Playing Up

Hi there,

I'm David Warner, Australian cricketer, and I'm really excited to introduce you to my new series of kids' books called
The Kaboom Kid.

Little Davey Warner is ‘the Kaboom Kid', a cricket-mad eleven-year-old who wants to play cricket with his mates every minute of the day, just like I did as a kid.

Davey gets into all sorts of scrapes with his friends, but mainly he has a great time playing cricket for his cricket club, the Sandhill Sluggers, and helping them win lots of matches.

If you're into cricket, and I know you are, then you will love these books. Enjoy
The Kaboom Kid.

David Warner

Chapter 1:
Six and Out Steve

Chapter 2:
Round One to Mudge

Chapter 3:
No Kaboom Gloom

Chapter 4:
Mudge Makeover

Chapter 5:
Facing the Music

Chapter 6:
Caught Out

Chapter 7:
Selector Rejector

Chapter 8:
Sniffer Dog Success

Chapter 9:
A Hat-trick

Chapter 10:
The Big Swindle

Chapter 11:
Batting for Bradman

Chapter 12:
Big Brother

Chapter 13:
Bat or No Bat

Chapter 14:
The Big League

Chapter 15:
Poetry in Motion

FOR STEVE

Davey Warner gripped the worn red cricket ball in his hand. His thumb traced the rough seam in the cracked leather before he found the right grip. He gave his shoulders a stretch and jogged lightly on the spot.

‘Game on,' Davey said quietly to himself.

As if responding to Davey's comment, the batsman at the other end of the pitch tapped the crease with the end of his bat and waited. His expression was of fierce concentration.

Davey found his mark and turned. ‘Let's see how you like this one,' he muttered.

He came in a few paces off a short run and released his leg-break. But it pitched short of a length and a loud ‘whack!' sounded. Davey watched as the ball sailed over his head to the outer.

What a cracker!
Davey's dog Max yelped and then tore off after the ball.

‘Stink!' Davey pulled a face.

Davey's older brother, Steve, looked far too pleased with his shot. ‘You need to mix it up
more,' he said to Davey. ‘Try one that comes straight on.'

‘Yeah, yeah,' Davey muttered.

It was Sunday afternoon and even though Davey had already played two games of cricket that weekend he was keen for more. Only trouble was, Steve was hitting him to all parts of the backyard
and
kept giving him unasked-for coaching tips. It was driving Davey bonkers.

Max loved nothing more than fielding for the Warner brothers. He'd retrieve ball after ball relentlessly, dropping it each time at Davey's feet in a slobbery pile.

‘Hurry up, Max,' Davey called. He was itching to get his brother out.

Max let out a series of excited whines as he searched frantically through the overgrown shrubbery alongside the back fence.

‘I can see how you're holding the ball, so I know how you're going to bowl,' Steve told Davey as they wandered over to help Max in his search. ‘You want to keep the ball hidden from the batter.'

‘Der, I know!' Davey had just about heard enough of Steve's advice.

Steve shrugged and said nothing. He was fourteen and captain of the Sandhill Saints. Davey knew that Steve loved cricket just as much as he did, but Steve didn't always love playing with his little brother. The feeling was mutual – Davey preferred to play cricket with his friends Sunil, Kevin and George. For one thing, they didn't tell him what to do.

Steve found the ball and after giving it a quick rub to remove most of the slobber he tossed it to Davey. They went back to their positions and Max moved to silly mid-on and crouched low.
You won't get it past me this time
, he seemed to say.

Davey ran in, trying hard to hide his grip. It felt awkward and he served up a full toss that Steve hooked to the fence for four.

‘Double stink!' he cursed.

‘Don't lose it, Davey,' Steve called when he saw the dark look on Davey's face. ‘You can't just rely on your batting. You need to be able to bowl as well.'

‘Yes, oh Great One.' Davey rolled his eyes. ‘You aren't exactly Shane Warne yourself.'

He jogged over to the side fence that separated their house from his best friend Sunil's. Davey had lost count of how many runs Steve would have scored over the last hour.

Davey lined up at the end of his run-up for the next ball and tried to clear his head, but just as he was about to let rip his brother interrupted him again.

‘Concentrate on line and length,' Steve shouted.

Davey slowed down and focused on controlling his delivery.

‘That's too short,' Steve said, smacking it to the off side.

Davey tried again.

‘That's too full,' Steve said, driving it back over Davey's head.

Max raced for the ball
again
with a delighted yap. He hadn't seen so much action in years!

‘I'd concentrate on your spinners, if I were you,' Steve said as Davey approached.

‘I'd put a sock in it if I were you.' Davey bowled the next ball as fast as he could but it was over-pitched, and Steve sent it flying over the fence.

‘Great shot!' Steve threw his bat into the air.

But his delight was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal followed by a loud crash and the sound of something shattering.

‘Davey Warner!' Sunil's mum shouted from the other side of the fence.

Davey pulled a face. ‘Sorry, Mrs Deep!' he called. ‘Look what you've done!' he hissed at Steve.

He jogged over to where Kaboom, his cricket bat, lay on the grass, waiting. ‘Six and out. My turn to bat.'

But Steve was already wandering towards the house. ‘I've got to meet Danny and Jerome for practice. ‘We've got the big game against Shimmer Bay Skiffs on Saturday.'

‘No way!' Davey shouted, holding up Kaboom. ‘
My turn to bat!
'

‘See you later, little brother.' Steve ruffled Davey's hair when he walked past him.

‘David?' Mrs Deep was peering over the fence. She waved a broom in the air. ‘I'm waiting!'

‘Steve!' Davey called again, but his brother had already gone.
Typical.

‘Coming, Mrs Deep!' he called. At least he wouldn't have to hear any more of Steve's ‘advice'.

Davey looked at Max. ‘You stay here,' he said. But the dog was already dashing down the side path ahead of him.

Davey gazed out of the classroom window at the dusty playing fields. He squirmed restlessly on the hard wooden seat. It was a brilliantly still summer's day – perfect conditions for cricket. In fact, it was perfect conditions for anything
other
than listening to grumpy old Mr Mudge drone on relentlessly
with algebra questions while Davey's whole class – 6M, for ‘Mudge' – nodded off.

‘A boat is travelling at a constant speed for five hours, covering a total distance of 338.49 kilometres. How fast was it going?' Mudge asked in a monotone.

This is torture
, Davey thought.
Does he really expect anyone to answer?

Davey's mind drifted off to cricket, and he pictured himself at the crease, leaning into his bat, Kaboom. The ball came fast and straight. The crowd ‘Ooh-ed' when they realised the ball was rocketing straight for his face, but he didn't even flinch. Judging it perfectly, Davey struck it and with a mighty crack sent it flying high over square leg and then the boundary for six.

The crowd erupted! ‘Warner! Warner!' they chanted, cheering their hero.