When women play, the gods come down as an audience to witness their perfect game shots.

However, we humans are mere spectators and when we have the opportunity to have a visual treat of 11 women on the launch board, you get as excited as if you have won the Congressional medal for pride.

I had the honor of seeing my best friends practice on the field of my hometown stadium. My burning desire to hold a bat in my hand and hit the ball with all my might came true.

They took me with them to the central board building of the cricket association. They were both healthy, healthy, playing for the nationals and aiming for the internationals. The field was huge and I saw several young cricketers hitting their best shots. Some were warming up as they had to participate in the afternoon sessions. Some were hitting the ball of red matches held by a long rope. I didn’t know what it meant, but it was nice. The 10 and 12 year old girls were filled with enthusiasm and pure energy that awoke in their spirits. They played like expert professionals. My friends took me straight to the net practice area where the great cricketers in the state used to train. The field was full of scattered players doing their jobs and no one cared who came in or went out. It was a gesture of dedication. Both girls introduced me to their friends and they were equally happy to see me. A senior player came over full of curiosity and asked who I was. I was feeling a bit vindictive as it was my first chance to meet those high ranking cricket goddesses. That young woman was warm and asked me questions about my writing profession. He also gave mandatory details on how they practiced and what their strategies were.

It was getting late and their coach told them to start the session. It was as if female warriors were preparing for a battleship. They put on their helmets, gloves and leg pads and took their precious bats with them. It was his source of energy. However, the reality was within their minds. It was their perseverance and their goal to reflect the best of themselves.

The party war began. My friend got on the court and started hitting while the others bowled. How they played! I was amazed at his running speed and the curve of his hands and the style of the ball. Not a single mistake and it was a flawless appearance. I could hear their ragged breaths and the tapping of shoes. For a moment, I felt that the players would replace the best and make their country proud. It was true, since they were better than the boys. The players moved their wrists and the ball almost hit the stumps, but my friend was acting like an alert lioness. He stroked that perfect punch on every googly, throw, yorker, and many others. The mere sight of the ball thrown by the girls made my hair stand on end. It did not affect them and they continued their session. The whole situation seemed as if the warrior women were preparing to bring medals for their country. They were going to decorate our national flag with their passion. I was very proud when my two friends, one skilled bowler and the other a flawless bat woman, fought their game smoothly.

His coach deserved a standing ovation. I wondered how he must have spent days and years shaping these girls to their best. The real work is in the hands of the preceptor and she was undoubtedly a genius.

The women who play on the field are only as good as the Major at fighting on a battlefield. They have horses, she has the bat and the ball. I was very proud of my two young friends who set a role model for aspiring young cricketers.

In fact, it is a commendable sport. Instead of holding the pans in hand, he gets up, hits the ball, and sends it over the edge. I saw that inner power within these female bodies. She was making her homeland proud as an undefeated soldier. I didn’t see any difference in a rifle and its bats.