'AWNIOGO': BIGNALL END (H)

Saturday, June 17

With just over a third of the season gone the situation at the top of the league was extremely tight, with the top five teams separated by just 12 points. The leaders, with 98 points, were Newcastle and Hartshill, closely followed by Ashcombe Park who trailed by a single point. We were handily placed in third, on 94, three points in front of Betley, and eight ahead of today’s visitors, Bignall End.

The dreadful midweek weather forecasts had proven unfounded, yet the day still began somewhat inauspiciously: I overslept until 1.15 pm and, having quickly packed my kit, was forced to catch a taxi from Stone to the ground. In which I left my wallet. Scatterbrain. I just prayed that we might win the toss on what can only be termed ‘a result wicket’. Evidently, Addo had been in better bowling form than batting at nets the night before, as the track he chose for the match had more bare patches than John Moore’s scalp. It was obviously going to turn square from start to finish but it was still important to win the toss. Why? Well, firstly, as ever, it was crucial to take the early initiative, which I felt could be more readily achieved with the ball rather than the bat. Secondly, Addo’s threat could perhaps be countered by a Bignall End top seven that contained no fewer than five lefties. So, we all sat with baited breath as the coin went spinning into the sky. From the grin that enveloped the face of Tim Myatt (no relation), it was clear that we’d be having first hit.

We were soon in trouble at 17 for 3 – Addison, Harvey and Myatt all twiddling their thumbs back in the pavilion. Each of them had been dismissed by teenager Adrian Myatt, and all to shots that they would rather forget. Addo, having survived being caught at short-leg thanks to a deaf and blind umpire, then chased a short and wide one and nicked to the keeper. Minty fended off a bouncer straight to Edwards at short-leg and was followed by Mauler, whose attempted pull was spooned to mid-off. 

Meanwhile, I had been stuck at the other end, endeavouring to see off the unerringly accurate seamers of skyscraping Marcus Sharp [left]. Having taken half-an-hour to score my first run, I was still only on 2 not out after an hour’s play, yet despite receiving literally no loose balls and being totally devoid of confidence (and, some might say, talent) I was determined to graft it out. Hawky came in with a slightly different attitude, slapping his second ball back over the bowler’s head for four; considering his first ball had popped, it was an awesome, if worrying, shot. However, he didn’t get another ball to hit and soon played a reckless shot to be bowled off his pads.

I had spent over an hour-and-a-half compiling 17 runs but was looking to seize back the initiative, which I believed could be best achieved by positive running between the wickets. I thought I had the perfect ally in Drew, but we soon had a mix-up, resulting in me being sent back halfway through my third run. Despite a valiant belly-flop, I was run out by yards. Needless to say, I was pretty p****d off: I was going to the danger end so it was my call. Then again, I suppose it would be a tad naïve to expect Bully to sacrifice himself two matches on the trot! To exacerbate the whole situation, I’d twisted my ankle in turning to get back, so limped off cursing all things Tartan. Later Drew explained that he hadn’t heard my call until it was too late. I suppose these things are inevitable in cricket, particularly when your partner speaks a foreign language (Jock), so I agreed to forgive and forget. My dismissal had plunged us even further into the mire, though. With five wickets down, we only had 40 runs on the board.

Drew then led a mini-recovery until he snicked a useful ball from Sharp who followed up by trapping Smudger infront for a 23-ball duck. Between these wickets falling, Barry Brian was bowled through the gate by Rob Howell, the off-spinner, then Wayne, who had looked very solid, offered another catch to Bignall End’s droning ‘keeper to leave us staring down the barrel – and contemplating a long drinking session – at 88 for 9. 

A young Rob Howell (left)

However, it seemed as though the Boys from Boon Hill hadn’t reckoned with Moddershall’s Plan Z, and shortly it was to be their faces staring abjectly at the turf as Iain Carr and Kevin Colclough launched an astounding counter-attack. At 4.45 Myatt rejoined the attack, in tandem with Sharp, as Bignall End attempted to polish off the innings. Cokey showed Myatt (who had the excellent figures of 4 for 19) about as much respect as Jack the Ripper showed to prostitutes. The bearded veteran clubbed his third and fourth balls to the boundary and, an over later, followed up with an enormous six (agri)culturally swatted over mid-wicket. The field scattered and the run rate increased. Bignall End claimed another ten minutes’ bowling time, but there was no playing for tea by either Coke or Iain. By now Billy was standing up belligerently and smashing balls of decent length and line wherever he felt like doing so. When tea arrived we were 136 for 9 and, although our opponents were still, theoretically at least, in the driving seat, we had the definite psychological edge. 

After the interval the last wicket pair continued where they had left off and took the score to 167 before Billy, having completed his half-century, skied Myatt to point where Sharp took the catch. They had ridden their luck but it was still a phenomenal effort to add 79 runs in 13 overs, particularly as neither of them had batted in the league for over a month, and they justly deserved to break the previous league record of 62 for the tenth wicket. Quality.

We came off knowing that we had an hour plus twenty overs bowling time. By the time Mauler had bowled a hostile opening over to his amply proportioned namesake, Tim, the buzz amongst our fielders was supercharged. Iain Carr’s day got even better when he produced a jaffa with his first ball to remove the prolific Nigel Nixon, Bignall’s batting dangerman, for a golden duck. From that point on we felt that the threat of defeat that had been hanging over us for most of the day had been snuffed out, and it seemed to take the edge off our cricket, almost as if we were happy to settle for a great escape rather than pushing for victory. Apart from Andy Hawkins’ spell, most of our bowling was tame and purposeless. Having had Bignall End at 79 for 4, we might have pressed harder. Yet in all probability we didn’t really have enough overs in which to bowl them out, and so the game petered out to a draw as Bignall End finished on 141 for 4, thanks to a late salvo from Eric Riley and Julian Byrne. 

Julian Byrne batting at Modd, early 90s, a photo that looks truly village on many levels. First, the unrecognized 
bowler (maybe a very slim Addo?) is clearly a spinner, judging by the follow-through (unless it's the late Nick 
Newman), which invites the question: why is there a deep fine-leg? And is that  James Rutter? Second, is John 
Myatt both too deep and too wide at slip? With this sort of field, it's probably Drew Heard leading the troops, older 
and curmudgeonlier (yes, it's a word) brother of the wicket-keeper in shot, Dave 'Kitbag' Heard... Actually, on 
closer inspection, the bowler looks like Andy Hawkins, presumably bowling his utterly filthy offies either as a 
'protest' over the way Big End approached the game, or because he had the yips. Again, it will never carry 
to Mauls; and it will never reach Rut the Nut #village

Hawky said that, had he been one of their players, he would have been disappointed that they didn’t go harder for victory. In reality, they only finished 27 short thanks to the penultimate over from Cokey that was blasted for 20 runs. On this pitch, with a longer tail than our own, it wasn’t a target they could have approached without seriously risking losing the game. Seeing as most bookmakers would have offered odds of 1000-1 against that happening at 4.45, I don’t think defeat would have been easy for them to stomach. 

This game had been by far our sternest test of the season and, ultimately, we were completely indebted to one partnership and highly fortunate to have come out with a draw. Whilst most of us would feel disappointed with our personal performances, there was something very positive to be gained from avoiding defeat in a match that saw us just one solid punch from the canvas. There seemed to be a much greater resilience throughout the side this year and with Harv, Mauler, myself and one or two others still to hit anything like top form things could only improve, a fact upon which most of us agreed as we got well and truly bladdered in Al-Sheiks Balti House where we were celebrating yet another Hawkins birthday. 

MATCH DRAWN 

MODDERSHALL 167 all out (56.3 overs) 
I Carr 55, K Colclough 37*, A Myatt 5-57
BIGNALL END 141 for 4 (35 overs) 
J Byrne 32*, E Riley 34*

MODDERSHALL 6 points
BIGNALL END 8 points

'AWNIOGO': NEWCASTLE & HARTSHILL (A)*

Sunday, June 11

TALBOT CUP, QUARTER-FINAL

Having had a bye in the Second Round of this year’s Talbot Cup, our early season victory over Crewe Rolls-Royce was good enough to give us a place in the last eight, which meant a trip to promotion rivals Newcastle and Hartshill in search of progress to the semis for the first time in the club’s history. I felt quite tense on the journey there – not only because of Drew’s driving, but also due to the situation in England’s rugby World Cup quarter-final against Australia. The hyperactive butterflies in my stomach were soon quieted by Rob Andrew’s enormous injury time drop-goal and both Drew and I were hopeful that this would prove a good omen.

It’s fair to say that Newcastle’s ground has fallen into decline of late. Once upon a time it had enjoyed county ground status and was up there with the best tracks in North Staffs, but now it looked in pretty wretched condition. Anyone bowling from the Velodrome End (that’s cycle track to me and you) had a glaring ridge to exploit outside the right-hander’s off stump, so pronounced, in fact, that it was tempting to use it for a game of kerbie. Little wonder the pro’s name is Ridgway! Added to this inconvenience (or bonus, if you happened to be a seamer) was the fact that the strip was unevenly grassed – all in all, it looked disgraceful, not to mention dangerous, and Addo was convinced that he would have to report it as unfit. However, local knowledge said it usually played a lot better than it looked, and that is indeed how things panned out.

Graham Wood, the Newcastle skipper, won the toss and elected to bat, but some accurate early bowling and energetic fielding (including the near-miracle of a full-length diving stop from Agile) saw them slump to 57 for 3. At this point Wood joined Mo Chaundry to help construct an important 93-run partnership. Once Cokey – whose toe had recovered sufficiently to enable him to play – had completed his stint of 10 overs at the cost of just 22 runs we didn’t have a bowler able to support Andy Hawkins and Newcastle were allowed to break our stranglehold on the game. 

Mo Chaudry: "this time next year, Rodders..."

Having earlier been given the benefit of whatever scintilla of doubt there was over a catch I took off Seth, Chaudry was eventually dismissed in the 36th over for 53 with the score at a below-par 150. Wood, however, had paced his innings well and went on to plunder 44 runs from the last 4 overs, including 24 from the final over of the innings bowled by Iain Carr. If his unbeaten 72 from 77 balls was crucial in enabling Newcastle reach the respectability of 196, then it was strongly supported by a massive 44 extras, of which 15 were no-balls and 14 wides. We had gifted them 29 runs and bowled almost 5 extra overs at them. We certainly know how to make life difficult for ourselves!

At tea I felt fairly confident we could make the runs, but thought a lot would depend on how well, or badly, Pete Ridgway bowled. As it was, we began at a gallop with Addo pulling the first ball of the innings to the mid-wicket boundary and me following suit later in the over to bring up double figures. Having put on 31 in 6 overs I had an unnecessary rush of blood against Kessel (who I’d just dispatched onto the car park in his previous over) and tried to drive a good length ball over the top. Ridgway took a good running catch over his shoulder and the first of the wickets we needed to preserve had fallen. Dickie Harvey then fell cheaply to a somewhat dubious lbw decision and all of a sudden we were 37 for 2 a quarter of the way through our innings.

With John Myatt unavailable due to work commitments, Andy Hawkins was in at number 4. Seth enjoyed three highly successful seasons as Newcastle’s professional – during which time he helped them win the league twice – and he seemed especially keen to put one over his old club. Remarkably for Andy, he actually had his pads on when Harv’s wicket fell and as he strode to the crease with the banter of the crowd still ringing in his ears I reckoned he had to make a few runs if we were to win. He immediately reeled off a succession of glorious strokes, particularly cover drives, but unlike Moses (the Biblical one, not Chaudry) had managed with the Red Sea, he couldn’t split the field. The frustration seemed to get to him and he was duly bowled by Gollings, attempting to hit the ball into another solar system. In scoring 30 from 39 halls, however, he had dominated the third wicket partnership of 49 and although it was disappointing to lose him we were always in the game with Addo in the middle. 

Scoreboard: ticking over

Drew joined the pro and constructed a typically industrious knock (briefly interrupted by an axe-wielding maniac on the adjoining rugby pitch), until a calamitous mid-pitch mix-up meant him having to sacrifice himself for the greater good: i.e. keeping the in-form Addo out there and in control. Going into the final 10 overs, then, we needed a further 72 runs to win with six wickets in hand. Half of these overs would be bowled by Pete Ridgway who had been quite frugal during the early part of his spell. I felt that we had to begin the run for home early to allow ourselves some scope to overcome the possible loss of Addo. Fortunately the one chance that he had offered was grounded by Ruscoe at long-on. It seemed as though he had set himself to bat through the innings and take us home, yet at this stage we were still underdogs. 

It is always excruciating to watch a tense run chase from the pavilion, helpless; so, as is customary, we started to do circuits of the pitch. During our second or third perambulation there was a moment when I felt certain that we were going to lose, a fear borne not from anything happening out in the middle, but from Andy Hawkins mouthing those seven cursèd words that have supernaturally put the skids under many a promising run chase. “All we need is one good over”, he predicted. I thought Andy had stopped using this unfortunate phrase, but it had been revived during the exhilarating league match at Crewe Rolls-Royce (which we won), and he felt confident enough to use it again now. This was likely to be the definitive, all-important day in the existence of this maxim. Should we lose it would have to become forbidden, taboo, yet should it inspire us to victory it could enjoy a renaissance as the new team motto…

Apart from the fact that the “one good over” actually arrived, the strange thing was that it came not from one of Lovejoy’s various Crown bats, but from the blade of the town cryer himself: Barry Brian. With the Moddershall Mafia (messrs Lowe, Kennedy, Bagnall and Elton) cheering him on, Bazzer played an immeasurably important little cameo that swung the game our way and eased the mounting pressure upon the pro. His 22, made at a run a ball, included a purple patch of four boundaries in the space of seven deliveries during which time the asking rate dropped below a six an over. The game was now in our hands. 

Barry Brian: X-Ray

Barry fell with victory in sight but Cokey joined Addo and the target was overhauled when Jon spanked the dispirited Pete Ridgway back over his head for four. The resultant cheer was deafening and Agile raised his bat triumphantly before marching off to a well deserved standing ovation. His 88, made frcm exactly 100 balls, was, all things considered, his best innings for the club and Graham Wood graciously remarked that it was the best run chase he had seen on their ground in years. 

The atmosphere in the bar afterwards was one of unrestrained jubilation, and the beer was being quaffed at an appropriate rate. John Myatt, who had pitched up to watch the dramatic last 15 overs, could again be heard asking the question (with the words slightly modified): “Is there anybody here from Newcastle?” This time there were a few, but none of them felt inclined to answer. We were starting to file out towards home (except Heardy and I who would drink ourselves into oblivion in the Bonnie Gem) as news came through that our opponents in the semi-final would be Knypersley, at home. It had been a great victory, and a great day. Let’s hope that we can reach the final, for that would be one hell of a party. 

MODDERSHALL WON BY 5 WICKETS 

NEWCASTLE & HARTSHIILL 196 for 6 (40 overs) 
G Wood 72*, M Chaudry 53
MODDERSHALL 198 for 5 (39 overs) 
J Addison 88*, A Hawkins 30 

'AWNIOGO': ASHCOMBE PARK (A)

Saturday, June 10

Despite the fact that we were playing on the Staffordshire Moorlands, and thus it being almost certain that we would have another weather-ruined day, Drew and I rocked up at ‘The Skip’ (Andy Hawkins’ pet-name for Ashcombe’s quaint, if undulating little ground) unusually early. Heardy’s first mistake of the day was not stopping next to the small gate alongside the pavilion which would have enabled me to carry both our coffins just a few yards to the dressing room. Instead he decided to park in a cowfield a full time-zone away; then his son, Floppy, politely refused an offer of 50p to carry my kit, so I had no choice but to haul my heavy case over the outfield whilst pondering a couple of thousand theories as to how I might make double figures with the bat.

My confidence had reached its lowest ebb for a long time during Friday’s nets (which, incidentally, was attended by the all-time record figure of nine first team players). I had been in good spirits during the fielding practice but as soon as I got my pads on things went Franz Klammer (downhill fast). I played and missed at every other ball, chipped would-be catches to numerous ‘fielders’, was hit on the inside thigh half-a-dozen times and was even bounced out by Heardy! However, this was insignificant when compared to the humiliation of being dismissed four times in ten minutes by…wait for it…Russell Blood! Russ wouldn’t even dream of bowling himself in the Third XI, probably because his action would be deemed underarm, yet nevertheless he was good enough to tie me up in absolute knots. It was definitely a moment when I needed my old friend, The Sulking Tree. 

Ashcombe Park from above: cowfields, distance from the car park...

We had a late cry-off, with Cokey pulling out due to a badly bruised toe which he received courtesy of one of Wayne’s inswingers in the nets. Once more the folly of Friday night practice is exposed. Quite apart from the fact that many players prefer to go out for a drink or three, any injury picked up on Friday is given virtually no chance of recovery. 

On inspection, Ashcombe’s track looked almost as flat as the draught beer they sell, but we thought it would get worse as the game wore on and would probably take a fair bit of turn later, so, on winning the toss, we made the unfashionable decision to bat first. Our only previous encounter on this ground was a tense, low scoring affair in which we reduced the hosts to 88 for 8 at the close having ourselves been dismissed for 95. It was widely felt that Ashcombe, many people’s favourite to win the division this year, would provide us with our stiffest test so far having been in Section A (of which they were champions as recently as 1992) for five seasons until this year.

We started extremely slowly, with both Addo and me not getting off the mark until the fifth over. My form from the previous night continued as I struggled to come to terms with a consistent line and length from Ian Wilson (who bowled nine maidens in his first ten overs). In fact, I was so bad that had a cow’s arse been put infront of me, I suspect I’d have needed more than a banjo to make contact with it. After scoring only 8 from 38 balls I tickled one down the leg side to be caught behind. My public torture was over and off I went to suffer the more private torture of contemplating abject failure and supreme mediocrity. 

scale model of Ashcombe Park CC

Harv came in and also found runs hard to come by, but he stuck to the task and, having taken 20 balls to score his first run, supported Lovejoy well in a stand of 89, After a watchful opening hour against the new ball, Addo had really begun to open his shoulders and was absolutely ruthless against some bland Ashcombe support bowling.  Having recorded his fourth consecutive score over 50, he raced to 83 in as many balls with a plethora of boundaries to all corners of the compact ground and, in the process, passed the 500-run mark for the season with his trademark pick-up shot over mid-wicket. He was bowled by the rotund medium pace of ‘Butty’ Butler shortly before the rain came at 4.00, and by the time we took the field again, two and a quarter hours later, the game had effectively become another exercise in collecting bonus points. 

As the drizzle fell and frustration rose, Johnny Myatt, bored with watching endless recorded cricket on TV, decided to venture outside and roll back the years to the time when he could intimidate batsmen with pace, hostility, and a mean glare. To recreate that feeling of hostility, Mauler threw bouncers at his three-year-old son from about six yards away. Young Ben, who courageously got in line in spite of the onslaught, could just about be heard above his father’s sadistic laughter shouting “Slow Dad, slow!” Mind you, John did show he had a soft side by helping wipe the dirty tennis ball marks from Ben’s forehead. One, two, three – aah!

After the resumption Harv and Mauler both fell in quick succession to excellent catches by Proffit and Clowes respectively. Harv has become the Mark Ramprakash of the side in recent weeks, consistently making twenty- or thirty-odd but not going on to make a substantial score (scores that I would kill for, mind you). Despite being the only player to have his name written in capitals in the scorebook by our emergency scorer, Andrew Heard Jr, Mauler skied one to mid-on and trudged off disconsolately, chuntering “I can’t even hit it out of the bloody ground at Ashcombe Park!” 

Flower of Scotland

Drew and Seth teamed up again at 133 for 4 and as we sat on the boundary edge deliberating whether or not to fill Drew’s underpants with thistles from the neighbouring field they calmly guided us to the full quota of batting points. The only controversial incident came when Hughes, the ‘keeper, claimed a catch that clearly hadn’t carried. The umpires rejected the appeal and Bully, ignoring the provocative banter coming from Wilson at slip, went on to record another red-inker, chalking up four boundaries in his 20 not out. Hawk also snuck 4 fours in his unbeaten 20 and we promptly declared at 7.05 (something which Ashcombe Park had been known to do under the previous unlimited overs rule…in games uninterrupted by rain!) and left ourselves 17 overs to hopefully pick up a couple of bonus points. 

Despite the impossibility of winning, Ashcombe Park produced an utterly feckless batting display, not even attempting to score the 75 at only 4.5 runs per over that would have given them an easy bonus point. Being a side that has a much more cavalier approach to batting, we found their total lack of ambition completely incomprehensible. Ashcombe, to be fair, are not renowned for flair cricket, and if they lack sufficient adventure and confidence to go for 75 from 17 overs then, logically, it follows that they wouldn’t wish to hand us easy points. So, with the prolific Ross Salmon (having donned his dorsal fin guard, gill protector and scale cream) clearly playing for an average-boosting red-inker and my former Staffs under-13 teammate Matt Colclough requiring a bell in the ball, the Park limped to 13 for 0 from 10 overs.

Mauler bowled almost as quickly as he had done to his son earlier and was extremely unfortunate to have had an lbw appeal against Salmon rejected. Billy Carr turned in his best spell of the season so far and on several occasions was unlucky to pass the edge. Throughout his spell, Iain was being spurred on by Addo who had encouraged him to “keep bowling at Ross just outside his off stump and you’ll get him”, to which Billy replied “Who’s Ross?” Reputations count for nothing when you are batting against Iain Carr. Not because he’s not impressed, but because he doesn’t actually know you! 

Salmon: he looked pretty 'Salmon' to me...

Shaun and Wayne then shared the next six overs, which allowed Mauler to retire to the slip cordon where he could sarcastically chant “chase is on, lads, chase is on” within earshot of the distinctly unimpressed batsmen. Both Bart and Barrington obtained prodigious swing in the extremely murky light, yet still we couldn’t prise out a wicket, and so, with one over to go (by which time it was a mathematical certainty that they couldn’t earn a point), Dickie Harvey’s left-arm spin was risked and he allowed Salmon to help himself to a couple of long-hops.

It was, by any yardstick, an extremely tedious hour’s cricket and worse was to come when we left the field to find an awful humming stench in the dressing room. After Hawk’s shoes, Addo’s jockstrap and Heardy’s rectum had been ruled out, the odour was tracked down to the solitary shower. Consequently, apart from the extremely brave and/or stupid among us, we all took our fresh sweat into the bar with us where we chatted about another non-event of a match until we tired of the urinally-weak ale on offer and left for Barnfields and Jim’s Carling.

MATCH DRAWN 

MODDERSHALL 175 for 4 dec. (48 overs)
J Addison 83, R Harvey 34, D Butler 3-37
ASHCOMBE PARK 45 for 0 (17 overs)
R Salmon 33*

MODDERSHALL 5 points
ASHCOMBE PARK 2 points

'AWNIOGO': KIDSGROVE (H)**

Sunday, June 4

STAFFORDSHIRE CUP, ROUND 2

At about 8pm on Sunday, June 4th there were three pieces of news: one good, another bad, the third both good and bad, depending on your point of view. The bad news was that we had lost our University match against Warwick (allowing them to recover from 21 for 5 to 139 all out with us contriving to collapse from 78 for 2 to 119 all out in pursuit). The good news was that, in my absence, Moddershall had won the Staffordshire Cup encounter with Kidsgrove. The final piece of news was that I became available to play against Newcastle in the Talbot Cup quarter-final, which is good news for Smudge and Newcastle but bad news for Moddershall! 

As in the previous week’s washout, we had won the toss and inserted. Our seamers all did a steady job, with Billy and Cokey conceding only 23 runs each from their 9 overs. The pick of the bowlers, however, was Mauler who bowled his ration for just 20 runs, picking up the wicket of his latest self-proclaimed ‘bunny’, Andy Johnston, in the process. At 117 for 5 Kidsgrove were struggling, but some late slogging from Stefan Read boosted the score to a respectable 207, a total which contained no fewer than 30 extras. Read, particularly brutal against Addo, made 62 off only 31 balls, a knock that included four gigantic sixes.

Our reply began dreadfully with both openers, Addo and Barry, dismissed cheaply as we slumped to 7 for 2. The balance was partially redressed by Harv and Mauler, but by the time they had both been shot out we were down, if not quite out on 81 for 4 from 27 overs.

We desperately needed a good partnership to help us claw our way back into the game; better than that, we got a stupendous stand that won us the match. It was those two stalwart lefties, Bully and Seth, that combined their unique and very distinct talents to add 127 runs in only 17 overs to see us through to victory with a full over to spare. Hawkster crashed a season’s best 83 not out from only 92 deliveries, stroking 5 fours and 3 sixes in the process, whilst Drew put on his fudging head and pushed the ball into the gaps to score an unbeaten 47 from 55 balls. A measure of his concentration lies in one very revealing statistic: he only hit one boundary in his entire innings.

Apparently Mauler got a touch rowdy in the bar afterwards, repeatedly asking the question “Is there anybody here from Kidsgrove?” at about 15,000 decibels whilst sporting a grin as wide as the North Staffordshire coalfield. There wasn’t. 

MODDERSHALL WON BY 6 WICKETS 

KIDSGROVE 207 for 8 (45 overs) 
S Read 62, D Wellings 43
MODDERSHALL 208 for 4 (44 overs) 
A Hawkins 83*, A Heard 47*, J Myatt 36

'AWNIOGO': NANTWICH (H)

Saturday, June 3 

June already and wouldn’t you know it, it’s drizzling. Cricket grounds are a depressing place to be when it’s raining, and it’s all the more galling when the rain isn’t even heavy enough to make a cow sit down. Nevertheless, rules is rules, and the start was delayed, so we were forcibly cooped up in the pavilion searching for ways to kill the boredom. My depression wasn’t being helped by reading Sartre’s Nausea (a novel depicting the futility of existence) so I decided to take the risk and play cards with that notoriously jammy duo, Heardy and Mauler. Harv completed the foursome. Having been briefly informed of the rules, we played a game called Crash (an extension of 9-card brag). Typically, Drew went ‘Crash’ on about the third hand and pocketed a couple of quid for his trouble, much to the distress of Minty who still didn’t know what was going on.

The game (the cricket game, that is) was eventually started at a quarter to four; we were invited to bat after losing yet another toss at home. The track was fairly quick due to some moist grass on the firm surface and any self-respecting seamer would have been champing at the bit to have a bowl on it. Addo and I put on 46 in 10 overs before the heavens opened again and we were shepherded off in rain that was scarcely harder than that in which we had been playing for the previous ten minutes. The Nantwich players seemed keen to leave the field and even keener to get the game abandoned, but the square was standing up well to the rain and Addo flatly refused to allow the game to be cancelled, as there were bonus points still to be played for. 

Wrekin View

As rain continued to fall steadily, we were beginning to lose faith in the possibility of a re-start. When the previous Sunday’s Staffordshire Cup tie against Kidsgrove was interrupted by rain, Drew had confidently predicted that the offending clouds would “blow over”. Needless to say, not another ball was bowled as the outfield was quickly transformed into a scaled-down map of the Lake District. On this occasion, though, Heardy maintained a judicious silence that was widely interpreted as pessimism. Sure enough, the game re-started at 6.10, 10 minutes after the strangely non-committal kilt-wearer had refused to give us his meteorological forecast. 

Following the resumption, it was important that we pressed on, yet whilst Addo was in prime form I was in terrible nick and was soon caught at square-leg from a top-edged hook shot. Harv came in at 65 for 1 and played an innings that can only be described as bizarrely brilliant. Whilst Addo was racing to a half-century from just 53 balls, Harv was frequently playing and missing, particularly against the Nantwich professional, South African left-armer Adriaan Swanepoel – no relation to Candice Swanepoel (pictured left) – who was getting the ball to talk. Probably in Afrikaans. Then, suddenly, Dickie decided that enough was enough and went absolutely berserk. He began by slapping a wide half-volley through point for four, a shot which prompted Swanepoel to comment in his unmistakable, guttural Boer accent: “You’re f**king crap. Where did you learn your f**king cricket?” Harv’s answer was to smash his next two balls to the cover boundary.

When Addo had given his partner back the strike by pinching a single off the first ball of the next over, bowled by Symns, Minty’s adrenalin was really beginning to pump. Again he hit three consecutive fours, two down the ground and one clipped through mid-wicket. For good measure, he hit his next ball but one for four as well to take his score into the thirties.

In his next over, Swanepoel proceeded to bowl a succession of bouncers at Harv who, rather like a limbo-dancer, ducked under them all, including one which only just cleared the bails. This prompted another ‘conversation’ between the two of them in which Swanepoel asked Minty why he wasn’t hitting any of the short balls. Harv simply grinned and, in his unmistakable Potteries accent, replied, “You can bowl it there all day mate, you onner gonna get me out, are you?” At a sudden loss for words, Swanepoel (whose namesake Candice is pictured below) turned sheepishly and on the way back to his mark received Addo’s brusque verdict that the reason he wasn’t bowling in the batsman’s half was that he knew he would get smashed. 

In the next over, the final one before the last 20, we passed the 125, collecting our third batting point off only 20.3 overs. I believed that the time was right to declare and Hawk agreed, yet there were a few people who didn’t, most notably Heardy who thought we should go on to collect the full five batting points as they were there for the taking. If we were to declare, Nantwich would have been looking to score about seven runs per over off 17 (as 3 overs would be deducted for the change around). Bully reckoned that we shouldn’t have given them a sniff, let alone a feasible target. 

However, with conditions ideal for seamers, I considered it unlikely that they would get the runs because if wickets didn’t come then we could quite easily go on the defensive. Also, in Nantwich, we had an opponent that was irrelevant as far as the promotion race was concerned since they will he resigning from the league at the end of the season, and I was sure that the blasé attitude they had shown in the earlier part of the game was indicative of how they would set about their target. I was convinced we should declare.

Addo batted on for one more over (during which the Nantwich players began to overtly question our desire to win the game) and then marched off, setting a target of 132 from 16 overs at a shade above eight runs per over. Difficult? Yes. Impossible? No. 

Heardy queries the declaration

In the dressing room during the change-over Drew was beside himself with disbelieving anger, kicking kitbags and tutting to himself as the steam came out of his ears. He thought we were “chucking points away”. Whatever his opinion, the captain had reached a decision and, although manifestly disagreeing with it, Drew ought to have accepted it and taken to the field with his normal positive attitude. Instead, he went out in an enormous sulk, stationed himself at gully (just out of spitting distance from the stumps in case Richard Marsh opened the batting), and oched and ayed like an old Scottish banshee.

Both Mauler and Shaun bowled excellent first overs with the new rock before John struck with the final ball of the third over, ripping through the defense of a tentative Hardy. Barrington was immediately replaced when he lost his direction during his second over, and his substitute, Seth, took a wicket with his very first ball: Davies was too slow on the pull and spooned a simple catch in my direction. Hawk then bowled (The Batsman Formerly Known As) Prince in his next over, and all of a sudden Nantwich were reeling at 34 for 3.

At the other end, Mauler was steaming in and getting some devilish late inswing which proved the undoing of Blackledge, bowled via the inside edge as he aimed to drive. By now Heardy (realizing that the captain’s decision had been vindicated by the fact that we had already collected the two bonus points he said we’d be chucking away) had come partially out of his funk and even deigned to join the rest of the team in the huddle at the fall of the fourth wicket!! Mascarenhas, the incoming batsman, was then hutched up first ball, completely beaten for pace by a ferocious inswinging Yorker from a now rampant Myatt, and with Nantwich having subsided to 38 for 5 after only 8.5 overs we had the faintest chance of pulling off an amazing victory. 

'Huddle' by Iain Vellocott

Andy Newton – the opposing skipper, and person who had most vociferously questioned our will to win – walked out to face hat-trick ball, negotiated courtesy of an inside edge that whistled past his leg-stump. Hawk then gave him a roasting over at the other end with one enormous appeal for lbw turned down and two more balls just missing the outside edge. Both Mauler and Seth were hitting my gloves extremely hard and, with our momentum as strong as it was, I felt that if we could split this pair immediately then we might just pull the proverbial rabbit from the hat. As it was we were kept waiting another 18 deliveries before Mark Symns became the sixth wicket, skittled by an unplayable leg-cutter from Andy. 

With only 2 overs remaining Addo gave Billy and Cokey (back from his fishing trip in Ireland) an over each. They both bowled maidens but were unable to find the edge, and so a bedraggled Nantwich saw out time on 61 for 6. From only 38 overs cricket we had picked up 6 points – a tremendous effort. Our bowling had been menacing and some of our fielding was electrifying. If we could keep our cricket as intense as this for the rest of the season then there would not be a side in the section who could live with us. However, it is perhaps unrealistic to think that conditions will always be as favourable. Also, the transience of form and fitness, fluctuating levels of motivation, players taking holidays, luck, umpiring decisions and the resilience of the opposition all constitute significant obstacles. 

obstacle

There was a bit of a shock after the match when Iain Carr asked Addo to drop him for the next game. He said he wasn’t enjoying it anymore and would prefer a run out in the seconds. I figured he was just disappointed with his bowling form this year, and perhaps a little oversensitive to constructive criticism, but was sure that his frame of mind would change as soon as he started to bowl closer to the capabilities that we all know he possesses. Billy is a hugely talented performer with both bat and ball and forms an integral part of our plans. I hoped he could get the frustration out of his system and return to being the focused but happy cricketer that he was last season. 

I wished the rest of the boys good luck for the following day’s rescheduled Staffordshire Cup match against Kidsgrove, then dashed off to catch my train. The abandonment of last Sunday’s game meant that our Talbot Cup quarter-final had to be pushed back a week. Now I am missing not only the rescheduled Kidsgrove match but also, should Nottingham Uni beat Warwick, the Newcastle tie. After the lack of understanding Addo showed last time, it’s probably best I don’t mention this until it becomes definite!!

MATCH DRAWN

MODDERSHALL 131 for 1 dec. (22 overs)

J Addison 69*, R Harvey 35*

NANTWICH 61 for 6 (16 overs)

J Myatt 3-33, A Hawkins 3-17

MODDERSHALL 6 points

NANTWICH 0 points