Disclaimer

This blog contains family sport, parental confusion, cricket terminology used with varying degrees of confidence, and a German attempting to understand overs, wickets, deductions and why there were no sandwiches. No professional cricket analysts were harmed in the making of this article, although several may need a lie down after reading my scoring explanation.

After last Tuesday’s cricket training session, our son continued his well-documented campaign to prove that children do not actually require rest. This website has recorded this several times. Future historians may classify it as “The Early Signs Were There.”

Wednesday and Thursday brought tennis practice, because obviously the natural recovery strategy after cricket is more sport. However, by then his energy levels had started to dwindle. He looked pale, complained of a sore throat, and generally had the aura of a small Victorian child being asked to rally cross-court forehands.

By Thursday night, his right tonsil had become red and angry. No white patches, but definitely enough drama to make Friday school questionable. He then developed a fever, which prompted my wife to keep him at home.

Naturally, this did not mean a peaceful day on the sofa under a blanket watching cartoons. No, no. This household has standards. There was Calpol, ibuprofen, fluids — and maths and spelling.

Bless my wife. Even illness gets curriculum coverage.

Friday evening cricket practice at Taunton Vale was therefore off the cards. However, our son was still firmly hoping that Sunday’s Ilton match would go ahead. Whether he could actually participate was another matter entirely, but hope, as we know, is a dangerous thing — especially when owned by an eight-year-old with a cricket bat.

The weather forecast did not help. Saturday afternoon looked like a complete washout, and indeed the rain performed exactly as expected: enthusiastically, relentlessly, and with the subtlety of a man falling down stairs carrying cymbals. Sunday morning, however, looked surprisingly promising.

Throughout the week, I had been communicating with James, and the team numbers were looking tight. We had six players. Ideally, you need eight. In U10 softball cricket, you can still play with six, but when fielding, you borrow a couple of players from the opposition.

This is a very civilised arrangement and also one of the reasons cricket continues to confuse me. In football, borrowing two defenders from the other team would usually be considered suspicious. In cricket, it is called sportsmanship.

Sunday morning arrived, and the weather looked okay. Our son was pain-free and fever-free, although not completely back to full energy. Still, he was keen as ever, which is parental code for “we are probably going.”

We made our way to James’ house, as he had kindly offered to drive to Beaminster. I was very grateful for this because I was not entirely sure where Beaminster was. I had a vague sense it was “somewhere that sounded further away than it should be,” which is not a reliable navigation strategy.

We arrived around 9:45am and made our way to the cricket pitch. I think that is what it is called. I am German. Please allow for a margin of error.

The players warmed up, balls were thrown, parents hovered, and the rest of the team arrived one by one. It was all very wholesome and only mildly terrifying.

I also recognised one of the dads from Tuesday’s training session, as both of us had been gently “encouraged” to help James with coaching. “Encouraged” here means we were standing close enough to be useful and therefore had no realistic escape route.

During the match, I started talking to Rupert’s dad, who is very knowledgeable about cricket and kindly explained several things to me as the game progressed.

I say “explained.” I nodded a lot, looked thoughtful, and retained about 43% of the information.

Now, the format — as far as I understand it — is 16 overs. Each over has six balls. In an eight-player team, each player bowls twice. Because Ilton were two players short, two of the Ilton players bowled three overs, because naturally you cannot expect the borrowed Beaminster fielders to bowl against their own teammates.

That would be sportsmanship taken to the level of administrative collapse.

Beaminster won the toss and decided to bowl first. Ilton batted first.

Our son produced seven runs, if I have interpreted the score correctly. I am still struggling with some of the terminology. When I say he “produced runs,” I mean that some of the runs came when the bowler bowled a ball that was not deemed good enough, and therefore the batting side received an automatic run.

Again, I am a German who has never played cricket in my life and is now writing about competitive junior cricket. This is how empires fall.

Ilton did well overall and scored 89 runs. They were dismissed five times. In the U10 softball format, each dismissal results in a five-run deduction. So 89 minus 25 gives 64. Then every team starts on 200, meaning Beaminster had 264 to chase.

Apparently, this is roughly an average score. I found this out afterwards, which is my preferred method of understanding cricket: retrospectively and with help.

Our son was not entirely happy when he came off the pitch because he was dismissed with the second-to-last ball. There was the usual disappointment, a slightly upset face, and the quiet parental art of saying something supportive while not fully understanding what just happened.

At half-time — I think that is what it is called — I went looking for sandwiches.

I had heard that cricket involved sandwiches. This may have been from television, old books, or general cultural propaganda. Either way, there were no sandwiches.

So that was disappointing.

Then it was Ilton’s turn to bowl.

Watching from the side, I am not entirely sure which is more difficult in U10 softball cricket: batting or bowling. Both seem deceptively simple until a child is actually asked to do them under match conditions.

Batting looks easy until the ball arrives at a height, speed and direction chosen by chaos itself. Bowling looks easy until you realise the bowler has to run up, release the ball legally, aim vaguely towards the stumps, avoid wides, and still remember what planet they are on. Fielding then adds another layer: stopping the ball, throwing accurately, backing up teammates, and not watching a butterfly at a crucial moment.

At U10 level, the real challenge is consistency. Some children can bowl beautifully but panic when batting. Others can hit the ball well but throw it back with the trajectory of a confused pigeon. Some can field brilliantly until the ball comes near them, at which point they become part of the landscape.

And that is completely normal. They are learning. They are also nine or under. Some still believe half-time sandwiches are guaranteed. As do I.

Ilton started strongly. Toto and Henry took three wickets between them in the first three overs. That gave the team a fantastic start and set the tone early.

Then came Rupert’s moment. Rupert, the youngest member of the squad at just seven years old, took a wicket in the fifth over. A brilliant effort. There is something wonderfully alarming about watching a seven-year-old calmly contribute to a competitive match while several adults around the boundary are still trying to work out the scoring.

In the sixth over, our son came on to bowl.

And then, quite unexpectedly, the tonsil recovery tour became a bowling spell.

He dismissed one player, then bowled the next ball and caught it himself. Two wickets. Back-to-back involvement. A very tidy bit of cricket from a child who had spent Friday at home with a fever and spelling tasks.

His second bowling spell was also strong, keeping the runs down to just two. His bowling looked controlled, straight, and purposeful. Technique will come, but he already has the useful habit of making the ball go roughly where it needs to go, which in cricket appears to be quite important.

Who knew.

Because Beaminster had kindly helped Ilton with fielding, two Ilton players bowled three overs.

Again, credit to Beaminster. Their help meant the game could go ahead properly, and the spirit between both teams was excellent.

Overall, Ilton took eight wickets, while Beaminster scored 66 runs. With eight dismissals, that meant a deduction of 40 runs, leaving them on 26. Add the starting 200, and Beaminster finished on 226.

Ilton had set 264.

So Ilton won by 38 runs.

I have checked this calculation several times because cricket scoring feels like GCSE maths wearing a sunhat.

It was a really good team performance. Ilton batted well, bowled strongly, fielded with energy, and kept going despite being short of players. Beaminster were excellent hosts and showed great sportsmanship by lending fielders so the game could go ahead properly.

From what I understand, Ilton are currently top of the Mid-Wessex Cricket League. I say “from what I understand” because cricket league tables, like cricket scoring, seem to exist in a dimension only partially visible to me.

The next match is an away fixture against Ilminster on Sunday 17 May 2026. By then, hopefully, we will have eight players, no angry tonsils, and perhaps — dare I say it — sandwiches.

Before that, however, there is a tennis tournament tomorrow in Burnham. Grade 4. Start time 2pm.

Because obviously the sensible thing after illness, cricket, bowling spells, wickets, travel and emotional recovery is competitive tennis.

Let’s see how he gets on.

And let’s hope the tonsils stay quiet.

They have had their moment.