Not quite cricket!

That Friday Tom, Dick and Jeremy met up at the school when they were let out that Friday, but half an hour later than usual. They always met up on a Friday so that they could walk back to Canal Road together where they all lived. They were later than usual though, because Jeremy had been kept in detention for tearing pages out of his maths book, folding them into paper aeroplanes and launching them out of the 2^nd floor classroom window during lessons.

“Well, I don’t see the point of algebra” he said when chastised by the teacher during detention. “It’s all letters of the alphabet instead of proper numbers, and who cares what x is anyway?”

So although the teacher tried to explain why it was important she realised she wasn’t getting anywhere, and gave up after 10 minutes as she needed to get home to feed her cat.

Jeremy was a fair-minded, quiet-ish and likeable boy who was never going to achieve distinction academically but was exceptionally good at sport. Any and all sport, but particularly cricket. He was always the first to be picked for any sports team and always played for the school whenever they had a match. And that made him very popular.

He kept a cricket ball with him in his pocket which pulled his blazer out of shape but his mother had given up telling him not to do it. Sometimes he took the ball out in classes and put it in front of him on his desk. This habit was discussed in the staffroom but the teachers couldn’t see any harm in it and so they just let it go. They usually just smiled quietly to themselves when they saw it. They also realised that Jeremy was not academically inclined but that didn’t stop them from doing their best for him. On one occasion a gang of senior boys surrounded him in the playground and tried to take the ball from him but very quickly discovered that when roused he could be a tiger, and they earned two bloody noses and one black eye between them. No-one bothered him after that.

Anyway that particular Friday Tom and Dick were waiting at the gate kicking stones against the wall when he arrived, shoes scuffed and shirt hanging out of his belt as he tossed the ever-present cricket ball from one hand to the other.

“Thought you’d never get here” said Tom. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m hungry”. So off they went.

Scarcely had they walked 50 metres down the High Street when they were barged apart from behind and simultaneously a woman’s voice cried out behind them “STOP, STOP. Help someone, that man’s got my ‘phone. Help someone, someone help”.

Glancing briefly at the woman Jeremy turned back to see the back of thief who was running hard and by now some 15 metres away. Jeremy changed his grip on the ball, ran forward half a dozen paces and bowled. The ball left his hand at tremendous speed, hit the pavement and bounced straight up into the back of the thief’s head and he went down like a sack of potatoes. Ricocheting off to the side the ball struck the chippies shop window and cracked it from corner to corner. By the time the trio reached the thief he was still on the ground, squirming and groaning and holding his head and by sitting on him they had no trouble in restraining him until the police arrived.

When word got around the local paper took Jeremy’s picture and put the story on the front page. The headmaster was delighted with the positive publicity for the school and Jeremy was hailed as a hero. His father was a little miffed by being asked to pay for a new window at the chippies but was secretly very proud of his son. Then the county cricket team selector rang and asked if he would like to come and do a try-out for the junior team.

And then all three of them got free fish and chips after school every Friday for a whole month!