A few years ago, I was chatting to a friend about the possibility of me playing cricket. They were fairly dismissive of the idea, suggesting that it was no fun to bat at number 11 and spend all day in the field without getting a bowl. Well they were wrong. Either they, completely misjudged my skill level, or, more likely, they never thought I would get the chance to play cricket in Tonga for the Palangi Wanadaras.
Here I have had the chance to bowl, even taking a wicket, and score some runs batting as high as number six. A fair bit of this is due to the generosity of the captain and opposition bowlers and the discombobulated nature of our team, with players arriving late, that is a reflection of the whole competition.
The competition consists of twelve teams. Eleven represent villages around Tongatapu, the twelfth is the Wanadaras made up of palangis and a few Tongans who like the idea of playing for this team for some reason. Other than the over representation of white people, the Wanadaras are fairly typical of a Tongan cricket team with about half the team made up of people who know what they are doing and the other half living out dreams from the backyard of their childhood and generally having some fun.
Possibly only in Tonga would a cricket competition be so adversely affected by mourning. The cricket season started three weeks ago, after being delayed due to the funeral of the Tui Pelehake. Our second match was a funeral forfeit as somebody in the village we were due to play had passed away. Not someone from the team mind you, just the village. Of course the season is now in recess until late October following the passing of the King.
At least this way I can keep my batting average in double figures until mid way through the season (thanks to two sixes in my first innings), but it does dash my hopes of taking five wickets (for the season). After going for 15 runs off my last over, the captain might have something to say about this last ambition as well.
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