I really wanted to be a professional cricketer.
Cricketing talent crept slowly upon on me at first. I was introduced to the game by the neighbours across the back fence, a group of three brothers, the youngest of whom was a full four years older than myself. Never hesitant in reminding me of the fact that I was more than useless at pretty much everything, he left me at the still tender age of five under no illusions as to the inadequacy of my embryonic cricketing talent.
It stayed with me for a while, this sense of mediocrity, and was further encouraged by my first coach who branded me a "chucker". Cricket, my dear American friends, is played with not only a stiff upper lip but a straight arm—bend from that norm and you are a definitely a "chucker". Please don’t come back next week...
Read more: I wish that I was Hadlee pt.1