From: mar@physics.su.OZ.AU (David Mar)
Subject: Re: Three Word Story Game (12/4/92)
Organization: School of Physics, University of Sydney, Australia
Date: Sat, 12 Dec 1992 11:42:12 GMT

> looker, latch, inkwell.

Story 3.


"He's certainly a bit of a looker," commented Bill, carefully watching
the young batsman surveying the field placements from the centre of the
cricket ground.

"Mmm," agreed Jack, "That's a good start. Let's hope he's a hitter too."

Some eighty yards away, Donald completed his scan of the ground, filing
away the positions of the fielders in his memory. Three slips, a widish
gully, cover-point, mid-off, mid-on, square leg, and fine leg. Taking a
deep breath, he bent over his bat and tapped the pitch, then looked up
past the umpire to face the English bowler.

Nervous energy played in Donald's stomach as the bowler began his run-up;
long, slow strides gradually quickening as he approached the wicket. The
blanket of silence which fell over the crowd served to accentuate the
moment for Donald. His concentration high, he only had eyes and ears for
the interaction between himself and the bowler.

Breathing slowly, Donald licked his lips as he tapped his bat again. His
first ball in Test Cricket; this was the one he would always remember.
The expulsion of air from his lungs seemed a long process to him. Another
part of his consciousness wondered idly why he was wasting energy
thinking about breathing.

He focused his mind, then noticed the faint thumping in his ears. The
heartbeat created a rhythm almost in time with the pounding of the
incoming bowler's feet on the turf. Donald's vision narrowed on the
figure of the bowler; his graceful motion propelling him swiftly across
the ground. He noticed the ruffling of the bowler's trouser cuffs in the
breeze, the fabric of his shirt clinging to the muscles in his shoulders
and arms. The lanky bones covered in the fluid movement of flesh formed
a vision of rapidly approaching menace in Donald's eyes.

Donald felt the slight wind blowing across the ground, tickling the fine
hairs on the back of his neck. It came from behind him, and his mind
determined the direction it would make the ball swing in the air. His
lungs pulled in another breath as the bowler passed the umpire, arms
swinging and extending in smooth arcs.

Donald watched intently as the bowler's feet hit the pitch. The right arm
whirled around and the hand released the ball. Donald lifted his bat,
feeling the weight, as he sighted the seam on the sphere of dark red
leather.

With the end of his inhalation rasping loudly in his ears, Donald shifted
his weight firmly on to his right leg. His bat lifted high behind him,
supported by the taught muscles in his right arm; he felt the surging
of the blood being pumped deep within his chest. The breeze spoke
whispers to his ear, his skin felt the motion of the air, his nostrils
flared at the smell of the fresh turf.

The swift blur of the cricket ball appeared clearly to Donald's eyes. He
saw the curve through the air as the ball obeyed the whims of the wind
and the skill of the bowler. Holding his breath as he calculated the
trajectory, he began the slow movement of advancing his left foot down
the wicket. The transfer of weight followed smoothly as he planted his
foot, pointed directly at the mid-off fielder, and allowed the solid
mass of his bat to begin its downward journey.

The ball pitched and bounced back up. Donald's bat, full of momentum and
picking up more from his powerful swing, passed through the vertical as
his weight transferred fully on to his front foot. The slight deviation
of the ball from the bounce matched the arc of his bat, and the sharp
snap as the leather connected with the willow cracked the air.

Donald felt and heard the impact. As he followed through with the bat,
aiming the ball through the field, full sensation returned. He could see
the ball, flying across the grass, just wide of a diving fielder. He
could see the exasperation of the bowler, turning to follow the flight
of the ball. He could see the crowd rising to their feet and could hear
the cheering, drowning out his swift exhalation and the heavy beating of
his heart.

He watched the ball crash into the boundary fence, then straightened and
felt the appreciation of the crowd, a smile coming to his face.

"Well," said Bill, nodding his head as he dipped his pen in the inkwell
and moved to mark the runs in his scorebook, "he latched on to that one."

"Yep," agreed Jack, standing and applauding with the rest of the crowd.


David Mar.                                      mar@physics.su.OZ.AU
Astrophysics Department, University of Sydney  NSW  2006, Australia.
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