To the bloke who pulled out of the game at the very, very last minute,

To the batter who holed out in the deep when we seemed on course to win it,

There’s been extras, wides and no-balls whilst the game was still not old,

And a player who wanted to change the field before a ball was bowled.

There’s been cuts, pulls and cow shots, batters looking good, but then

Anger, remorse and hindsight, if they had their time again,

Trying to gee the fielders up with shouts and words of hope

To fill that arkward silence as you fetch it from the rope

There’s been drops, dives and misfields, the odd fumble also,

And tales of how it wouldn’t have happened 20 years ago,

The confident stride to the wicket to put them on the rack,

Then the mistake, the shout, the disbelief as they take the long walk back,

Setting a field is an art form, knowing what to do and when

But you know some teammates think the Tweenies have far more acumen

Then there's the paperwork, fees and admin to just use bat and ball

And the conversation in the bar later on to explain away it all,

All the different rules and duties can drive you round the bend

And who scored how many points takes a genius to comprehend,

There's a selection meeting on  Monday night to debrief, examine, prepare

When you know numerous pull outs will leave the cupboard bare

But its only been a fortnight since all this stuff’s unfurled

But bring it on, I love it, wouldn’t have missed it for the world.