball pitches short or full; if it’s straight or wide. And the bowler is trying to trick me into making the wrong choice.

After a few more balls, Willow began to gain in confidence against the generally slow and inexperienced bowlers she was facing. She began to step forward boldly to meet the ball. The ones slanted down leg side still evaded her attempts to hit them, though. And the one girl who was striving to bowl fast was a handful; she was quick, but erratic, and a couple of times Willow had to duck out of the way of balls that were coming straight for her. And then, after some pretty wayward stuff, she got one on line and it completely defeated Willow. She swung at it, but the ball flashed past the blade of the bat. There came a ringing death knell from behind Willow as the ball struck the redhead’s wicket.

Ohhhh. Damn, I got out. The bowler raised an arm in triumph and whooped. Willow replaced the wicket, which had fallen over, and tossed the ball back, feeling momentarily deflated. At least it hadn’t been in a real match.

“Okay, batswomen swap over.” Relieved, Willow left her net and went to take her pads and gloves off. “Not bad for a first attempt,” Doctor Everitt commented as Willow passed her. “You’ve got good survival instincts, and a good eye. Keep it up.”

Willow couldn’t keep a little grin off her face. I did all right. Yay me. Good survival instincts and a good eye. So all that running away from vampires was good for something.

(To be continued)

[bigandblue]

Ohhh I got first YAY!
Again Bagheera, your descriptions for the batting and the bowling are so detailed, its amazing! Reading your stuff I can almost imagine I'm there batting alonside Willow. Good to see that she's got a good swing on her! Wouldn't want her to be a 8th, 9th or 10th man who is left to try and win the test match like poor Giles and Hoggard!

You're right about the Aussie Women falling short in their Ashes, they seemed so off form, something I've definately noticed about the Aussie batsmen. Although each test has been a riveting one Austrailia havn't really shown themselves deserving of winning the ashes this year! But I am biased! And I'm also heartbroken that poor Simon Jones won't be able to play now that he's mastered that reverse swing However you're probably not that uspset by it. Especially since Mcgrath will most likely be back on form for the last test! lol. I'm so upset I'll be back in school for the 5th test match, Thursday and Fridays classes are gonna be a nightmare!

Keep us the great work Bagheera, can't wait for some more W/T interaction and some maybe????

Libby

[watty]

I bowl as a right-hander but bat as a left-hander, so I had to picture the way Willow padded and gloved up. It was a nice detailed description too.

thick sausages of rubber

There really is no other way of describing the gloves.

Nice description too of the nets session. I'm wondering if bails are used in nets, I guess they are. Willow seems to be a quick learner and has the potential to be a good batswoman. I can sense her scientific mind working as she practiced to different balls.

wide ones like that, you can step back and cut

I'd be surprised she knows what that means.

Where will you place her? As an opener? In the middle order?

Love to see Tara again. Can't wait to their meeting, will they be in the same team?

btw, I really wonder how the non-cricketing nation readers are thinking of this fic. Seems to me that most of your feedbackers are familiar with the games rather than ones coming to it fresh.
[br]

[robotguru]

Loved the update, and typical Willow, she's apprehensive now but chasing vampires and ducking vicious balls have a fair bit in common Well, survival instinct-wise anyway

Anyway, while our marvelous author is describing everything well, if you're ever confused, there's a glossary of terms here http://www.dangermouse.net/cricket/glossary/

[Bagheera]

Dear all,

and begging forgiveness for neglecting this story for...3 MONTHS??!! What was I thinking of? What was I doing? Nothing much in particular, I must confess, but there was a trip to New York City (my first time in the States), a robbery, a dislocated finger, a lost cell phone, hot weather in spring and cold weather in summer in between. None of which have anything whatsoever to do with why I haven't got down upon my aging a*** and continued with posting this short and really very simple tale.

Specifically, for those kind enough to reply last time:

Libby - The Ashes Summer seems a long time in the past now, doesn't it? As far as the Australian men's team went, they generally didn't bat well, bowl well (except Warne) or hold enough catches. Gilchrist in particular need to be rested more. Experience should have taught the selectors that having a different wicket keeper in the Test and ODI squads is the way to go if there is the slightest hint of the 'keeper losing form. And Adam Gilchrist is perilously close to burning out at the moment. Meanwhile of course, the jolly old English have had their bottoms handed to them on a tray by Pakistan, a result that I don't think anybody anticipated. Just goes to show, doesn't it? People talk about how hard it is to win a tour of Australia, the results show that trying to win on the subcontinent is every bit as difficult, especially if you come against a side willing to play with some heart the way Pakistan did. I saw some of the Tests on satellite TV and there was some spirited play by Pakistan and, just like Australia in England, some mediocre play from the tourists.

Now as for Willow and her cricket career, wait and see. Remember she's never played the game before, right?

watson - Insightful and incisive comments as always. In answer to your question, players don't normally bother with bails in the nets, they get knocked flying too frequently. They usually just use the three stumps, or a prefabricated metal wicket (which makes an embarrassing "clong!" sound when the bowler sneaks one through - trust me, I know). And yes, I can't see this story appealing too much to Kittens from non-Test playing nations. Having played a season or two of softball, I'm trying to pop in references to that game and my meagre knowledge of it whenever possible. Though I daresay it won't be enough to hold the attention of someone completely unfamiliar with cricket. Probably too much jargon for a start, which I am trying to minimise.

robotguru - Thanks for that link and your comments. I would also add that www.lords.org is a good place to find the Laws of Cricket and other useful information, but at the moment that site appears to be down.

Update will follow once it's formatted - a few minutes at most.

B.

[Bagheera]

In which cricket training concludes for the day, and there are some introductions.

Part 4

Willow removed her pads and left them for the next batswoman, then she retrieved her ball and joined the other bowlers. Even after a comparatively short session in the net, she noticed a little stiffening and tenderness in muscles that were unfamiliar with being worked in the peculiar ways of batting. She set about bowling once again, trying to be as consistent as possible with the line and length of her deliveries, and hoping that just maybe, one of her bowls would bite and jump and beat the bat the way that earlier one had.

She glanced over at the experienced players’ net. The blonde that had spoken to her earlier was bowling. She had a graceful, easy bowling action. Willow followed the ball with her eyes. Evidently, the batswoman was watching it carefully too, for she sprang down the pitch and met the ball on the half-volley with a full swing of her bat. There was a loud crack and the ball sailed high over the heads of the bowlers, out into the wide-open spaces of the oval behind them. The blonde nodded her head to acknowledge a shot well played, and then she noticed Willow looking at her. She lowered her head shyly and muttered, “That’s why I’m not a bowler.” Shaking her head, she trotted off to retrieve her ball.

Eventually, everyone had a turn at batting, and Dr Everitt then called everyone together for fielding drills. She prefaced training with a few brief words for the neophytes. “Those of you who are softballers and new to cricket will find that you’ll be working a bit harder in the field. Two reasons: one, the inning lasts much longer; sometimes you’ll spend the entire afternoon fielding. Two, you’ve got more territory to protect; in softball you’ve got the pitcher and seven fielders covering a ninety degree arc. In cricket, you’ve got the bowler, the ‘keeper and nine fielders to cover the full three-sixty degrees. So there are always going to be gaps. Fielding is very basic - it’s just catching, running, picking up and throwing - but it takes lots of practice to do it well. Okay, let’s do it.”

They started with some close in work, with the fielders in two parallel lines about fifteen yards apart with Dr Everitt in the middle on one knee holding a bat. One fielder threw the ball to the coach, who, holding the bat with an angled blade, would deliberately send the ball skidding off the face or the edge of the bat to the fielders waiting in the opposite line. The edged shots were particularly tricky because the ball could ricochet at an unpredictable angle, and if the fielder throwing the ball got a bit too enthusiastic, it could come through at considerable speed.

Willow dropped her first couple of catches, and suffered a painful knock to the end of one finger in the process, but she quickly got the idea: she had to have soft hands, and yield with the ball, to stop it popping out of her grasp and spilling to the ground. Once again her reflexes, sharpened by years of dodging pointy-toothed blood-suckers, were a help.

After a few minutes of close catching, the fielders split into two groups. Willow’s group started off with medium range work - catches first, then they moved on to bouncing and rolling balls, then short chases with a quick pick-up and throw. The other group did outfield practice: one player had a bat and hit balls both into the air and along the ground to the fielders, who were lined up fifty yards away. They sent their throws back in to another fielder wearing a baseball mitt, who caught the balls and lobbed them gently to the batswoman, who sent them careering off into the deep once more. After a few minutes of each activity, before everyone started getting too bored, the groups swapped over.

At last Dr Everitt called a halt, and the panting cricketers gathered around her once more. Though it has been said that “horses sweat, men perspire and women glow,” Willow looked around and noted some very effective glowing happening around her. They all then took a few minutes for the players to introduce themselves. Willow struggled to remember all the names. The tall black woman was Mae, the blonde was just “Mac”, there was of course Dr. Everitt or as she preferred, Lisa, there was a Brooke, a Tyler, a Charmari (that one needed to be spelled out before everyone got it) and several others. When it came to Willow’s turn, the redhead looked down shyly and said: “Willow. Willow Rosenberg.” There was an immediate burble of laughter from several of the players, and the redhead blushed, wondering all of a sudden why her name was funny to these people.

“That’s too easy,” one them piped up. “We’ll call you ‘Wizard’.”

“Wiz!” someone else butted in.

“She can’t be ‘Wizard’,” Mae contradicted. She had a lilting, melodic Jamaican accent. “Wizards they are all of them men, don’t you know?”

“Then she’s a witch!” came an excited yell, which was followed by more laughter, followed by a chatter of voices, saying variously: “Burn her!” and “She turned me into a newt - A newt? - I got better.” Willow blushed even more deeply. Why were they being so awful?

Dr Everitt held up a calming hand. “Just Willow, okay. Wiz, maybe. C’mon, take it easy.”

When the introductions were over, the coach laid down the timetable for training for the next couple of weeks. The players then dispersed. Some of the ones who knew each other reached a consensus to head for the nearest bar to rehydrate. Willow found herself walking, head down and, so she thought, completely alone, back towards her dorm.

“D-don’t m-mind them,” came a quiet voice at her arm.

“Hm - I'm sorry?” Willow hadn’t noticed the blonde, the one called Mac, walking almost alongside her.

“They weren’t t-trying to embarrass you,” the blonde continued. She kept her eyes down like Willow did, only daring to raise them for momentary glances at the redhead’s face.

“What was all that about wizards and witches?” Willow plucked up the courage to ask. Is it that obvious, she wondered.

“Cricket b-bats are made of w-willow,” she explained. “Someone who’s g-good at b-batting, y-you c-call th-them a 'W-wizard of the w-willow.'”

“Oh." Then, "Oh!” Willow got it.

“Th-there’s nothing to it. W-we get nicknames in the t-team. Like I’m Mac. Because my name’s Maclay.”

“Oh, right. What’s your other name?” Willow couldn’t help asking.

“Tara. I-I’ll s-see you at n-next t-training.” They were at a junction of two paths then, and Tara looked up at Willow’s face briefly. She waved shyly and walked away, just an ordinary girl in track pants and a tee shirt, disappearing anonymously into the campus.

“Good bye,” Willow said after her, and wondered why she felt vaguely disappointed that Tara hadn’t hung around longer.

(To be continued)

[willow_tara_always]

yay!! im loving the sound of this new fic its new and different i like! keep it up !!! love Jo xx

[watty]

I was in New Zealand last fortnight on holiday, but that didn't stop me from being glued to the TV for coverage of the first test between Australia and South Africa. Allow me to say, wow Brad Hodge rulz.

With cricket so fresh on my mind, it's a delight to return home to find an update to this fic. No worries about not updating frequently, I for one will follow it no matter what. Continuing to enjoy your detailed description of the training. Particularly

in softball you’ve got the pitcher and seven fielders covering a ninety degree arc. In cricket, you’ve got the bowler, the ‘keeper and nine fielders to cover the full three-sixty degrees.

which is a great summary of one of the differences between the 2 games.

I could tell the other players weren't malicious in trying to come up with a nickname for Willow, though I feel for her embarrassment. It's hard at first, to try to get the feel of the dynamics of a group of people who obviously know each other better than yourself. Thank goodness for Tara to the rescue.

Loving the gentle pace of this fic. It's like cricket on a sunday afternoon on the village green. All in its good time. Thanks for sharing.
[br]

[Bagheera]

Jo and Watty,

thanks for your thoughts and feedback. Has it really been the best part fo a year since I updated this. Time to remedy that:

In which an announcement is made, and Willow is pleased to be making a new friend.

Part 5

Over the weeks that followed, Willow attended training diligently. She went to a sports shop and bought a cheap practice ball of her very own. On off days, when she could entice Buffy away from the pastry shop, dorm room or the training room, the roommates would take to one of the open green spaces around the campus and throw the ball to each other. Buffy enjoyed the challenge of fielding the hard ball without a mitt. Willow soon found that to avoid chipped nails, she needed to keep them trimmed religiously. Buffy offered her sympathy at this sudden and necessary loss of potential glamour; “No more painted talons for you, Will,” she said. The redhead didn’t mind at all; she looked at her newly trimmed little nails and decided that they were neat and petite.

One training day not long after the first, Willow accidentally smacked herself on the inside of her front foot with the bat. It had been her own fault – sloppy footwork – and no one seemed to notice Willow’s discomfort as she tenderly hopped her way through the remainder of her session in the net. Though as it turned out someone did; Tara enquired politely about it when they were walking back to their respective dorms after training. By this time the pain had subsided to a dull ache, and Will replied that she thought it was nothing serious. “Oh, g-good,” the blonde had said. “Getting h-hit in the f-foot can be s-so painful. Take care.” And with that they parted. The next day the whole joint at the base of Willow’s big toe was a dusky purple colour and she could barely walk on it. She hobbled around on it for a day or two, enduring the rough end of Buffy’s sarcastic sympathy, until the bruising settled down and Willow found that she could walk normally again. But she still didn’t miss the next training session.

Through conversing with her fellow players, Willow struck up an acquaintance with Charmari, a tiny young woman of about Willow’s age whose parents were from Sri Lanka. Charmari was well short of five feet in height, with a small upper body, rounded hips and a smile on her round brown-skinned face like a ripe Valencia orange. Little Charmari was the only daughter in a large family, and since the age of ten she had been tormenting all of her brothers with her spinners. She was looking at a career in aeronautical engineering, but at the moment she was happy to be at UCS and looking forward to her first match against an all-women team.

Within a few weeks, Willow and her fellow cricketing virgins had progressed to the point where Dr. Lisa Everett decided that there was no point in keeping them away from the experienced players. Willow trembled the first time she faced up to Mae in the nets; the Jamaican was so tall, and she released the ball from such a height and with such velocity that Willow was unsure how she would ever deal with such venomous pace and bounce. But at first it seemed very easy: Willow quickly got used to moving forward to meet the ball, bat and pad close together, absorbing the speedy deliveries with solid defence. But she was soon shaken out of her growing confidence when Mae let her have a couple of shorter balls. Willow sat herself on her bottom to avoid the first one, and backed awkwardly out of the way of the second. Mae grinned at Willow’s obvious discomfort. Dr Everitt advised: “If the ball is coming for you, try to move across so you’re inside the line of the ball. If you back away, with Mae’s angle, it’s only going to follow you.” Willow tried this the next time, and saw that the coach was right: it gave her the option of playing a shot, or letting the ball pass harmlessly by.

Charmari was a very different proposition. Willow found herself chanting under her breath whenever she faced the diminutive Sri Lankan: “footwork, footwork, footwork.” Unlike Mae’s speedy deliveries, which demanded a single, almost instantaneous response, Charmari permitted the batswoman some thinking time. Time that Willow at first used to get herself into such a hopeless tangle that, had it been a real game and not a net session, she would invariably have brought about her own dismissal within a matter of only a few balls. Facing spin bowling should be simple: if the ball is pitched full, come forward to neutralise the spin and play either a defensive shot, a sweep, or a drive; for short balls, step back to cut or pull with a horizontal bat. This reckoned without the variations of Charmari’s craft; her silent and subtle weapons of varied pace, loop and drift; the sum of these meant that where the ball seemed to be heading when it left the bowler’s hand, and where it actually landed were often quite different. Looping, dropping balls deceived Willow time and again into leaving the safety of her batting crease, thinking the ball was pitched fuller than it actually was. Drift took the ball wide of Willow’s bat, and the result was often a miss, leaving Willow stranded down the pitch. Charmari would grin her broadest grin and raise her bowling arm in triumph, knowing that she had won that round.

Batting against the experienced players also meant bowling to them, and Willow quickly learned just how long and hard a road it is to become a good bowler, as time and again the batswomen, a little haughtily, lofted the bowl over Will’s head into the open green spaces beyond. There was no-one waiting there to fetch them so it was up to the bowler herself to run off and fetch her ball. Willow, relating it to her psychology studies, decided it was a form of negative feedback; bowl badly and you got the punishment of going off to collect your ball. It was like a slacker version of dropping to the ground and giving your coach a quick twenty.

Tara was an exception. She treated all bowlers with equal respect, playing lots of soft defensive shots to straight balls and, most of the time, confining her attacking shots to stinging drives, cuts and pulls into the side netting. She almost never struck lofted shots, and even seemed annoyed at herself on one of the rare occasions when she did. Willow had been the sacrificial bowling lamb, and the ball had flown over her head into the wide green spaces of the oval. It looked like a perfectly timed shot, but just before Willow turned to make the long trudge and fetch her ball, she saw Tara shaking her head and muttering to herself.

Walking back to their dorms after training, Willow asked Tara why. The blonde frowned and said, “Because in a real g-game, they’d have a fielder out there for that shot, and I’d p-probably get out.”

“But Tara, lots of the other girls play those shots in the air, and they joke about it,” Willow objected.

“A lot of it is just sh-showing off, don’t you think?” Tara asked.

“I don’t know, I’m completely new to this game,” Willow admitted.

“But I’ve been w-watching how you think about everything, Willow,” Tara said in a low, nervous voice. The blonde seemed almost relieved as she looked about her and saw that it was time for them to part ways. “See you next training,” and Tara was off.

Tara’s been watching me, Willow thought to herself. But she’s such a good player, what can she hope to learn from me? Willow allowed herself a little grin as she walked the short distance back to her dorm. She tried to come up with a word that described how she felt about what Tara had said. But it was altogether too puzzling, and the best she could come up with was – happy.

At the start of the next training session, Dr Everitt made a quick announcement: their first game had been scheduled, a two-day match, held on successive Saturdays, against the DSMs, another intramural team that was drawn mainly from the Psych. Department. Lisa asked who would available to play both days and made a note of those that answered in the affirmative. At the end of the training session she posted a team sheet, and Willow was thrilled and just a little scared to see that her name was right at the bottom, eleventh on the list.

“I made the team!” Willow couldn’t stop herself from crying aloud.

A tentative hand squeezed Willow’s arm. It was Tara’s. “Congratulations,” the blonde smiled shyly. Her name was there too, near the top.

“I can’t wait to tell Buffy!” Willow continued.

“B-buffy?” Tara frowned ever so slightly.

“My roommate,” Willow explained hurriedly. “And my best friend in the whole world.”

“Oh,” Tara sounded if anything, a little relieved. “Do you th-think she’ll come and watch?”

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” Willow said. “I’m sure you’d like her!”

Tara nodded, smiling, and said, “I’ll s-see you at the game.”

(To be continued)

[Selena Taiki]

I really like this fic and I must say I'm really glad you updated this or I would have missed it. Tara is captured wonderfully; the way she is so intent and a bit of a perfectionist about what she loves, wicca or cricket, is so Tara.

[Thianne]

i have to admit i don't understand anything about cricket - i definitely have to look it up somewhere - but this fic is very good so far. i'm loving it, please update soon

[Belli Bear]

wow! having cricket blaring in the lounge every summer for the past 19 years has SO been worth it now! i LOVE this! Your version of Tara is so intriguing! im completely smitten with every word cant wait for more like.. really i cant.. so.. *gives u a pen* .... heh.. i'll go now



-B

[Artemis]

Aww, a cricket fic - who'd ha' thought one day we'd see Willow and Tara all padded up, bats in hand, all in white, with that kind of adorable air of formality that cricket has (or at least, in theory has, whenever the players aren't acting up). I'm really enjoying reading how Willow's learning the game and developing herself into a player - I'm not much of a sportsman myself (well, I can play tennis and only mildly embarrass myself, but that's about it), but it's very easy to picture from your writing.

And I like how, it seems, Tara's got the hots for Willow much more than Willow's realised - natural enough, it's all new to Willow so it's no surprise she hasn't got a lot of brainpower left over from the game itself to devote to who's giving her adoring stares. I like that this is coming through Willow's point of view - it makes Tara a tantalising mystery, we get to wonder how smitten she is with Willow, how nervous she is, whether she's planning to make a move or hope Willow will do it, how long it'll take for Willow to realise...

(And what a well-timed update, with the cricket season just kicking off. Though, as always, it'll be just the men's matches that get played on TV... grr. I haven't seen a women's cricket match in years, ever since some exhibition match got aired on TV, and Zoe Goss took Brian Lara out like he was a rookie.)

[Uzu]

Absolutely loving this lighthearted and charming fic. Haven't a clue about cricket, but this is a fun way to learn. It's also fun watching the developing friendship between a semi-oblivious Will and an obviously attracted Tara.

Reminds me of the good ol days of Season 4.

Can't wait to read about the big game and how it all turns out.

[sadie]

Nice story, I'm liking it so far - a different beginning. Thanks

[Knock yourself out]

What sparkling entertainment as Blowers might say. This is delightful - my favourite sport and Tara and Willow. Lovely writing and I can't wait to see their relationship develop.
And a few googlies and something going down the leg side.

[spells42]

Bagheera
while not really a cricket fan (I'm too much a product of the instant gratification generations to appreciate the game unless it's a one-dayer), I'm enjoying the novelty of this setting for a Willow and Tara romance. Well, I'm expecting it'll be a W&T romance, 'cos so far they've not interacted very much.

Your love of the game shows through ... any story invested with such a passion is going to be good. Looking forward to the next innings.

Anne
btw, in the mild interest I take in such proceedings, I barrack for Australia.