Ben Guild: We all have a tale of ducking bouncers

A poorly played bouncer from an international cricketer can be a terrifying thing. Photo / File

The accompanying photograph captures, almost perfectly, one of the most horrifying moments of my life.

It was captured a little over two years ago during an Attrill Cup game at Fergusson Park.

The slightly fuzzy figure in the background is a relatively anonymous Corey Anderson in the months following his shift from Canterbury to Northern Districts.

Striding to the wicket that day, with the Mount/Te Puke selection in trouble, I didn't realise exactly how quick he was.

It looked quick from the hut, and I remember reminding myself he was likely quicker than anything I'd faced before.

The first one was on leg stump, and fullish.

By the time I began to try to whip the ball off my pads it had hit me high in the thigh pad and began its journey down to fine leg.

Genuinely surprised by the heat, and giddy to have survived, I began the jog down the other end for the leg bye.

I got two words on the way past from the bowler: "No chance".

Sadly, and somewhat questionably, it was ruled I had not played a legitimate shot so I was forced to return to the other end.

The second one went past where the outside edge of my bat would have been had it been there in time.

The third one led to the moment in the photo.

My feet have gone nowhere, my back leg has collapsed, the bat is still open and on the way up and the ball is a frame or two away from being inches away from my right ear.

More by good luck than good management, the ball missed my head - wrapped in an old $20 factory helmet - but what the photo doesn't show is the aftermath. My momentum and reflexes made me violently whip my head away from the line of the ball, leading to me losing my balance and spinning around like a top.

I ended up bent over my stumps facing the keeper in an awkward and ultimately embarrassing posture.

I somehow managed to get a single from the next ball and have not faced Anderson since. Within months he was playing international cricket and breaking the 140km/h barrier with a shiny white ball.

At the time it was funny, but in the wake of the Phil Hughes tragedy I look back on it differently.

He made the same mistake I did, with better equipment, skill, reflexes and training.

The only thing that saved me was the ball was too quick for me to get my head into line in the first place.

That's why Hughes' passing has hit home to so many cricketers - everyone has a story that goes something like that.

Players across the Bay put their bats and caps out on Saturday and during the week, wore arm bands and had moments of silence. I put an old bat outside my flat.

It stayed there for two days before it disappeared.

I hope whoever took it is playing cricket with it.