I am Confident. We were confident. Confident we could lead the team to a triumphant innings with an opening partnership. The chunk of premium english willow wood that i held in my left hand was my weapon. the weapon that i would use to prove myself as an opener, as a batsman. The occasion was perfect. The outfield was a luscious green grass that illuminated from the dry dead weeds that surrounded it. Wanaka’s mountains circled the pitch as if they were also set to watch the game. A swift northerly breeze sweeps over the lake. I feel it. I feel it on the beads of sweat that drip down my back as we make our way to the pitch. The velcro of my helmet violently scratched at my neck like it doesn’t want to be there, meanwhile the thigh guard runs down my leg in cowardness. Im anxious now. Where anxious.

I look down the pitch and steer into the eyes of man with the red ball in his hands. A grenade about be hurtled towards with with the intent to kill. I scour the battlefield, eyes like hawks, examining the area for an early run. The crunch of the first fist pump in the middle unites us as a pair. As i briskly walk back to the white markers crease, i can hear the cheers from the opposing players as if it was a school boy fight and the bowler is being jeered on to throw the first punch. As the edges of my shoe screech against the artificial surface to mark middle, i anticipate the first ball. Hoping my opponent will glide one outside off with the natural swing of the ball and the effects of the wind that is now blustering. I may be able to commence into a back foot drive to point or even a subtle leave to settle the bowlers aggressive intentions. My heart beat pumps through my chest as the bowlers strides into the attack. The glistening red ball looks as if it was the size of a ping pong. Foolishly, i play my bat to the ball as hurtles outside off stump. The ball is determined and from the thick edge of my bat, it sneaks through the slips. Run !

The crash of the stumps is the sound of building collapsing behind me as i run to the other side of the pitch. I pray for no shout. “Hawwwszatt”. My legs quiver as i turn to face the reality of destruction. My opening batting partner now sluggishly walks off the field, defeated. I had sent one of my men into a death trap. A place where he was forced to enter as a result of my foolish actions.