 |
| they came from Burslem |
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 Having called for my cap, I gratefully dispatched two chest-high full tosses from Rowley who was promptly withdrawn from the attack.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.
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.
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…
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.
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.
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
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
After reading all the reviews for each game throughout this season......................I can't find the last game?????????? Gutted! Even though Moddershall probably got promoted did they? I J Wain
ReplyDeletePatience, boss. Two more games to go. Will get them up ASAP, then a few more bits and bobs to come up.
DeleteGlad you've enjoyed it. That was the whole point of blogging it all!
If you follow the blog, you'll get reminders when new posts go on.
Delete