The umpire strikes back

This was a thankless job he thought, middle of summer covered in other peoples cricket jumpers and attacked by both sides which ever decision he made, no ball, wide, LBW, poor light, wicket keepers screaming that the ball nicked the edge of the bat, balls that were batted at him, fielders bouncing balls off his head.

Why was he wasting his life here when he could be wasting it at home with his feet up?
The latest bowler was thundering up the field from a run up which had started in outer space. 'No-Ball' he bellowed, noting the bowlers foot a foot over the line.

There followed the usual indignant moans. He needed new glasses/new binoculars/a new head/ new false teeth/it wasn't cricket/time he got a life/ etc, etc.

During the lunch break he sat apart from the teams clawing back some of his sanity, the only thing he enjoyed about all this was the tea and corn beef sandwiches.

With play finally over, stumps pulled and hands shaken they all boarded the minibus. It was on the way back that they really got annoying, 'it wasn't fair' they chorused, they always stopped for a drink and a go on the slots 'just because he was the driver 'it wasn't fair'

Inside he smiled to himself, 'wasn't fair' Well what they put him through 'wasn't fair' it was all wrong, wrong, wrong, as he'd repeatedly told the Headmaster, cricket was a boy's game…