On occasion, you’ll be shocked to hear, my mind’s been known to drift

I tune out now and then, I must confess.

But in the nineteenth over (I think the second ball)

My focus was nigh faultless and my skills were quite sublime,

As those who shared the moment will attest.

T’was a bright and balmy afternoon, the sun was beating down,

An insipid breeze was mooching ‘round the ground.

I remember every detail that my senses could detect:

The glowing growing ruddy orb, the breath that I drew in

And the fizzing as the seam spun round and round.

It’s easier to concentrate when standing in the slips

And a bowler on a hat trick charges in,

But when the value of the wicket’s not as obvious as that,

When the impact on the progress of the game is not so sharp

You forget that grassing chances is a sin.

The smack and sting as ball struck flesh, my fingers closing fast

For an instant all the world was dumb and still.

My eyes felt like a stranger’s as they turned to see my hand

And emotions jostled keenly for position in my mind,

As I registered that I still grasped the pill.

Sometimes there is time for thought, preparing for a catch,

But rarely do you have that kind of luck

This one came like lightning, and sometimes they just stick

Anyway, I held it and the shocking truth be told

I was out there as the square-leg umpire. Fuck.