He looked determined, ready to prove himself. He had beat me the previous delivery with a ball that came in sharply. He was short in stature, and was using that to his advantage by skidding the ball.
He started his run-up, expertly hiding the ball in his hand, glided to the crease and tried to reach escape velocity as he jumped to deliver the ball. He landed hard, and the ball left his hand with the seam scrambled.
It headed towards the leg stump, and I attempted a flick. The ball beat me for pace and I heard the timber shattering. The leg stump lay uprooted.
The bowler howled in delight and started his customary dance on claiming any wicket. I rearranged the stumps and as he finished his dance, I picked the ball and threw it back to him, pointing to him the start of the run-up. He dejectedly walked back, and I marked my guard once again.
Being an elder brother sure had its advantages.