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.
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| 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
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.
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| 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!”
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| 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
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!
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| 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
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
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