Today was one of those cricket days that look fine in motion but feel wrong in the result. I was bowling with good pace, maybe the best I’ve had in weeks. The ball came out quick, hit the gloves hard, and there was that nice feeling of rhythm through the shoulders. But it didn’t count for much. Too many balls drifted wide, too many sat up. Every small miss in line or length found its way to the boundary. I could feel that I was trying hard, maybe too hard. The effort was there, but the direction wasn’t. The funny thing about cricket is how the body can feel ready while the game goes in another direction entirely.
After the first over, I could tell I wasn’t where I needed to be. A couple of good balls, then one too short, then one too full. The pace was there, but it stopped mattering because the control wasn’t. Once the batsman gets a few away, everything speeds up in your head. You try to force it back, but that only makes the next ball worse. I kept thinking about hitting the deck harder instead of finding the right length. Sometimes the game asks for calm, but adrenaline takes over. It’s strange how quickly that happens — one over you’re in charge, the next you’re just trying to survive.
When it ended, I looked at the figures and they didn’t look kind. The number of runs against my name said enough. It’s easy to blame the pitch or call it a flat day, but that’s not what it was. It was a day where I didn’t tune into what was actually happening. The batsmen weren’t doing anything special. I just didn’t adjust. The ball was coming out fast, but not in the right spots. In hindsight, maybe it was a day to slow down a bit, hit a tighter line, and think more about where the ball should go rather than how quick it was coming out.
Cricket has a way of showing you what you ignore. I ignored the small things — the wind pushing the ball away, the field setup that didn’t match the plan. Everyone talks about rhythm, but rhythm only matters when it matches awareness. Once that slips, everything feels just slightly off. There were moments when I could feel it — that sense that the ball should go there, but it didn’t. The margin is so small, and yet it changes the whole day. You finish knowing exactly what you should have done, but by then the chance has gone.
Now that I think about it, maybe pace isn’t always the point. There’s something to be said about knowing what kind of day it is and adjusting to it. Today wasn’t a fast day, even if it felt like one. It was a day to bowl smart and steady. Instead, I kept chasing that extra yard. Sometimes it’s not about how hard you bowl, but how aware you are of what the game needs. I’ll remember that the next time I run in. It’s a small thing, but in this game, small things decide everything.