Saving The Worst Till Last

Luddesdowne – away – lost

So the final game and our recent run of good results were about to come to a crashing end. We were awful. Actually, not all of us. Just the batsmen.

As is becoming the norm, we were missing a host of players through various commitments and traffic accidents so we knew we were weak. However, we did get to welcome back Harry Meredith and Rickeeeeee and our fielding instantly picked up as balls were cut off rather than waited for. Youth, you can’t beat it. The slightly less youthful Klondike Pete also made a welcome return.

Anyhow, due to the unwillingness of the board of education to help out we were forced to field first. It was bloody hot. Actually, it was probably the hottest day of the year so far. The first 10 overs went ok. Harry was bowling beautifully with some real pace. At the other end Sniffles Ward was using guile rather than pace and not without some success. They were ably assisted but some excellent fielding by Pete K who returned the ball from the boundary to with the top of the stumps every time. Mention should also be made of part time player Gibbo who took two magnificent catches but actually sealed our downfall.

Basically, it was a good start with the opposition stagnating slightly and they had just 60 runs after the first 20 overs. Then we made a mistake and took a couple of wickets allowing their in form batsman to come to the crease and the run rate rose quite dramatically. Even the efforts of Neil and Dave, who were bowling as well as I’ve seen this year, could not stop the runs. Having said that we did drop him three times so we were the agents of our own demise. With around ten overs to go, the heat took its toll and we just ran out of steam. It was a very weary team that trooped off the pitch.

And that is where we should have stayed. Actually, the batsmen were in and out so quickly that it was almost as if we hadn’t been out there at all.  After just a handful of overs we were all out for our lowest total for some time – just 36. That’s less than our average age!!

Man of the match
No question, that would be young Harry. He bowled with pace and accuracy and really troubled the opposition batsmen. And when not doing that he patrolled the long on boundary throwing himself around with abandon.

Moment of the match
Coming off the pitch after fielding for 40 long overs.

Toes Came, He Saw And He Conquered

Blackheath Select – home – won

Another week another whinge; no sooner does the boy Bryce get back from taking his lad to the zoo then he is off to Dublin with the in-laws. Honestly, you’d think he puts family above the team. Another player “couldn’t be arsed”. And Buss Junior is still away with his family. Quite simply, this is not good enough. Where’s the commitment.

On the plus side, we welcomed back Steve “The Run Machine” Brewer and Sniffles Ward fresh from his bout of plague.

So it was a strangely depleted and enhanced side that turned up at the ground. Toes Buss was given the reins for the day and his first act was to win the toss and put us in the field on what looked like it was going to be a hot day. Capital. Although with the benefit of hindsight, this was an inspired move.

The new ball was thrown to The Player Formally Known As Hairless now under the moniker of Squiggle. Fresh from his fiery pace attack last week he set about the openers with menace and was soon causing trouble. More laundry bills for them. At the other end Graham The Mouth was also steaming in and causing trouble. Things were looking positive. 

The first wicket came with a out swinging bullet from Squiggle which took the edge and was snapped up by a stunning catch by Toes. I mentioned redwoods in a previous rant but this was nothing like that. His motion described a graceful arc as he dove forward and to his right to pluck the ball out of the air an inch off the turf.

The second wicket could have come on the very next ball with pretty much exactly the same delivery only this time the batsman got a slightly thicker edge and avoided Toes and co. He was not so lucky on the next ball though and another edge led to the long walk of shame. Squiggle was on fire and both he and The Mouth turned the screws and BlackHeath’s runs all but dried up. It was a thing of beauty.

Captain Toes then played his next card and asked Sniffles to turn his arm over. Now it’s been a while since we’d seen him bowl but you can’t stop class from shining through as he set about the opposition with a beguiling display of left arm leg spin. Blackheath, bless them, took this all in good graces and seemed oddly privileged to be part of the display. Like bunnies caught in the highlights they watched in fascination as he decided which stump to hit. Welcome back Nick.

Not to be outdone, the Elder Harvey got in on the act at the other end and he too taught the younger players a thing or two about the art of spin bowling. He had batsmen turning left and right and one poor soul got so dizzy he ended up sprawled in the dust – don’t believe a word of Neil’s claim it was the pace.

So with both spinners taking wickets and stopping runs it was time for the next phase of Toes’ master plan and with determination he grasped the ball from Neil and started the next course of Blackheath’s education; swing with accuracy. The poor things didn’t have a chance and their innings came to a quick and abrupt end.

It was a happy Toes who munched sandwiches having set a target of bowling them out for under a 100 and with a target of just 79 it was job done for the bowlers. Over to the batsmen then. It’s been a frustrating season for fans of Rob Fennings who have seen him strike the ball so well in the nets only to watch him fail to translate this to the middle. However, after last weeks life-line innings he was asked to open with The Run Machine. Funny how a bit of confidence lifts your game and soon Rob was hitting the ball with ease and we were off to a flyer. These two took us to 48 before Rob finally succumbed and made way for the return of Fennell. Having only just faced a handful of balls this year he was in desperate need of runs and with a huge six it looked like things were going to finally happen but a couple of deliveries later the dream was over and yet another disappointment was notched up. 

Still we were only 17 runs away from the victory as Jimmy Dorman took up the mantle and strode out to see us through. And soon he too was finding the boundary. The only slight hiccup was Steve getting caught with only 9 runs to go. Still it was a great knock and his 31 runs was the cornerstone of our victory. Never fear as Sniffles was here and he and Jimmy finished the opposition off like the Hun finding a young Tommy trapped in the wire.

 

Man Of The Match

Could be Steve for yet another solid innings. Or any of the bowlers for that matter but I feel that Toes Buss is the one. He had captaincy thrust upon him and acquitted himself admirably. Such was his mastery of his minions that given a black leather chair and a white cat and you’ll see him in the next Bond film. The evil Dr Buss. Not sure XXX will be too happy with all those Bond girls hanging arounbd the house though. We have seen at an international level that with captaincy comes a fall off in personal abilities but for this man this was not the case. His figures of 4 for 8 off six overs are brilliant and stopped the opposition dead in their tracks. 

 

Moment Of The Match

Fennell fielding at point set off after an edge to hunt it down like a magnificent lion might do to a gazelle. With mane flowing in the breeze, and noble head held high he pounces, snaps up the ball and returns an Exocet to the keeper. Stuff of legend. However, the very next ball painted a slightly different picture. The wounded bull elephant thunders off for one last stampede only to brought to the ground after 20 yards by some white hunter with a large bore rifle hiding in the bushes. It was a sad sight indeed to see his large carcass lying there waiting for the vultures to circle. The Elder Harvey himself was brought to tears and cursed the gods. In years to come archeologists will uncover his bones a say “here lies a Russy Mammoth”.

Goliath Kicks Some Arse

Old Gravesendians – away – lost

Some context: last year Old Gravesendians should have been promoted out of our league and, let’s face it, we were lucky that there isn’t a league below us to be relegated to! So one of the top teams verses one of the bottom ones then. On top of this we were playing on their home patch. Was the scene set for a David and Goliath style match of biblical proportions? 

Yet again we were down on numbers as one of our leading batsmen and wicket takers took an extra portion of oestrogen and let his wife book the flight for their holiday on a Saturday. A Saturday! In cricket season! Worse still, she booked the return flights for the Saturday after next! We all know who wears the trousers in that relationship and they’re not even cricket whites! Stacy, my wife’s best dress is waiting for you when you get back.

Next Jessie in our midst, Nasty Nick Ward who got a case of the sniffles a few weeks back and was still too ill to play. It didn’t stop the poor lamb scoffing the pints of Guinness as we toiled on the pitch though. Here’s hoping the extra iron will do him some good and get him back for next week.

When those of us that could, did reach the ground we were confronted by a concerned Gravesendians skipper – it turned out that their nomal groundsman had upped and died during the week and his replacement had cut a track on the new square; the one that will be ready for the season after next! It looked like D Buss & Son had come in and laid some crazy paving (a much maligned and underrated 70’s garden feature for the younger readers) where the crease should have been. You know the video clip used as a backdrop by reporters in a war zone? The one with the burning 4×4, bomb craters and rubble? Well, all we were missing was the buring 4×4.

They didn’t know what to do, the pitch is maintained by the council and as a result no equipment is kept on site so there was no way to cut a new one. The options – we use the crazy paving and take our life in our hands or we try and re-use the unmarked pitch from last weekend.

This is where experience counts. While the younger memebers of our team were quoting health and safety and generally being all kinds of scared, the more experienced of us realised that this was a chance to slay Goliath - there is nothing quite so levelling as a dangerously unpredictable pitch. Batting becomes a bit of a lottery and as a bowler you have an automatic excuse. OK, so maybe there was a chance of a bruise or two or maybe losing a tooth but this was a chance. 

Rick was swayed by this logic and soon we were heading out into the unknown armed only with bats and pads and helmets and grim expressions on our faces. Sure enough, Gravesendians opened up with a barrage of missiles that were ricocheting at unbelievable angles and soon batsmen were heading back to the pavilion in quick succession. Maybe experience isn’t all it is cracked up to be.

At this level of the game you don’t get many bowlers who can bowl a genuine bouncer but the scene that unfolded that day was like we were facing the West Indies of old.

Still, the opposition weren’t having it all their own way either; Rick was striking the ball well and with the ball darting off at impossible angles no one in their right mind would be a wicket keeper and soon the extras column was our leading batsman. Who cares, the runs were coming. Unfortunately, this can only remain true while there are batsmen and eventually this invaluable source of runs dried up as the final brave soul trudged off. The only solace came from Rob Fennings who stuck around for an age and scored a personal best of 16. I suppose he did have a slight advantage as crazy pavement is his stock in trade so he obviously felt at home.

Our innings came to an end with only 96 runs on the board. Not too many smiles were to be found on either side; the Gravesendian batsmen knew what was coming and didn’t like the look of it at all.

Teas were delayed, actually as we were all out so quickly they didn’t have a chance to make them. Upshot, the opposition had to turn round and face eight overs before the break. Traditionally, this is a horrible time for a batsman; not enough time to get settled but plenty of time to get out. And so it proved to be. Something had really gotten into Hairless that day and he was bowling like a demon with pace and aggression. This, coupled with an unpredictable pitch, meant there were many brown-trouser moments for the Gravesendian openers. After just five overs of this sort of intimidation their first man caved and in a blind panic to get away from Stu’s onslaught took a wild swipe at a ball that removed his leg stump and sent him scampering back to the pavilion for a much needed change of underwear. The next man in, having heard the rumours of the possibility of death or a serious maiming at the very least, immediately went into defensive mode and tried to avoid the ball at all costs. At the other end Toes Buss was mesmerising with huge movement through the air and an accuracy that yielded just six runs off his six over spell.

While all this was happening their number one batsman, a brute of a man with no shots to speak of just a very good eye and shoulders an Olympic swimmer would be proud of, set about clubbing the ball to the boundary like a Canadian faced with a seal pup. Things were looking ominous.

We took tea. I have to say, these were the best spread I’ve had for an age what with smoked chiken sambos and scones and jam. Here’s to the ladies of Old Gravesendians.

After stuffing ourselves silly we returned to combat. We’d previously heard much about new boy Darren McGrath – mostly from himself mind you but there’s no smoke without fire so maybe he is as good as he says. And boy was he on fire. His first two overs were a litle loose but from there on in he was bascially unplayable such was the pace generated by this left armer. But in the ways of such things, being unplayable generally means the batsmen don’t get near enough to edge the ball and that perfect line outside off stump means you don’t get any wickets. Still he blasted away until their danger man was completely deceived by a beautiful inswinging length ball and his stumps were scattered to the four winds. 

Things for the Wrotham Davids were not looking great; the Gravesendian Goliaths were 69 for 2 and looking like getting the remaining 30 runs without too much effort. Then an odd thing happened, their number four came in and decided that if KP can switch hit the South Africans for six then he could do it too. Thing is KP doesn’t tend to try his luck every ball and without breaking a sweat the elder Harvey had bowled this madman within a couple of deliveries. Too much telly I fear had made this batsman look a complete tit. But the repercussions of this lunacy were profound, his actions seemed to upset the incoming batsmen and all of a sudden they were hesitant and faltering. The runs dried up. As they stagnated our spirits rose. 

Graham “The Mouth” Kingsnorth (who by his own exacting standards had had a quiet game thus far) began to sledge … sorry, encourage the opposition and the machine started to turn. Rick then had an inspiration and tossed the ball to Jamie White, some poor sod who got press-ganged for just turning up as a guest of the Kingsnorths to watch the game. He had said he used to turn his arm over a bit in the past but after five wides in his first over we assumed he had a touch of the Grahams about him. His second over was a double wicket maiden so perhaps not.

73 for 3, 82 for 4, 82 for 5, 89 for 6, 89 for 7 ….. as the wickets fell our spirits rose and they despaired. Surely we couldn’t pull off the impossible? 

Alas no, the remaining batsmen manged to scrape a narrow victory through a series of nicks and wides and got home without further loss. Still their relief was palpable as they realised they had had a very close call.

We may not have won but against the odds we had pushed them to the limit and very nearly done it. As I said to Sniffles Ward at tea, another 50 runs (heck, another 20 runs) would have made all the difference.

 

Man of the match

Could be Darren, the self-professed best newcomer, for a bowling spell that gave us a real opportunity by removing the danger man. Nope, given the conditions it has to be Rob Fennings not only for the dogged batting display but for his excellent session behind the stumps. With the ball darting this way and that at great speed he put in a wonderful effort to cut down on the extras.

 

Moment of the match

Unfortunately, this week’s fielding was really rather excellent and there are no comedy moments of note. The return of Rickeee brought some much needed dynamism to our fielding. This was forcably illustrated when the opposition brute clubbed another seal to square leg only to have our captain race around from mid wicket, slide for an eternity, scoop up the ball right on the boundary and launch it back in to the waiting Fennings. Great cricketing skill. At the other end of the spectrum, they say England is famous for its mighty oaks but Wrotham has its fair share of redwoods. When the bigger units of the team “dive” for a ball there is a tortured creak before a graceful but unstoppable topple as the trunk heads for the floor. It is a joy to behold – if you are a lumberjack.

 

Editors note

We have had a complaint from Hairless Stu who would prefer it if we didn’t refer to him as hairless. From now on terms such as slaphead, chrome dome, baldie, Kojak, cueball, egghead, folically challenged ….. will no longer be acceptable when referring to this wonderful example of the sharp haircut. And comments like Fennell’s “I have more hair on my arse” are not at all helpful.

Help The Aged

GHS Dartford – home – won

Let me paint a picture for you; Chuffer in bright yellow speedos, snorkel and flippers. An image to conjure with indeed. We may as well have played water polo as the game on Saturday. Non-stop rain for the entire game interspersed with heavier showers in case we were beginning to getting bored.

And why did we even play? Well, Dartford are a nice bunch of lads, they had traveled a ways and were keen to get some sort of game. Besides, given our recent form I reckon they thought it was 20 points in the bag.

Uncharacteristically, we were short of players; Rickieeee had decided to have a child last year and if that wasn’t disruption enough, damn me if the little tyke didn’t decide to have a birthday this year too. So it was off to the zoo for him. The Lordswood Regulars (they are a bit like Sherlock Holmes’ Irregulars but without the charm of being urchins) were curiously absent en masse. Perhaps they were preparing for The Big Game on Sunday? There were claims of having to work for a living but given they way those boys live I doubt they have time to work anyway.

Things were so bad that the Elder Harvey had to trawl the pubs of Wrotham plying alcohol on poor unsuspecting foreigners until in a beer addled state they agreed to turn out. Against doctors orders I might add. Yes, it was time for yours truly to dust off the kit and take the field once again.

I have to admit, it was nice to meet some new faces who are nice and respectful and pleasant with intelligent conversation. The rest I knew already. Although it only took all of about 3 minutes before they too began to pour abuse (actually heap may be a better description) upon my gentle ego.

Having gotten the pleasantries out of the way, it was time to start the game. The ever young Stacy Buss was captain for the day and in his usual wile way he stuck the opposition in on the basis that it looked like it was going to get wetter later on and it would be better not to be fielding then. He also took the opportunity to reduce the number of overs to 30.  A very smart move as it turned out. Unless, of course, if you are Jimmy Dorman who rather foolishly volunteered to umpire in the heaviest of the wet stuff. What a guy.

Anyhow, spirits were high(ish) as we sloshed our way onto the field. It was here that I got the first hint that clearly I have become an old man in the intervening years since I last played this stupid game; as Stacy set his field his eyes fell on me and panic set in, where was he going to hide me to minimise the obvious calamity that I was sure to bring to the game? Never in my life has this happened to me. So with the kindness of Travis Coates, Old Yeller Fennell was led to mid-off and given both barrels.

It wasn’t long before Stacy’s trust in me was proven right as a rather regulation defensive push came my way and I ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor. Luckily, the gut managed to flop on top of the ball and save the run. Still the writing was on the wall. By and large the rest of the team managed to make up for me and the fielding was good. The bowling was good too and wickets started to come. Slaphead Stewie and Hairy Harry Meredith being particularly evil from their end and getting the ball to spit like cobras off a length. Several times their deliveries screeched past the startled batsman’s nose. In fact Stewie was bowling so nicely that the opposition weren’t able to get close enough to edge the ball. Shame he in turn couldn’t get close enough to edge the stumps but you can’t have everything.

My second hint that old age is finally here for me came when a Dartford batsman sliced the ball between myself and the even younger Wills Meredith (brother of Hairy). With a sigh I set off at a gallop to retrieve the ball only for this little speedster easily outpace me and fire the ball back to the keeper without even breaking sweat. I didn’t check but I’m sure he still has milk teeth.

Once again, the mature members of the team returned some great figures; Mr N Harvey 3-0-4-1; Mr D Buss 6-1-31-3. Although Stewie’s 7-3-20-2 is not too shabby either.

The only blot on an otherwise good bowling performance was a left handed batsman who clearly had a great eye (he certainly didn’t have any shots) as he continually picked the ball off middle stump to heave it over to cow corner. His luck couldn’t last and in the 26th over we had our final wicket and the opposition has posted a target of 119.

Given the conditions and the reduced overs this was not a bad total and would take some getting.

Tea was delayed as it hadn’t turned up so we were faced with the nasty proposition of having to bat for 10 overs and then come off. This is always difficult as just when the batsmen are settling in they have a forced break and have to start all over again.

Back to the game, Old Toes Buss wasn’t feeling too good so decided to bat down the order. So it was cap’n for the day and that man with the sharp haircut who started the innings for us. And a pretty good job they made of it too. We had a decent start of 35 runs before the first wicket fell. This brought the hero to some and villain to others to the crease, Steady Steve Brewer. His partnership with the hairless one was short lived though but did bring us to 57. It was time for my return to batting stardom. Unfortunately it was not to be as Steady Steve chipped a ball back over the bowler only to be dropped in a most comical fashion. This is where I received confirmation of my elderly state – my eyes must have failed me because next thing I know old Steady is a yard away from me blowing like a rhino in full charge, my ears must have failed me as I didn’t hear the call to warn me of the approach of this stampede, the little gray cells must also be on the blink as clearly in my mind there was never a run, my legs have also given out as I could not cover the 22 yards in the sub-second fashion that was obviously expected of me. Yes folks, old age is a terrible thing and should be avoided if at all possible.

So while I fumed in the dressing room apparently the rest of the batting line up did rather well and when I finally rose from the depths of despair, old Steady Steve and Toes Buss were steering us on the course to victory.

I’d like to take a personal moment here to thank my friend Dorman for his help and support in a dark time for me. If it were not for his wholesale abuse I dread to think what sort of state of mind I might have ended up in. What a guy.

Man of the match
Perhaps a little controversial but I chose not to go with Steady Steve for his effort with the bat. Undoubtedly he made the difference to our batting but there is still something nagging at the back of my mind. No, my man of the match has to be Hairy Harry for his tight bowling (only conceding 17 runs from his 4 overs) and his sweet shots when batting (15 no) that actually got us past the post.

Moment of the match
Am struggling with this one; might throw it open to the floor. Post a comment with your favorite. One image I have is after tea when the rain was particularly bad. Jimmy Dorman had been umpiring for a while now and had reached full saturation point. I’m not convinced that it was physically possible for his clothes to contain any more water. So with a look reserved for spaniel puppies when they are kicked by particularly brutal owners, Jimmy turned to his fellow team mates in the pavilion to see if one of them would end his suffering. We decided that as he was already as wet as he could be there really was no point one of us going out there. The spaniel could only turn back to his game muttering about a terrible vengeance.