'AWNIOGO': SNEYD (A)

partial view over the old Sneyd ground (the pavilion, which stood just to the left of the lamppost, has been demolished)

Saturday, July 15

Once upon a time, back in the swinging sixties, Sneyd was a thriving cricket club that had a strong team, a good surface, and hosted a string of representative fixtures. However, times are hard these days and their once elegant ground is looking more than a little shabby, while it seems the whole club is being held together by the efforts of Jess Hall alone.* A few years ago they merged with the now-defunct Great Chell CC – with its magnificent 3-storey pavilion, complete with ballroom, full-size snooker tables, viewing gallery and Lord’s-esque entrance to the arena – and, in an attempt to return both clubs to their halcyon days, pulled off the ambitious signing of Guyanese quickie Barrington Browne. Despite Browne’s brilliance, the project failed: Sneyd still reside in the lower reaches of Section B and are viewed by the top teams as 40 points per season. Hopefully, they could provide us with a good start to an important weekend.

My own weekend had got off to a calamitous start (as predicted, may I add, by Mystic Meg). As probably the only individual in the British Isles unaware that there had been a nationwide rail strike scheduled, I strolled into Nottingham station late on Friday afternoon preparing to return to the parental abode and then on to Moddershall for practice, having arranged to be collected at 6.40pm from Blythe Bridge station. The ticket office in Nottingham was closed, as was customer information, as was the newsagents; the departure monitor was blank and the place was as deserted as, well, as deserted as Moddershall nets on first team practice night! Sensing something amiss, I ran the 400 yards or so to the bus station and enquired about coaches going to Stoke-on-Trent. “Nothing doing there mate, but there’s a bus going to Derby in one minute from Stand 17. You’ll be able to get a connection from there”. I thanked the kindly gentleman and jumped aboard the bus without having time to telephone home with news of the change of plan. At 6.30 pm the bus arrived in Derby having called in at every hamlet along the way. Unfortunately, the “connection” to Stoke of which the kindly gentleman spoke didn’t actually exist. Oh well, he wasn’t to know – he only worked behind the information desk of National Express. ****. 

the next arrival on Platform 2 is the
tomorrow morning from Derby...

There was no way I was going to make another bank-breaking taxi journey, so I’d just have to call home and explain that I was stranded in Derby. Ten pence after ten pence was poured into the slot, yet all I got was the answerphone: “Hi, this is Jim Oliver. There’s nobody home at the moment…” At 8.15 I eventually got through and told them of my predicament. “Well, that’s bloody clever, that is. Really bloody clever”, sympathized my father. I hung up.

What now? B&B? Hitch-hike? Sleep rough? I briefly weighed up these unattractive options and decided to call the folks again, this time cunningly employing a Scottish accent and asking after the more flexible and understanding Mrs Oliver. Dad was duly fooled by the vocal disguise and put me through to my mother, who explained that they had been waiting for over an hour at Blythe Bridge station. Didn’t you know there was a rail strike? I thought to myself, whilst apologizing profusely. Eventually, I managed to persuade her to come and pick me up from Derby, a 30-mile trip, and trudged off to the rendezvous point happy that I wasn’t going to have to sleep behind some bins.

All this confusion, disagreement, and angst led me to opt to lodge for the evening chez Addo, perhaps as a sort of juvenile protest against padre’s apparent inability to grasp that a national rail strike, rather than any deliberate negligence, had been behind the mix-up. Staying at the pro’s thus meant that I went to Sneyd not in the Heardmobile but in Lovejoy’s silver Saab (an antique if ever there was one), allowing me to hear his quite staggeringly romanticized (possibly insane) opinion of this bedraggled venue. Having cruised up through the leafy suburban delights of Cobridge, the Sneyd slagheap came into view, and we accelerated up the slope and into the ground. Parking the car, Agile cast a misty eye over the ground and said, without the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice: “Take a look at that, Dog. Beautiful. Best ground in the league”. 

aerial shot of Sneyd slagheap and derelict cricket ground,
square just visible above the football pitch

Traipsing over the outfield – the hallowed turf, in Addo’s case – toward the candy-striped wooden pavilion, it wasn’t immediately obvious witch strip we would be playing on, since the square was entirely covered with grass of the same length. Then again, it was the same last year when Addo and I helped ourselves to 199 for the first wicket. Were it not for yesterday’s horoscope, I might have thought something similar was on the (tarot) cards, but who am I to doubt the clairvoyant powers of Mystic Meg.

Anyway, after knocking up for half an hour, it was down to what many considered the most important part of all our matches: the toss. It must have been strange for Addo to observe this ritual with a man (Sibtain Haider) who has turned out for as many North Staffs clubs as he has, but it didn’t distract him from making the correct call and inviting Sneyd to have first use of what was sure to be a sporty deck. The decision appeared immediately vindicated when Mauler’s second ball flew straight over the batsman’s head from a fraction shy of a good length, forcing me to leap à la Jeffrey Dujon to pluck the still-rising ball from the air one-handed. The take was all the more remarkable given that I was in some discomfort whilst ‘keeping on account of having neither jockstrap nor a pair of underpants to hand. As the umpires had already made their way to the middle, it was an emergency of major proportions; luckily Addo came to the rescue by lending me his crotch-chafing clean-on-this-mornings.  

Dujon -- not DOOG-on

After a testing opening twenty minutes, the breakthrough came in the sixth over when Rauf steered Waynoss straight to Mauler at slip. Sneyd’s number 3, Vimalin, has the perfect surname with which to endorse a pharmaceutical product and it wouldn’t be too churlish to suggest a laxative tablet of some sort, as evidently he could do with some help to get runs. Having collected only a single, he initiated what was undoubtedly the champagne moment of John Myatt’s entire career: pushing a ball of good length back down the wicket, he shuffled involuntarily out of his crease; there didn’t seem to be any danger, but Mauler picked up the ball and, with full stereophonic sound effects, attempted to throw down the batsman’s stumps. Normally, the throw would have flown a lot closer to the batsman’s skull than the poles, but this time, with one almighty cartoonesque ‘whooooossshhh’, Mauler broke his 20-year famine and ran out the hapless Vimalin to leave Sneyd at 16 for 2. 

This seemed to provoke John into bowling flat out, especially at young Bostock who was having a torrid time of things. Despite being the offspring of the two most insane individuals in the entire cosmos, the slightly camp Bostock was hanging in there bravely until one single ball transformed his innings. He had scored only 8 runs in 16 overs when Addo rather loudly instructed Mauler to (and I quote) “Kill!” The ball was dug in halfway down but – scuppering the plan somewhat – the next contact it made with the terra firma was somewhere behind the pavilion. From then on Bostock grew in confidence and helped his captain add 102 runs for the third wicket before having his stumps uprooted by Andy Hawkins. 

Michael Bostock: serving a 5-year sentence for fraud

Bostock’s departure brought the highly destructive Ali to the wicket, yet it was Haider that was doing the damage. At one point in his career ‘Sibby’ was on the fringe of a very strong Pakistani Test squad and it showed as he played some brilliant shots in his 80, including successive extra-cover drives on the up off Mauler that flew to the boundary. However, none was better than the absolutely monstrous straight six he drove off Cokey that landed three-quarters of the way across the football field, and another half an hour of his batting might have put the game beyond us. Thankfully, he was removed by Hawky, who bowled him with a straight shooter, and quickly followed by Ali and Rashid, both of whom fell to Darren Carr as 151 for 3 became 154 for 6. 

Some lusty hitting from Farooq and Younis (who had a lucky escape when Drew dropped the easiest catch in the history of the game at mid-on, before being stumped an over later when I managed to take off the bails with the third swipe of my gloves) elevated the score to 210 before Iain Carr picked up the last wicket with his first ball of the day. Had we not polished off the last two wickets so quickly we could have been coming out for quite a long bowl after tea, since we had only sent down a paltry 47 overs by ten to five. However, that was now irrelevant. All that mattered was knocking off the runs, something that would require watchful batting on a wicket that was becoming increasingly variable in pace and bounce.

The opening over from Haider was quite gentle in comparison both to the pace he had once bowled and that sent down by his new-ball partner, Muhammad Ali, who really did float like a butterfly and sting like a bee as he drew blood from the hands of both Agile and myself. My injury, a blow to my right thumb from a ball that rose off a length and cut me under the nail, almost caused me to retire hurt. I later discovered that I had suffered a hairline fracture, but adrenaline allowed me to bat on with a slightly modified grip and help Addo, who had a chunk of skin ripped from his knuckle by another lifter, add 44 for the first wicket. 

float like a butterfly, sting like a bee...

Jon was the first to go, skying a wide ball from Ali to cover-point. His dismissal brought Harv to the wicket and together we saw off Haider whilst keeping the scoreboard ticking over. Haider’s replacement, the erratic left-armer Pete Axon, seemed intent on banging the ball in short and I duly hooked his second ball straight through the open pavilion door. Unfortunately I was making the same journey an over later after gloving another Ali lifter to the ‘keeper. In the following over John Myatt suffered the ignominy of a golden duck when he went back to an Axon delivery that struck him just above the bootlaces, and we were suddenly in a vulnerable position at 75 for 3. 

A bright and breezy stand between the two cack-handers, Harv and Hawk, turned things around and brought the runs required to within double figures before a sudden and dramatic collapse changed the balance of the game. Dickie became Axon’s second scalp when he spliced an attempted pull shot and offered a simple return catch. Drew, looking a little out of form, fell next, bowled by Haider for 3, and he was shortly followed by Seth who got a thick edge to a rare delivery of drivable length from Axon.

Iain Carr

Still buzzing from his heroics against Buxton, Smudge went to the crease intent upon repairing some of the damage, but he was soon returning after a piece of crazy running between the wickets from his mate and batting partner Iain to leave us in the perilous position of 131 for 7. So, Billy had run out the hero, but could he run out the hero…?

By now the home support (Jess Hall’s wife) was roaring Sneyd on as they began to appeal for almost anything. With victory in sight and our required run-rate standing at about seven per over Haider made an unbelievable bowling change and brought on some comedy leg-spin. You could almost hear Cokey thinking ‘carnage time’ to himself, and probably would have been able to hear him had Hawky not been invoking the “All we need is one good over” mantra. Kev tucked gratefully into the buffet, smashing Hashmi’s second over for 23 runs. The game had swung back in our favour as now only 33 runs were required from 10 overs left. As usual, however, a spanner had to be thrown into the works, and another mix-up saw Cokey run out by the length of the pitch.

Yet again it seemed as if we had blown it. The form that Iain was in suggested that he was well capable of knocking off the runs, but he needed a reliable partner to hang around with him, preferably someone with a cool head to prevent him from doing something rash. That man was Darren, his brother, who, tucking his greasy fringe inside his helmet, strode purposefully to the middle. Normally he prefaces this journey with the comment “I’ll see you in two minutes”, but not this time. He was still batting at the end when his ‘little’ brother crashed his eighth boundary to bring up the victory and, also, his own half-century, made from only 47 balls. Top knock. 

view from Sneyd slag heap

All in all, it had been another excellent batting display with almost everyone chipping in. We now shared the leadership with Ashcombe Park and were beginning to flex our muscles as a side. The celebrations in the changing rooms after the match betrayed our excitement at having pulled off a victory of enormous character. Darren Carr provided the entertainment with an impromptu and ingenious display of how to bat with your penis, although he would certainly have had trouble keeping out a yorker, inswinging or otherwise.

MODDERSHALL WON BY 2 WICKETS 

SNEYD 210 all out (47.1 overs) 
S Haider 80, M Bostock 38, M Farooq 35, A Hawkins 3-33, I Carr 3-57
MODDERSHALL 213 for 8 (44.2 overs) 
I Carr 52*, S Oliver 34, K Colclough 30, P Axon 3-6 1

MODDERSHALL 20 points
SNEYD 9 points

* Of course, the club would fall apart fairly soon after this 1995 season.

'AWNIOGO': CAVERSWALL (H)**

they came from Caverswall

Sunday, July 9 
STAFFORDSHIRE CUP, QUARTER-FINAL 

Buoyant after our sensational last-gasp victory over Buxton, we approached the Staffordshire Cup quarter-final against Caverswall in the knowledge that it would take an even greater effort than the previous day’s for us to progress to the last four, particularly with a vastly under-strength bowling attack. Despite the fact that Caverswall were also missing two key players – big-hitting all-rounder Darryl Weaver and the lively, awkward inswingers of new-ball bowler Ian Worthington – they would start the game as clear favourites.

Addo won his second toss of the weekend and, after some deliberation, decided to bat. We started quite slowly against some accurate bowling, particularly from Tony Dutton, the Caverswall professional and erstwhile Staffordshire all-rounder, reaching 26 from the first 9 overs. I felt the pressure beginning to build as I struggled to pierce the ring of fielders and played the wrong shot to the wrong ball to be easily caught at mid-on. Harv joined Addo and kept the scoreboard ticking over nicely until he looked set to launch an assault on Baranowski, Dutton’s replacement at the Pavilion End. However, before he could get fully into his stride he was brilliantly stumped by Caverswall’s quinquegenerian wicket-keeper, Pete Swanwick, giving ‘Baras’ the first of his five-wicket haul to leave us at 82 for 2 from 22 overs.

Mauler’s enforced early departure (due to working a night shift) was instrumental in our decision to bat first, and he came to the wicket needing to make a score if we were to set Caverswall a searching target. He started circumspectly, but then gradually cut loose, smashing Rob Haydon’s leg-spin for three consecutive fours as we swept past 100. In the very next over he pulled a short ball straight to square-leg where Simon Davies spilled the chance. It seemed that our luck was in. Meanwhile, Addo, who, as a result of our cup success, hasn’t been doing that many Sunday markets this summer, had clearly set out his stall today. Indeed, he seemed destined for a century. However, just as the platform had been built for a score in the region of 250, two wickets fell in two overs, completely destabilising our innings. Lovejoy was bowled by a Baranowski off-cutter that kept decidedly low and then Drew was expertly caught at short third man as he cut uppishly at Haydon. At 113 for 4 from 29 overs our innings was entering its most crucial phase.

Addo: pot seller

As Mauler continued to move towards an excellent half-century he desperately needed a partner to provide some support, and a more than able one he found in Iain Can. Iain’s patchy bowling form had created a hole in our side this year but his batting had progressed immensely, to the point where he has, on occasions, been quite awesome, and it was his 43, made from 35 balls, that did as much as anything to boost our total to the final figure of double-Nelson. After Mauler and Coke fell in the same Baranowski over, Iain showed great maturity in mixing delicate placement with bludgeoning power, guiding the lower order through. He fell in the penultimate over but fully deserved the generous applause of a quite substantial crowd. 

So, would 222 prove to be enough? It was around the coveted five-an-over mark but the outfield was fast and we had a depleted attack. I felt it was about 20 runs short of a really testing total, but was, nevertheless, defendable if we bowled some tight early overs and applied enough pressure to pick up the vital wicket of Tony Dutton. 

We started horrendously: 37 runs were conceded in the first six overs, undoing much of our good work with the bat. To make matters worse John Myatt was forced to leave the ground to attend to trouble down t’pit. Addo brought himself on and bowled six tight overs, but couldn’t put us in control as runs were being freely milked at the other end. 

'Dutt' in his dotage

Eventually we got a breakthrough when Heardy somewhat contentiously trapped Anthony Bunn leg before wicket. At 96 for 1, with Dutton going quietly about his business, we had to apply some pressure at the other end. Tim Radage responded well to the challenge and scored a quick 30 to put the game out of our reach. Dutton, who had survived an extremely close run out appeal which might well have gone against him with a TV replay, moved inexorably towards his century and, with the help of Owen Price and Pete Swanwick, saw Caverswall to victory with nine balls to spare. It had been a masterly innings from a quality player.

Ultimately, when one considers that a third of our overs were shared by a part-time seamer (Drew) and a third XI change bowler (Neil MacPherson), we gave a good account of ourselves in the field to push Caverswall as hard as we did. Things might well have been different had we been able to call upon the services of Andy Hawkins, Wayne Stones or Shaun Brian. However, we couldn’t and cricket is not played hypothetically. 

Caverswall moved into the last four, and with no Birmingham League sides left in the draw they stood a realistic chance of lifting the trophy. As for ourselves, we looked forward to the following week’s Talbot Cup semi-final against Knypersley. Should we win that match the possibility remained that we might meet Caverswall in the final, this time at full-strength and desperate for revenge. As Anthony Bunn, the Caverswall skipper, left the pavilion, I told him that we would see them in the Talbot Cup final. “Why, are you coming to watch?” he fired back, cockily. 

What more motivation did we need? 

MODDERSHALL LOST BY 6 WICKETS 

MODDERSHALL 222 for 9 (45 overs) 

J Myatt 61, J Addison 58, I Carr 43, C Baranowski 5-46 

CAVERSWALL 223 for 4 (43.3 overs) 

A Dutton 108*, A Bunn 38, T Radage 30 

'AWNIOGO': BUXTON (H)

they came from Buxton

Saturday, July 8 

At the season’s halfway point we were lying in second position in the league, 25 points behind the leaders Ashcombe Park, having won four, drawn eight and lost one of our opening thirteen matches. Addo was second in both the sectional batting and bowling averages, and was well on the way to overhauling his own league record of 1301 runs. Besides Addo, we had numerous batsmen amongst the leading averages in the section, and Cokey was up amongst the top bowlers.

July is the heart of a season, when a side can gather some momentum and forge a lead or, conversely, lose confidence and fall by the wayside, as happened to us only last season. On paper we had three easy matches with which to commence the run-in – Buxton, Sneyd and Crewe Rolls-Royce – but we would be taking nothing for granted.

Like Nirvana, Genesis and The Police, Buxton are most definitely a three-man band. Last season, at Buxton, we set them 252 to win and they knocked them off thanks to 80-odd from Julian Burgess and 120-odd from Nick Smith. However, in the return fixture we bowled them out for 59, before smashing off the runs in 6.3 overs without losing a wicket. This year, big bad Bob Cuthbertson (who played some Second XI cricket for Leicestershire with Addo) had returned to bolster their fragile bowling, yet still they languished at the foot of the table. 

Buxton CC  first XI, 1995

The weather was fine once again, perhaps a little blustery, and Addo had no hesitation in asking our visitors to bat on a wicket not all that dissimilar from the one on which we played Newcastle and Hartshill. Mauler’s first over passed without incident then Billy Carr, returning from a holiday in Spain, took the new ball from the Pavilion End and prepared to bowl his first over for three weeks. He completed it, about five minutes later, with a wicket to his name having howled three no-balls and been cracked for a couple of fours. The wicket (Julian Burgess, scorer of 1000 runs last season) was picked up with a slow, wide full-toss that the batsman slashed violently towards point, where Addo, looking none too pleased with Billy’s form, plucked it from the sky with his left hand. Burgess walked off, no doubt feeling suicidal, whilst Addo shook Billy’s hand and asked him to take a blow.

Cokey replaced Iain and bowled five tight overs before becoming embroiled in an argument over no-balling with the umpire, Stan Trafford, a man who does seem to court the controversial limelight. Addo himself replaced Cokey and bowled unchanged until the closure of Buxton’s innings. Meanwhile, Billy switched to the Road End after Mauler had finished his spell, yet still couldn’t get either his run-up or direction right and was pulled off after bowling 10 (ten) no-balls and a wide in a two-over spell that seemed to last forever.

We were looking extremely ragged in all departments. Our fielding was abysmal, exemplified by L’oréal throwing three consecutive returns from fine-leg at least five tracks down the square from where I was stood. Darren Carr B.Sc., playing his first game of the season since returning from university, pulled a hamstring while chasing a ball early on and had his attempt to hide at slip scuppered by a strange magnetic effect he had on the ball. Everyone else seemed either strangely lethargic or totally uncoordinated, and it all got too much for Harv who yelled “Come on lads, we’re playing like a village outfit”. At the time, it did dawn on me to remind Richard that, technically, we were a village outfit, but a sarcastic quip wasn’t going to improve things. Everyone knew exactly what he meant, and everyone knew that he was right. 

village

Fortunately things began to improve, not least our over-rate, when Addo decided to bowl in tandem with Darren Carr. Dazzler, resplendent with six-inch sideburns and eight-inch fringe, kept the runs down, whilst the skipper went on the offensive. First to fall was Nick Smith, who had made a painstaking 39 in two hours, given out lbw as he swept at Addo. Bearman and Jackson, as if in a hurry to get out, followed their skipper back to the pavilion, their departures bringing Cuthbertson to the crease. He was still there when Johnson, Buxton’s number 3, completed a Tavaré-esque half-century from 138 balls, the first 28 of which were needed to get him off the mark. He finally fell just before tea for 56, made from 156 halls in 165 minutes, and was joined in the hutch by Cuthbertson who slogged a valuable 40 from only 36 balls before being snaffled by Dave Astle at long-off in the last over before the interval.

For the second successive week we had to go out after tea to bowl just four overs, during which time Buxton increased their total to 219 for 8, of which a colossal 46 came in extras. Our work was cut out if we were to win in what transpired to be only 39 overs. Addo, knackered after his 23-over spell, asked Drew to open with me so he could fill his lungs with smoke before coming out to bat. Hawky had loaned me his old Duncan Fearnley and I decided, at the eleventh hour, to give it a go, determined not to come off the pitch sounding like the proverbial ‘bad workman’.

workman selects tools he will shortly blame

Drew had been playing well in the nets and seemed brimful of confidence as he struck two early boundaries. However, he soon tickled a wide ball to the ‘keeper and was on his way, shortly followed by Harv who was dismissed in almost identical fashion to the previous week. Yet again we had started a run chase disastrously. At 21 for 2 Lovejoy walked stiffly from the clubhouse to begin a most uncharacteristic two-hour stay at the crease.

Slowly but surely we rebuilt the innings and took the score along to 69 for 2 at the start of the last 20 overs, which left us needing 151 to win, no small task indeed. We had to increase the tempo immediately and, thanks to some wayward bowling, began the final hour extremely well as we picked up sevens, eights and nines from the opening half-dozen overs. By now I had started to strike the ball quite well and went after the bowling, hitting Nick Smith back over his head for six. Two overs later I tried the same shot but mistimed it and chipped a catch to long-on having made a season’s best 76.

John Myatt joined Addo and looked like he meant business, brutally clubbing Smith out of the attack with two towering sixes. Cuthbertson’s return put a temporary brake on proceedings and he accounted for Mauler who had crashed a crucial, quickfire 37 from only 25 balls. By now we needed 32 from the last four overs: still a tough task, but with Cokey joining Addo we had to be firm favourites.

Billy Carr's nets the previous week

Addo sent the first ball of the next over soaring over the pavilion, but fell two balls later attempting to repeat the shot to leave us on 194 for 5. 173 runs had been made whilst Addo was at the crease out of which he scored only 49, a fact that illustrates the flexibility of our batting in that the various roles needed to be performed in a run chase are, arguably, within the scope of each and every member of our line-up. Iain Carr entered the fray and smashed only his second ball to the boundary. We all hoped that he had exorcised the memory of his bowling and could help Cokey guide us past the post. It was déjà vu (all over again): 22 runs needed off 18 balls. Cuthbertson bowled an excellent over, conceding only six runs, to leave us still slightly above the magical run-a-ball ratio. Unlike in the Newcastle game, however, we could afford to be more reckless, as defeat to Buxton, as improbable as that was, would not change the promotion picture.

The penultimate over yielded just five singles from the first five balls before Cokey was castled from the sixth attempting to launch one into orbit. At this point I had to don my pads again, since I would have to act as Darren Carr’s runner should he be needed to bat, a scenario that neither of us were looking forward to – both because of the match situation and the likelihood that our headstrong attitudes would in all probability lead to a full-scale row and/or run out. Meanwhile, Smudge had strolled to the wicket accompanied nearly every step of the way by Iain, who had come almost to the boundary’s edge to greet his partner. Heaven knows what they were talking about, but it probably had nothing to do with the match.

So, Bob Cuthbertson, the wiliest of campaigners, was to bowl the final over knowing that he only had to stop us scoring 11 runs, almost two-per-ball, to deny us victory. Could the impudence of youth outwit the imperturbability of experience?

anguish on the spectators' faces [Benjamin Toupein] 

The over began terribly: a dot ball. The throng of Moddershall supporters clustered in front of the pavilion wavered between teeth-clenched silence, nervous laughter and shouts of encouragement. Just a scampered single off the next ball and a leg-bye from the third left us needing nine runs from three balls. Addo, either resigned to the draw or drained by the tension, retired to the shower. Billy struck the next ball for two runs and followed it up with a single. It was a valiant effort but surely victory had eluded us.

With us requiring six runs to win, the Buxton skipper stationed all his fielders on the boundary for the day’s final delivery, including the ghostly wicket-keeper. It was difficult to envisage where a six could be hit. The longer leg-side boundary and the boundary straight back over the bowler’s head would normally be the likeliest areas, but a strong breeze blowing from long-on to third-man rendered this almost impossible. Compared to Smudge, playing his first full season in the first team, Cuthbertson must have been in this situation a zillion times more often. Doug Eyre, supping his third pint of Tennant’s Extra, seemed to be the only person enjoying it as we sat chewing the ends of our finger nails.

With the field set, Cuthbertson ran in to bowl; Smudge, hunched over his trusty willow, waited. The ball was delivered wide of off-stump and slightly short. Smudge rocked back, arching his spinal column, and played a cut shot, sending the ball airbound toward the point boundary. Time stopped. Nick Smith, the fielder guarding that part of the ground, shuffled in a few yards to take a comfortable catch…but then, amazingly, began to retreat as the ball was picked up by the breeze. It can’t, it, it…it has. It’s gone for chuffin' six!! 

Smudger in early middle-age

The ball had no sooner pitched on the dirt road than Mauler, Drew and I leapt into the air and started to run onto the pitch, screaming like maniacs. A couple of seconds later, when the initial surge of ecstasy had subsided and we realized what we were doing, we aborted the pitch invasion and waited as Smudge strode off triumphantly after almost being crushed by an Iain Carr bear-hug. The look on the faces of Buxton’s fielders was one of total disbelief; oddly enough, this was the same emotion going through Smudge’s mind, although his expression could not have been more different. 

A generous amount of beer passed over our tonsils that night as we reflected upon the most improbable victory in which I had ever been involved. Many are the moments in a season that can be singled out as crucial to a team’s fate, but that last-gasp six could well be the one that decides the outcome of our season. Whether it does or not, it was unquestionably one of the highlights of my time at Moddershall and I didn’t think Mr. Ian Smallwood would be forgetting it in a hurry either.

MODDERSHALL WON BY 4 WICKETS 

BUXTON 219 for 8 innings closed (60 overs) 
E Johnson 56, R Cuthbertson 40, N Smith 39, J Addison 5-78
MODDERSHALL 220 for 6 (39 overs) 
S Oliver 76, J Addison 49, J Myatt 37, T Budd 3-59

MODDERSHALL 20 points
BUXTON 8 points  

'AWNIOGO': NEWCASTLE & HARTSHILL (H)

As you can see, the author briefly played with N&HH star PF Ridgway at Wollaton. You will note the girth of both 
gentlemen, and also that the author was still in the midst of his hair neurosis, not yet fully having come to terms 
with the inevitability of his baldness. The brilliant Karl Glendenning (front row), still leading century-
maker in the Nottingham Premier League, wrote a charming and amusing profile of Ridgers here.

Saturday, July 1st

Already the season had reached July by the time we played Newcastle, one of our closest rivals in a tight promotion race. Having recently knocked them out of the Talbot Cup we were expecting them to come looking for swift revenge. The feeling in our dressing room is that Newcastle are a side that rely heavily on the efforts of two or three individuals, particularly those of Pete Ridgway, who was bound to be confident having taken 4 for 60 for Staffordshire in midweek against Kent in the NatWest Trophy. Even so, the league table suggested they would provide stiff opposition.

Addo won the toss and invited Newcastle to have first use of an easy-paced track that was sure to offer scant assistance to bowlers of all types, something that Mauler no doubt realized when he took his sweater after only five overs. His new ball partner, Coke, provided the initial breakthrough when he induced Andy Elliot to edge a leg-cutter and I took the catch behind at the second attempt. The Chief himself came off after eight overs to be replaced by Wayne, who bowled unchanged until the end of the innings.

Pete Ridgway was the second to fall, mistiming a pull off Hawk to give Addo a dolly at mid-on (I’m not entirely sure why he wasn’t grabbing at the time). At this point, with the two veterans, Martin Sands and Graham Wood, at the wicket, we really began to put the squeeze on Newcastle and by 4.00 pm only 91 runs had been scored from 37 overs. The pressure to accelerate was certainly the cause of Sands’ demise as he chipped Wayne to square-leg, where Harv took the first of two excellent catches high above his head. Following Dave Brock’s quick departure, Ruscoe joined Wood at 113 for 4 and helped take the score to 160 from 55 overs before he edged one of the rare deliveries Addo got to turn and again I took the catch at the second attempt, this time via the peak of my cap. They all count.

Emerging after the interval for the remaining four overs, Bunting, frustrated at the defensive ring, was prompted to try and smash Addo out of the ground, running past one to give me an easy stumping. After snaring this wicket, Addo then conceded 8 runs in two balls by attempting to bowl bouncers (!!) – bouncers that didn’t exactly have the Newcastle players scampering for their helmets. Once again it was Graham Wood that proved to be our greatest obstacle and without his unbeaten 88 Newcastle’s total would have been extremely skimpy.

So, we had an hour and a quarter plus 20 overs to bat; with a target of 198, almost identical to the successful run chase of our Talbot Cup quarter-final the previous month, the victory was very much on. We needed one major contribution with the bat and a good start and we would surely be riding off into the sunset with 20 points in our saddlebags, so to speak. As it happened, the start couldn’t have been much worse: I was taken care of in the third over, having managed just a single, offering a flimsy push at a useful away-swinger from Ridgway to give the ‘keeper a dolly. Harv followed two overs later, shuffling across his crease and playing on for a duck to leave us at 6 for 2. We both sat solemnly in the dressing room, wallowing in self-pity, completely depressed until Heardy broke the funereal silence…by laughing at us! Such compassion. This prompted Harv to say, “Come on Dog, let’s go down the pub and get pissed”. Obviously we had to stay and support our team, but we took the next best option and had an early pint or two.

Out in the middle things weren’t exactly improving as Mauler was bowled aiming a rather indiscreet shot at Chris Ridgway’s left-arm spin. Andy Hawkins joined Addo and together they moved the score to within 100 of the target before succumbing in consecutive overs. At 98 for 5 with 14 overs remaining it looked as though our chances of winning had disappeared; when Smudge was caught at deep mid-wicket soon afterwards Newcastle were clear favourites to win. 

Cricket in Scotland -- where Drew learnt the game...

Drew and Cokey represented our last realistic chance of pulling off the victory. Between them they kept the target within reach by regularly taking boundaries from the loose balls they received. However, there was a twelve-ball period (when Andy Hawkins uttered the immortal line “All we need is one good over”!!) when they seemed to play a little conservatively, especially against Chris Ridgway. The boundaries dried up and Newcastle regained the upper hand in a game that had been fluctuating all afternoon. However, the experienced pairing of Heardy and Cokey continued to pinch singles and with two overs remaining we needed 20 runs to win. Endgame.

We knew that Pete Ridgway would bowl the final six halls, so the damage would probably need to be done in the day’s penultimate over, to be bowled by his father. Coke responded to the challenge by spanking the first two deliveries for four, bringing the partisan sprinkling of supporters to their feet. We could only manage two singles from the next two balls to leave us requiring 10 runs from 8 balls. Then disaster struck as we lost two wickets in consecutive deliveries. First Cokey, having smashed 47 from 33 balls, was bowled whilst trying to hit the boundary that would have all but wrapped up the victory. Next ball, Wayne was run out by miles coming back for the second run, Drew trying to guarantee himself the strike for the final over. Wayne did not seem too impressed by this and wasn’t slow to air his opinions on returning to the pavilion!

'Bart' Stones wasn't best pleased to be run out first ball...

Going into the last over, all four results were still possible. We required 9 runs, Newcastle two wickets. I was praying for four wides or something equally charitable, but it wasn’t forthcoming as Pete Ridgway, amidst unbearable tension, kept his nerve by bowling straight and full to allow just a single from each of his first four balls. We now needed a boundary, something that would be almost impossible as the fielders started to disperse. From the fifth ball Drew scampered two runs to keep the strike and avert the threat of defeat.

It was all down to the final ball of the day and we needed three runs for victory. Probably the happiest man on the ground was number 11, Dave Astle, who had been spared the ordeal of playing his first innings in the 1st XI in the most trying of circumstances. Ridgway ran up to bowl, Drew swung hard…and lost his off stump! We had fallen short of a target that should have been made, but, after such a dreadful start and then a middle-order collapse, it was commendable that we got so close. Despite the disappointment, it had been a tremendous game of cricket, and as amateurs we should enjoy playing in such games, regardless of the result. 

MATCH DRAWN 

NEWCASTLE AND HARTSHILL 197 for 6 innings closed (60 overs) 
G Wood 88*, M Sands 39 

MODDERSHALL 195 for 9 (43 overs) 
K Colclough 47, J Addison 46, A Heard 36, A Hawkins 32, P Ridgway 4-65, C Ridgway 4-72

MODDERSHALL 8 points
NEWCASTLE AND HARTSHILL 8 points

'AWNIOGO': ALDRIDGE (H)**

Sunday, June 25  

STAFFORDSHIRE CUP, ROUND 3 

It’s fair to say that we knew as much about Aldridge Cricket Club as my dog knows about differential equations. However, we realized that they would also be in the dark about us (unless, that is, Doug Eyre’s sixty-year devotion to Moddershall has all been a big cover-up and in a moment of prescience back in the 1930’s he foresaw this fixture and spent the rest of his time as a spy for Aldridge compiling a massive dossier on their future opponents. But that was unlikely, I felt.) The unfamiliarity between the two sides gave the fixture something of an exotic flavour – well, as exotic a flavour as you can get with a team that speak like extras from a Brew XI advert. Yow awe-ROIT, mush?

Aldridge’s decision to bat first was undoubtedly based upon our shambolic fielding warm-up, but it was a decision that they would come to regret. Just as he did in the previous day’s league match, Mauler took a wicket before the score had left zero, producing a vicious climbing delivery that brushed a glove on the way through to Kitbag, who had been brought in as wicket-keeper for the day. Over the next hour Law and McNab restored the balance before we began to whittle our way through an extremely brittle batting line-up. Both these batsmen fell for 23, the former well caught at extra-cover by a now recovered Coke off Addo, and the latter brilliantly pouched by the rotund Kitbag, diving full-length, off Wayne Stones who had forsaken his spinners in favour of left-arm swingers and went on to return the excellent figures of 4 for 27.

Our niggardly bowling was augmented by sharp fielding as Aldridge – having only managed to strike 8 boundaries despite the fast outfield – limped along to 130 for 9 from the full 45 overs. It was never going to be enough. We began the chase full of confidence: Addo was seeing it like a football and, after we brought up the 50 partnership in the 14th over, began to brutalize the bowling. I contented myself with a supporting role and was gradually finding some form as the 100 was brought up inside 21 overs. With only a handful of runs needed, both Addo and I fell in quick succession and it was left to Harv to blast off the winning runs, which he did with typical panache.

After such a lack of competition during the game it was obvious that John Myatt, with pent-up energy to discharge, was spoiling for some sort of contest. So, with him having earlier claimed, ludicrously, he possessed “the best arm in the club”, Addo – Alpha Male pecking order issues at stake – decided to challenge him to a cricket ball throwing contest (distance, not accuracy). It was a pathetic sight, and one that ought to have been accompanied by trained medical staff, but there had to be a winner from amidst the mediocrity and, mercifully for everyone, it wasn’t Mauler. 

MODDERSHALL WON BY 8 WICKETS 

ALDRIDGE 130 for 9 (45 overs)
W Stones 4-27
MODDERSHALL 133 for 2 (30.3 overs)
J Addison 63, S Oliver 40

'AWNIOGO': BARLASTON (A)

Best  Kept  Village

Saturday, June 24

In the not too distant past Barlaston was voted, two years running, the Best Kept Village in Staffordshire. Obviously the panel of judges never bothered to inspect the cricket ground, as it hasn’t always been the best looked after or most picturesque of sporting venues. However, it appeared that the lads from Barlaston (another of Addo’s former clubs) had been working hard to improve things – not only did we find that the outfield had been cut, but also the wicket was straw-coloured and looked fast and bouncy; definitely too firm for Geoff Boycott’s keys.

Addo didn’t do the business at 1.45, so we were asked to have a bat. Some 47 overs later, at a quarter to five, the scoreboard showed 251 for 1 and half our team was searching for lost cricket balls. I was feeling a tad miffed having been able to watch more of the Rugby World Cup final than I would have liked. With what the pro called a “popgun attack”, baking sunshine, and a flat track, somebody invariably misses out on dipping their bread and in my form it wasn’t all that surprising that it was me.

Conditions were so good for batting that, when Lovejoy had cracked a problem-free and boundary-spattered half-century in 45 minutes, he met me mid-pitch, almost foaming at the mouth, and said “Dog, the league record is on”. Whether he meant highest opening partnership, highest team score, highest individual score, most bats used in a single innings, or some other record isn’t entirely clear; whatever it was, it didn’t happen (apart from the last one). Unfortunately for Addo, Barlaston’s bowling got a little bit straighter during his partnership of 161 with Harv and he had to content himself with the trifling score of 126 not out from 134 halls. Dickie, having carefully played himself in, started to move slowly up through the gears, timing almost everything, swatting balls through the covers with disdain and picking up big sixes with a flick of the wrists. His unbeaten 88, made from only 95 balls, included 11 fours and 4 sixes (three of which came in the last four balls of the innings) and was his first half-century of the season. That left only me out of our top eight batsmen without a half-century to my name (about which I was becoming mad as a speed-snorting sea-snake). 

Barlaston CC pavilion: original, pre-Box design

Our attempt to bowl them out would be difficult on a pitch of such true pace and bounce, and would almost certainly require us to take all our chances, maintain our intensity throughout, and perhaps be given a modicum of good fortune from Lady Luck. We started brightly when Mauler removed Taylor’s off-stump before a run had been scored, but things took a turn for the worse when Cokey staggered from the field complaining of dizziness. Addo, who himself had been seen drinking beer during the tea interval, put this down to Kev’s penchant for a pint or two whilst we bat. However, it transpired that Cokey had a long standing condition called Ménière’s Disease which affects the inner ear and causes the sufferer to lose balance. Disease or no disease, Coke has certainly brought balance to our side this year – boom-tish! – and it was quite distressing to see him zig-zagging off the field with vertigo. 

This setback forced Andy Hawkins into the attack and he immediately produced a gem of a delivery to account for Underhill. At 12 for 2 we had one foot in the door, and another couple of quick wickets would have put us firmly on the path to victory. Unfortunately however, we had to wait another hour and a half for our next success as Eric Riley joined his son (or possibly his grandson) in a stand of 114. Riley senior gave one chance early on, thin-edging a quick out-swinger from Seth, but I was caught flat-footed and didn’t go for what should have been my catch, the ball flashing away between myself and Mauler at slip to the boundary.

As the game moved into the final 20 overs, Harv and Wayne bowled five overs of buffet spin between them, putting Barlaston in with an outside chance of victory. That chance disappeared when the well-set Eric Riley holed out to long-on, where his colleague, Carl Underhill, kindly acting as a substitute fielder for Coke, took the catch with aplomb. Who said sportsmanship’s dead? Andy Hawkins then took the wickets of Darren Dutton and Riley Jr. (who had spent 42 overs flamboyantly compiling his 35 runs) to give us the distant whiff of victory. It wasn’t to be, though, as Neil ‘Emma’ Davies guided his team through to the full quota of batting points and a reasonably comfortable draw. 

Duke of York, Barlaston

A curious nickname is Emma, and one which makes me wonder how he acquired it. Perhaps it comes from some link with the celebrated English authoress Jane Austen, who wrote a famous novel of the same name. Austen died in 1817 from a condition called Addison’s Disease, named after its discoverer, the English physician Thomas Addison. Addison’s Disease is connected with defective functioning of the suprarenal glands (situated above the kidney) and frequently characterised by bronzy pigmentation of the skin. Our own professional, Jon Addison, had a kidney removed as a child, and he does have undeniably bronze skin. While the coincidence is undeniably spooky, it also has nothing whatsoever to do with Neil Davies or Emma; rather, it just happens to be the least tenuous link I could think of to shoehorn this piece of Addo-related trivia into the report. Please accept my unreserved apologies. 

Our post-match mood was reasonably positive on account of us all eagerly anticipating the following day’s Staffordshire Cup clash with Aldridge – all of us except for Smudger, that is, who wasn’t aware of the game and consequently had the task of telling Kim that their planned day out in Blackpool would have to be postponed. Harv, obviously delighted to be back in form, was keen to have a quick shower and leave for a few beers with his mates, but sadly he was unable to wash ’n’ go – as he rinsed his hair contentedly, Hawk kept tipping more and more shampoo onto it. The harder he rubbed to get the shampoo out, the more suds appeared, to the point where he was staggering blindly around the changing rooms with a white Afro. The old ones are the best, eh Minty? 

MATCH DRAWN 

MODDERSHALL 251 for 1 dec. (47 overs) 
J Addison 126*, R Harvey 88*
BARLASTON 176 for 6 (50 overs) 
E Riley 77, R Riley 35, A Hawkins 3-42

MODDERSHALL 8 points
BARLASTON 5 points

'AWNIOGO': BURSLEM (A)

Cobridge traffic lights from above, with the site of the old Burslem ground in the extreme bottom-left

Sunday, June 18

Burslem. The very name itself conjures up a wealth of images: derelict factories, crime, seedy nocturnal activity, Port Vale supporters, dodgy backstreet pubs and hostile cricketers. A player from one of our opponents earlier in the season suggested that there are normally more animals around Burslem’s pitch than there are at Betley and Ashcombe put together. I don’t know about that, but all these factors make playing at Burslem’s ground a memorable, if sometimes potentially intimidating experience. After having had two poor seasons since they came fourth in section ‘A’ (most of which time has been spent mourning the loss of their beloved Dave ‘Foll’ Follett to Middlesex, via Leek), our ever amiable opponents appear to have a stronger side this year. We kept an unchanged team (for the first time this season) in the knowledge that a drastic improvement was needed if we were to come away with 20 points.

Addo won the toss and asked Burslem to have first use of a sluggish looking pitch that had the same brown tinge as the balti I had ‘recycled’ earlier that morning. A couple of rather indifferent opening spells from Iain and Mauler allowed Burslem to get off to an excellent start as they raced to 69 without loss in only 14 overs. It was a roasting afternoon, one in which concentration can easily waiver, yet we desperately needed to restore some discipline to our bowling as the game was already beginning to drift away from us. On came our two most dependable seamers, Seth and Coke, who ended up bowling a couple of marathon spells right through until tea. It was a staggering effort and exactly what was needed as, almost immediately, we clawed our way back into the game. During the two hour and ten minute period over which they shared 38 overs, only 85 runs were conceded whilst we picked up eight valuable wickets. 

View down Etruria Road: Burslem sightscreen just visible behind trees

First to fall was Burslem’s professional, Steve Lowndes, trapped lbw in Andy Hawkins’s first over. He didn’t appear overly thrilled with the decision but his complaints rang a touch hollow considering his tendency to thrust his pads down the line with his bat well hidden. Next, Rob Hewitt, who had been scoring quite freely, skied a catch to Harv at mid-off, clearly frustrated at being shackled by Cokey. With the inexperienced pair of Rowley and the younger of the two Lowndes brothers, Chris, at the crease, the brakes were squeezed still further. Rowley was dropped at cover by Bazzer but couldn’t take advantage of his escape as he crawled almost strokelessly through over after over. Eventually Coke’s metronomic accuracy forced Lowndes to nibble a catch to me, stood up behind the stumps, and to everyone’s surprise it stuck. Burslem were in danger of undoing their excellent start.

Colquhoun came in and attempted to pick up the run-rate but his efforts were nipped in the bud by an excellent catch at deep backward square-leg by Mauler which left them on 120 for 4. By this time Rowley realized he couldn’t go on blocking indefinitely and he ran down the pitch at Cokey. The ball bounced a touch, as well as leaving him off the wicket and I completed the stumping with what Coke described as “the touch of a rapist”. Kevin Beattie came in and looked in sparkling form for the one ball he faced, 129 for 6 becoming 152 for 8 by tea, with only the third Lowndes, Paul, remaining of the recognized batsmen. 

Kevin Beattie's birthplace

We felt it was important to polish them off pretty quickly after the break so as to permit ourselves as much time as possible to knock off whatever total Burslem could reach in their final eight overs. The score had moved steadily to 176 before Cokey took his sixth wicket, giving me a fourth victim as he lured Blood out of his crease with a fullish away-swinger. Lowndes was then snared in similar fashion to his eldest son, to leave us 70 minutes and 20 overs in which to bat. Although having the advantage of running downhill whilst Seth toiled up the bank, Cokey bowled admirably in the searing heat – particularly for a 42-year-old asthmatic! – to record figures of 22-8-50-6. I’m pretty sure he will have enjoyed the now customary pint that greeted him as he dragged his weary bones up the pavilion steps! 

If we could avoid any early catastrophe, the points were there for the taking against an attack that was certainly far friendlier in terms of ability than it was in attitude. They do seem to like to get themselves wound up over nothing, and at one point, when Steve Lowndes screamed aloud as though he had been shot in the kneecap, ostensibly because he’d got one to go past the outside edge, Addo advised him to “chill out, man. Enjoy it, relax”.

Amidst the chirping, we started solidly yet unspectacularly, reaching 30 without loss from the opening 10 overs. As there was nothing especially exciting happening to entertain an ever more sizable crowd (I refer you to the opening paragraph), I decided to amuse them by changing bats at the end of virtually every over. Not to be outdone, Addo decided to call for a sweater, then a cap, then had them both taken off. This constant coming and going of kit did nothing to help our concentration, nor the appalling over rate, and in the thirteenth over (unlucky for some) both the pro and I chipped catches to Paul Lowndes who was lurking on the mid-wicket boundary. It was ironic that, despite my incessant bat-swapping, the only shot I managed to time properly was the one which got me out! I stood my ground, unsure as to whether or not the ball had been grounded, but the umpires told me I had to go, so I did, albeit rather disgruntledly. Peeved at the home team’s go-slow tactics and annoyed at getting out, I turned to an old spectator who had been bellowing abuse at all of us throughout the afternoon and gave him a piece of my mind, hoping for peace of mind.

Back out in the middle, Harv, whose form was as sketchy as mine, got a pull shot high on the bat and dollied a simple chance to mid-on. With only ten minutes to go before the last 20 we were in a bit of trouble at 39 for 3, but this dismissal brought together Andy Hawkins and John Myatt for the partnership that won us the game. It has to be said that our skipper was none too confident of our victory chances at this stage; in fact he turned to someone in the crowd and said, with complete certainty, “we’ve blown it”, but the two batsmen set about some pretty average bowling with relish and the asking rate of 6.5 runs per over soon began to tumble. I imagined Seth telling John at one of their regular mid-pitch conferences, “All we need is one good over.” Whether he did or he didn’t, that is exactly what we got. Three of ‘em. These three overs yielded 39 runs; the victory post was moving steadily into view.

By now Mauler, who had started scratchily, was blasting his way back to form and had began to club sixes onto the Cobridge Road, the best of which was struck off the very first delivery of leg-spinner Rob Hewitt’s spell. Whether Mauler knew it was a googly, a flipper, a top-spinner or a normal leg-spinner is open to debate (it is probably debatable that Hewitt himself knew), but the ball nevertheless sailed out of the ground and into the forecourt at Ken Jervis’s Mitsubishi garage. All this time Seth had been stroking the ball around serenely and played the unrivalled shot of the day, a sumptuous back foot drive off Steve Lowndes. 

Mitsubishis: good memories (or not, as the case may be...)

When John holed out moments after completing his first half-century of the league campaign, and then Drew fell cheaply thanks to an unbelievable catch at long-off, it seemed that we might be spluttering in sight of the finish line. Not so: Andy guided us through to victory, scoring his own half-century in the process. However, the winning blow was fittingly left for 6-wicket Cokey and he clipped Chris Lowndes to the square-leg boundary to cap an excellent weekend for him and give us a much needed 20 points. 

How long ago it seemed since Moddershall 1st XI’s first ever game in the North Staffordshire and South Cheshire League, back in April 1990, when we came to Burslem, were called “Mickey Mouse” all day, yet still won the game having been bowled out for 112. Well, the boys from Disneyland came back and gave you a beating again!! 

MODDERSHALL WON BY 4 WICKETS 

BURSLEM 176 all out (58.3 overs) 
R Hewitt 39, K Colclough 6-50, A Hawkins 3-41
MODDERSHALL 177 for 6 (35.2 overs) 
A Hawkins 55*, J Myatt 53, C Lowndes 3-38, S Lowndes 3-60 

MODDERSHALL 20 points
BURSLEM 7 points