'AWNIOGO': NANTWICH (A)

Saturday August 19

Clambering out of the tardily-arriving Heardmobile at Nantwich, it was clear that we would again need plenty of Factor-15: the temperature, like Addo’s hairstyle, was firmly stuck in the 80’s. I suppose that Cokey, Bazzer, Drew, Tavs and all the other less young members of the first team squad can recall the famous Indian summer of 1976 when Viv Richards belted, tarmac melted, and milk curdled inside cows. Can it really have been as hot as this year?

With no time (or inclination) to warm up, I went for a quick browse of the wicket. The last time I played at Nantwich it was debatable whether the holes on the square were deeper than those in the adjoining cemetery, but this year they had obviously flooded it since, apart from the odd muddy looking wicket-end, it had a green tinge to the surface, probably an effort both to inject pace and to stop it from breaking up. However, we all felt that this appearance was misleading and that it would be slow and low, and so it proved when the first ball of the match – bowled by Shaun Brian after Addo had won the toss and elected to field – bounced about three yards in front of me and shot through for four byes. Lovely jubbly! When I had finished staring at my feet in dismay, I looked up to see Addo standing about fifteen yards away from me, glaring intently, brandishing a fist and clenching his teeth. I assumed that this gesture meant ‘come on Dog, get stuck in’, so I steeled myself for an afternoon spent trying to limit the damage on the most difficult pitch I would have to ‘keep on this season.

view across the square 

Nantwich got off to an excellent start, reaching 47 without loss in 10 overs. I didn’t think that either Billy or Barrington had bowled badly; it was a simple case of Nantwich capitalising fully upon the odd loose ball that was interspersed with the good stuff. Iain stuck to his task well and in the twelfth over was rewarded with his first wicket for a month when Lee Prince, who had not been batting as regally as his name suggests, slashed at a ball that was angled across him and offered me a simple catch.

The breakthrough brought to the crease the Nantwich professional, ex-Durham all- rounder Mark Briers. Last year Briers had played for Nantwich as an ‘amateur’ and finished second in the Section A bowling averages as well as topping the batting with an average of 87.2. However, as he was the professional for Cornwall at the time, the league deemed him to be an ineligible player and subsequently stripped Nantwich of all the points they had accrued in the matches in which he had appeared. This proved enough to send them down. 

Swanepoel -- but not the ex-Nantwich player, Adriaan
 

When their original professional, Adriaan Swanepoel, was forced to return to South Africa earlier this season due to a serious knee injury, Nantwich legitimately engaged Briers as a replacement, although it does seem a waste of money when Nantwich are not playing for anything because of their impending withdrawal from the league (a decision doubtless provoked by last year’s penalty). 

Anyhow, we were a little wary of his reputation before the game started but I reassured the lads by explaining that he couldn’t be any good as he had ginger hair. Good or no good, it was almost certainly his reputation that saved him from the embarrassment of a golden duck when a straight, full delivery struck him plumb on his front leg, barely six inches in front of the popping crease. Committed conspiracy theorist I may well be, but I am pretty sure that a lot of umpires are disinclined to give a professional or ‘big name’ player out early in an innings for the simple reason that they want to watch them bat! After this lucky escape, Briers went on to bat for over an hour, compiling 33 runs, all but one of which came in boundaries. Cokey’s nagging accuracy eventually forced him into a reckless shot and he was bowled.

By the time he had taken this wicket Cokey was bowling very tidily, fully exploiting the morsels of help that the track was offering him. He continued to forage away on off-stump or just outside, nipping the ball both ways, and he fully deserved the wicket of Davies who had spent 2 hours in making a scratchy, unconvincing 52. Having beaten his outside edge at least a dozen times, Coke finally got him to nick one and I was presented with another easy catch that left Nantwich on 137 for 3 as we took the second lot of drinks. 

Entering the session’s final hour, the game was intriguingly poised. We had only bowled 33 overs, so, rather than attacking, we had little choice but to send a few quick overs down. The two batsmen, Marsh and Symns, were playing in markedly contrasting styles against some probing spin from Addo and Harv, the latter of whom was looking uncannily like Cary Grant due to the sweat that had flattened and parted his usually rigid Barnet. Marsh was using the full extent of his considerable bulk to launch into anything even slightly over-pitched whilst, initially at least, Symns seemed happy to block. Then, suddenly, he sprinted down the pitch at Harv, missed, and gave me the chance to take off the bails, have a cup of tea, read the paper and recite the Lord’s Prayer all at the same time. It took me back to my days in the Staffordshire under-11s when many a batsman was dismissed by the same formula: stumped Oliver, bowled Harvey. This phrase has now found its permanent place in cricket’s Hall of Fame. 

Staffs U-11s: Old Trafford, 1984
(Harvey and Oliver at each end of front row)

The most noteworthy incident of this partnership took place not on the square but along the top boundary, in between the sightscreen and pavilion. As we toiled away beneath the sun’s unremitting rays in air so still it could have been an artist’s model, a bizarre, isolated wind picked up and blew along for what cannot have been more than fifteen seconds, swirling people’s hats into the air and knocking over a sturdy looking bench. Then, just as abruptly as it had appeared, it died out. ‘What in the name of Jesus H. Christ was that?’ I thought. It could have been some sort of supernatural energy-ball, or a poltergeist, or a small tornado, or even a particularly powerful bottom-burp. Cokey told everybody it was “just a twister” and reassured us all that it was nothing to panic about.

If that wasn’t sinister enough then, a little later, something even more extraordinary happened. No, Addo didn’t bowl an over without changing the field. About half-a-dozen overs before tea, Marsh drove Harv for a straight six into the graveyard at the bottom end of the ground. No doubt thinking about our sluggish over-rate, the umpire immediately reached into his pocket for the spare. Shaun Brian had not noticed this and was busy looking for the quickest way of entering the graveyard. Yet before he had chance to go and retrieve it, and before Harv could turn his arm over with the spare, the original ball flew back onto the outfield, apparently of its own accord. The immediate theory was that it had hit a gravestone and ricocheted back. This seemed implausible, a case of scared people trying to pacify themselves. The length of time between the ball disappearing over the hedge and re-appearing on to the outfield discounts this, unless it did a bit of pinball. It was definitely the result of paranormal activity. If there’s something weird / in your neighbourhood / who ya gonna call? / GHOSTBUSTERS! 

Bustin' makes me feel good

Anyway, in amongst the afternoon’s more surreal happenings, there was an important cricket match being played. By the tea interval Marsh and his skipper, Andy Newton, had taken the score to 213 for 4 from 51 overs. As we came off for some much needed refreshment one home supporter commented, rather loudly, “I don’t know how this lot are near the top of the league. We’re a much better side”. Could we make him eat those words?

A couple of our players rather naïvely thought that Nantwich would declare, if not at tea, then soon afterwards. I was sure they would use their full complement of overs, primarily because – let’s face it – it is more fun batting in hot weather than fielding. If that wasn’t reason enough then the fact that there was a smidgeon of animosity between the two sides, and that their pro was injured and unlikely to bowl, was certain to dissuade them from dangling any sort of carrot. Smudge wasn’t too thrilled at this prospect and threatened to “twat them” if they batted for the full 60 overs.

So, with a maximum of nine overs still to bowl, we took the field knowing that Nantwich could put the game out of our reach. We had to try and bowl these overs not only as quickly as possible, but also as economically. Marsh seemed eager to attack but was denied much of the strike by Newton who, unlike his more illustrious namesake, Sir Isaac, didn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation and just blocked out ball after ball, seemingly intent upon denying us bonus points at the expense of killing off the game. Meanwhile, our over-rate wasn’t helped by Drew who was carrying a bottle of frozen Tango around with him and thus wanted to field on the boundary at all times, even when the situation required him to come into the ring. Eventually we finished our overs having picked up one further wicket, that of Newton, who gloved a ball to slip off Addo that had, rather ominously, gone straight through the top. 

Sir Isaac 

We were left with the daunting task of having to score 250 to win in an hour and five minutes plus the last 20 overs. During the changeover the more experienced and level-headed members of the side were saying “let’s just get the 175”, whereas the more wildly optimistic among us were thinking solely in terms of victory. Admittedly, it was an improbable target, but definitely not impossible. Besides, when it comes to batting, we are, by nature, a cavalier side and will chase targets to the point of being suicidal. It was that method that had got us where we were. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Cokey was so sure that this was a chase too far that he offered to eat my father’s sun hat if we won…

“Come on then Dog, it’s Dean and Cartledge time: shot-a-ball”, said Addo enthusiastically as we walked out to begin the chase. Well, I certainly obliged. The first ball I received, from French, the medium-paced left-armer, was shortish and angled across me. I slashed hard, got an edge, and was caught by Marsh at second slip for a golden duck. Well, I suppose if you’re going to get a blob then there’s no point hanging around all day for it!

With French bowling from one end, one would have expected Jennifer Saunders to be on at the other. Instead, it was the not-so-absolutely-fabulous Mark Symns who would try his luck, and in the seventh over of the innings he had Addo caught behind for 25 as he tried to cut a ball that was much too close. Next man in, Andy Hawkins, strode to the crease hoping to bat better than he had bowled, and joined Harv in an excellent little partnership of 45. During this stand, Nantwich had introduced Briers into the attack and he immediately settled into a rhythm, completely flummoxing Seth with his googly in an over that only cost a single run. Clearly we could not afford to get bogged down and it was fortunate for us that Briers, severely impeded by a groin strain, had to be withdrawn from the attack. 

not the Nantwich new-ball attack

As in so many other of our seat-of-the-pants run chases, we lost a crucial wicket just as it appeared that we had established a platform from which to push on. On this occasion it was Harv who fell, having made a fluent little 31. During a light-hearted net-practice in the week I had joked with Dickie that he couldn’t play off his legs (whilst he said that I could do nothing but!). Today he did nothing else but punch ball after ball through the on-side, making it quite tough to bowl at him. However, he tickled a regulation ball from Symns and was caught behind, once again succumbing in his thirties.

Harv’s dismissal came in the middle of a four-over period leading up to the final hour in which we scored only ten runs. This stutter left us requiring a mammoth 169 runs from 20 overs at nearly 8.5 runs per over, a task that no other side in the section would contemplate, especially with numbers 1, 2 and 3 sat in the hutch [how quickly Twenty20 would change perceptions in cricket – nevertheless, they had no obligation to have 4+2 in the circle]. If Nantwich were in any doubt as to our intentions, then 18 runs from the first two overs of the last 20 surely laid them to rest.

Having himself replaced Briers, Andy Newton brought on Marsh at the Cemetery End to replace the tiring Symns. This could have been a strategy to keep us interested in the chase – with the accompanying aim of buying a few cheap wickets – yet it had the unexpected effect of slowing down the run-rate as the hulking Marsh’s opening two overs of off-spin cost only 7 runs. In between times, Newton picked up the wicket of Iain Carr for 17 and suddenly the asking rate had soared to almost 10 per over.

scoreboard pressure at  Nantwich CC

Kev Colclough, who I had to coax into strapping on his pads, was sent in at number 6 in the hope that he could feast rather better on the fayre being offered out in the middle than he could on the sandwiches he was munching his way through. Armed with his trusty long-handled mooing-stick, Coke meandered out to battle and almost immediately began to wreak his own special brand of savagery: 45 runs were garnered from the next four overs as cultured strokeplay took a back seat to good, old-fashioned thuggery.

Still Newton and Marsh persevered. The latter, clubbed for 17 in his previous over, had an extremely vociferous appeal for a stumping against Cokey rejected but was brought off, along with his captain, with 8 overs remaining. At this point we still required 71 more runs and Newton decided to revert to his two opening bowlers in an attempt to split the dangerous combination of Coke and Hawk.

Having passed 50, Hawk had begun to play sublimely, mixing deft placement and aggressive running with shots of immense power, particularly his trademark slap-drive. Symns’ returning over only produced three runs as Coke struggled to adjust to the change of pace, and when the following over was rescued with a timely last-ball boundary it was evident that the pressure was still very much on us. We shall never know whether Andy was thinking along the lines of ‘All we need is one good over’, but clearly that was not going to be enough and it showed when he was bowled by Symns for a fine 83 as he tried to give himself room to launch another shot through the offside. 

Nantwich were crying out for Swanepoel
(not this one, Candice, but Adriaan, the ex-pro)

The man entrusted with the job of helping Coke to score 53 runs from the final 5 overs was Drew, who had sat patiently throughout Seth and Coke’s exhilarating stand of 88. The atmosphere on the pitch was electric, with Newton marshalling his now ragged troops as best he could in the face of the Moddershall onslaught. The tension amongst our players was also showing and the normally unflappable Barry Brian, due in next, said it was “enough to make him want to take up smoking”. It is a good sign when somebody can retain their sense of humour in the face of such pressure, but still, I suspected that the only two people actually enjoying themselves were Heardy and Cokey. 

French, the lesser of the two bowlers, conceded only three singles from his first three balls, but then Cokey inside-edged a four to fine-leg and hoisted the following delivery over wide long-on for six as the required run-rate came down to exactly 10 with four overs remaining. Symns did as best he could in the next over, keeping the ball pitched-up, but when Cokey managed to clear the boundary with a mistimed drive to bring up his first half-century of the campaign, it appeared that the momentum we had gained would prove decisive. However, again French began his over, the third last, with three miserly balls that yielded only a couple of singles. The balance of game was literally fluctuating with each delivery. We needed something special to prevent this over from fatally derailing the chase, but with the boundaries well protected and Cokey looking tired it was not going to be easy. We had recognised that Kev was exhausted and tried to get his inhaler out to him, if only to provide him with a chance to catch his breath. Cokey refused. Obviously he would have much preferred a pint.

Previously content to operate in singles and twos, giving Coke as much of the strike as possible, Drew realized that something more was required and that the onus was upon him to deliver it. Well, deliver he did as the next ball went soaring out of the ground. This was followed by a firm clip off his legs that the badly limping Briers was unable to prevent from crossing the boundary. They had been two marvellous shots in the context of the game, but the one that followed, from the final ball of the over, would have been brilliant in any situation. French cleverly bowled a slower ball, but Drew picked it and waited before sending an exquisitely timed extra-cover drive through the eye of a needle, tantalisingly close to three fielders who were all unable to stop it going for four. For the very first time in our innings the asking rate was less than a run-a-ball as just ten were required. Surely the game was won…

who, exactly, was telling this story?

Addo seemed to think so and he dashed off to the bar to order a couple of celebratory jugs of ale. Nantwich brought their fielders in, as they had to, but a further four runs were gleaned from the opening three deliveries of Symns’ last over. With 9 deliveries remaining we were now within one hit of victory. However, just when we thought that the plot had exhausted all its Hitchcockian twists, Drew, going for glory, holed out to Marsh, his old adversary, who had been posted at cow-corner by the scorebox, and then Cokey, now on strike having crossed with Drew, failed to score off the next two deliveries. Addo rushed into the bar and told the barman to put the jugs on hold!

So, six runs were required with six balls remaining. French, whose second spell figures of 3-0-38-0 had done as much as anything to put us in a winning position, was not entrusted with bowling the final, crucial over. Instead, Newton turned to what was his only realistic option: the wrist-spin of Briers. Bazzer, who was on strike, is renowned as an excellent player of fast bowling but not so great against the slow stuff. To counterbalance that weakness, he had proven himself, both at Crewe Rolls-Royce in the league and Newcastle in the Talbot Cup, to be a cool head in pressure situations. If he felt half as anxious as I did then he didn’t stand a chance.

When the field had finally been positioned, Briers hobbled in to bowl the first ball. It was short, Barry rocked back and cut it away through the infield for what should have been two runs. However, the ball evaded the man sweeping on the offside boundary and skipped merrily over the line for four. The ensuing roar was better than anything the Boothen End could have mustered, but then again there were a lot more of us! The next ball was again short but Bazzer failed to connect and no run was scored. Then, from the following delivery, Barry was bowled. Noooo!

Boothen End: original version

Smudge, the hero of our victory over Buxton, was sent out into familiar territory with about thirty pieces of well-intentioned if slightly contradictory advice swirling around his head. If he was feeling nervous it certainly didn’t show. Whilst he took guard and looked around I lit my umpteenth consecutive cigarette and crossed my fingers. Briers moved in, fired it in flat, and Smudge oinked it away over mid-wicket. He came back for two and the Chase of the Century had been won.

Cokey, who had made a season’s best 63 not out from only 42 balls including 5 fours and 4 sixes, just about summoned the energy to raise his willow wand as he marched off to a huge ovation. Smudge, grinning like a Cheshire Cat (although not one from Nantwich), could only ask of his winning blow, “Did it go for four?” Obviously he had decided that the best way of reading Briers was with both eyes closed. 

Cheshire Cat

Barely able to contain our euphoria, the re-ordered jugs were guzzled down with glee. The gentleman who had wondered how we were second in the league had got an emphatic answer, and superlatives abounded as to how good a win this had been. Graham Hawkins said it was the best run chase he had ever seen, and he has witnessed a fair few! The victory celebrations were even sweeter when we heard that Newcastle had lost to lowly Norton and fourth-placed Ashcombe Park had failed to knock off 174 against Burslem. Although Bignall End had beaten Barlaston to remain five points clear at the top, we were extremely comfortably placed 25 points in front of Newcastle and 32 ahead of our next opponents, Ashcombe Park.

This win was our tenth success of the season, beating our previous best of nine wins which we achieved both last season and in 1992, our promotion year. The omens were all good on the day that the greyhound had caught the hare.

MODDERSHALL WON BY 3 WICKETS

NANTWICH 249 for 5 innings closed (60 overs)

R Marsh 71*, O Davies 52, M Briers 33

MODDERSHALL 250 for 7 (35.4 overs)

A Hawkins 83, K Colclough 63*, R Harvey 31, M Symns 4-77

 
MODDERSHALL 20 points

NANTWICH 8 points 

'AWNIOGO': NORTON (H)

Saturday, August 12

With Bignall End meeting Ashcombe Park in what we hoped would be a no-score draw, we had the chance to close the gap at the top of the table by disposing of the crack outfit from Norton. We had two changes from the side that lost at Kidsgrove: Shaun Brian replaced his father (no pocket money for Shaun this week) whilst Drew, having returned from Spain with an ear infection allegedly caused by two kids constantly nagging him for some “petaters”, came in for Cokey, the latter having gone to Wales.

Mick Caddie, the diminutive Norton skipper, called correctly at the toss and asked us to bat despite his best bowler having still to arrive. Runs flowed freely at the start of our innings as I got served the lion’s share of the freebies and tucked in heartily, hitting 10 boundaries on my way to a half-century, made from 51 balls. A ton was there for the taking (by someone else of course, because I have a negligible amount of self-control and was bound to play the Kamikaze shot I did, getting out caught at cover with the score on 91). 

what  Heardy had been spending 

Hussein, the slow left-armer who dismissed me, had obviously parked his sled and reindeers up the road somewhere, as only Santa Claus could have brought as many gifts as he did. Minty unwrapped his own presents, three full-tosses and a long-hop, in the space of one over, but this was clearly a ploy to lure him into complacency mode and he was soon trapped lbw by Les Sherratt, who had taken a day off from his preferred hobby of trainspotting. Both Harv and I learned a valuable lesson about complacency and as Dickie trudged off ruefully we found ourselves at 141 for 2 from 30 overs and really needing to press on and declare, for obvious reasons.

Addo had been batting like the West Indians in the Trent Bridge Test Match – unfortunately he was closer to Sherwin Campbell’s five-hour 40-odd than Lara’s quickfire century – and was on the verge of being slow hand-clapped when a change of bats also brought about a change in tempo. Having spent two hours reaching his half-century, he started to flay the bowling to all points of the compass, prompting Mauler to do likewise. Together they added 99 runs in 12 overs whilst I fantasized about the merits of backyard cricket, where the more batsman-friendly rules allow you to have at least one chance before you are dismissed. Those were the days… Instead of being out in the middle scoring runs, I spent the afternoon triple-jumping on the boundary with Wayne and Drew whilst reading them passages from an essay on the German existentialist philosopher Martin Heidegger’s Being and Nothingness, which I’m sure they enjoyed! 

Heidegger: possibly a Nazi

The declaration came at 4.30, after Mauler had clubbed Sherratt for 24 in an over to bring up his own 50 and the bowler’s ton. It was Mauler’s third half-century of the season and took only 32 balls, 21 of which were spent getting into double figures. Whether Addo realized it or not, his declaration left him stranded 8 runs short of what would have been his fourth century of the season, but it was the correct decision. For Norton to knock off the 240 runs, we reckoned, Mick Caddie would have to make about half of them. Whilst he is a useful and dangerous player (in fact his colleague and drinking partner, Iain Wain, considers him to be “the best batsman in the league” – I jest not!), he is over-reliant on a good eye and will always give the fielding side a chance. Darren claimed we had nothing to fear from a man who shares his seven-year-old son’s kit. 

As usual we bowled like drones to begin with, allowing 40 runs to be scored in the opening 8 overs, before Shaun Brian bowled Griffiths with an off-cutter. Caddie meanwhile vas playing a shot-a-ball and raced to fifty by clipping Mauler, who had replaced Iain Carr at the Pavilion End, through square-leg. However, John did get some reward when he forced West into nicking behind to leave Norton on 57 for 2. The incoming batsman, Richard Slater, looked tentative at first but then gave Caddie good assistance in a stand of 40.

Norton all-rounders ain't what they used to be...

Just as a glimmer of light was starting to appear for Norton we snuffed it out by taking three quick wickets that plunged them into deep trouble. Caddie led the procession as he scooped Wayne straight to Addo at mid-wicket. Wayne then trapped Clowes in front with a boomerang of an inswinger, before he returned Addo’s favour by taking a sharp chance at silly-point to remove Slater. With the scoreboard reading 102 for 5, victory would have been a formality but for the rare and unexpected appearance of rain. It was Sod’s Law that the first league match to be interrupted by the weather since June 10th had to be against Norton, of all sides, and just as we were moving in for the kill.

The light spots that had been falling for about ten minutes grew into a steady drizzle, and at 6.30 the umpires had no choice but to leave the field. The covers were pushed on (by everyone except Lovejoy and Mauler, who pleaded that there was a rule allowing pro’s and ex-pro’s to excuse themselves from this chore) and we retired to the dressing room waiting for the black clouds to blow over. The omens were especially bad, though, as Drew had confidently predicted that it would stop quite soon, and as everybody knows Heardy’s meteorological forecasting leaves a lot to be desired.

Fishy forecasting

As the rain came down, we tried to keep ourselves occupied in our own various ways: Addo smoked, Shaun climbed up things, Hawk strolled around, Drew stared dolefully up at the skies, Iain Carr went in search of Bernie, Smudge told everybody about the Cosworth he overtook the night before, I read my book, and Daz and Harv started flinging a cricket ball around the dressing room very hard. Apart from being annoying, this was also dangerous if you weren’t watching the ball, so I found them a sponge ball to use instead. Soon there was a full-scale volleyball match in progress and I decided, after my second blow to the face, that the only way I could go on reading was by putting on my helmet. Sure enough I was still being disturbed so I sat inside my coffin and attempted to ignore them. I had just got comfortable when Wayne crouched over me and farted into my grille, at which point I left…

Just before 7 o’clock, the rain subsided to a barely noticeable spit, but the umpires, bound by regulations, could not restart play until it had stopped completely. Thankfully, this happened to be at 7.20 pm, by which time we were left with 15.3 overs to take the last five wickets, a task that could well prove tricky with a damp ball.

Wayne Stones looking pleased with his bowling form 

Wayne, returning at the Road End to finish the over he had started almost an hour earlier, got things off to a brilliant start when he found the edge of Wain’s bat and presented me with a second easy catch. In his next over Bart struck again, clean bowling Willshaw with a yorker. His five-wicket haul, taken in only 23 balls at a cost of 8 runs, was completed an over later when Sherratt fended off a surprise bouncer straight to Darren Carr at second slip. Norton had crashed from 97 for 2 to 117 for 8, leaving us 70 deliveries to claim the last two wickets.

However, things became complicated when Howard and Hussein stuck around for over six overs, so Addo decided to take Wayne off and replace him with Barrington Brian’s extra pace. Considering Shaun’s erratic opening burst it was a calculated risk, but the gamble paid off when he castled Hussein with only his third ball. We knew victory was in the bag when Landon, the number 11, walked out to bat chewing on a carrot and Howard clearly didn’t trust his partner either as he flashed hard at Shaun allowing Hawk to take a fittingly brilliant catch at third slip. The 20 points hoisted us back into second place, above Newcastle, who had lost to Kidsgrove. We were now only 5 points behind Bignall End, who could only glean 2 points from their game with Ashcombe. Going into the final six games, consensus was that we were confident of promotion providing we won our fair share of tosses. It was certainly going to be close, but then again, walkovers are no fun at all.

MODDERSHALL WON BY 89 RUNS 

MODDERSHALL 240 for 2 dec. (42 overs)
J Addison 92*, S Oliver 51, J Myatt 50*, R Harvey 33
NORTON 151 all out (34.1 overs)
M Caddie 63, W Stones 5-25, S Brian 3-3 1

MODDERSHALL 20 points
NORTON 5 points 

'AWNIOGO': KIDSGROVE (A)

Saturday, August 5

Kidsgrove, as you have doubtless already worked out in your valuable spare time, is an anagram of SKIVER DOG, which is exactly what I felt like being on yet another steaming hot day [“I don’t know, these cricketers are a bunch of whining old goats. They complain when it’s raining, so I give them a bit of bloody sunshine, and they still moan” – God]. But then I started to think about what makes cricket the magnificent game that it is, a game in which the various attributes of determination, concentration, coordination, touch, strength, speed, agility, stamina, strategy and cunning are all completely unimportant as long as you can hold your ale and tell an anecdote or two about the time you scored 76 not out against Wes Hall on a minefield when he was bowling off 16 yards and you had cholera, a broken bat and blurred vision. So when I had given everything careful consideration, I decided to play.

Addo, Wayne and I pitched up in the Saab at 1.30 and whilst we were having a rather informal knock-up on Kidsgrove’s dangerously rough outfield, word got around that Stefan Read had a knee injury and they had recruited Northamptonshire’s Mark Bowen as stand-in professional. This would probably have worried us if we knew what he did. We would find out soon enough, though, as Addo lost the toss and we were asked to bat on a wicket that looked like John Moore’s hairstyle: the top had gone! However, the game was started five minutes late – due not to any sudden climatic change, but because Kidsgrove had no stumps! This was particularly ironic given the fact that there was a notice proudly displayed in front of the pavilion that read: Today’s match sponsor is P & L Joiners. 

Jeremy Snape

Anyway, once some stumps had been located, and after Addo had had the screens moved about a dozen times, the game was finally underway, with Bowen taking the new cherry. First impressions, from the safety of the non-striker’s end (“best place play ‘em,” Sir Geoffrey would tell you), were that he was quite nippy. He should have had Addo caught behind in the first over but the chance went down. With the wicket looking like it would break up, I called for the lid and prepared for some graft. Addo was struggling to time the ball and, after taking a thud in the ribcage (with the squeal of pain emitted before the ball had actually made contact), he let frustration get the better of him and chipped an easy catch to cover. Harv came in and got his head down, as we took the score to 65 before I was smartly caught and bowled by Fairbanks, the offie (like Kidsgrove’s most famous ex-player, Jeremy Snape). As always, it was disappointing to get out after doing most of the hard work but it was a mistake on my part and, rather ominously, the track was actually playing easier for our incoming batsmen.

Harv fell two overs later to leave us on 75 for 3, but Mauler and Seth batted extremely well in adding 70 for the fourth wicket. This partnership was particularly important for Iain Carr, due in next. Billy hadn’t realized this, and was sat kissing and cuddling with Bernadette, wearing nothing but shorts, shades and a smile when at the very least a box and thigh-pad is customary. John’s innings was, unusually, carefully constructed and he swept the heart out of Leese and Fairbanks on his way to a useful score of 33. While watching John’s innings, I had turned to Darren Carr and invited him to “come into the woods a minute; I’ve got something to show you”. Naturally, he was gutted when it only turned out to be the disused railway tunnel in which Kidsgrove’s infamous serial killer, Donald Neilson, aka the Black Panther, was reputed to have ensconced himself following the murder of Lesley Whittle in 1975. Then again, being a medical student, I suppose Dazzra quite enjoys peering into dark tunnels. 

tunnel under Kidsgrove's ground

Back at the cricket, Cokey had been sent in for a flirt but only made 11 before Bowen removed his off-stump. “Too quick for me, Bud” was the Cokester’s matter-of-fact verdict. So, with half an hour remaining before tea we needed some quick runs, yet couldn’t really afford to lose wickets. As Iain Carr walked out to bat with the game nicely poised Bowen was probably thinking about picking up a few wickets on the cheap. However, this Moddershall side is like a Manx cat: it doesn’t have a tail. Bowen got blazed for 33 runs in his last 5 overs as Billy started swinging the bat and Seth moved towards an invaluable half-century. 

By the interval our opponents had only managed to bowl 48 overs and whilst our score of 215 for 5 was good, it fell short of an ideal declaration figure. However, we had to give ourselves enough time to bowl out a Kidsgrovc team that bats a lot better than it bowls. During tea, most of the talk was centred on how the track was playing. Compared to last week’s wicket at Betley, it was a minefield. Graham Hawkins, our groundsman extraordinaire, was very impressed with the condition of Betley’s square but Addo, recalling the not-too-distant past, told Graham that Betley had had some problems a few seasons ago.

“Problems?” asked Graham. “What sort of problems?”

“They had some disease or other on the square. Alzheimer’s Disease, I think” replied Addo.

“Don’t you mean Fusarium disease?” enquired a bemused Mr. Hawkins.

“That’s the one”, affirmed Addo, blushing. 

fusarium

Tea was nearly extended by ten minutes when Stan ‘low profile’ Trafford insisted that he should be informed of our declaration by the captain in person, but common sense prevailed and we took to the field punctually and fully revved-up. Despite the short boundaries, improving track, generous target and strong Kidsgrove batting we had to think we had every chance of winning.

However, things couldn’t have gone much worse at the start of Kidsgrove’s reply: after only 8 overs we had used five different bowlers, none of whom had taken a wicket, and conceded 54 runs. Andy Hawkins started the rot. He had bowled only two balls (a long-hop that was pulled for four and a very wide wide) before coming off complaining of a sore toe. I suspected that the problem was exacerbated by another loss of confidence in his run-up and release, similar to last season. This match encapsulated the two sides of Hawky. Having played a brilliant, authoritative innings under pressure you might suppose that this success would have a positive effect on his bowling. However, confidence is a much more mysterious beast than that and the two disciplines of batting and bowling require their own, distinct pools of the stuff. At such an important phase of the season we desperately needed all parts of the machine to be functioning correctly, and Seth’s bowling was crucial to our chances and it was very much hoped that he could overcome this crisis as quickly as possible. Anyway, Andy’s aborted over was completed by Iain Carr who clearly struggled with the enormous foothole created by Bowen earlier, and bowled too short at Wellings who was merciless. Cokey tried his luck but he also couldn’t control his length and was replaced by Addo after conceding 17 runs in two overs.

After an hour’s batting the two Daves – Leese and Wellings – had taken the score to 67, at which point Darren Carr was introduced from the Pavilion End in place of Mauler, who had bust a gut without reward. His third ball spun sharply and bowled the dangerous Wellings middle-stump as he attempted to cut, a crucial breakthrough as Wellings had been batting ominously well, crashing 10 fours in his 42. His demise brought Johnston to the crease, but Dazzra soon hutched him up to leave Kidsgrove on 89 for 2. The game was back in the balance. 

Neilson

While Darren was bowling quite well, Addo plugged away from the other end. On a surface that appeared perfect for him to do some damage, the pro turned in a hugely under-par performance and struggled to get the ball to spin from a threatening line and length. He was convinced that he was bowling from the Wrong End, but couldn’t swap with Darren due to the short leg-side boundary. 

Bowen and Leese began the last 20 overs needing only 104 runs for victory and, consequently, we were forced on the defensive. Despite our change of tactics, they kept well up with the asking rate and ten overs from the end they still required less than a run-a-ball. Leese eventually reached his half-century having faced 122 balls, receiving good support from Bowen who, although limited, swept and off-drove well to maintain the run rate. We stuck to our task and managed to bowl a couple of tight overs that applied a bit of pressure and brought about the dismissal of Bowen, bowled by Addo as he attempted to slog-sweep. Leese should also have perished when Darren cleverly slipped the ball down the leg-side as he spotted the batsman giving him the charge. Sadly, I completely missed the ball and the opportunity went begging. I was guilty of losing my concentration at a crucial time and this missed chance was the nadir of what was by far my worst performance of the season behind the stumps. 

'Spyder' Stanyer with Yuvraj Singh

The fall of Bowen brought in Kidsgrove’s captain, Gary Stanyer, and he was involved in the game’s most controversial incident. Having only scored a single, he tried to sweep Addo but misjudged the line allowing the ball to sneak through to the leg-stump. Having dislodged the bails, the ball ricocheted on to my thigh and back on to the stumps. Stanyer stood his ground. The umpire at the bowler’s end, Roy Shallcross, consulted Stan Trafford at square-leg and then gave the batsman not out. The rejection of the appeal therefore implied that I had removed the bail myself. It was an incredible decision. We were furious. 

Only two balls later, Shallcross was again at the centre of things when Andy Hawkins’ attempt to run Stanyer out at the non-striker’s end almost decapitated him as he belatedly moved out of the way. The throw did knock Addo’s sun hat from Shallcross’ head but thankfully didn’t injure him. It was obviously a genuine attempt to take a wicket, but Stan Trafford could not resist over-playing the situation and he melodramatically turned to Hawky and told him to “calm down”. Far from being a constructive or appropriate piece of advice, this only served to inflame a situation that was under control and was typical of an overbearing, attention-seeking official. 

Harvey and Oliver on opposing sides, 2010

In the following over, Stanyer hit Darren Carr for consecutive sixes which effectively sealed their win, by which point we were, to a man, seething with resentment. Even the usually placid Harv allowed his emotions to get the better of him as he bellowed an appeal for lbw from square-leg to which Stan Trafford responded “not out…I expected better of you Richard”.

Dave Leese hit the first ball of the penultimate over to the boundary to rubber-stamp the victory. As we left the field, Andy Hawkins, having congratulated Leese on an excellent knock, approached Stanyer to give him a piece of his mind. “You’re a f***ing cheat, Stanyer. You were a cheat in the Kidsgrove League and you’re still a cheat now”. Needless to say, they didn’t continue their conversation over a pint afterwards. 

This defeat put us back into third place, 23 points behind the leaders Bignall End who chalked up their sixth consecutive victory by bowling Nantwich out for 92. However, we still had all the top sides to play so our destiny remained in our own hands. As for Kidsgrove, well, as was pointed out by Darren afterwards in an attempt to pick us up “they only won this game thanks to our positive declaration, something that Gary Stanyer wouldn’t consider doing in a Sunday friendly”. Regarding the question that Stanyer snidely asked whilst sarcastically applauding us off the field – “Where are you in the league now?” – then the best answer was: 53 points in front of you!

MODDERSHALL LOST BY 7 WICKETS

MODDERSHALL 215 for 5 dec. (48 overs)

A Hawkins 55*, R Harvey 33, J Myatt 3

KIDSGROVE 219 for 3 (43.1 overs)

D Leese 82*, D Wellings 42, M Bowen 35

MODDERSHALL 6 points

KIDSGROVE 20 points

'AWNIOGO': LEYCETT (H)

had an alien spacecraft...  Moddershall CC, slightly right of centre, 
with Moddershall Pool, the heart of the village, top left

Sunday, July 30

It is often remarked that cricket is a perverse, eccentric and as such quintessentially English custom (us being specialists at perversion and eccentricity) – for whilst most of the rest of the world take a siesta or go for a swim when it is hot, many of us pull on some daft-looking white clothes and run around after a small, hard red ball in highly intricate ways. Indeed, had an alien spacecraft landed at Barnfields, Spot Acre at 2.00pm on Sunday, July 30th 1995 for a three-hour exploratory mission into typical human activity, then they would have returned with the perhaps accurate conclusion that earthlings were a completely unhinged race. It might not have been quite as hot as it was at Betley the day before, but the air conditions were more suited to breaking the world long-jump record than playing cricket. I’m sure most people fancied putting their feet up and supping a few cold beers (and Cokey probably would do exactly that, come what may) but there was a job to be done against a flaccid Leycett side that were clearly there for the taking. 

The wicket on which the game was to be played was not the most over-prepared one on the square and if I did not know any better I would have guessed that our professional had a fair amount to say in the matter. Be that as it may, Addo did his first job of the afternoon and duly asked Leycett to bat. For a moment I thought that their openers were going to bring some Mr. Sheen out with them as the track was so dusty, or perhaps even a beach towel, but instead they opted to concentrate on conventional batting. 

Cricket on a beach? I'd had practice 3 months earlier

The opening hour of play didn’t progress too well for us as Heath and Waterhouse indulged themselves on a healthy diet of four balls and put together a useful stand of 64. One of the aforementioned boundaries brought up Jonathon Waterhouse’s 1,000 runs for the season and also lost our new cherry, not that this was necessarily an impediment as we were looking to get the spinners into the game early. One wag in Moddershall colours commented out of the corner of his mouth that it wasn’t all that surprising that Addo brought himself on to bowl when he did – after all, Wart was threatening to forge a lead in the race for the league record! Even less surprising was that Addo brought himself on at the end where Jim ‘Moddershall through and through’ Elton was umpiring. Jim had been pressed into action at the eleventh hour due to the non-appearance of the appointed umpire, but Addo was not going to get any special favours from Mr Elton.

As it transpired, no special favours were needed. From the moment Waterhouse edged an extremely wide ball into Mauler’s hands at slip, Leycett were on the slippery slope towards a nothing total. Indeed, had an alien spacecraft landed at Bamfields, Spot Acre at 2.00pm on Sunday, July 30th 1995 for a three-hour exploratory mission into typical human activity, then its occupants could have disembarked, padded up and done a lot better than most of Leycett’s batsmen. Their number four batsman was so thoroughly village that, had his innings been shown in one of those dull BBC 2 period dramas about boring upper middle-class families with an obligatory ‘cricket scene’ in them, you would probably have yelled at the TV: “that’s ridiculous. Nobody bats like that, not even uncoordinated four-year-old girls!” 

unconvincing cricket shot: Fernando Llorente (Athletic Bilbao)

At the other end to Agile, Darren Carr, who had figures of 0 for 29 after four overs, suddenly slotted into a groove and picked up the wicket of Heath, pegging Leycett back to 84 for 2. We were, quite literally, into the tail-enders, and soon both spinners were operating to 7-2 split fields. The peculiar thing was that the two fielders Addo had designated to patrol the Wrekin side of the ground were our two oldest: Coke and Barry. Perhaps Addo thought that it was more economical to use two forty-year-olds than four twenty-year olds (as Mr. Spock might once have said, “highly illogical captain”). Nevertheless, every ball seemed to carry a wicket threat; the batsmen were tumbling and catches were being held. Even I managed to hold one, as well as taking a couple of stumpings.

There was, as ever, one moment of controversy. It occurred when Dennis Elliott edged Darren Carr, the spin doctor, to Wayne at gully. Bart claimed the catch, the umpire gave him out, we congregated, then Addo called him back, unsure himself but prepared to give the batsman the benefit of the doubt. Elliott went on his way regardless, the bowler commenting that he was probably pleased he had something fresh to grumble about. The rest of the batsmen came and went with minimal fuss and we were left with the relatively easy task of scoring 146 to win, albeit on a deteriorating track that had more holes in it than OJ Simpson’s defence.

Had Leycett had a more dangerous new-ball pairing and better spinners, with better support seamers to back them up, then their total might have proven quite useful. The first ball I received, just the second of the innings, reared off a length and struck me on the right forearm; a couple of overs later, Addo tried to cut a ball that got too big on him but survived courtesy of a dropped catch by Elliott at slip. From then on it was a pretty straightforward chase. I nudged and fudged away whilst Addo spanked boundaries, and by the time we’d brought up the 100 in the 19th over the 20 points were in the bank and gathering interest. 

dog: tired

Before the formalities were completed, however, we were both dismissed: I played a tired slog off Lee Mason and was caught and bowled; Addo (probably because he fancied a fag) got himself stumped having made 81 from just 66 balls. The remaining runs were knocked off in a blur by Harv, including two huge sixes – a good job, too, as Mauler was being tied in knots by the pace, penetration, and patter of Dennis Elliott, a bowler he was very keen not to be dismissed by.

With another hard week at work around the corner (well, not for me, but you know what I mean), it was understandable that the boys should want to sink a couple of beers, understandable, too, that Mauler should seek to supplement his income by arranging a game of Killer pool. The people who put their quids into the hat were:

                       

                                    3/1F – Kev ‘Cyclone’ Colclough

                                    5/1 – John ‘Gale Force 2’ Myatt

                                    10/1 – ‘Mr Pot’ Scott Oliver

                                    33/1 – ‘Tornado’ Two Dogs Williams

                                    50/1 – Jon ‘Agile’ Addison

                                    100/1 – Shaun ‘The Breeze’ Brian

Well, they might as well have just given me the cash and saved themselves the trouble. The three outsiders disappeared pretty quickly, whilst Mauler did well but missed the pressure shots. Coke drank like Bill Werbenuik with a thirst on, but unfortunately for him also played like Bill Werbenuik, which left lil’ ol’ me to pouch the readies. Ker-ching.                

MODDERSHALL WON BY 8 WICKETS

LEYCETT 145 all out (43.3 overs)

R Heath 37, J Waterhouse 34, S Bethell 32, J Addison 6-27, D Carr 4-48

MODDERSHALL 146 for 2 (29.1 overs)

J. Addison 81

MODDERSHALL 20 points

LEYCETT 4 points