If you’ve seen this story in the Trinidad Express you may have noticed my full government name in the St Mary’s College team list. That’s right, your boy is not only a football tonto but also a cricket world boss. I know most of you don’t care about cricket, I won’t hold that against you, but you need to sort your life out and get some sense.

I played for CIC for a number of years and even captained the team for a few of them. I played one game for Queen’s Park Cricket Club and after being allowed to become a member, I spent the dues money my father gave me on rum and liming hence the reason I’m not a member of QPCC today. Yup, I was always very responsible.

For years a few of the guys and I have been trying to revive this cricket thing and play some fete matches. Nothing too serious, just basically another excuse to get out the house and drink while doing some sort of exercise. I much rather play a sport than do mindless cardio like running around a park or trying to keep up with my wife in the aisles of Pricesmart.

Here’s the problem, while I still have the drive and enthusiasm of a spritely 17 year old, I have the body of an arthritic 71 year old. Last Tuesday we had our first practice and I figured I should be alright if I gave 75% effort. What I should have done was given a respectable 17%.

You see I completely disregarded the minor matter of having an L5 S1 bulging disc in my lower back. I mean why not, it’s a flesh wound, I can walk it off. Except I ended up walking like Yoda the next day. If it wasn’t for the essence of life known as Cataflam I’d probably still be saying “oh fadda, thank you Jesus” whenever I sat down after walking 5 steps.

You may be happy to know that I have recovered from my young boy exploits last week, just in time for another practice session today. Worse yet, one of these bright sparks put this ad in the newspapers. So now my old, decrepit, Mumra the Ever Living, Farmer Nappy aged body have to recover from today in time to not embarrass myself on Sunday.

Anyway, it’s a good thing most of you don’t care enough about cricket to either read this post to the end or show up on Sunday to see the debacle.

Because that might be a scene.


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