In Praise Of Darren Stevens

The sun gleams off his scalp

As he waits at his mark,

Thoughtfully polishing the ball

And squinting at his quarry. 

The batsman takes his guard,

Scratching at the turf.

One last look around the field,

and he's ready.

The bowler smiles slightly.

He looks down,

Only for a moment,

And fixes his gaze on the target.

He runs,

Gracefully,

Ball in hand

Up, up, up,

A leap,

Arms in motion.

The batsman waits with his willow aloft.

Back and across.

Left foot forwards.

Bat sweeps down.

Too late.

He doesn't even look back,

The sound ball on wood came from behind.

Darren Stevens has claimed another victim.

Stevo is 45 years old,

A proper Dazzler.

And being a couple of years younger than me,

I feel certain he has a bight future ahead of him.

That young whippersnapper Jimmy Anderson

Could learn a thing or two from him,

I am quite sure.

The beauty of watching Stevens play cricket

Is his joyful abandon when playing.

He bats like a man without a care in the world,

Flaying good county bowlers to all parts of the ground.

When will the England and Wales Cricket Board

See sense and call him up?