Page 21 - West Pennant Hills Cherrybrook Cricket Club Yearbook 2017-18

Next Rocket scientist was Jayson Smart (Smart of name and Smart by nature) who worked out that using a fork to leverage open the can would work – success. The boys now had 1 of 2 cans open.
The best came last. After seeing that a fork can work, Nikki O’Meara then devised a better method. He got a key and started belting it with a stump mallet. As expected he got a small puncture in the can and nothing else. Jayson decide not to use the fork again but just drank the tomato sauce from the small hole in the lid.
“.....ask the Leyland brothers”
We all complain about the traffic along Pennant Hills Road and the time taken sitting in traffic. But complaining too much, think about those committed players who play each week who travel a long way to play for our great Club. How about this for starters:
• Taki Manolelis (B1) – travels each game from Scone in the Hunter Valley – a short 516 kilometre round trip from Scone to the Sports Club
• Dan Costigan (A2) – lives at Magenta on the central Coast. This is a ‘quick’ 180 kilometre round trip down the M1
• Simon Smyth (A2 Skipper) – lives at San Remo – 182 kilometres return down the M1
• Bill Peterkin (A1 & A2 fill-in) – Maroota just a simple 72 kilometre round trip from the upper Hawkesbury A Duck – through the eyes of an U12
Last season, Eamon Boyle, one of our then U12 players wrote a great poem about the emotions of going into bat and looking down the barrel of a 4th consecutive duck. The poem came 2nd out of 9,000 entries in the Dorothea Mackellar Poetry Competition for Primary School children.
Eamon ended up scoring 3 runs before he was run-out. This is a great story and will bring a smile to the face of every cricketer who has scored a Duck.
“Pad up Eamon!” The coach hollers like a bull to me. I can hear the cheers and jeers of our enemy. Another one of our wickets has just fallen,
It’s my turn soon, but my batting is appallin’.
My thoughts keep going back to my last match And how I was dismissed by a stupendous catch. I imagine being at the crease and smashing a six, But I know that I cannot do those kinds of tricks.
Another wicket tumbles in the blink of an eye, It’s my turn now and I want to cry.
I whisper to myself “do not get out,”
But in my heart there is a tonne of doubt.
I crave for my teammates to look at me as a hero Not the kid who constantly scores a duck - ZERO! So I take my time to mark middle stump
And all I can hear is my palpitating heart - THUMP!
The umpire’s arm comes down to his side. The bowler, like a lion, takes his first stride.
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