Now I wouldn't deign to boast of besporting above average volume of tackle – although it does appear that the summer months do have a pronounced effect on the elasticity of a certain pouch – but I must express my recent despair, discomfort and annoyance at the lack of containment afforded The Chairman in the last three matches, whilst employing two brand new versions of what was once, and only described as a jock strap. It is most distracting when after every and/or any step one 'spills' out. Even a reverie on tunnels Tom, Dick and Harry and 'The Great Escape' does little to mollify the whole-hearted inconvenience of the experience.
The mystery of how my dear old jock became misplaced is sadly of scant relevance, though it should be noted that I miss it dearly, and apologise for any dissent that I might have voiced to it over the age-induced rucking of the elasticated belt assembly.
The first attempt at replacement is described by Gray Nicolls as Cover Point Trunks. I mean what the fuck is that all about? Don't tell me the each wretched fielding position has its own jock. If one has to chose a nomenclature based on fielders then at least chose something comprehensible like Stupid Fucking Leg Trunk. The 'trunk' is, I suppose, a way of describing the style of the contraption; much akin to the stretchy 'Calvins' that I have utilised for a number of years and that have rarely been a source such errant excursion. Not only was flagrant escapism an almost consistent worry but, in the event of deploying the box (known now in some circles as an abdo guard *@$**ƒ√'·‡fi› !!!!!!!!!!) for batting purposes, I found (actually whilst diving to save a run out) that the only anatomical item covered was my tummy button (umbilicus).
So, next step; try a different sports shop. No 'mediums' being in stock and with the complete futility of trying to impress the shop girl, I declined the 'large' jock and asked that an order might be placed. Two weeks later (TWO WEEKS –fucking Country…) I take delivery – wrong word as I had to pick it up myself – of what appeared in the shop to be a standard jockstrap of the type that Dennis Compton and certainly David Gower might have relied upon to ensure successful procreation. It also comes with its own abdo guard (the last time I shall call one such) which is a vicious looking thing resembling a pelota 'bat' complete with perineum (or anal depending on physiology) tickler - no, prodder. It is put to the test yesterday at Pear Tree Pudding. Complete travesty of a thing. Its 'pouch' is so narrow that the only thing it might cover would be a perfectly vertical erection – of which mine is not. Besides nothing about cricket has that effect on me, bar possibly the showers, by which time jockstraps are superfluous. The first step I take after donning the strap (rather shadily manufactured my someone called 'Mr. David' – Goodale?) results in total 100% 'spillage'. Nothing improves and, after 15 or so overs, I forfeit my glass of cordial in order to return to the changing closet and put back on the Calvins, in which my cluster nestles quite happily for the rest of the game despite sprints and diving stops. Thank the Lord that I didn't have to bat, although the perineum prodder might have been the only ounce joy to come from my 'Mr. Davids'.
During the match I brought my plight to the attention of Teddy Skils; an avid cricketer who plays at least twice a week through the season and therefore ought to have an opinion. He dropped his strides to reveal an impressive undergarment, which a short Google, has revealed itself as an Aero Groin Protector Short. This might well be the way to go, although it turns out that the number of options is legion (the above, Batting Shorts [built in box and thigh pad], Aero Protector Briefs, Athletic Briefs, Men Cup Protector Strap, Supporter & Cup etc., etc…..)
I hope to have the matter resolved by the time of The Mike Martin Memorial Match in two weeks time, in which case I propose to incinerate The Trunk and Mr. David upon the BBQ, to great fanfare!
The Chairman, Rascals C.C. 17/6/2013
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