Hat Trick! (33 page)

When Shane Warne claimed the wicket of Marcus Trescothick in the Third Test of the 2005 Ashes series, Warne became the first bowler to take 600 Test wickets. He achieved this remarkable record in his 126th Test match.

Sunday—morning

SUNDAY
morning was bright and sunny. I headed back to the Scorpions’ ground, this time in the family car. Jim was right—the distractions of the night before had kept me from worrying about the game. I just hoped that Jim really was okay. What if the wink had just been a blink? No, it can’t have been.

I felt surprisingly fresh as I stroked Mr Pasquali’s practice deliveries neatly back to him.

‘It’s time to play the innings of your life, Toby,’ he said, grinning. ‘I’ll be out there with you, though there’s not much I can do. Good luck and enjoy it.’

Watching Scott Craven warming up was making that very hard to do, but I was determined to stay positive, play my shots and see what happened. Isn’t that what the Aussie team did when it was in a corner? Those players didn’t shrivel up and die; they stayed calm and confident, believing in their ability to get themselves out of strife.

And after four overs my confidence was sky high. I’d played Scott with the full face of the bat, picking off occasional singles and even a four that whistled past point and down to the fence.

‘It’ll come, Scotto,’ the Scorpions players kept calling out.

‘Not if I can help it,’ I muttered under my breath. Every ball was a new challenge. I was doing it for Jim; I was doing it for Dad; I was doing it for Riverwall and my team-mates sitting on the boundary. And I was doing it for myself.

We hadn’t made many runs and we’d lost Cameron and Rahul (who had been promoted in the order ahead of Jimbo), but when Mr Pasquali called for drinks, I finally looked up at the scoreboard.

Jones, 28 not out
. Jimbo was on 7 and the overall score was 3 for 62.

‘Job one: make them bat again,’ Jimbo said, taking a drink. ‘Job two: make them worry. It’s you and me, Toby.’

Scott bowled two more overs after the break, but his pace had dropped. We still played him with respect, but the Scorpions sensed we were playing it safe and waiting for the next bowler. They spread the field out more, but Jimbo and I were able to knock up ones and twos with much more ease.

I looked over at Mr Pasquali at one point. He nodded, gently tapping his temple with one finger. I knew what he meant: play smart and don’t get sucked in and try to score big fours and sixes.

By lunch we’d taken the score along to 3 for 131. The game had changed.

‘Scott will resume after lunch,’ Mr Pasquali said to Jimbo and me while munching on a chicken sandwich. ‘Put that entire morning out of your head and start again. The job is
not
done, you hear?’

We both nodded.

The rest of the team left us alone—no one wanted to break the spell that had come over the game. Even Jay, usually always on for a chat, kept his distance.

Scott Craven did come back on and he bowled as fast as I’d ever seen him. Jimbo was struck on the helmet when he tried a hook shot, but he stood his ground, hardly flinching. Scott walked up close to him, but Jimbo just turned away to adjust his helmet.

The next ball was in the same spot but this time Jimbo was onto it. He smashed it magnificently over backward square leg. It crashed into a huge gum tree about halfway up the trunk then dropped onto the gravel road beneath, along with a dead branch.

The yelling and cheering from the boundary and the sense of excitement amongst the spectators was in total contrast to the mood on the field. The Scorpions were struggling, and they weren’t used to that. It was the most critical time of the game.

Jimbo and I pressed on, scoring another 44 runs before I got out. It was getting too easy and I lost
concentration, lazily wafting my bat at a ball pitched well outside off-stump. It caught the bottom edge and cannoned back into the stumps. I’d made 71—my highest score ever!

Jimbo went on to make 91 but, as in the first innings, our batting performance fell away quickly. We lost our last seven wickets for only about 60 more runs. But we were in with a chance, and when Mr Pasquali told us that the whisper around the ground was that the Scorpions might be ‘chasing the outright’, I felt our chance of success was even greater.

We’d finished with 234 runs and the Scorpions needed 147 for an outright win.

‘They don’t
have
to get the runs, do they?’ Martian asked, adjusting his hat. The sun was getting higher and the temperature was rising.

‘Oh, no,’ Mr Pasquali said. ‘They just have to survive—then they win the game on the results of the first innings. But somehow I don’t think they’ll settle for that.’

‘How many overs are left, Mr P?’

‘We have to bowl 38,’ he replied.

‘Less if we get them all out,’ I said, catching the new ball that Mr Pasquali tossed to me.

He smiled. ‘Exactly.’

By the time Scott Craven marched to the crease, the game was evenly poised, with the Scorpions at 4/81. They’d held Scott back, maybe hoping to get well towards the target before bringing him on. Their
scoring rate was down a bit: at the start of the innings they’d needed just under four runs an over to win. Now, with 15 overs left, they needed 4.3.

We were able to pick up wickets at fairly regular intervals, but Scott was like a rock. There were no fireworks from him, just careful batting and good placement of the ball.

With two overs to go the Scorpions were 8/134, and Scott was in control. We brought the fielders in, hoping to keep their number 10 batter on strike. He didn’t score off any of Rahul’s first three balls, but nicked the fourth past gully for a single. Then Scott blocked Rahul’s last two deliveries.

I took the ball for the last over of the match—the last over of the season. Jono and I had a long talk about the field before settling on three slips, a gully, point, cover, short mid-off, short mid-wicket and a fine leg. It was a stacked off-side field.

Scott ambled down and said a few words to his partner before returning to the non-striker’s end.

I looked at the spot on the pitch I was aiming for, then strode in to the wicket.

The batter pushed across his crease, expecting a ball on or outside his off-stump even before I’d bowled. It was exactly what I was hoping he’d do, and instead I bowled a fast yorker that smacked into the bottom of his leg stump.

Scott swore, tossing his bat to the ground. They were 9/135.

We were one wicket away from winning the championship, but the Scorpions needed to survive five balls.

I pitched the next delivery right on middle stump. Their number 11 batter pushed at it, spooning the ball back towards me. I lunged desperately but it was dropping fast. I flung out my left hand, aware that as he flashed past me Scott was screaming at the other guy to run. I got a fingertip to the ball, nothing more. It trickled harmlessly down the pitch as the batters completed their run.

Had I just dropped the championship trophy?

There were just four balls left and now Scott was on strike. The Scorpions were eight runs away from an outright victory.

I brushed down my pants and told Jono that I wanted a change in the field. Maybe I should tempt Scott—what was there to lose? I beckoned to Jason, who was at fine leg, to come squarer, and moved Jimbo out of third slip to mid-wicket, about 15 metres off the boundary. Scott looked on nonchalantly, resting on his bat.

‘Come on, Toby, let’s have him!’ Georgie yelled.

I banged the third ball in short. Scott seemed to be in two minds, but at the last moment he pulled out of a hook shot and the ball sailed through to Ally.

I did exactly the same with the next ball and this time Scott was onto it, belting it way over Jimbo’s head.

The tense silence of the last few minutes was broken by a dozen car horns blaring approval.
Suddenly the Scorpions had jumped to 142. Another four would tie the game but give the Scorpions the championship because of their higher first innings total.

‘Do you want to make a change?’ Jono asked me from the slips.

I shook my head. What would Scott expect? Another short one? Could he afford to risk a hook shot? I watched him from the top of my run-up before checking the field, and Jimbo out at midwicket in particular.

‘Jimbo,’ I called. ‘Move round five?’ With my hand, I indicated that he should come closer to mid-on. This might create some doubt in the batter’s mind. It was my only chance.

I ran in hard to bowl the second last ball of the game. It was short again, but wider outside the off-stump. Sure enough, Scott went for it, trying to pull it square. It caught the end of the bat and flew away towards third man. All the slips raced after it, Jono eventually hauling it in, only centimetres from the boundary.

The batters had run three, which put Scott up at my end and the Scorpions on 9 for 145.

Our eyes met as I brushed past him. ‘It’s not over yet,’ I said quietly.

‘As good as,’ he sneered, tearing off his gloves. He knew he’d stuffed up in going for that third run. Scott walked down and spoke to the number 11, who looked nervous and was fidgeting with his pads and helmet.

Meanwhile, Jono and I brought every fielder in closer, to try and stop them getting a single.

An eerie silence settled over the ground as I waited at the top of my mark. There were even some cars that had pulled over—maybe the drivers had noticed the larger than normal crowd for a junior cricket match, or maybe they were just curious. People out walking their dogs had stopped to look, and a bunch of kids over on the playground had crept closer during the last few overs. I noticed an old man standing just to one side of a tree way past fine leg. Somehow he looked familiar—he looked very much like Jim.

I looked down at the ball in my hand, positioned the seam upright, and charged in. As the ball left my hand I watched it sail through the air, on a perfect line outside off-stump. The batter swung at it, cross-batted and connected. I dived full-stretch to my right, knocking the ball down.

Scott had charged out of his crease, thinking the ball had gone past me. ‘Run, idiot!’ he yelled, before realising that I was gathering up the ball.

‘No!’ the other guy yelled, holding up a hand. Scott stopped dead and scrambled round desperately. Still kneeling on the ground, I backhanded the ball at the stumps. Scott dived for the line, his bat reaching out, as the ball smacked into the off-stump.

The whole Riverwall team roared in appeal.

Mr Pasquali grimaced, then slowly nodded and raised his right index finger to the sky.

Scott swore and smashed his bat into the ground. There was a horrible cracking sound. For a moment the shouts, cheers and car horns all stopped; then they started up again—even louder this time.

I’d run Scott out by about half a metre. I lay back on the grass in sheer relief as my Riverwall teammates rushed towards me.

Glenn McGrath was the last Australian to take a hat trick in a Test match. He achieved this feat in Perth against the West Indies in 2000. In all, eight Australians have taken hat tricks, and Thomas (Jimmy) Matthews and Hugh Trumble have each taken two. Matthews bagged his hat tricks on the same day in 1912, but in different innings!

Sunday—afternoon

MR
Pasquali interrupted the post-game celebrations to announce that the awards presentation would not be taking place at the Scorpions’ clubrooms. Georgie caught my eye.

‘No one can find our manager,’ one of their players told us.

‘Mr Smale?’ Ally asked.

‘Yeah. He’s just vanished. He hasn’t been seen all day. He’s the only one with the keys.’

‘Toby!’ Dad called, waving frantically. He was holding a mobile phone to his ear.

‘Is it Jim?’ I shouted, racing over to him.

Dad nodded.

‘Jim?’ I said into the phone. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Hello, my boy. I’m on the mend. Peter has told me all about your exploits today.’

‘I think someone’s got a video of the game. Maybe we can watch it together?’

‘Perhaps I’ll get along to see some of the game one day,’ he chuckled. The image of the man behind the tree flashed into my mind.

‘Jim! I think—’

‘Listen, Toby. There’s another matter you need to attend to, and without the scorecard only you can do it.’

I knew Jim was talking about the man left behind in Brisbane. ‘But Smale’s disappeared,’ I said, moving away from Dad. ‘Maybe he’s gone back to get Colin?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Jim answered quickly. ‘He has other problems to deal with.’

‘What problems?’ I asked. ‘And anyway, we’ve run out of time. Remember, you’ve only got two hours when you go back into the past.’

‘Two hours, yes, then slowly the body starts to fade. All this is true.’ Jim’s voice had become so soft I could barely hear him. ‘But the fading process takes a while.’

‘How long?’

‘It varies. It depends on your age, your degree of fitness, how far away from your own time you’ve travelled, whether you’re the carrier or being carried…many things.’ Jim was silent a moment. ‘Toby. It is time to destroy the scorecard and stop our travels. I have promised Peter that I will come and live with you. But you must promise me that after this final travel, we will both stop our journeys. We will focus on the present and the future.’

‘Jim?’ I said, after a pause.

‘Yes, Toby?’

I took a deep breath. ‘I agree,’ I said firmly.

‘Good. You’ll have to take young Ally with you, but make sure you hold her hand, all right?’

‘Yes, Jim—’

‘
And don’t you let go
.’

After I hung up the phone I wondered if Jim could have time-travelled to my game. It didn’t seem likely. An international one-dayer was being played in Melbourne today, but it wasn’t in any
Wisden
—not yet, anyway.

Perhaps he’d simply gotten out of his sick bed and come to the game in Pixie.

Mum and Dad were determined to make up for the disappointment of the presentation night being cancelled, so they’d invited the whole team, including Mr Pasquali, back to our house for a party. On our way home we’d made a brief detour to the shops for supplies—it was going to be a big night.

Half the team had already arrived, and the rest were on their way. We were watching the last half hour of Australia’s innings in the one-dayer when the news came on the telly.

‘Peter, quick!’ Mum called, standing at the door. A few moments later Dad arrived in time to hear the report.

‘And although police are drawing no links yet between the two, local film director and arts administrator Colin Dempsey is also missing.
’

The camera showed a woman standing in front of her house, clutching two sobbing children. ‘
He left last night. He was only going to be away an hour
,’ she explained, sounding desperate. ‘
Colin
,’ the woman pleaded, staring into the camera, ‘w
hatever is troubling you, please come back.
’

‘Anyone with information…’

I didn’t wait to hear any more. Ally sprang up and rushed out of the room, so I followed her out the back.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

Mum arrived a moment later. ‘Ally, is everything all right, dear?’

She nodded. ‘Sorry, Mrs Jones. It’s j…just that—’

‘Ally thought she recognised one of the kids,’ I explained. ‘We’ll be back in a tick.’

Georgie slipped past Mum, who was heading back to the lounge.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Go to Brisbane?’ Ally said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

I nodded.

‘But Ally can’t go,’ Georgie said. ‘And nor can you. You’ve been—’

‘Ally has to go and so do I.’ Turning, I bounded up the stairs to get the
Wisden
, the girls following. ‘She’s the only one who can recognise Colin, and we don’t have the scorecard so I have to go. Georgie, you’re going to have to cover for us. Hopefully, we won’t be long.’

‘But, listen,’ Georgie said. ‘He’s already dead. It’s been almost a day.’

‘It won’t be once we get there.’ I opened the
Wisden
. ‘Ally, we’ll do this just like last time.’ I held my hand out to her.

Georgie cursed quietly and left.

‘Here,’ Ally said, guiding my finger to the page.

‘It’s a two,’ I breathed.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, gripping my hand tighter.

It happened so quickly. It was getting faster and faster each time I travelled. We tumbled gently onto a stretch of grass. We both turned to look at the scoreboard.

‘Okay, we’ve arrived a little bit after our last visit, but not by much. Keep your head down, and don’t let go of my hand, okay?’ But she wasn’t listening. ‘Ally!’

‘Toby, oh, my God! There he is!’

‘Ally, no!’ I yelled as she burst away from me, running towards a group of people closer to the fence. ‘Ally, stop!’

Then everything went into slow motion. I heard her call Colin’s name, and a guy slowly turned towards us. He looked deathly pale. I could almost see through him. He tried to stand up, but stumbled, pitching forwards onto his face. No one around seemed to notice. Were they too interested in the game? Or had he already disappeared from their reality?

But I really began to panic when I noticed Ally falter. As I ran towards Colin I watched in horror as Ally started floating sideways, faster and faster.

She turned to look at me, and her face was distorted in bewilderment and pain. I don’t think I will ever forget her look of terror as this incredible force took her away.

She had flown 30 metres when suddenly, as if she’d hit some invisible wall, she collapsed.

I grabbed Colin’s arm, urging him to get up. ‘Please,’ I cried, hauling him to his feet. ‘C’mon, you’re about to die!’

‘W…who are you?’ he said, his voice shaky and weak.

‘I’ll explain later. Please!’ I dragged Colin towards Ally, who was lying by a bench. ‘If we get away before the last ball, everything will be okay.’

Everyone we passed was glued to the action out in the middle. The final over was unfolding, the last ball about to be delivered.

‘Ally?’ I said urgently, bending down and shaking her. ‘Ally?’

Someone turned to look at us, but quickly looked back to the game as screams and shouts broke out around us. The action on the field had everyone’s attention.

I made sure I had a hold of Colin, then took Ally’s hand and recited the final lines of the poem, worrying that I hadn’t been either calm or clever.

Respect this gift. Stay calm, stay clever,
And let the years live on forever.

We arrived back in my bedroom. It was empty. I opened the door to find Rahul, Jimbo, Jay and Georgie sitting on the stairs. They all jumped up at the sight of me.

‘Rahul and Jay, quick! Get this guy home,’ I said as Colin staggered to the door. ‘Remember the bus in India? He’s got the same problem, though way more advanced. Jimbo, you be on the look-out.’

‘Where’s Ally?’ Georgie said, pushing past me as the others snuck down the stairs.

Ally lay on the floor behind me; she hadn’t moved. She was breathing evenly, but slowly. Her face was pale and she looked like she was a million miles away.

‘Something’s happened to her,’ I said. ‘I need to talk to Jim.’

‘Sounds like he’s just coming up,’ Georgie said, racing out of the room. She came back a moment later with Jim in tow.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and explained what had happened. ‘Jim?’ I said, after pouring out the whole story. ‘Say something, Jim. What is it? What’s happened? Will she be okay?’

Jim stooped down beside Ally. He looked deeply concerned. ‘I…I’m not sure,’ he said.

‘But she’s just asleep—’

‘Food’s ready guys!’ Mum called from the bottom of the stairs.

Georgie and I looked at each other. I felt sick to the core.

‘Coming in a tick, Mrs Jones,’ Georgie shouted, trying to sound cheerful, as Jimbo poked his head around the door.

‘How did it go?’ I asked.

‘Fine. That guy was hugely relieved to be back. He knew where he was and he had his keys on him, so he decided to walk to where his car is parked. We told him that he must have blacked out or something.’

‘So he was heading to the Scorpions’ ground?’ Georgie looked over at Jimbo.

He nodded. ‘Is Ally okay?’

‘Not sure,’ I said. ‘Jimbo, grab the others and get them downstairs for a feed. Tell Mum we’ve just ducked out to Georgie’s, but we’ll be back in 10, okay?’ Maybe Ally will have recovered in that time.

‘Got it,’ Jimbo said and headed out.

‘I’ll go too, but I’ll be back soon,’ Jim said quietly. ‘I’ve just checked her pulse; she’s in no danger,’ he added.

I wondered if that comment was more for our benefit.

Georgie and I moved Ally to the bed, then sat and talked quietly for 15 minutes until Jim returned. We were both teary by the time he gently knocked and pushed the door open.

‘They’re all watching the video of the game, but you’re not starring yet, Toby,’ he said smiling. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside Ally, taking her hand and pressing it to his cheek.

‘Jim?’ Georgie croaked, looking from him to Ally.

‘There is going to be one more adventure after all,’ he said, slowly shaking his head. ‘And I’m afraid this one will be very dangerous.’ Very gently he placed Ally’s hand on her stomach.

‘
Another
adventure? W…what? I stuttered, catching my breath. ‘Where, Jim?’

‘To Lord’s, Toby. To the home of cricket. To Father Time.’

‘Father Time?’ Georgie’s head shot up and we glanced at each other.

‘Ally is not well. She will wake up soon but she will be very tired, very distant and very vague. She needs our help—and soon.’

‘How soon?’ I whispered, looking at her peaceful face. ‘What’s happening to her?’

Jim sighed. ‘Come along,’ he said, standing. ‘You did what you had to do. Ally was the only person who could take you to that man, and you have saved his life.’ He put an arm on each of our shoulders. ‘Let’s make her comfortable.’

Georgie gently placed a pillow under Ally’s head and I covered her with my doona.

‘Most appropriate,’ Jim chuckled, eyeing the cricket scene on it.

All I could think of was an Aussie flag being draped over the coffin of a returning soldier.

‘Come along, Toby. I promise you that there is no more to be done right now. Ally is resting. Take a break, you’ve both earned it.’

We walked slowly to the door.

‘A part of her was lost after her first visit to Brisbane, wasn’t it, Jim?’ I thought of some catches she’d dropped, and times when she’d looked tired. It was so unlike Ally. ‘And now more of her has gone…’

‘What do you mean more of her?’ Georgie asked. ‘More of what?’

‘Her spirit, Georgie. Her life. Her will to live.’ Jim paused. ‘Everything that is Ally: her memories, alertness, vigour, motivation and enthusiasm—her will. She is very vulnerable in this state. We must watch over her carefully.’

‘But why Ally?’ I asked. ‘What about me? I’m not suffering like she is, and I’ve seen myself in the past.’

‘You have, Toby, but you’re stronger. After all, you have the gift. No, there’s something else going on here, something out of Ally’s control. But I’m sure we have got her back in time,’ Jim added, trying to sound more cheeful.

Downstairs we joined the rest of the group, who were cheering every wicket of the last session. Georgie and I picked at our food, pretending to be cheerful. Rahul, Jimbo and Jay kept on giving us meaningful looks that we politely ignored. When someone asked about Ally, we simply explained that she was resting upstairs, which was accepted as others had commented that she didn’t seem herself.

‘She’s probably caught that nasty bug that’s going around,’ Mum said, passing out plates of chocolate cake.

‘Well, well!’ Dad said suddenly, ‘Speak of the devil.’

There was Ally, standing at the door to the hallway. She smiled tentatively and, after a moment of hesitation, walked over to the couch where Georgie and I were sitting.

‘Room for me?’ she whispered, snuggling between us.

‘Always,’ Georgie said with a smile, putting an arm around her.

At that moment, I think I loved Georgie almost as much as cricket.

‘Jim?’ Dad said, staring at the TV. ‘That’s not you over there skulking behind that gum tree, is it? Who’s got the remote? Jimbo, hit the rewind button.’

Everyone leaned forwards.

‘There!’ Dad shouted.

Jimbo hit the pause button.

‘You have some explaining to do to your grandson, Jim,’ Dad laughed. Meanwhile, Mum and Nat had come in from the kitchen.

‘Grandson?’ Jim said, sounding puzzled.

‘Well, any elderly bloke who gets off his sick bed to come and watch a boy play cricket is a grandfather in my book.’

I felt tears brimming, and Ally gently squeezed my hand. Jim’s arms opened wide as I sprang up from the couch and rushed over to him, hugging him tight. I buried my face in his shoulder, only partly drowning out the cheers from all around me.

‘Howzat!’ Dad yelled, pointing at the TV.

I looked at the screen to see I’d just run out Scott Craven and won us the championship.

‘Play it again!’ I shouted.

Dad rewound then slowed the tape down, taking us through those final moments frame by frame.

‘Geez, Toby, you only just hit the stumps,’ Georgie laughed.