Before Sunday I thought I only supported one team. It was a football team I was fanatical about, I had supported them since the age of 6. I had been abroad to support them, I had even been to Grimsby to support them. I had been a season ticket holder even though the home ground was over 70 miles away. I automatically carved my favourite players names into school desks, I had watched full 90 minute matches on teletext. My only team was Ipswich, through good times and mostly bad times I had stuck with them and my life had been dominated by seeking all information about the team’s fortune.

However, Sunday changed all that, and now I have a new team. A team called Rosaneri Cricket Club that I am fortunate to be part of.

I switched on my phone after a cold and refreshing shower following a sauna and swim and settled back to enjoy a late Sunday lunch. My mind transported itself to Hemel Hempstead and wondered what was happening.

Then from nowhere, beep beep, it was a text message. I opened the message and saw it was an update from the match, sent by Rosaneri’s number 1 fan Levsy.

“Rosaneri bat and are 52 for 2 after 13 overs”.

That was it. At that moment, I realised I had another team. I was desperate for more information. 15 minutes past and beep beep went the phone again. It was another update.

“71 for 3”.

I thought to myself, that is a good start the boys are going well. Then no more than another 15 minutes had past when another beep beep nearly triggered a heart attack.

“85 ALL OUT !!”

What had happened ? Did they have a ringer bowler ? Surely this was a mistake, or a wind up ?

Further text messages wandered backwards and forwards during the tea interval in which I had established that the outfield was long and that the boys were refreshed and ready to go. Then came the text that gave me a real glimmer of hope.

“The fiery determination of Freeman’s star jumps and toe touches suggest broken stumps and bones. Freeman is in the zone”.

Then like when Ipswich came back form 3 goals down with 5 minutes left to draw with Swindon 3-3, the belief started with a single moment and grew into something unbelievable.

Beep beep,

“Breakthrough. 0 for 1.”

Beep beep,

“Another one sent back to the pavilion.0 for 2.”

Beep beep,

“Take some Bromide. It’s now 2 for 3 off 4 overs. Sensational barely describes it.”

At this point I would have gladly paid £25 to watch the rest of the match on a pay per view link up. The excitement even 80 miles away was amazing. Then it went quiet for a bit, before beep beep once more.

“31 for 4 off 13 overs.”

Alas, the text messages then dried up and that Swindon moment was not to be repeated. Rosaneri had fallen short and the match had been lost. But that was not important, what was important was the fact that OUR team had competed.