The Keeper of Wickets

Daisy and Dylan - The Start

"I'll be right Dad."
I said that a lot, especially when I was a little kid. Dad would be all padded up, ready to play in front of 50'000 people. Cooly, calmly and collectedly he'd ask; "you sure you're gonna be right just here?"
I'd look him in the eyes and with the most innocent of voices, I'd say; "I'll be right Dad."
I always was, my independence was developed at a very young age. I mean I didn't have to cook dinner or do the washing when I was five, but I could look after myself. I could judge the good people from the bad or when I was hungry or when I frustrated enough to stop.
I would walk to the mechanic shop from school every day, hauling my cricket gear and anything else I needed 6 kilometres. When Dad was playing cricket for Australia he'd give me 40 dollars to spend for the whole day. I saw lots of kids spending it on merchandise or ice creams but me, I spent it on lunch and water. The wives of the Australian players, often told me how astonished they were when I acted 'all grown up' as they used to say. Now when you're a little kid, you'd be proud when someone called you grown up or a big girl but you see when you are grown up there's no one there to encourage you to be the little girl you never were. Im not saying having independence is a bad thing but my Dad was always apologising for not letting me be a kid. I got to be a kid, I played in the dirt, splashed in the creek with my cousins and got into trouble for swinging on our Gran's clothesline. He is right though, I never was a little girl.

I don't see Dylan until about mid way through the summer, when both the redbacks and the Scorpions are required to all join together to discuss the endeavours and goals of the two teams.
'I think that was the most useless meeting we've ever had!' Dylan states, coming up behind me as I walk out of the oval. I turn my head to him but don't reply.
'You remember me right?' He asks, dragging his bag behind him. I nod;
'You're Dylan "Lefty" Wright.' I say.
'And you're Daisy, Daisy Cook.' He chuckles.
'You remembered.' I raise my eyebrows.
'How could I forget?' Dylan's hand grabs the handle of my bag.
'I can carry my own stuff.' I state, a little annoyed.
'I'm sure you can, but even the most independant people need a little help.' The breath hitches in my throat as I capture the soft smile that was lodged on his pink chapped lips as he spoke.
'Oh, I guess you're right.' I swallow, snapping out of my trance. Dylan shakes his head with a smile, 'I'm in awe at how well you bat, god!'
My head snaps around to his, my jaw drops and my eyebrows furrow.
'I've gotten out for a diamond duck, a golden duck and then a second ball duck last week, all in a row, how can you be in awe of that?!' I question in astonishment.
'Because you still get kitted up and you still wander out to the pitch with your head up and a smile on your face, you're just out of form that's all.' His shoulder nudges mine, I don't nudge back, I just blush and smile at my feet.
'I got out for a diamond duck yesterday, good one Dylan, a batsmen is always improving, it's just what we do, plus I'm a bowler, I always struggle with batting.' Dylan shrugs. I can't help but be impressed by his mindset. He is confident and happy and he knows why things happen. I stare up at him with soft eyes.
'What?' He asks.
'Nothing I'm just figuring you out.' I reply.
'Well stop figuring and just listen, how bout you come to the movies with me tonight, I'll buy ya tea too if my bank card lets me.' Dylan invites. I laugh and an impressed look coats his face.
'Sure Dylan Wright, I guess one night of my life can be wasted.' I state cheekily. He steps back in shock, and says that at least a wasted night is lived.
'I'm kidding Dylan, I just have to ask my Dad.' I tell him. Dylan nudges my shoulder again;
'I'll ask him.' He says.
'No I don't expect you to do it.' I laugh.
'No, I want to take out his baby girl of course I'm going to ask him, I know you're Dad, he's in the RedBacks hall of fame, he's a gun, and he loves his daughter, it wouldn't be right.' Dylan's gaze fixes on me. We stop in our paths, and focus on each other's eyes.
'I think he'll really appreciate that.' I state, as we continue our stroll.

'So, the movies? What's on?' Dad asks, sitting back the motel recliner.
'It's called the Blind Side, I'm not really sure what it's about yet.' Dylan says nervously.
'Keep her safe,' Dad sighs. Dylan smiles at me; 'Thanks Mr Cook.' He says.
'C'mon Dylan.' I usher, walking outside.
'If you hurt her Mr Wright, I promise you, you will never play cricket again, got it?' Dad states sternly.
'Dad!' I chuckle, gripping the hand of a very white faced Dylan.

Dylan opened doors for me, bought me dinner, drove me around Adelaide, laughed with me, belted our Match Box 20 and Cold Chisel songs with me and spoke about cricket with actual knowledge of the game.
'Have you ever stood at the crease and just been in awe at how lucky you are?' I ask, resting my head against his shoulder as we sit on the hill that over looks Adelaide Oval.
'Every time I get out there, it's not every day you get to play for your state.' He replies.
'I have four sisters and two brothers so you can only imagine how jealous they were that their littlest brother was the "famous" one.' He laughs. I do too.
'I don't have any siblings to be jealous of me, I've got a Dad though, who I think wished he was young again.' It is Dylan's turn to laugh at me.
'We're gonna own that oval, we're going to make history.' Dylan says, his soft words giving me a hope that I thought I'd lost.