Satiricus was all aglow. His beloved Cricket was back in Guyana. There were those who carried on about there not being not much Test Cricket nowadays. Not Satiricus. He liked this T-20 where every day was another battle…and not the same long, drawn out war. And best of all he didn’t have to take days off, which his boss never looked kindly on. But this time they were at the Saturday game: his Warriors versus the St Kitts Patriots.
“So what you guys brought?” Satiricus asked Cappo, who looked over to his wife, Baby. Ever since the first season three years ago, their wives had become fanatical Warriors fans who didn’t need any prompting to prepare their favourite goodies and chasers.
“Jus’ some Dhall puri and bhunjal chicken,” Baby answered and she looked over to Mrs Satiricus. “Eh, Eh gyaal, suh you bring de chicken chow mein?”
“Yes I did. If I didn’t, you know Sato woulda swell his mouth!” she smiled as she dished out her offering. The husbands had already downed two beers and had a good relay system with the friends they’d made with some fellas and their wives from Georgetown in the seats in front of them. They had bought BBQ chicken from the vendors below the stands.
“Suh wha’ ayuh t’ink ‘bout de game las’ night?” Cappo asked his newfound buddies.
“The pitch was too slow, man,” said Trevor who said he was from Charlestown.
“Why you think that?” Satiricus wanted to know. “The ball from the quicks were carrying waist high to the keeper.”
“But you noticed how the ball kept slowing up and turning?” said Akeem from Lodge, who was a cousin of Trevor. “That was the pitch, boy!””
“Budday!!” exclaimed Cappo, throwing his hands up and almost spilling his beer. “Suh wha mek yuh na t’ink de bowlin’ na bin too tight?”
“My friend,” said Trevour,” touching his beer bottle with Cappo’s and Satiricus’, “we KNOW cricket.”
At the end of the game, which finished half an hour early because the Warriors knocked off the Partiots’ runs in just 16 overs, better that the 18 overs in game one against the Tallawahs, Cappo couldn’t stop himself from slyly asking Trevor and Akeem, as they trudged out of the green stands.
“Suh yuh still t’ink ah de pitch?”
