Vitriolic Sticky Wicket

Another day, another game
We hit the pitch with spirits high
To win respect, if not acclaim
Just give our best; not live or die

A July morn with shadows cast
the brand new ball with bright red gleam
and with the sun-baked wicket fast;
was tailor-made for bowling seam.

Positions taken; you in slips
I watched the batsman mark his crease
he concentrated, licked his lips;
my short sharp run and quick release.

The ball soared down the wicket true;
it pitched just short of where I’d planned.
The seam bit hard and leg-side flew
it caught the batsman’s leading hand

It seemed to dip and then to rise,
the ball I swear, took on a life.
As if it’s path were just disguise
it struck your head; cut like a knife!

You yelled out loud but smiled at first
and raised hands to congratulate
but then your mood changed; bubble burst!
Why did it suddenly frustrate?

You fair attacked, accusing me;
I’d aimed for you, you did implore.
No matter how I’d disagree
You’d read my mind; you knew the score!

I wondered if it was for real
or some joke we would later share.
But further comments set the seal
they really filled me with despair.

How could a friend think such of me?
How could you think me such a creep?
To hurt someone so consciously;
to open up a wound so deep!

What’s done is done and I give up;
there’s only so far I can go!
I’ve thrown the dice and passed the cup,
I’ve paid you all I feel I owe.

And so it is with real dismay
That I go my way, you go yours.
A friendship sadly blown away
And locked outside the slamming doors.