'AWNIOGO': NEWCASTLE & HARTSHILL (A)

view of Newcastle (glasses off)

Saturday, September 16

Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?

Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,

Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,

Baring teeth that leer like skulls’ teeth wicked?

Stroke on stroke of pain – but what slow panic

Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?

Ever from their hair and through their hands’ palms

Misery swelters.

Nothing better summed up the scene of desolation in our dressing room the previous week – when rain extinguished the flame of our ambition and nudged us from the top two for the first time in 6 matches – than the opening lines of Wilfred Owen’s poem, ‘Mental Cases’, a lyrical and moving portrayal of the psychological ravages of conflict. Of course, the utterly broken figures depicted in the foregoing lines were young soldiers thrust into the horrors of the First World War, not cricketers. Even so, we too shared the same sense of something having been subtracted from our souls, something inside us being damaged irrevocably…

The bald facts were that Ashcombe Park now led us by 4 points having trailed by 37 points just three games ago. Worse: whilst we were preparing to finish the campaign against a decent Newcastle side who, until a calamitous run of five consecutive defeats, had featured strongly in the promotion race, Ashcombe were making the trip over the Moorlands to play a Buxton side already guaranteed the wooden spoon. We desperately needed a large black cloud to perch above the old spa town and not move until evening. Clutching at straws of optimism, I reckoned that, of all places in the league, Buxton was most likely to be caught in isolated weather, a fact not lost on our ever-wishful weatherman, Drew. Looking up into the bright blue sky sporadically dotted with tall, fluffy banks of white cloud (cumulo-nimbus?), he pointed at a “curve” he’d spotted, informed me that it was a weather front, and that said curve was going to empty itself over Derbyshire at the same time as completely by-passing the Potteries. 

rain on the way to Buxton...?

No sooner had we finished scrutinizing the sky than we found ourselves in a traffic jam in Trent Vale, caused – somewhat ironically given Drew’s employer – by “routine maintenance work” being carried out by British Telecom. All this carry-on meant that we didn’t arrive at the ground until 12.55 pm, by which time the umpires were on their way out and our opponents were posing for a team photograph. Not ideal. I noticed that their wicket-keeper was padded up so ingeniously deduced that we were batting first, presumably because we had lost the toss. It transpired that we had actually won the toss and Addo had elected to bat because we only had seven men at the ground 15 minutes before the start. Considering how much was on the line, this was, well, amateurish.

With our last-minute arrival, I had no chance of padding up in time so Addo opened with Hawk and I was slotted in at number 4. Obviously, I hadn’t had the opportunity to take a look at the track, but didn’t think that moment would be long in coming when Addo spooned a cut shot straight to point to record his first duck of the season. I was, however, wrong about getting in early. I sat patiently waiting to bat, and waited, and waited, waiting for around two hours as Hawk and Harv added 140 for the second wicket. Waiting to bat is a quite bizarre experience for an opener and I didn’t quite know how to pass the time – thank goodness for Addo reading me the kinkier passages from a magazine article on the sexual fetishes of modern lesbians.

girls who like girls

Out in the middle Harv was playing superbly. In my opinion, this was his best knock for Moddershall – certainly this season, if not ever. On a slow, variable track that appeared extremely difficult to bat on, he was in total control and made a very good bowler (Pete Ridgway) look decidedly ordinary. The most impressive aspect of his innings was his timing – never an easy thing to get right on a pudding – immaculate to the point of holding an almost complete monopoly on the shots of the day, with three or four sweetly cover-driven boundaries. He was dismissed with the score at 146 in the 36th over having made 72 from 107 balls and finally I walked out to bat under instruction to score quick runs.

Well, it wasn’t the easiest pitch on which to go out and start blazing, and I only managed a single before getting myself into a tangle as I came down the track at Chris Ridgway and scooped a near-yorker to mid-wicket where Wood held the catch one-handed. Hawky also fell in the same over having scored 75 from the 116 deliveries he faced. It was his fourth half-century in the league this season (all of which have been made away from home) and contained an intriguing blend of the impetuous and the imperious. Back on the ground where, as a supremely gifted 19-year-old professional, he had helped Newcastle to back-to-back titles in the mid 1980s, he mistimed the very first ball he received, nearly offering an easy chance to the bowler, but gradually settled into his game and struck 7 fours and 4 sixes in his stay.

sun sets (on our season) at N&HH CC

Andy’s departure was quickly followed by the dismissals of Mauler, Drew, Coke and Smudge, to complete a collapse of seven wickets for just twenty-six runs, all taken by Chris Ridgway’s left-arm spin: Mauler and Cokey both fell to useful boundary catches; Smudger mistimed one to mid-wicket; Drew gloved an attempted sweep straight to the ‘keeper. Finally, Iain Carr, who was only able to bat after retrieving his cricket socks from the roof of the clubhouse, was caught and bowled by Kessell, and Addo decided to call it a day at 189 for 9 from 49.5 overs, leaving ourselves plenty of time to win the game. 

As most of our team dashed off to McDonald’s for Big Macs, fries, McThick-shakes etc, news filtered through that Ashcombe Park “looked likely to win” at Buxton. Ho-hum. Nevertheless, we had to concentrate on skittling a fairly weak Newcastle batting line-up on a pitch that was playing more tricks than Jeremy Beadle on April Fool’s Day, all the while praying that the report of the other game was scurrilous rumour or misinformation.

Our start was electrifying: Newcastle’s top five, all left-handers, were back in the hutch inside 24 overs with only 38 runs on the board, all five wickets taken by Iain Carr who was making the ball bounce almost vertically at least twice an over. This undoubtedly induced the panic-stricken shots played by both openers, Gollins and Elliot, who each chipped simple catches (to Wayne and Smudge) in to the off-side. Pete Ridgway was the third casualty, making a golden duck as he was brilliantly caught at short-gully by Drew. Graham Wood, who had scored 160 unbeaten runs in our previous two meetings this season, managed to survive the hat-trick ball but was soon taken care of by an unplayable delivery from Billy that he edged to Harv at third slip. Chaudry then succumbed in identical fashion to leave Newcastle up a certain creek without the requisite paddle.

Despite the brilliance of Billy’s bowling, it should be mentioned that the highlight of this collapse was a fine piece of slapstick fielding by Addo. Having chased after, and caught up with, a ball that had flown towards third man off the thick edge of Chaudry’s bat, he tried to steady himself to pick up the ball; however, as he did this his feet went from underneath him and, in the process of falling flat on his backside, he kicked the ball over the boundary for four. Wayne, with tongue firmly in cheek, shouted, “come on lads, let’s back the bowler”. It’s fair to say that Addo failed to see the humour in Wayne’s exhortation (and must have put a curse on him as it wasn’t long before Wayne’s comment was coming back to cause him even greater embarrassment…). 

10-fer

Anyway, it was ten overs before we took the sixth wicket as Dave Brock and Adam Bunting stuck around and put together a stand that became more than just irritating. Brock was a good player in his day and it showed as he hit two big sixes on his way to 24, Newcastle’s top score, before his resistance was ended by an unlucky inside edge off Billy that cannoned onto the stumps. Bunting’s batting was less accomplished. His borderline psychotic method of survival was pretty much to leap about three yards down the track and chest the ball away, and it worked for a good while until he snicked Billy to first slip where Mauler clung on to the chance despite the distraction of my twitching gloves. At 68 for 7, the question was not whether or not we would win, but whether Iain could take all 10 wickets, à la Nick Newman at Bramshall in 1988.

The answer arrived before another run could be scored. Shaun Brian – whose first few overs had been so erratic that I had to take a few stray deliveries with full-length dives (inducing mild hysteria in Mauler who seemed shocked at my hitherto secret athleticism) – was allowed one more over by a lenient skipper, who told him to “just bowl as fast as you can”. Shaun duly followed the instructions; however, unfortunately for both Iain and Dave Holmes, the batsman, his first ball was right on target and uprooted the leg-stump, a demise soon followed by Kessel’s. With his concentration clearly disturbed by our slip fielders asking him for the afternoon’s football scores (How did Stoke do? What about Man Utd? Did Yeboah score for Leeds? What was the crowd at Mansfield? etc), he gloved another vicious delivery from Iain straight to Harv, now at fourth slip, to leave Newcastle hanging on at 68 for 9.

"age shall not wither them": Ridgway Jr and Snr, c 2012, with Graeme Wood

Chris Ridgway, Newcastle’s number 11, was applauded all the way to the wicket by our team. This might seem an odd thing to do for a bowler that had just taken 7 for 29 against us, but it was a fitting mark of respect for an amiable and popular cricketer playing in his last game before retirement. Not one to stand on ceremony or miss an opportunity for a gag, I told Chris that we would be clapping him back off in a couple of minutes. But that was not the case, as he combined with Marcus Nalter to construct the best partnership of the innings.

Nalter had obviously decided to throw the bat at anything and everything, and he rode his extraordinary luck to good effect. This assault threatened to ruin Iain’s figures (which were 8 for 24 at the start of the stand) and Wayne could be heard shouting, not for the first time, “come on lads, let’s back the bowler. He’s after nine”. Of course, those words were bound to lead to tragedy, and from the very next ball Nalter slapped one straight at Wayne and – you’ve guessed it – he floored a regulation catch. However, this was not to prove too costly. Nalter soon used up his nine lives and sent a skier swirling down Seth’s throat at third man to give Iain his ninth wicket and terminate both Newcastle’s innings and our season.

not that Muhammad Ali...

Iain shared the ovation with Chris Ridgway, having taken a personal best haul of 9 for 44 from 21.1 overs to finish with 15 for 87 from the last two games. It was also the best ever performance by a Moddershall first team bowler in the NSSCL, and the seventh-best analysis ever in Division 1, Section B. It would have been the performance of the day on almost any other Saturday, yet was upstaged by the efforts of Sneyd professional Muhammad Ali who cracked a record-breaking 190 against Burslem. “Couldn’t have happened against a nicer team,” remarked Mauler.

Just after we had left the field it was confirmed that Ashcombe Park had beaten Buxton, bowling them out for 58 and knocking off the runs for the loss of three wickets. Obviously Drew’s ‘curve’ had got lost on the way over Blackshaw Moor. We were left to rue last week’s rain, to contemplate another assault on promotion next year, and to get as drunk as is humanly possible. And so, with the shampoo that had been especially bought to foam up Addo’s copious Barnet, Harv, Hawk and Drew had a fight in the showers after Lovejoy had decided to soap-dodge.

Blackshaw Moor

We supped a polite trio of pints at Newcastle before heading back to Moddershall’s end-of- season disco and barbecue. As you might expect, the mood was a touch subdued but that was soon altered after a few more beers had been guzzled and a few charcoal-coated sausages munched. As we danced the night away, the DJ was wise enough not to play ‘Road to Nowhere’ by Talking Heads.

Rumours circulated that Stafford might be demoted from Section A due to the condition of their square, which had been reported five times during the season. If they were to be forcibly relegated, then, logically, we would replace them in the top section. This would appear unlikely though, as their ground was considered fit enough for Section A in the first place and, from my experience, people in authority will do anything but admit to having made a mistake.

dodgy square?

There was also talk of there being no promotion next year because of a restructuration of the league. I cannot imagine for a moment that there’s any truth in this. However, if it is the case, then I suspect that the removal of an incentive to win will mean that there are a lot of sides out there that are going to get the same treatment that we’ve had over the past two seasons: namely, bowling 60 overs at us regardless of how many runs we have scored!! I wouldn’t be surprised if the league record was broken.

Anyway, as the night drew to a close, we all felt it had been a strange old season. We had won more matches than we had ever done before; we collected more points than we had ever done before; yet still this wasn’t enough to earn promotion. We cannot really complain and should not look to apportion any blame. We all played well on occasions and badly on others. We now have all winter to grieve, by which time we should come back refreshed and determined not to allow three hours of rain to ruin our better efforts. All we need – aside from One Good Over – is to stay true to the motto of Moddershall Cricket Club and seize the day.

Carpe Diem. 

MODDERSHALL WON BY 91 RUNS

MODDERSHALL 189 for 9 dec. (49.2 overs)

A Hawkins 75, R Harvey 72, C Ridgway 7-29

NEWCASTLE & HARTSHILL 95 all out

I Carr 9-44

MODDERSHALL 20 points

NEWCASTLE & HH 5 points

POST SCRIPT: The following year, Moddershall won Section B (breaking the league record for a team total on the final day) and were promoted to the top flight. In 1997, we became the first newly-promoted team to win Section A, a feat repeated in 2002 by Norton-in-Hales. 

'AWNIOGO': BARLASTON (H)

they came from Barlaston 

Sunday, September 10

September, the month that all school kids hate, is also the time when autumn is heralded in and when cricketers everywhere start chewing their fingernails whilst their clubs run up huge telephone bills through constantly checking up on events elsewhere. This was an important day, to say the least. I know you are all probably thinking ‘Important?! Of course it was flamin’ important!! It was the 50th anniversary of the day Vidkun Quisling, infamous wartime traitor, was sentenced to death in Norway’. You would be right, but it was also important because it could well be the day when the fate of our season was decided. For better or for worse.

After saying a quick prayer for Crewe Rolls-Royce (who would be playing our chief rivals for second place, Ashcombe Park), I hopped into the Heardmobile in positive frame of mind. As far as I knew, we had never before beaten Barlaston on our ground, so it was the perfect moment to set that record straight. We kept the same team that played in the previous day’s draw with Burslem, all of whom were keyed up to do well.

As Addo was busy winning the toss, there were bright blue skies overhead and no apparent sign of the rain that had been widely forecast. The wicket was firm and green, so, not surprisingly, we decided to bowl first. Iain Carr took the opening over and bowled an auspiciously testing maiden at Phil Taylor (who, in surviving, had already bettered his performance from the previous meeting). If the first over was promising, Iain’s next was simply devastating as he took two wickets to plunge Barlaston into early trouble at 1 for 2, earning himself a marathon 20-over spell in the process. The first to go was Rob Riley, bowled off the inside edge, followed by Darren Dutton, who tickled a perfectly pitched leg-cutter to give me the first of my four catches.

not that Phil Taylor, dummy

Iain was clearly back to his best form and seemed a dead cert to dismiss Andy Steele, Barlaston’s number 4, whose batting method contained more guesswork than my annual punt on the Grand National. His foolproof system – block, block, slog, block, block, slog – was eventually exposed in the tenth over when he skied another attempted flail across the line to give Shaun a catch at mid-off. Shaun’s reward for taking this catch was being told that his next over was his last. He didn’t take a wicket and was replaced by Mauler, who himself only had two overs before coming off.

With the thick atmosphere starting to moisten, Wayne was introduced in the hope that his big swingers could cause some damage. Waynoss probably felt like Addo was trying to turn him into a schizophrenic – one day he would he asked to bowl spinners and the next seam-up. Anyway, Wayne it was who took the next wicket to fall, brilliantly tempting Eric Riley into miscuing a slow full-toss straight to Shaun at mid-on. Iain then removed Neil Davies and Craig Edmondson, both caught by me, before an annoying partnership developed between Ben Grange and Taylor, during which the latter passed his 50.

It took us all of twelve overs to separate them and only happened when Iain reluctantly agreed to relinquish the Road End so that Hawk, who hadn’t bowled for three weeks, could have a trundle. Seth slotted straight into a rhythm and his extra pace proved the undoing of Grange who inside-edged a sharp off-cutter into my welcoming palms. Four overs later he knocked over Carl Underhill, who had only just arrived from a post-football gathering in the Butcher’s Arms in Forsbrook, to leave Barlaston on 128 for 8.

view over Shropshire to the Wrekin

By this time, Shropshire had completely disappeared from view and, worse still, it had started to drizzle. With one eye on the incoming weather and one on the game we carried on playing, hoping to finish off the Barlaston innings as quickly as possible. It was at this juncture that we heard some thoroughly depressing news, news that we had all been dreading: Ashcombe Park had won. They had bowled out Crewe Rolls-Royce for just 53 and knocked off the runs in five overs. Five. The rain was becoming steadily harder. The weather forecasters were right. What is more, they had also said that once it arrived it was unlikely to go away.

I thought that it must be a nightmare, an illusion, that it couldn’t really be happening. Not to us. I turned to Drew, looking for some reassurance that it was merely a passing shower, and the eternally optimistic Jock didn’t fail me. Even so, I think it was around that moment that I first thought that we were not going to be promoted; that after all the hard work and effort, we were about to be overtaken down the finishing straight. I recalled the conversation I had had with Vic Hawkins in the week. Vic had told me that he was convinced that we would get promotion and I said that we just needed one match to be washed out. “Surely you would prefer to do it out on the pitch,” he said. I gave this rather noble image some careful thought and replied “No, I hope it throws it down all weekend”. How those words were coming back to haunt me now!! On the 50th anniversary of Quisling being sentenced to death, the rain, our supposed ally, had turned against us. But we had no choice other than to carry on playing. And praying.

Quisling (right) meets an ally 

Iain Carr came back on at the Pavilion End and picked up his sixth victim when Phil Taylor flashed and was caught by Harv at fly-slip having made an innings-cementing 82 runs. This wicket allowed us to claim a further ten minutes’ bowling time but conditions were worsening to such an extent that one of Smudge’s attempted returns from the outfield slipped out of his hand and bounced about five yards to his right, sixty yards and ninety degrees away from the intended destination. The umpires were looking grim-faced and when Cokey removed their last man courtesy of a good catch at slip by Billy, I wondered whether that might just be The End. The covers were pushed on and we dashed into the pavilion for tea.

I sat peering through the condensation that had enveloped the windows, watching the relentless, grey rain tip down on the outfield. A deep sadness settled in my stomach. The umpires talked merrily, behaviour that seemed almost tactless in the circumstances. A lot of umpires require sub-tropical conditions before they venture out after rain but I felt that today’s senior official, Glyn Forster, would make every effort he could to get the game restarted. I lit another cigarette and went to view the incoming skies. It was a bleak sight. We needed at least 20 overs to bat, but time was slowly, implacably running out and the puddles that our outfield had tried so hard to hide were now becoming visible. A couple of Barlaston’s team were showered and changed.

I strolled into our dressing room. Conversation dripped with gallows humour – for instance, the chant of “staying down, staying down, staying down”. By 6.15 pm we had given up the ghost and were, ourselves, showering. Just as he had done to me after the Norton match, and to Harv at Barlaston, Hawk’s hair was completely doused in shampoo, all the while Billy was busy trying to pee over Harv. It was delirious sorrow. We supped a few sad beers, Harv won a few bob at pool, John Myatt announced that there was a strong possibility that he would be playing at Wedgwood next year and I thought about going to play for Ashcombe Park because their square must be covered with four-leaf clover.

MATCH ABANDONED RAIN

BARLASTON 151 all out (57.1 overs)

P Taylor 82, I Carr 6-43

MODDERSHALL 5 points

BARLASTON 4 points

'AWNIOGO': BURSLEM (H)

they came from Burslem

Saturday, September 9 

If ever we needed any motivation to ensure promotion, then it arrived at Moddershall at around half-past twelve on Saturday September 9, 1995 in the shape of Burslem: a collection of rough-arsed, confrontational individuals offering very little in the way of a pleasurable leisure experience to their opponents (who, rather than involve themselves in the petty, tit-for-tat sledging wars upon which several of the older members of the Burslem team appear to base their enjoyment of the game, would prefer to play the game in a manner closer to the game’s more Corinthian traditions. Well, most of us). It’s to be hoped that next year’s relocation to the new ground on the Festival Park site will bring about a more amiable approach – that, or the retirement of one or two of their players (you know who you are)!!

Anyway, we went into the penultimate weekend, a double-header, knowing that victories over Burslem and Barlaston would mathematically guarantee promotion. However, with Ashcombe Park, our nearest rivals, having two relatively easy fixtures (Sneyd then Crewe Rolls-Royce), it was important that we managed at least one victory so that we could go into the final match still with our destiny in our own hands. 

last week, mushy peas; this week, leek

When the time came to get things underway, it became noticeable that the track had a peculiar complexion, akin to a leek in that, due to overnight rain seeping under the covers, one end had become bright green whilst the other was whiteish, dry and sparsely grassed. The toss, one of the most important of the season, was lost and Burslem asked us to bat.

So there I found myself, around 35 minutes after waking up (these early September starts are not good for an insomniac), stumbling across an outfield, dying to evacuate my bowels, dying for a smoke, and dying to know why I was wearing a helmet to combat Steve Lowndes’ military medium pace. Having called for my cap, I gratefully dispatched two chest-high full tosses from Rowley who was promptly withdrawn from the attack.

The major barrier to our initial quest for impetus was some steady, if negative, bowling from the youngest member of the Lowndes clan, Chris. With a packed legside field, his gentle inswingers proved difficult to get away, particularly as there was little pace in the pitch. However, I felt in pretty good form and was seeing the ball very early and, although Addo was still out of nick, we took the score to 64 in 18 overs before I became the first of Hall’s four-wicket, er, haul. Having struck 7 boundaries in my 38, I was looking to dominate this rather weird ‘one-armed’ spinner but only succeeded in top-edging him to deep backward square-leg where Rowley held a comfortable catch. 

author, in cap, squeezes out a yorker

Following my departure, we progressed to 91 for 1 before losing the middle order in almost one fell swoop, all for single figures. Harv, Mauler and Seth were all caught whilst trying to push the score along and we were suddenly going backwards on 106 for 4. With our innings having the air of a bottle of coca-cola that had been left on the sideboard all afternoon without its top on, or a Caucasian who’d been lying in the sun all afternoon without its top on, Drew entered the fray and stroked his first ball through extra-cover for four on the way to a perky 24 that was ended by a good running catch in the deep. Mind you, he was hardly likely to be caught anywhere else when Burslem had all but two of their fielders on the boundary at that point!

Addo, whose brilliant early season form appeared to have deserted him, grafted almost all afternoon, and a total of 131 balls, for his 65. An indication of his struggle was the fact that he only struck 5 boundaries, something he usually manages to do in the opening half-hour. Be that as it may, his innings did contain two milestones: firstly, his father turned up to watch for the first time this season and his appearance seemed to act as a cosmic energiser for his son, who suddenly began to bat with a lot more vigour; secondly there was the minor matter of him breaking his own league record aggregate of 1301 runs, which he did when he had made 53. This is a colossal achievement, of course, but still might not be enough to give him a new record as Leycett’s Jonathon Waterhouse was reckoned to have a similar amount, if not more. 

one-armed bandit

Anyway, Addo’s dismissal, with the score on 161, was shortly followed by Billy’s demise (to another boundary catch) and consequently it took us until the final over before tea to reach the 175, and full batting points. Smudge then got off the mark by launching Hall into the oak tree at square-leg giving us a total of 182 for 7 at the break. We had no option but to declare, although we felt the total was a little under par on a track that had dried out and was starting to become a little more placid. Conversely, Burslem must have fancied their chances.

The youthful opening combination of Mick Rowley and Steve Lowndes started cautiously against some excellent bowling from Mauler and Billy. They survived the first nine overs before Iain made the breakthrough, trapping Lowndes on his crease with an off-cutter to have him lbw. Mayo, the number 3, who would probably be more useful on a salad than a cricket field, came and went in the blink of an eye as he played all around a straight ball from Mauler to become the second casualty of their reply.

Our tails were now up and we began to apply some pressure, under which Burslem’s skipper (and probably the chief instigator of his team’s nasty streak), Kevin Beattie, seemed to crack. After exchanging pleasantries with Mauler, he played a wildly reckless shot to the very next ball, sending his attempted drive steepling above the mid-wicket area. Thankfully it was Harv, our most reliable catcher, who was under it and, manoeuvring himself into position, he judged the catch to perfection, whereupon Mauler kindly spared Beattie from having to consult his A to Z by offering him precise directions to the pavilion… 

Rowley (left) and Chris Lowndes, some 15 years later...

At 44 for 3, with the inexperienced pair of Rowley and Chris Lowndes together, we were on the brink of doing irreparable damage to their innings, but it didn’t quite happen. Lowndes hung around for 45 minutes until Addo (opting to bowl toward the drier end after two unsuccessful overs the other way) lured him down the track and I took care of the rest. The strapping figure of Mark Colquhoun joined his more under-nourished fellow leftie and as we entered the last 20 their target was an eminently achievable 101 runs with 6 wickets in the hutch. They proceeded to add 52 runs in only 8 overs (during which I got to taste the cricket ball, thanks to the top of Colquhoun’s pads) eliciting much raucousness from the rest of the team as Burslem edged closer to victory.

Both Wayne (back to bowling his spinners) and Addo got little change out of the left-handers and one couldn’t help wondering what might have happened had Darren Carr been out in the middle purveying his off-breaks rather than spectating/sulking. Although I will get splinters in my rear from sitting on the fence, I think it might have been for the greater good had Addo been more prudent and saved his opinions until the end of the season. However, what was done was done, and we toiled on until a minor stroke of good fortune finally broke what looked like being a match-winning stand as Addo span one back sharply from outside Colquhoun’s off stump and the ball ricocheted from the batsman’s gloves, as he tried to cut, down on to the ground and against the stumps, just about dislodging the bail. Lifeline.

The next batsman, Dave Blood, had spent the latter part of the afternoon barracking our efforts from the comfort of the pavilion whilst sounding off like an American televangelist every time his side scored a run: less a case of supporting his team than baiting us, we felt. By the time of his eagerly awaited arrival at the crease, I could hardly contain myself and urged Addo to “send the idiot back”, a comment that provoked some sort of bat-waving protestations from Blood and incurred a polite request from the umpire – Stan Trafford – to calm down. As he took guard, I then asked him whether he thought he had the game as a batsman to back up his constant chat and, although he didn’t reply, I think we received our answer when Coke had him leg before for a third-ball globe. Cheers. Thanks for coming, muppet. 

Dave Blood: unsure of his role?

Anyway, all this meant we had 56 balls left to capture the final four wickets. Theoretically, this doesn’t sound too unlikely, but the incumbent batsmen were the talented Rowley (on 61 not out) and Paul Lowndes, Burslem’s most experienced – and, arguably, best – player. In fact, with more than 9 overs remaining and 45 runs wanted, Burslem were in a useful, if not marginally superior, position. Nevertheless, given the history of antipathy between the two clubs, what followed was almost inevitable…

It will probably come as no surprise that Burslem is an anagram of slumber, since this is the likely effect their approach to cricket would have on neutrals. With their season effectively over a long while ago, and with no possible chance of finishing above us in the table, they opted instead to block out for a draw, perhaps under captain’s instructions. I was not expecting any favours from a team with which we haven’t enjoyed the most amicable of relations, but the lack of adventure in their display seemed to inspire a disproportionate amount of pleasure in their faces – faces spited by them having cut off their own nose. Declining to chase 182 at less than 4 runs per over is pretty pathetic at the best of times, even more so on a good pitch and in the circumstances just outlined. I wouldn’t want to turn up, if that’s the way my team chose to play. The game petered out tamely, with Smudge bowling at Paul Lowndes. Smudge is not normally bothered by much, yet even he couldn’t hold back his disdain and gave Lowndes a piece of his mind. 

close of play

I suppose it is not that much of a shock that Burslem’s on-field attitude is as abrasive as it is when their captain (Kevin Beattie) sets such an atrocious example. Following several instances of bad sportsmanship and poor attitude throughout the game (including telling one of his players to throw the ball at me next time I stood outside the crease tempting the fielder to shy at the stumps), Beattie spent the last half-hour of the match saying, as loud as he could without appearing pantomime-obvious, “Oh, Ashcombe have won, have they? Well, you’ve got to fancy them now”.

After the match John Kennedy (a.k.a. the fictitious Radio Stafford) confirmed that Ashcombe Park had beaten Sneyd, a result that brought them to within 11 points of us. With rain forecast to interrupt the following day’s match, it still seemed likely that we would go into the last match with a lead. We needed it either to rain hard all day, or stay away completely…

MATCH DRAWN 

MODDERSHALL 182 for 7 declared (51. overs) 
J Addison 65, S Oliver 38, J Hall 4-52
BURSLEM 160 for 6 (46 overs) 
M Rowley 67*

MODDERSHALL 8 points
BURSLEM 7 points

'AWNIOGO': BIGNALL END (A)

Bignall End and, behind it, the Cheshire Plain -- the second best view in North Staffs cricket...

Saturday, September 2

“And now, laaaaay-deeez ‘n’ gen-ul-men, it’s time for the main event…”

For such an important, top-of-the-table clash, it was surprising that Peter ‘Scoop’ Hewitt from the Evening Sentinel didn’t put in an appearance, especially since (a) neither side had been out of the top three since the turn of the season, and (b) neither side had yet played in one of said newspaper’s featured matches. This may sound elitist, but surely it is remiss that a team that has reached the last eight of the Staffordshire Cup, the last four of the Talbot Cup, and has spent all season around the top of Division 1, Section B should be considered unworthy of a featured match whereas the likes of Blurton, Fenton, Oulton, Oakamoor, Stanfields and ME-bloody-SC have their respective profiles boosted by highly flattering (and ever so slightly fabricated) accounts of high-calibre cricket matches.

I am not opposed to these clubs and their league receiving coverage in the local press, not at all, but why does it have to be at the expense of a more prestigious and higher standard competition. I mean, it’s not as if we can’t smear mud all over our pads, sport Burton’s menswear polyester shirts, pick the odd 65-year-old, field too close at mid-off whilst holding optional pint, score all our runs off the inside edge, not mow our outfield, draft in the local vicar for a spell of comedy medium-pace, cover our bats in thick insulation tape – you get the idea…

village: what the Sentinel readers had to put up with back then

Perhaps it was because of the onset of the football season that we would once again be absent from the Sentinel’s “comprehensive” sports pull-out, or perhaps it was down to the dismal weather on Saturday morning, weather that prompted my Dad to predict that we wouldn’t bowl a single ball. Well, by the time Mauler, Addo and I arrived at Boon Hill, the sun had got his hat on (hip-hip-hip hooray) and, despite the saturated outfield, it appeared that we would get an uninterrupted day’s play. The track looked like the mushy peas at my local chippy – soft, green, greasy – and was sure to offer considerable help to anyone who could hit the seam. So, it was good news when we won the toss and asked the leaders to have first use.

Addo elected to give the new ball duties to a combination of the wild and the wily – Shaun and Coke – and it was Barrington who made the initial inroads. Tim Myatt, Bignall End’s stoutly-built skipper, was the first casualty, fending a short ball ‘up the chimney’; despite being slow off the blocks and treading water (literally, on the sodden turf) for a few strides, I managed to gather just enough momentum to get to the rapidly dropping ball and, with a sprawling belly-flop, took the catch inches above the grass. My next victim was more straightforward as friend and team-mate of mine from University, Rob Howell, snicked a wider, quicker ball from Shaun. Mauler, freshly tanned after his fortnight in Ibiza, then replaced Shaun and immediately removed Dave Edwards, courtesy of an excellent slip catch from Addo. Clearly, Myatt’s bowling improved when his preparation was Mediterranean rather than subterranean.

HH: site of Myatt's subterranean preparation

Bignall End’s woeful start continued in the 17th over when ‘Big’ Eric Riley, so often a thorn in our side, mistimed by far Coke’s worst ball of the day to Harv at point to leave them on 25 for 4. It was Coke’s first wicket and well deserved after a typically accurate and probing spell. He was briefly rested to allow Iain Carr the benefit of the cross-breeze to assist his outswingers, but returned at the top end to snare another couple of wickets, including the crucial scalp of Nigel Nixon, leaving our opponents in the parlous position of 69 for 6.

Due to our habitually tardy over-rate, we were, at this point of the afternoon, caught between two stools: either go for the jugular, or send down some quick overs so as to leave ourselves longer to chase the target. Both strategies held clear risks, but I felt an ideal compromise would be for Addo to come on, since he would have been able to send down the quick overs, keep it tight and perhaps take the odd wicket on the slightly soft surface. However, Addo was convinced that it was a seamer’s pitch and that just about everybody else could do a better job than him. Was he hiding? Remembering the old maxim – the captain’s always right, even when he’s wrong – I decided not to force the issue.

Big End tea hut

As it transpired, Bignall End picked themselves up by the bootstraps and by tea had reached 137 for 7 from 51 overs. The only wicket we took during this period was that of Adrian Myatt (who I’d already caught off a no ball) for 43. During the interval, we seemed relatively content with our work, although recognizing that the final hour of the session was won by the home side. After tea, our grip on the match was loosened still further by a busy little partnership between Marcus Sharp and the younger Howell brother, Richard. Mainly through positive running, they added 63 vital runs together before Sharp fell to a direct hit from long off by Seth. His 43 helped Bignall End finish their 60 overs on 183 for 8, many more than they could have dreamt of at 3.00pm and certainly many more than I thought they should have been allowed to get.

At any rate, at the halfway stage it was four points apiece and we needed 184 at just over five per over to go top of the league – a stiff task, though not one that should have unnerved us unduly. There was little debate as to whether or not we should go for the runs, since there was no real danger of being bowled out in 36 overs…

'hitting the deck', Iain Vellocott

On a devilishly slow pitch we started the chase like a crippled tortoise, crawling to seven runs from the same number of overs. Addo was out of touch and struggling to get the ball away whilst I was getting bogged down by some unerringly accurate bowling from the 6’7” Cumberland and Minor Counties opening bowler, Marcus Sharp, who had packed the offside with seven fielders and didn’t bowl a single delivery on my side of the middle stump. By the eighth over I realized that we had to inject some urgency into our chase and, after slogging Nixon through mid-wicket, I profited from a half-volley and full toss to collect 12 runs in 3 balls.

Things were seemingly on the move, yet we only picked up 19 runs in the following seven overs, by which time the second bowler of a double change, Paul Johnson, had been introduced. I hit his second ball straight through our open dressing-room door for six, but was making the exact same journey a ball later when I mistimed a high full toss straight to mid-on.

home team dressing room door, centre

Harv came in at 45 for 1 in the final over before the last 20 and went on to play easily the best innings of the day. His 23-ball stay, during which he thumped the ball to all parts of the ground – and, on two occasions, out of it – brought us into serious contention. At 86 for 1 with 15 overs left we were beginning to dominate. Unfortunately, Dickie, whose whirlwind 40 constituted all but 3 runs of his partnership with Addo, then fell to a sharp yet contentious stumping by White just as he was about to go into Lara-mode. This dismissal opened the floodgates to a collapse of quite monumental proportions as 8 wickets tumbled in just 6 overs – I repeat: 8 wickets in 6 overs – for the addition of only 22 runs.

Addo was the third to go, the result of an increasing desperation that, if not evident when he asked to borrow Harv’s bat as he walked off, was certainly present in the shot that brought about his dismissal. After making only 11 from 55 balls, he top-edged a ball from Adrian Myatt straight up and Eric Riley took the catch at slip. Hawky was the third casualty of the over when he drove a full toss straight at Sharp, fielding at extra-cover. From a position of concern, Bignall End had, in the space of a six balls, bagged three prize wickets to seize control of the game and now had the bit firmly between their teeth. Their previously mute supporters had also unmuzzled themselves in growing anticipation of a previously unlikely victory.

Wedgwood Monument, Red Street  -- overlooking Bignall End --
'castrated' by gales in 1976; were BE about to rediscover their virility

Sharp was recalled to the attack and immediately took the wicket of Mauler thanks to a catch of staggering brilliance in the gully by Edwards. We were in complete disarray. Iain Carr, who was due in at the fall of John’s wicket, was nowhere to be seen, whilst on the pitch Cokey was losing his off-stump thanks to a yorker from Sharp. Mayhem. Thankfully, Iain had turned up – he had been on the toilet – and walked out to join Drew at 99 for 6. However, in the very next over Billy was involved in two run outs as the chaos, the panic spread through our team. I was just stepping out of the shower when the first one occurred but if the expression on Drew’s face was anything to go by, I didn’t need to ask whose fault he thought it was. A couple of balls later Smudge was run out without facing a ball, getting completely covered in mud in the process, and he too was blaming Billy’s habit of relying on telepathic communication with his partner.

The braying home crowd was becoming extremely exuberant and slightly cocky, and this was beginning to grate with our small band of travelling supporters, particularly my father, who was involved in a discussion with one partisan and chauvinistic fan that came quite close to the line where banter meets hostility (not that Jim’s buttons are difficult to push in these situations). Drew, still smarting from his dismissal (it usually took 3 weeks), also found time to express one or two thoughts to a slightly obnoxious chap in a purple shellsuit, whilst I could only sing “We’ll support you ever more!”

'I Watched Every Ball',  Benjamin Toupein

Out on the field our situation deteriorated still further when Billy played a ludicrously aggressive shot in the circumstances and gloved a bouncer to Sharp at slip, prompting a stern word or two from his father, all of which meant that our last pair, Darren and Shaun, had to negotiate a further eight overs if we were to draw the game.

Shaun hung on gallantly whilst Darren protected him from Marcus Sharp, whom he was handling quite comfortably. After four overs without looking like getting the final wicket, skipper Tim Myatt (no relation) decided to bring on Nixon from Sharp’s end and allow the pro to switch to the other end where he might have a crack at Shaun. In theory the plan was successfully executed, but Shaun scuppered it immediately when he confidently pushed Sharp through the covers and escaped, as it were. Darren took care of the rest of the over, leaving us only 12 more balls to survive, albeit with Nixon bowling the penultimate over at Shaun. Just as I thought we had reached safety, Nixon produced a swinging yorker that proved too good for Shaun and Bignall End had won a game that they ought to have lost. Founder members of the NSSCL, they were now assured of promotion to Section A for the first time since the league took its present format in 1982, and looked likely to finish as champions.

Doc, 2004

As far as we were concerned, we needed to win two of our last three games to ensure a return to the top flight, having heard that Ashcombe Park had closed the gap to 23 points by inflicting a fourth consecutive defeat upon Newcastle, erstwhile contenders themselves. Our own post-mortem was full of premature pessimism and an unnecessary amount of bickering. Addo and Darren had a spat which ended with the latter refusing to play again after the skipper had questioned his attitude and desire.

Earlier in the day, I had made an unfair comment to Darren, in private, provoked by what I considered his unjust attitude towards my wicket-keeping. Whilst I accepted his analysis of my limited, patchy stumping skills, I also believed that his criticism completely undermined my attempts at doing a job which, originally, I only undertook temporarily to help out the side. I may sound like a whinging old goat (then again, it’s my book) but it pisses me off when people take cheap pot shots if I fumble a stumping or even just a take. It’s a difficult and demanding job, one that I would much rather not do, and one that people might appreciate more if they had to do themselves, particularly Darren, who seems to find it amusing every time the ball isn’t crisply gathered. “Grouty”, he calls me.

OK, I’ve got that little matter off my chest. Even so, I did say something wholly unreasonable which no doubt contributed to his totally misguided belief that I had put Addo up to saying what ultimately led to their argument. I think there is a personality clash and a misunderstanding of each other’s behaviour rather than any deep-rooted enmity, and the sooner it is resolved, the better, for all concerned.

Teams should pull together during the bad times, not disintegrate, which, at the time of writing, appeared to be happening to us. Harv, who not insignificantly was the only person drinking coca-cola rather than gallons of consolatory lager, summed it up perfectly when he stated that everyone was over-reacting to one defeat and one poor performance from the pro.

MODDERSHALL LOST BY 71 RUNS

BIGNALL END 183 for 8 innings closed (60 0vers)

M Sharp 43, A Myatt 43, Rich Howell 36*, N Nixon 31, K Colclough 3-68

MODDERSHALL 112 all out (34.3 overs)

R Harvey 40, S Oliver 32, A Myatt 4-27

MODDERSHALL 6 points

BIGNALL END 20 points 

'AWNIOGO': ASHCOMBE PARK (H)

they came from Ashcombe Park

Saturday, August 26 

In the week leading up to the visit of third-placed Ashcombe Park, there was much discussion over whether we should look to face them on an under-prepared pitch and go flat out for victory or hedge against defeat by playing on one of our typically true Barnfields surfaces. The former strategy, similar to the one employed for the Bignall End fixture earlier in the season, was laden with unnecessary risk; after all, the emphasis was on Ashcombe (who trailed us by 32 points) to try and dictate the game. Thankfully, common sense prevailed and a relatively flat pitch was prepared. Nevertheless, ample midweek rainfall had given the wicket a greenish patina, enough to aid the accurate and persevering seamer. Otherwise, the wicket would be as we desired: good for batting with some encouragement for our spinners as the surface dried.

Given both the circumstances and the weather forecast (showers due late afternoon), it was something of a surprise that Joe Beech, the visiting skipper, decided to field first on winning the toss. Granted, the muggy conditions and green-topped track were ideally suited for their seamers, even without the steadying influence of Ian Wilson, but the threat of rain and the likelihood that we would bat them out of the game ought to have persuaded him to have been bold and batted first. 

In the face of some excellent bowling from the new-ball pairing of Terry Eyre and Dave Clowes, both of whom moved the ball around regularly and, at times, prodigiously, our start was steady, if unspectacular. It took Addo until the sixth over to get off the mark, which he achieved by taking 10 from a Terry Eyre over. However, ‘Tecker’ continued to bowl his probing leg-cutters and his consistency was eventually rewarded in the twelfth over with the prize scalp: Addo, bowled via his gloves for 15.

This wicket brought Smudge to the crease, elevated to number 3 in the order to give him a taste of the cut and thrust of first team cricket, and to see how he would fare in a different situation to that which he usually finds himself in, when he is often on a hiding to nothing. Smudger is a talented cricketer with a magnificent attitude and he fully deserved the opportunity to bat properly. Should he fail then there would be nothing lost, but if he were to hang around then he would probably score at a good rate (and gain some useful experience into the bargain). Some people thought that this promotion was patronising to Smudge and made him feel embarrassed walking out to bat before the likes of Harv and Hawk. This was rubbish. If it wasn’t felt that he could cut the mustard then he would have been playing in the Second Team; besides, nobody will ever be allowed to progress if their opportunities are dependant upon the notion of a hierarchy based upon reputation. In this particular context, Smudge’s promotion was both sound thinking and evidence of the skipper’s flexibility. As it transpired, he only scored 9 before edging Terry Eyre into the outstretched glove of Phil Hawkins behind the stumps. His dismissal was more the result of inexperience than any technical deficiency, as he played at a ball that he could have left, but I am sure he enjoyed his innings and it will have been an invaluable part of his learning process. 

English cricket and rain clouds: familiar friends

Dickie Harvey barely had time to settle in before the omnipresent black clouds opened and we were all running for cover, bizarrely stopping to take the refreshments that were half way on to the field! When the rain arrived, we were 81 for 2 from 26 overs with me ‘stranded’ on 49 not out. We were off the field for exactly an hour, during which time an early tea was taken. On resumption at 4.00 pm Ashcombe must have thought that their gamble to bowl first had backfired as, barring an enormous collapse, the game’s destiny was now completely in our hands. Our tactics were simple – to keep batting – and that is exactly what we did. Harv had a let off in the first over after the restart when he edged Clowes straight to second slip. However, Beech spilled the chance and Dickie didn’t look back.

I passed 50 from the first ball I faced after the delay with a back-foot drive for four off Clowes, and slowly but surely Harv and I began to get on top of the bowling. Clowes, who had shown a huge amount of potential despite struggling with a bruised toe, was replaced by Matt Colclough and Harv was soon punishing his all too frequent loose deliveries. At the other end I was profiting from batting with a left-hander as Eyre began to slide the odd ball on to my pads, gifts that I gratefully accepted. 

a young Oliver forces off the back foot

Just after our partnership had passed the century mark, Terry Eyre was rested and replaced by the rotund figure of Dave Butler, whose enigmatic little wobblers had accounted for Addison, Harvey and Myatt in the away fixture earlier in the season. His first delivery was greeted with a loud and rather unsubtle roar of laughter from Darren Carr in front of the pavilion, Doc no doubt having been filled in on Butler’s unexpected success in the aforementioned fixture. 

Anyway, Butler was soon receiving punishment as both Minty and I homed in on what seemed like inevitable centuries. However, in the 50th over, with the score on 199, I slog-swept the bowler to mid-wicket and was brilliantly caught by Willshaw, diving forward, having made a season’s best 89. With my demise, Harv continued to flay the bowling until he also holed out off Butler, this time to Salmon at deep square leg. His 93 – made from 111 balls, with 14 boundaries and a six – was also a season’s best. After a brief consultation, Addo and I decided, cautiously, to give ourselves 45 minutes and 20 overs’ bowling time, the declaration coming when Hawk, seemingly unsure as to our tactics, swatted Matt Colclough straight down Willshaw’s throat on the legside boundary. 

an exceptional catch on the legside boundary

With the declaration made, the question was whether Ashcombe would be bold enough to go for the target of 232 at around 7 runs per over. I felt they had little choice, since their season seemed to depend on it. Admittedly, it was not a particularly generous declaration; even so, it was almost identical, if slightly scaled down, to that which we had overhauled at Nantwich the previous week. It became apparent that Ashcombe intended to give it a shot when their prolific usual opening pair of Ross Salmon and Phil Hawkins was broken up to allow the freer-scoring Terry Eyre to open with Salmon.

Shaun Brian took the new ball under strict instructions to bowl off a shortened run and to pitch it up. He immediately got the ball to swing toward the slips – unfortunately, his second ball swung straight on to the middle of Salmon’s bat and flashed through point like an exocet missile. Undeterred, Moose continued to charge in and was rewarded with the wicket of Terry Eyre, for a golden duck, with the penultimate ball of his opening over. The fact that the mode of dismissal was caught behind and that I neglected to appeal probably explained the batsman’s disappointment with the decision!! 

Moose in his veteran years

Matt Colclough came out at number 3, struck his first ball past mid-on for four, and generally looked quite assured during a partnership of 71 in 13 overs with Salmon. All the major questions were being asked by Iain Carr, who was extracting steep bounce and on more than one occasion struck both batsmen painful blows on the gloves. In his sixth over, the final one before the last 20, Salmon struck him for a triplet of boundaries, sullying what had otherwise been a good spell. Iain was extremely dejected at being taken off, protesting “How am I supposed to get things right when I’m not given the chance?” While one could understand Iain’s frustration at not being rewarded with wickets, the fact was that the time and place to iron out kinks in one’s game is at practice, not on Saturday afternoon.

At the start of the last 20, with Ashcombe requiring 160 runs to win with 9 wickets in hand (At Nantwich the previous week, we required 169 with only 7 wickets in hand), Addo introduced himself and fellow spin twin Dazzra into the attack, keeping the field set back in the hope of buying a wicket or two. Lovejoy’s opening over was ordinary, both in terms of spin and direction, yet as is often the case this innocuous bowling picked up two good wickets. The first was Colclough, stupendously pouched at point by Drew, who had only just taken the field having earlier taken his daughter, Suzanne, to hospital with a suspected fracture of her right arm. (The happiest face on the ground upon Heardy’s return was unquestionably that of young Carl Colclough who, as our substitute fielder, had been jogging from fine leg to fine leg for a dozen overs.) 

the end of Salmon

Anyway, Drew’s brilliant catch was followed by another at mid-off by Smudge to account for Joe Beech, after which Ross Salmon was expertly held on the run, against all expectations, by Shaun Brian off Darren’s bowling, effectively ending the Park’s victory chances (they were now 86 for 4 with just 15 overs left) and allowing the ring of close catchers to concentrate on inventing new nicknames for our professional, which surely helped his bowling efforts. The latest offering is Wicksy (after Eastenders’ David Wicks), following Smudger’s brilliant recent coinage, Starsky. Lou Reed, Will Carling, Ray Platt, Mario Kempes, Kevin Keegan, Agile, Fragile, Lovejoy, Addo, Piggy – they all came out in a berserker frenzy of nomenclatural creativity.

It’s debatable whether Clowes’ concentration was disturbed by our jocularity or Addo/Lovejoy/Keegan/Kempes/Wicksy’s bowling, but he soon cracked under the strain and drove Starsky straight to Drew, fielding ‘in the box’ at short extra-cover. It was particularly ironic that he should be dismissed in this fashion only a couple of balls after I had turned to Hawk and Harv in the slips and asked “When does Addo ever get anyone out caught ‘in the box’?” Well, today he did, and Ashcombe were now in serious danger of defeat: with 10 overs remaining their last pair of recognised batsmen, Proffit and Hawkins, were at the crease, and should we be able to winkle either one of them out promptly, we knew we stood an outside chance of victory. 

Add0

We pushed hard, but as it was they batted well enough to snuff out that threat until ‘Jakey’ Hawkins was sharply caught at leg gulley by Darren off Coke’s bowling, by which time we had turned our attention to preventing the Park scoring the 125 they needed for a third batting bonus point. Entering the final over, they required a further 4 runs. Addo began the over with three maiden balls. Then Goodwin, the non-striker, was run out from the fourth ball thanks to some smart work from the Hawk-Addo combination as he tried to make his ground following an aborted quick single. Next ball, the game’s penultimate, Proffit sashayed down the track, swished, missed and the bails came off so quickly that our scorer entered ‘bowled Addison’ as the mode of dismissal, diddling me out of a victim: unbelievable!

With the last ball blocked, we left the field pleased with what had been a good performance. Ashcombe were all but resigned to another year in Section B, whilst we had closed the gap on Bignall End to a single point. Even before today, Newcastle were fast disappearing from the promotion picture and their third consecutive defeat, this time at the hands of Nantwich, left them with a mountain to climb, especially as they still had the other three top sides to play.

As we drank the night away, thoughts turned to next week and our crunch match with Bignall End. We had won on our last three visits to Boon Hill, and with Mauler returning from Ibiza, the question was: would the Evening Sentinel soon be forced to write more than one sentence about us?

MATCH DRAWN 

MODDERSHALL 231 for 5 dec. (56.4 overs) 
R Harvey 93, S Oliver 89
ASHCOMBE PARK 122 for 8 (32 overs) 
R Salmon 42, J Addison 4-17

MODDERSHALL 9 points
ASHCOMBE PARK 4 points