'AWNIOGO': BETLEY (A)

bucolic Betley: the view from cow(s) corner

Saturday, July 29

Being squeezed into the back of the Heardmobile with Suzanne and AJ all the way to Betley was not a comfortable ride. Despite all windows being lowered to allow in the breeze, it was infernally warm, almost too hot for cricket. Mind you, it is widely known that “only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noon day sun” and since I fulfilled both of Noel Coward’s criteria I was padding up at ten to two in a changing room the size of a portaloo in which you could have fired pots. It was Kevin Bakin’. 

The pair of us already sweating profusely, then, Addo and I strolled out to bat on an extremely flat track with a 30-yard boundary to one side. At Moddershall, even the under-elevens would play closer to the middle of the square. It was farcical, enough to come close to making a complete mockery of the contest between bat and ball upon which the integrity of the entire sport depends. Nevertheless, the situation was not going to alter, so we just had to get on with what was obviously going to be a high-scoring game. 

Drew and Yvonne Heard

On another bread-dipping day, it was almost inevitable that I would miss out, and I did. I felt in better nick than I had all season and had just driven Butler, Betley’s beanpole of a professional, back down the ground for two fours when I got caught at mid-on, stopping my shot to a totally unexpected short ball. I saw it early and could have hit it almost anywhere,e but suddenly my brain opted for discretion over valour. Sadly, the message didn’t reach my hands in time and I spooned the ball straight to the fielder. I was almost suicidal, and decided to drown my sorrows in a glass of Betley’s over-priced, warm, flat, cheap, tasteless cola. There was nobody behind the bar, so I waited. Then suddenly it struck me that I was in a sacred place, a temple if you like. All around me hung effigies of the Messiah, as well as scrolls and doctrines detailing his cricketing achievements for Betley, Staffordshire, Derbyshire, England U 19’s and England. I felt like an infidel. I caught wind of the Messiah’s father talking to Radio Stoke, spreading the word. Eventually he finished his evangelizing and served me the warm cola. I scurried away quickly before my impressionable young mind could be enslaved by the chief prophet of Corkianity. I later heard that Betley’s team selection had been altered to accommodate the pilgrimage to Old Trafford being undertaken by the prophet’s two eldest but less holy sons, Simon and Jonathon. I sipped my cola. Mmm, delicious! 

Cork dismisses Lara and reacts with typical restraint...

By the time I had rejoined the rest of the troops under the comforting shade of an old oak tree – rolling field of wheat swaying gently in the breeze behind me, gothic church heralding each new hour to the right, docile livestock loping innocuously elsewhere, me feeling utterly pig sick – Harv and Addo were moving the score along nicely and the 100 came up in only the 23rd over. The team, by and large, were in good spirits but Iain Carr, sporting a shaggy brown bowl-shaped toupée, had not done anything to improve my mood by saying, “as soon as you hit those two fours I knew you were going to spoon one up”. Illogical, perhaps, but he was not wrong. Just as we were debating the point, Harv, having made 24 trouble-free runs, chipped the off-spinner to long-off whilst trying to up the tempo. 

At 107 for 2, with an hour and a half left to bat, the situation was tailor-made for John Myatt to go in and cause some havoc, which he did in a blistering 126-run partnership with Addo that took just 17 overs. The rest of us either sat back and watched or wandered around the ground fetching the incessant stream of boundaries from neighbouring fields. Billy just hailed each Myatt boundary with a joyous “MAUL THE BALL!” Drew, meanwhile, amused everybody by stating that Rangers were the best football team in the British Isles, citing their umpteen consecutive league titles, Scottish Cup wins and Skol Cup successes as ‘proof’. The fact that the Cowdenbeath midfield is ill-equipped to mark Laudrup and Gascoigne out of the game didn’t dent his conviction. 

Gazza: did well in Scotland 'cos he understood the culture

On the field Addo had moved to his third century of the campaign from 119 balls. He later claimed that he hadn’t felt in good form, but he looked okay from the boundary and having reached that milestone he was keen to push on. However, he wasn’t allowed to – not because of the Betley attack, which had resorted to part-time bowlers, but by Mauler’s consumption of the strike. Mauler completed his half-century from 48 balls and then went on a rampage for three overs, taking his score to 85 in just 12 further deliveries. It was vintage Myatt, reminiscent of the days when his bat alone (Old Faithful) merited its own feature in the Evening Sentinel. Nowadays our whole team scarcely gets a mention.  

Mauler departed after clubbing 6 fours and 8 sixes, allowing Andy Hawkins to join Addo in a 47-run stand that took just 18 minutes. In the process of reaching 150 from 137 balls, Addo passed 1000 league runs for the second consecutive season, a phenomenal achievement. This was his highest score as a Moddershall player, eclipsing the 141 he made at Buxton last year, and was only 8 short of Maurice Knight’s club record score. With nine games remaining it was incredible to think just how many runs he might finish up with if he stayed in decent form. Even so, with the score at 280 he stood on his stumps and promptly declared, leaving plenty of time to bowl Betley out. The pitch, short boundaries, sweltering heat and a solid home top order would all provide significant obstacles but we thought we had a better than even chance of winning. 

40 yards from the bat, the cows gather to watch Betley's run chase

As ever, our objectives were to strike early and squeeze the life out of Betley’s middle order. Unfortunately our early bowling lacked penetration and direction, and Betley started their reply with a spate of fours. Hawky bowled awfully, patently struggling to run up the awkward slope at the far end. When he switched ends he fared a little better; indeed, it appeared that he had made the breakthrough when, dropping one short and slightly to the leg-side, he tempted Cowap to go for a hook shot. As the ball came through to me there was a definite noise and I made a concerted appeal for what I believed to be a legitimate catch off the gloves. The decision was turned down, at which point Cowap turned around and called me a “f**king cheat”. It was an act of great indignity for such an esteemed cricketer and one which set the tone for the rest of the game. 

Our outfield cricket seemed to be getting sloppier by the over and Shaun Brian, fielding on the third man boundary (about 25 yards from the bat) was the worst culprit, allowing two balls to slip through an idiosyncratic interpretation of the long-barrier for four. It wasn’t until after the second drinks interval that our cricket regained some aggression and purpose. Once again the catalyst was John Myatt who was enjoying a fine day. He took over the bowling from the top end and proceeded to take 4 for 10 in 5.1 overs as Betley slumped from 113 for 0 to 149 for 4. Adrian Butler was the first to go, scooping a low full-toss to mid-on where Barrington held the catch. Mauler’s ecstatic reaction to this wicket, considering how bad a delivery it was, seemed a little extreme but I suppose that is John’s way – without the fire there would perhaps be a pretty average cricketer, but with the aggression there is a wholly different proposition.

If the first wicket contained an element of fortune then the rest were down to good, straight, fast bowling. He trapped Cowap and Neil Harrison plumb in front and then skittled Harrison’s older and plumper brother Nick with an extremely sharp yorker. With 15 overs remaining we stood a slim chance of victory and went on the attack. In the very next over, Wayne bowled Betley’s number 5, Dumbill, before he had scored. Sadly it was also a no-ball, and it proved fairly costly. 

"bowl him an accordion, see if he can play that!"

Looking like the accordion player in a Balkan folk ensemble, Dumbill fully utilised his only two shots, the square cut and square drive, in carving what was probably a lifetime’s best 69, an innings that included 12 fours and 2 sixes. His knock changed the mood of the crowd, who had previously been heckling and jeering our every move. Suddenly they concentrated their efforts on cheering their own players as they sensed an improbable victory in the offing, but this hope was ended (and their mouths closed) when Shaun Brian uprooted Dumbill’s off-stump as he once again dashed off to inspect whatever he found so interesting about the piece of turf two feet outside his leg-stump. 

The game was now dead and so Addo decided to goad the crowd still further by bringing on Drew, Harv, and myself to bowl the last four overs, thus ensuring that all eleven of our players had turned their arm over. This didn’t exactly enrapture our scorer, Tina Colclough, who was forced to add a few emergency rows to the bottom of the scorebook. The ‘plan’ worked, though, as Drew picked up another wicket, knocking Jervis’ leg-stump out of the ground to give us an extra bonus point. This was a bonus in every sense of the word as normally the only thing which goes out of the ground when Drew bowls is the ball. 

Bluebell in more recent times

After the match we heard that Ashcombe Park, Bignall End and Newcastle had all won, which meant that we slipped back to third place. We didn’t bother to stay for a sociable jar as a point of principle over the incredibly antagonistic attitude of both Betley’s players and their supporters, the skipper and I instead popping down the road to the beer garden of the Bluebell at Wrinehell. Let us hope that we will not need to come back next season. 

MATCH DRAWN 

MODDERSHALL 280 for 4 dec. (45.4 overs) 
J Addison 150, J Myatt 85
BETLEY 239 for 6 (47 overs) 
I Cowap 80, B Dumbill 69, A Butler 32, J Myatt 4-34

MODDERSHALL 8 points
BETLEY 7 points