The Idiot Gets a Daddy Ton

It's been a bit of a weird week this one. It's the same recipe of cricket and alcohol, but in a strange order that left me feeling on the brink of collapsing.

I've been a bit of an idiot this week aswell. Jumping past the news that I may well be in trouble again for misuse of Twitter, (haven't we been there before?), I have spent the week absolutely blowing my earnings on ... Well... Nonsense. It's a case of not learning lessons, both with Twitter and with alcohol, as I spent what can only be described as a gargantuan amount of dosh on Thursday night. Yes. Thursday. It was A-Level results night, and as soon as someone mentioned it last Saturday - Conveniently, whilst we were celebrating our Twenty20 Finals Day victory - there was always a 0% chance of me not attending. The idea of me being bored at home whilst people I know are living the party life really is an idea that fills my heart with sadness. Call me a party animal, an alcoholic, whatever... I couldn't care less.

After this week, my liver has handed in its notice. It wants to change jobs.

I thought I'd had a really awesome night without spending a lot on Thursday, a brief thought that was completely scuppered when it came to the tiresome long day at work on Friday when I found a receipt for £56.70 in my wallet. Nope. That's not a typo. I had genuinely spent £56.70 on SIX WHOLE FISHBOWLS. Who even does that? Even when their drunk? Who? I was on my lunch break when I found out this fact, and nearly choked on my chicken mayo and bacon baguette as I saw it. I had to ask someone what I had bought, (which proves how much I had to drink that night), but when I found out... I simply laughed. I think that goes down as the biggest waste of money I've ever spent. Thursday night really was a brilliant night though, and congratulations to all who got their results. I'm sure you loved your relatively free night as I paid for all your drinks...

Friday is hardly worth mentioning. I was a write-off from the first coffee of the day to the twenty-first, and when the time finally came for me to make the weary walk home, I lasted a whole hour before I simply crashed on my bed. Not even I could have managed another night out on Friday evening as I enjoyed 14 hours of blissful sleep up to my final Saturday morning shift before my week off work.

Saturday eventually came round, and after a pretty uneventful morning at work, I was on my way to the first of two weekend games. We were playing Langford (again), and proceeded to completely screw it up. Whether we were thinking the rain was going to come so there was no point in playing I don't know, but it never did, and when we were 76-7 we decided we really should try and do something about it. I was long gone, nicking behind off their admittedly good opening bowler who accounted for our top 3 batsmen, all of which are in pretty good form. Being bowled out for 103 then wasn't ideal.

During the tea break, Monty, (keen to make up for his lack of runs!) tried persuading me to open him with the bowling aswell. Being a spinner, his argument was that the Langford openers wouldn't be expecting it. After much deliberation, I relented and agreed. I then decided to go the whole hog and properly attack. I walked out to the middle with borrowed pads under my trousers and underneath a helmet. I had never fielded at short-leg before, (a position suicidally close to the batsman to catch any balls that come off bat and then pad). But 2nd ball, the batsman did exactly that, prodding at one that turned, hitting his glove and then pad and then ballooning up into the air for me to pouch the easiest of catches. As soon as the umpire put his finger up, we went mental. Our plan had worked. And what's more, Monty got another wicket soon after to leave them 9-2. We were buzzing as we tried to prize out batsman number 3, but it never happened. Not until it was too late anyway.

One more thing happened in this match that wasn't exactly ideal. After Langford had recovered somewhat, to leave themselves on 60-odd for 2, I bought myself on to bowl. Not a rarity these days, but for some reason, I just couldn't do it properly. I just bowled short long hops that kept getting despatched. Apart from one. Which the batsman missed. Bearing in mind he missed it, the ball carried on travelling and planted into the middle of his eye socket. Despite a shaken batsman, and a cut eye, he seemed okay to carry on, and did, but it left me apologising profusely. He looked like Robert Sheehan aswell. I had basically injured one of the best-looking guys I had faced all season. Any plans to ask him out for a drink had been scuppered due to my dodgy bowling!

And then Saturday night came round... Before I go any further, I promise I had nothing planned. I had enquired as to someone wanting a night out, but wasn't expecting them to say yes. I spent my evening walking to the shop to buy a couple of birthday cards and then delivering them, only to be persuaded into attending their birthday function at the local pub. "Ok", I thought. "Its only a few at the pub, this won't develop into anything further".

I really should know by now how that never, ever happens.

How wrong I was. The friend I texted had replied saying, "Of course I'll go out, stupid question!" and when she did, I had been bought drinks left, right and centre at this function leaving me a little worse for wear as I travelled to Abigail's for her pre-drinks in the summerhouse. I love that summerhouse. Just chilling in there with a few drinks and a bit of music, reminiscing over past events and talking over the present day, there really are few things better in life. When we left for town, we enjoyed a really, really good night, camping it up in the Barley Mow, before deciding we were going to carry on at someone else's house when the time came for closing.

This is the point where my 2nd stage of idiocy happened. I won't go into details, but I went against what I think is right and I am very disappointed in my behaviour then. It wasn't anything illegal (before you say anything!), I was just being a general moron. It's against my character I suppose. We all make mistakes though, and its important to appreciate that. From that stage of idiocy, I stumbled in the front door at 6.30am. The sun was up. I eventually got to sleep at 7.30am. Whoa.

Just three hours later, I was awake for the 2nd instalment of the weekend's cricket. With nothing to play for on Sundays, it was almost not worth turning up. I just couldn't be bothered. Sleep was a much more appealing option, but not turning up is never an option at the best of times, even more so yesterday - because we were due to turn up with just 9 players. I had a feeling it was going to be a thrashing...

And it was.

We batted first, and padding up going out to bat was quite difficult in itself. I could feel my head spinning and I felt a bit sick. I didn't tell any of the other guys this in fear of being ripped apart, but as I was heading out to bat, I got the impression I might be walking back in again pretty quickly...

Their opening bowler was pretty handy, but otherwise, they didn't have much firepower whatsoever. A fact made more palpable by the fact that, after 40 overs, I found myself unbeaten at the crease having scored 153 runs. Again, that is not a typo. At the beginning of my innings, I may well have still been drunk, but I genuinely scored 153 more runs than I had expected. That's a new record. Finding the boundary 24 times is also a new record. 153* is the 5th best performance in the whole league structure this season, and the 1st best in our division. It propels me to the top of the club standings for runs scored and for the first 10 overs of that innings - I was still drunk.

We won convincingly. Having scored 292-2 as a team, we bowled them out for 126, and a winning margin of 166 runs. I had scored more runs than their whole team whilst drunk and then heavily hungover and then I went home, cramped in the back of the car with a lot of kit, with a rather bemused smile on my face.

What a strange day... What a strange week...