Cam's Gamble
by
J.B Duncan
Cameron Harvey was the cockiest cricketer that the Surfers Paradise Cricket Club had ever seen. His boasting about his prowess on the field was legendary. You either loved him or hated him. The Beenleigh Club, who had just recently joined the competition, were about to come face to face with the man whose exploits were fast becoming the most talked about in local history.
Cam was looking forward to the day’s game. Life at home couldn’t be better. His job as manager of Red Rooster was going well and his form with the bat was excellent. As he arrived at the ground he saw his team mate Mitch talking to his pal Billy, the team’s coach.
“G’day Mitch,” said Cam.
“What’s this I hear about you harassing my wife after the game last week?” asked Mitch.
“At the barbecue?” replied Cam.
“Yes, she told me all about.”
“All I said was that she had nice legs. I certainly wouldn’t call that harassment. I would say it sounded more like a compliment wouldn’t you? If you don’t believe me, ask Billy. He was with me at the time.”
“Were you, Billy?” asked Mitch.
“I’m staying out of this one mate,” replied Billy. “By the way, do either of you guys own this wallet? I found it on the ground over there.”
“Yeah mate. It’s mine,” blurted Mitch. “Put it in the valuables box . I’ll pick it up later.”
"No worries mate!," yelled Mitch "I'll put it in the box now."
“I think I’ll join you coach”, said Cam “I want to talk about the batting order.”
The playing conditions for cricket were excellent, with brilliant sunshine and a gentle south easterly breeze blowing. Surfers won the toss and decided to bat first. Cam was due to come in at number four.
The opening batsmen for Surfers were Tom Smith and Stewart Donaldson. Tom Smith was one of the best opening batsmen in the competition. He could play all the shots, and in his younger days he was a regular State representative. Stewart Donaldson was an exquisite timer of the ball, who had notched up several high scores during the season. However, today was to not be his day, out clean bowled for one.
“Bad luck Stewie, everyone has to miss out some time don’t they?” said Cam.
“Fuck off!” snapped Stewie as he walked toward the dressing room.
“Well its true isn’t it.” replied Cam. “Anyway, because I’m in such a good mood today, here’s 100 bucks. I had a bit of luck playing poker last week.
First drop for Surfers was Barry Evans. Bazza was a powerful hitter who used his solid frame to punish any loose ball to the boundary. He also had a booming voice which could terrify any human being and he possessed a bushy beard to resemble his idol – the legendary Englishman, Dr WG Grace.
“Hey Bazza, that son of yours isn’t getting any skinnier!” yelled Cam.
“What did you say?” bellowed Bazza.
“I said that son of yours isn’t getting any skinnier!”
“You just picked on the wrong guy, Harvey.”
“Calm down Bazza. Here, have 100 bucks. I had a big win on the gee gees last week.
Soon after, Surfers lost their second wicket – Tom Smith out LBW for nine.
“Don’t worry Tommy. At least it’s nine more than you made last time,” said Cam grinning.
“Fuck off prick!” barked Tom.” One more word and I swear to God I’ll bury you.”
“Hey, relax mate, here have 100 bucks. I had a big win at the Black Jack tables last week.”
It was now Cam’s turn to bat. He strolled out on to the field, and strutted towards the pitch Dermott Brereton style to let everybody know he was the greatest thing in cricket since ‘The Don.’ He took his guard from the umpire and was ready for his first ball. The bustling bowler came in from his long run up and delivered the ball.
WHACK! He smashed it to the cover boundary.
“Good ball, mate, I eat those balls for breakfast.”
The next ball was the same result – SMACK! Another boundary.
“Keep bowling at that pace son, I love it!”
At the end of the over, the bustling bowler confronted Cam.
“We heard about your reputation and now that we’ve seen you, we think you’re an arrogant smart arse piece of shit. And if you ever insult my bowling again, I’ll make you pay dearly.”
“Fine,” replied Cameron. “Lucky I made a handsome profit playing the pokies last week. So here, have 100 bucks.”
The bustling bowler received a further bonus when he dismissed Bazza for a gutsy 36.
“Great innings Bazza! One of the best I’ve seen you play,” shouted Cam.
The magnificent Cam went from strength to strength, notching up his half century from just 45 balls. He proudly raised his bat to the crowd, his team mates and the opposition.
“Drinks everybody,” said the jolly umpire.
Cam grabbed his beloved orange Gatorade and chatted to Rob, the number five in the line up. Rob was an elegant stroke maker, very much in the David Gower mould, and he could field like Roger Harper as well.
“How’s the booze Robbie? A little birdie told me that after two pots at the pub last Saturday you passed out. I reckon my eight year old son could drink more piss than you.”
“Jeez you talk a lot of shit pal. As if an eight year old boy could drink more than me. Now listen areshole, the reason I only drank two pots at the pub last Saturday, was because I received an urgent phone call from my wife telling me that my daughter had been rushed to hospital.”
“Well I’m very sorry to hear that Robbie. Here 100 bucks should make you feel better. I ran into some good fortune playing Keno last week.”
Not long after the resumption of play Robbie was caught behind for 18 runs.
“Better luck next time, Mr. two pot screamer,” blurted Cam.
Robbie gave him a cold stare as he ambled across the thirsty looking oval.
Enter Mr. Graham Morgan, the slogger of the team. Think Simon O’Donnell, but less co-coordinated.
“Now listen carefully Harvey,” said Graham sternly. “If you run me out like the way you did last time, I will smash you over the head with this bat. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, though you shouldn’t get so worked up, as it will make you lose focus. Here 100 bucks should help you concentrate.”
“Since when did you start giving away money,” said a puzzled Graham.
“I started today mate. So far I have given away money to Stewie, Tommy, Bazza and one of the opposition bowlers. It’s amazing how good you feel when you donate money to people. Seriously, if half of this cricket team were as generous I am, we would get on like a house on fire.”
Graham took his guard from the umpire, and awaited the first delivery. As the ball left the bowler’s hand, Cam mocked Graham by putting his hands around his throat and yelled CHOKE! It certainly put poor old Graham off and subsequently was out for a golden duck. Graham then lunged towards Cam with his bat, but was quickly restrained by the Beenleigh players. As he stormed off the ground, Cam continued with his gibes. “Quack, quack,” he shouted.
Now it was Mitch’s turn to show what he could do with the willow. He was normally a very nervous starter, and hadn’t been in the best of form of late.
“Hey Mitch, keep an eye on this guy’s in-swinger, it’s lethal,” cautioned Cam.
“Piss off Harvey.”
“Jeez, I was only trying to help.”
A watchful Mitch managed to see out the rest of the over.
“You didn’t have a clue in that over, did you?” scoffed Cam. “He was too quick for you.”
“Listen, smart arse, if you can score 100 runs I will give you the 500 bucks I have in my wallet. However, if you don’t reach three figures, then you’ll have to give me 500 bucks after the game.”
“Okay, you’re on.”
In the next over Mitch fell victim to the lanky bowler’s slower ball and was caught at mid-on for eight runs.
“Great shot Mitch. Maybe you should ask your wife to replace you for next week’s game.”
“Yeah, real funny, dickhead,” replied Mitch as he plodded off the ground.
The score was now 6 for 148.
Kevin Gifford, the wily old wicketkeeper entered the fray. Kev would’ve been a handy acquisition to any cricket team, as he had an uncanny ability to occupy the crease.
“How does it feel to be unemployed Kev?” yelled Cam. (Kev had recently been terminated from his job at Seaworld.)
“Fuck off wanker!” snapped Kev.
“Okay, I’m a wanker. Just do me a favour and try not to get out cheaply will you? I made a bet with Mitch that if I don’t score 100 runs I have to give the bastard $500.”
“Yes, I know, he told me all about it,” said a grinning Kev.
Cam and Kev built up a steady partnership until Kev was caught at slip for 21. The score was now 7 for 188.
“Fuck! Oh well, at least you made more runs than Mitch,” said Cam who had now reached an impressive 70 runs.
The next batsman was Darren Spence. Spencey was the Brad Hogg of the team, an effective worker and nudger of the ball who could hit the occasional boundary. Finding the gaps was his strong point. He was also a handy left arm tweaker, who could turn the ball like an alarm clock.
“Just play conservatively, Dazza,” Cam was becoming tense.
The bustling Beenleigh opening bowler was about to bowl his last ball of his ten overs. He’d bowled superbly all day, taking five wickets so far. He pounded in, sweat dripping down his face.
“Howzat!” he screamed, as the ball slammed into his right pad.
“Not out!” exclaimed the umpire.
“It must be your lucky day, Dazza”, said Cam.
Cam, meanwhile, realized he needed to start hitting some boundaries.
The lanky off-spinner came into bowl. Cam rocked back and cracked the ball to the square leg boundary. The offie approached the crease with a little more purpose this time, but SMACK – the same result, only this time to the cover point boundary. His score was now up to 78.
The next over saw Spencey dismissed for six runs, going for the big heave over long on.
“You clown! What did I tell you when you came to the crease?”
“You told me to play aggressively.”
“No I didn’t you moron, I said play conservatively. Do you realize 500 bucks is at stake here?”
“Yes and I hope you fail, you stupid shithead!”
The score was now 8 for 207. Only two batsmen left.
Bruce Johnson, the outswinging marvel, was the next batsman to the crease. Johnno was no slouch with the bat, making a half-century against the top side last week.
Cam approached Bruce mid-pitch and gave him some words of wisdom.
“If you can perform half as well as you did last week, Johnno, I’ll be your friend for life.”
Alas, it was not to be. He was out first ball, caught brilliantly at first slip. The score was now 9 for 207. One batsman left.
Cam was now in panic mode. He still needed another 22 runs.
The final batsman was the spirited Steve Phillips. Steve was an electrifying fast bowler with a whippy sort of action, similar to Malcolm Marshall. However, he was an absolute mug with the bat, who had not once reached double figures.
“Try to hit a single, Stevo. Do it for your buddy Cam. Please I beg you!”
The long haired left arm seamer came in from his medium run up and delivered. Stevo snicked it down to fine leg for a single.
“Good work, Stevo.”
Cam was now on strike. He was a picture of intensity, as the bowler delivered his second ball. CRACK – a brilliant on-drive for four runs. The second ball, BANG – a superb pull shot for another boundary. Third ball, CRUNCH – a sensational square cut. The fieldsman had no chance of cutting that one off. Fourth ball, SMACK - a majestical hoist over mid off for another boundary. Cam’s score was now score up to 94.
Needing a single to retain the strike, Cam chipped the ball through the covers for an easy run.
The lanky off-spinner came into bowl the last over of the innings. Cam blocked the first ball backed to the bowler. The spinner confidently skipped towards the crease and delivered the ball. WHACK, Cam belted it over the bowler’s head, the ball bouncing once before hitting the rope. One run to go!
There was a pause as Steve walked up to the pitch for a quick word with Cam.
“C’mon, this is it, mate,” said Steve optimistically.
The bowler strode in and released the ball. Cam snicked it to deep slip.
“Yes!” yelled Steve. “No,” shouted Cam. Cam panicked and darted off for the single in desperation. Realizing he wasn’t going to make it, he turned and ran back, but it was too late. The wicketkeeper had already removed the bails. Cam was run out for 99!
“You spastic! You ran me out. How could you do that?”
“Bad luck, mate” replied Steve, feigning sympathy.”
Cam trudged off the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Mitch was there to greet him.
“Great innings, Cam, but I’m afraid you lost the bet. Who’s up for a beer after the game – my shout.”
Surfers ended up winning the match comfortably. That evening the team arrived at the pub.
“Hey, Cam, can I buy you a beer?” said Mitch.
“Yes please,” replied Cam.
“Two VB schooners thanks mate!”
“That’ll be $6.60,” said the barman.
Mitch opened his wallet. It was empty.
THE END
Cameron Harvey was the cockiest cricketer that the Surfers Paradise Cricket Club had ever seen. His boasting about his prowess on the field was legendary. You either loved him or hated him. The Beenleigh Club, who had just recently joined the competition, were about to come face to face with the man whose exploits were fast becoming the most talked about in local history.
Cam was looking forward to the day’s game. Life at home couldn’t be better. His job as manager of Red Rooster was going well and his form with the bat was excellent. As he arrived at the ground he saw his team mate Mitch talking to his pal Billy, the team’s coach.
“G’day Mitch,” said Cam.
“What’s this I hear about you harassing my wife after the game last week?” asked Mitch.
“At the barbecue?” replied Cam.
“Yes, she told me all about.”
“All I said was that she had nice legs. I certainly wouldn’t call that harassment. I would say it sounded more like a compliment wouldn’t you? If you don’t believe me, ask Billy. He was with me at the time.”
“Were you, Billy?” asked Mitch.
“I’m staying out of this one mate,” replied Billy. “By the way, do either of you guys own this wallet? I found it on the ground over there.”
“Yeah mate. It’s mine,” blurted Mitch. “Put it in the valuables box . I’ll pick it up later.”
"No worries mate!," yelled Mitch "I'll put it in the box now."
“I think I’ll join you coach”, said Cam “I want to talk about the batting order.”
The playing conditions for cricket were excellent, with brilliant sunshine and a gentle south easterly breeze blowing. Surfers won the toss and decided to bat first. Cam was due to come in at number four.
The opening batsmen for Surfers were Tom Smith and Stewart Donaldson. Tom Smith was one of the best opening batsmen in the competition. He could play all the shots, and in his younger days he was a regular State representative. Stewart Donaldson was an exquisite timer of the ball, who had notched up several high scores during the season. However, today was to not be his day, out clean bowled for one.
“Bad luck Stewie, everyone has to miss out some time don’t they?” said Cam.
“Fuck off!” snapped Stewie as he walked toward the dressing room.
“Well its true isn’t it.” replied Cam. “Anyway, because I’m in such a good mood today, here’s 100 bucks. I had a bit of luck playing poker last week.
First drop for Surfers was Barry Evans. Bazza was a powerful hitter who used his solid frame to punish any loose ball to the boundary. He also had a booming voice which could terrify any human being and he possessed a bushy beard to resemble his idol – the legendary Englishman, Dr WG Grace.
“Hey Bazza, that son of yours isn’t getting any skinnier!” yelled Cam.
“What did you say?” bellowed Bazza.
“I said that son of yours isn’t getting any skinnier!”
“You just picked on the wrong guy, Harvey.”
“Calm down Bazza. Here, have 100 bucks. I had a big win on the gee gees last week.
Soon after, Surfers lost their second wicket – Tom Smith out LBW for nine.
“Don’t worry Tommy. At least it’s nine more than you made last time,” said Cam grinning.
“Fuck off prick!” barked Tom.” One more word and I swear to God I’ll bury you.”
“Hey, relax mate, here have 100 bucks. I had a big win at the Black Jack tables last week.”
It was now Cam’s turn to bat. He strolled out on to the field, and strutted towards the pitch Dermott Brereton style to let everybody know he was the greatest thing in cricket since ‘The Don.’ He took his guard from the umpire and was ready for his first ball. The bustling bowler came in from his long run up and delivered the ball.
WHACK! He smashed it to the cover boundary.
“Good ball, mate, I eat those balls for breakfast.”
The next ball was the same result – SMACK! Another boundary.
“Keep bowling at that pace son, I love it!”
At the end of the over, the bustling bowler confronted Cam.
“We heard about your reputation and now that we’ve seen you, we think you’re an arrogant smart arse piece of shit. And if you ever insult my bowling again, I’ll make you pay dearly.”
“Fine,” replied Cameron. “Lucky I made a handsome profit playing the pokies last week. So here, have 100 bucks.”
The bustling bowler received a further bonus when he dismissed Bazza for a gutsy 36.
“Great innings Bazza! One of the best I’ve seen you play,” shouted Cam.
The magnificent Cam went from strength to strength, notching up his half century from just 45 balls. He proudly raised his bat to the crowd, his team mates and the opposition.
“Drinks everybody,” said the jolly umpire.
Cam grabbed his beloved orange Gatorade and chatted to Rob, the number five in the line up. Rob was an elegant stroke maker, very much in the David Gower mould, and he could field like Roger Harper as well.
“How’s the booze Robbie? A little birdie told me that after two pots at the pub last Saturday you passed out. I reckon my eight year old son could drink more piss than you.”
“Jeez you talk a lot of shit pal. As if an eight year old boy could drink more than me. Now listen areshole, the reason I only drank two pots at the pub last Saturday, was because I received an urgent phone call from my wife telling me that my daughter had been rushed to hospital.”
“Well I’m very sorry to hear that Robbie. Here 100 bucks should make you feel better. I ran into some good fortune playing Keno last week.”
Not long after the resumption of play Robbie was caught behind for 18 runs.
“Better luck next time, Mr. two pot screamer,” blurted Cam.
Robbie gave him a cold stare as he ambled across the thirsty looking oval.
Enter Mr. Graham Morgan, the slogger of the team. Think Simon O’Donnell, but less co-coordinated.
“Now listen carefully Harvey,” said Graham sternly. “If you run me out like the way you did last time, I will smash you over the head with this bat. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, though you shouldn’t get so worked up, as it will make you lose focus. Here 100 bucks should help you concentrate.”
“Since when did you start giving away money,” said a puzzled Graham.
“I started today mate. So far I have given away money to Stewie, Tommy, Bazza and one of the opposition bowlers. It’s amazing how good you feel when you donate money to people. Seriously, if half of this cricket team were as generous I am, we would get on like a house on fire.”
Graham took his guard from the umpire, and awaited the first delivery. As the ball left the bowler’s hand, Cam mocked Graham by putting his hands around his throat and yelled CHOKE! It certainly put poor old Graham off and subsequently was out for a golden duck. Graham then lunged towards Cam with his bat, but was quickly restrained by the Beenleigh players. As he stormed off the ground, Cam continued with his gibes. “Quack, quack,” he shouted.
Now it was Mitch’s turn to show what he could do with the willow. He was normally a very nervous starter, and hadn’t been in the best of form of late.
“Hey Mitch, keep an eye on this guy’s in-swinger, it’s lethal,” cautioned Cam.
“Piss off Harvey.”
“Jeez, I was only trying to help.”
A watchful Mitch managed to see out the rest of the over.
“You didn’t have a clue in that over, did you?” scoffed Cam. “He was too quick for you.”
“Listen, smart arse, if you can score 100 runs I will give you the 500 bucks I have in my wallet. However, if you don’t reach three figures, then you’ll have to give me 500 bucks after the game.”
“Okay, you’re on.”
In the next over Mitch fell victim to the lanky bowler’s slower ball and was caught at mid-on for eight runs.
“Great shot Mitch. Maybe you should ask your wife to replace you for next week’s game.”
“Yeah, real funny, dickhead,” replied Mitch as he plodded off the ground.
The score was now 6 for 148.
Kevin Gifford, the wily old wicketkeeper entered the fray. Kev would’ve been a handy acquisition to any cricket team, as he had an uncanny ability to occupy the crease.
“How does it feel to be unemployed Kev?” yelled Cam. (Kev had recently been terminated from his job at Seaworld.)
“Fuck off wanker!” snapped Kev.
“Okay, I’m a wanker. Just do me a favour and try not to get out cheaply will you? I made a bet with Mitch that if I don’t score 100 runs I have to give the bastard $500.”
“Yes, I know, he told me all about it,” said a grinning Kev.
Cam and Kev built up a steady partnership until Kev was caught at slip for 21. The score was now 7 for 188.
“Fuck! Oh well, at least you made more runs than Mitch,” said Cam who had now reached an impressive 70 runs.
The next batsman was Darren Spence. Spencey was the Brad Hogg of the team, an effective worker and nudger of the ball who could hit the occasional boundary. Finding the gaps was his strong point. He was also a handy left arm tweaker, who could turn the ball like an alarm clock.
“Just play conservatively, Dazza,” Cam was becoming tense.
The bustling Beenleigh opening bowler was about to bowl his last ball of his ten overs. He’d bowled superbly all day, taking five wickets so far. He pounded in, sweat dripping down his face.
“Howzat!” he screamed, as the ball slammed into his right pad.
“Not out!” exclaimed the umpire.
“It must be your lucky day, Dazza”, said Cam.
Cam, meanwhile, realized he needed to start hitting some boundaries.
The lanky off-spinner came into bowl. Cam rocked back and cracked the ball to the square leg boundary. The offie approached the crease with a little more purpose this time, but SMACK – the same result, only this time to the cover point boundary. His score was now up to 78.
The next over saw Spencey dismissed for six runs, going for the big heave over long on.
“You clown! What did I tell you when you came to the crease?”
“You told me to play aggressively.”
“No I didn’t you moron, I said play conservatively. Do you realize 500 bucks is at stake here?”
“Yes and I hope you fail, you stupid shithead!”
The score was now 8 for 207. Only two batsmen left.
Bruce Johnson, the outswinging marvel, was the next batsman to the crease. Johnno was no slouch with the bat, making a half-century against the top side last week.
Cam approached Bruce mid-pitch and gave him some words of wisdom.
“If you can perform half as well as you did last week, Johnno, I’ll be your friend for life.”
Alas, it was not to be. He was out first ball, caught brilliantly at first slip. The score was now 9 for 207. One batsman left.
Cam was now in panic mode. He still needed another 22 runs.
The final batsman was the spirited Steve Phillips. Steve was an electrifying fast bowler with a whippy sort of action, similar to Malcolm Marshall. However, he was an absolute mug with the bat, who had not once reached double figures.
“Try to hit a single, Stevo. Do it for your buddy Cam. Please I beg you!”
The long haired left arm seamer came in from his medium run up and delivered. Stevo snicked it down to fine leg for a single.
“Good work, Stevo.”
Cam was now on strike. He was a picture of intensity, as the bowler delivered his second ball. CRACK – a brilliant on-drive for four runs. The second ball, BANG – a superb pull shot for another boundary. Third ball, CRUNCH – a sensational square cut. The fieldsman had no chance of cutting that one off. Fourth ball, SMACK - a majestical hoist over mid off for another boundary. Cam’s score was now score up to 94.
Needing a single to retain the strike, Cam chipped the ball through the covers for an easy run.
The lanky off-spinner came into bowl the last over of the innings. Cam blocked the first ball backed to the bowler. The spinner confidently skipped towards the crease and delivered the ball. WHACK, Cam belted it over the bowler’s head, the ball bouncing once before hitting the rope. One run to go!
There was a pause as Steve walked up to the pitch for a quick word with Cam.
“C’mon, this is it, mate,” said Steve optimistically.
The bowler strode in and released the ball. Cam snicked it to deep slip.
“Yes!” yelled Steve. “No,” shouted Cam. Cam panicked and darted off for the single in desperation. Realizing he wasn’t going to make it, he turned and ran back, but it was too late. The wicketkeeper had already removed the bails. Cam was run out for 99!
“You spastic! You ran me out. How could you do that?”
“Bad luck, mate” replied Steve, feigning sympathy.”
Cam trudged off the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Mitch was there to greet him.
“Great innings, Cam, but I’m afraid you lost the bet. Who’s up for a beer after the game – my shout.”
Surfers ended up winning the match comfortably. That evening the team arrived at the pub.
“Hey, Cam, can I buy you a beer?” said Mitch.
“Yes please,” replied Cam.
“Two VB schooners thanks mate!”
“That’ll be $6.60,” said the barman.
Mitch opened his wallet. It was empty.
THE END
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