Intricacies

Intricacies. It's a word I plucked out of the air earlier in a tweet. It described our setting perfectly, as I watched on with my new colleagues at the World Youth Organisation, who set about filming the latest segment of their first ever advert. In a small side room in the gigantic building that is Euston Tower, Director Finn, along with seven of us others, set up the latest scene. It took about two and a half hours to set up, perfect and tinker with what is going to be a ten-second piece, and it got me thinking about how far people are willing to go for perfection.

I admired Finn's lust for his work to be faultless. He was a really nice guy to boot, but I admired how hard he'd worked to get where he is. Our entourage for the day, Ayath, asked where he got his degree from. He doesn't have a degree. Just pure hard work has got him to where he is today, doing what he obviously loves. If I'm being brutally honest, I was nervous about today. Meeting new people was something I used to be brilliant at, but that confidence I once possessed seems to have deserted me. It turned out everyone, from the CEO's to the actors were charming people, even if I didn't really do a lot but watch. And tinker. And watch, as Finn moved the whiteboard an inch backwards to get the right degree of light. Intricacies.

After the first scene was shot, we headed outside to film a two-second snippet of the team approaching the building, the public wondering what was happening among the calls of 'action' and 'cut'. I merely looked on, feelings of awkwardness drifting in and away, not really sure whether I was being a hindrance or a help. I always knew I wasn't planning to be doing anything, (unless something went very wrong!) only turning up on my day off from the day job to formally introduce myself face-to-face with my colleagues in my new role as Safeguarding Officer.

That part of the filming finished at roughly 2pm, as the gang headed back down south to Essex to continue another part of the film. I chose to give my adieus and walk into the midst of London town. Looking at the list of underground stations, I wondered where to go, seeing Oval Station not too far away. The Kia Oval. Surrey County Cricket Club. A quick check of my app showed Surrey were playing Kent in the one-day cup. So off I went.

Taking a seat in the half-full cricket stadium, I watched as batsmen showed their craft. On the train down to London, I began reading a book called 'Who Wants to be a Batsman' by a man called Simon Hughes. The isolating nature of batting, the concentration and technique and how to be the best.

The intricacies.

I have never been to a professional sporting event alone, but I enjoyed the few hours I was there immensely. Getting lost in my own thoughts of the sport of which I have loved for years now and imagining being Kumar Sangakkara, who was batting at the time I walked in. A legend for Sri Lanka and indeed the sport, Sangakkara is the epitome of what a human being should be. A successful sportsman, a hard-working charity man and believe it or not, a qualified lawyer. Kumar Sangakkara has achieved. Yet there was me, reflecting on another hit and miss season, knowing that I'm not mentally tough enough for the increasing level our team at BCC is reaching. Just a year ago, I was top of the tree, captain of the 1st XI and leading the team to victory. Now, I'm merely a fringe player. I'm not bitter saying that, as I know there are much better players than me at our club, but I do wonder where I would be if I just committed. If I was more passionate. If I dealt with my intricacies.

That's what batting is. It's film making. It's being immersed in that bubble of creativity, ignoring the world around you and concentrating on the here and now. Just like Finn and his film-making, one wrong decision could ruin the masterpiece. Yet Finn seemed to have this air of self-belief, a confidence I once had. I don't think I have that anymore. People praise my writing skills, saying I can make a career out of it, but with every week that passes, that dream fades. That self-belief is non-existent now. Who knows if I can ever regain it.

The events of the last three or four years have ground me down and now I am starting from scratch. Ultimately, I feel I'm just not good enough, however much people say differently. All of those (albeit very kind words) mean nothing if I don't believe them. All I've wanted from life is to make a difference, and I believe the World Youth Organisation have the potential to do just that, on a massive scale. Personally though, my own self doubt needs to be controlled. I need to find that confidence again. I need to deal with the issues that life doth bring.

It all hangs on the intricacies.