care of itself.â
Sounds pretty wussy to me , thought Pete, but he just said, âYes, Dad.â
Peteâs dad was always coming out with mushy stuff. Must have been a bit of a loser when he was young , thought Pete. If you want to play for Australia, youâve got to go for it!
And then it happened. The most fantastic, unbelievable day of days.
Pete had gone into a muesli bar cricket competition. And won! The prize was the first day at a test match with Australia playing against England. But the best part was a chance to go to the Australian team breakfast and then down to the change rooms before the game. Pete would get all the playersâ autographs and watch them warm up and stuff.
Pete was so excited that he thought he might have kittens.
The game was at the most famous place in the world, the Melbourne Cricket Ground, and the newspapers said it would be packed. And so it was. Luckily Pete had arrived early.
After waiting in a queue for what seemed like half of Peteâs life, he and his family finally reached the entrance to the Membersâ Stand. Pete was dressed in his whites, carrying his bat in one hand and his muesli bar prize letter in the other.
The man at the gate said, âWeâve been expecting you. Didnât someone mention that you didnât need to queue up? You could have come straight in. Unfortunately youâre a bit late for the breakfast, but Iâm sure youâll be well looked after.â
On the other side of the gate were two men â one to take Peteâs family to their seats in the stand, the other to take Pete through to meet the players.
Suddenly, there Pete was. Surrounded by the most important, fantastic, excellent people ever. The Australian cricket team. Ricky Ponting, Michael Clarke â they were all there. And Pete was introduced to every one of them. He was in heaven.
Then Mr Ponting asked if Pete would like to stay with the team once the game had started. You can probably guess what Peteâs answer was.
âYes!â
Well, the game had been going for an hour and Australia had started terribly. Three wickets down for only fifteen runs!
But the real disaster had only just begun. Something even worse was happening in the change rooms. Something only Pete knew about.
The next batsman, Michael Clarke, who was supposed to be padding up, was instead being terribly sick in the toilets. It must have been something heâd eaten for breakfast.
Pete was trying to help by giving him wet towels and lemonade, but the batsman just got worse.
âWhat are you going to do?â asked Pete from outside the toilet door.
âI donât know,â croaked Clarkey (thatâs what Pete calls him now that he knows him personally). âDo you think you could run up and tell Punter for me? Heâs in the playersâ room at the top of the stairs.â
âSure,â said Pete.
âAnd Pete,â said Clarkey, âyouâve been a terrific help. Thanks. Maybe I can give you a hand one day when you play for Australia?â
Pete smiled and ran off. And then he stopped.
Those words, Play for Australia â¦
And Pete started to think of something very, very naughty.
Peteâs family were sitting in the grandstand and they groaned with the rest of the crowd as yet another wicket fell.
Peteâs mum was the first to notice the new player marching out to bat. âOh, no!â she said.
âIt couldnât be!â said his dad.
It was.
Peter Wallace was marching out to bat.
Mr Ponting waved madly and shouted at Pete to come back, but Pete kept walking.
The crowd couldnât believe it. âWho is he?â they asked each other.
âHow could someone so short be sent out to bat?â
âWhy wasnât the team change in this morningâs papers?â
It was all too late. Pete was at the crease. And Stuart Broad was charging in to bowl.
The first three balls whistled past somewhere near
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