Big Score, Little Score

25/07/2010

The Saturday Team beat Old Bristolians Westbury by 4 wickets.

When we arrived at Old Bristolians’ ground two oddities were apparent. First, there was a very loud Its A Knockout stag and hen party occurring next to a lido in an adjacent field. Second, despite the wicket having been under covers to protect it from the week’s rain the foe had opted to play on a wicket that had not been covered and therefore had a slight moistness on the surface, not unlike Uberpops when autumn approaches.

And so Ubes ambled to the dam patch for a toss that he  won, he elected to bowl and ambled back to the sound of his brave boys grumbling that they wanted to bat. This probably owed much to the Saturday Team’s inability to chase even the smallest of totals and the fact that we did not have the strongest of bowling line ups compared with the mighty 6 we started the season with.

With the sound of a verbose commentator in the next field shouting out the team names, that included “The Up Hill Gardeners” and “The Marmite Miners”, the foe’s openers strode to the crease like repressed homosexuals in the company of all their man friends faced with the imminence of their impending nuptials.  What followed did bare more than a passing resemblance to an Its A Knockout game as Dutch and Garner ripped through the upper order reducing the foe to 32 for 9 in 13 overs. Indeed the Cloggmiester bowled like a god, replacing venom with ruthless precision and returning figures of 5 wickets for 10 runs sending a precession of batsmen back to the pavilion/shed with the sound of Stuart Hall’s laughter ringing in their ears. Garner bowled more like Dicky Fartpants but returned figures of 3 wickets for 16 runs demonstrating that paternity leave can do wonders for your late in-swinging yorker (no ladies, that is not a euphemism, or is it …).  It is an indication of just how well he bowled that he managed to keep his bowler’s turrets under control, and to some extent his bowler’s bowls as well.

Ironically the wickets included a stunning run out by Strange of a batsman called Collingwood (which brings to mind that your humble correspondent can’t wait for an instance of ‘Ball bowled Strange’ in an inter-club friendly). There was also a little heated debate between Iggy Iggins and the foe about a catch that we all felt was obvious but the umpire maintained came of the batsman’s foot… my arse.

The warm moistness of the pitch and the claustrophobic over cast conditions were allowing the new ball to swing and making it difficult for the batsmen to get the ball away. It was obvious by now that it was an inspired decision to bowl first but the grumbling continued because nobody wanted to admit that Ubes had made the correct call. So there we were, Tinx was blissfully watching hen party guests in wet T-shirts instead of supporting his team but we were going to get the foe out for less than 40, knock off the runs in 10 overs and then, as Ski suggested, have time for a game of 20/20 before the pub opened. What could be more idyllic?. Ski has not played for the Cowboys for about four years because he has been having it large down under, so he can be forgiven for not understanding that this is not how we go about things in the modern age. Tinx is more aware of our modus operandi and so can be forgiven for being more interested in an afternoon spent studying peanut smugglers.

Of the top 9 batsmen the most prolific had scored 4 but then Gibbo and Rob came on to bowl and as Gibbo put it: “as soon as Rob T and I came on to bowl the ball went soft and out of shape, lost its shine and stopped swinging. The overhead conditions improved, the pitch flattened out, our fielders started making elementary mistakes and the standard of umpiring steeply declined.” Yes gentle reader the last two put on a stand of nearly 60 and got the foe to 90 all out in 28.2 overs. As the runs mounted Garner’s oldest Aurora could be heard shouting “I want Daddy’s team to win”. Heads went down and fielding errors crept in. The batsmen were so settled that it took a fluke to get number XI out, he jumped out of the way of one heading down leg, caught it on his heal and sent it into his own stumps.

With tea not ready we went straight in to bat. Grove and Ubes strode manfully to the crease (except Ubes minced slightly because Grove did not feel up to it) and as Dicky Fartpant put it: “Strangely, all of the playing conditions seemed to revert to those of the first innings immediately as Steve O and Grove strode out to bat. With the exception of the music.” Indeed the ball had firmed up and started swinging again but it was not that which did for Grove, instead it was the season’s third catastrophic breakdown in communication between Grove and Ubes, this time seeing Grove returning to the pavilion/shed. For God’s sake boys learn the same language; there are only three things you have to shout – “yes”, “no” and “I am not rightly sure at the moment but would like to hope from foot to foot for a bit just outside my crease before finally making my mind up”.

Ubes minced back shortly afterwards, caught behind and having the good grace to walk. Strange and Cuthill went in and biffed a few 4s which is just as well because hailing from north of the border as he does Al calls “aye laddy”, “nay laddy” and “mabee wee beasty”. Aurora by this time was calling “Alan keep the heeed”. When wee Al danced down the pitch to a slow one from a portly gentleman of a certain age and was stumped he was greeted upon his return with scorn by young Aurora: “Alan why didn’t you keep the heeed”. Ouch and indeed touché!

When Strange following stern orders not to hole out this week  stood and watched one hit his stumps and Ski planted the ball deep inside the slip for a superb duck it looked like it might be déjà vu all over again. As Dutch strode to the crease we all held our breath except for Tinx who was still heavy breathing in the hedge despite the fun and games having ended an hour earlier. Edamski biffed 23 before biffing one that was gently plucked from the air by a fielder. Things calmed down as Gibbo and Iggy Iggins brought us home for the loss of 6 wickets in 31.4 overs.

FEW!

MOM – Dutch

Cider moment – Aurora sledging Alan

See the full match scorecard

26/07/2010

The Sunday 1st Team beat Blackwell Flax Burton and his chums by 4 runs. Neil reports thus:

Not the best start to the day as the Sunday 1sts attempted to match the 7 league-wins-in-a-row record shared by the Saturdays and Sunday 2nds, when, at 12.15, it was discovered that Sadat was too ill to play. James Tinks stepped into the fray, without too much persuasion needed, and it was game on versus Backwell Flax Bourton at their rather fine ground: Flaxmead.

Our dithering skipper tried to lose the toss, failing once more, and had to use the maximum permitted time to decide to bat first. A disciplined bowling attack from ‘The Flax’, a massive outfield and a slow, green wicket curtailed the Cowboy’s batting, Wilki with a stand out 49 helping us stagger to a 147 for 7 total.

A stunning start from the Cowboys bowling attack saw us into the driving seat as Backwell found themselves at 21 for 4. Gradually, a Backwellian partnership developed and the tables had turned. 147 was surely too small a target and with 7 overs to go Backwell were well placed at 125 for 6. The unbeaten run was over, excuses were beginning to form in Cowboy minds. Hang on there, hold those horses, 131-7, 133-8, 141-9 and into the last over. Backwell need 7 to win, more than a run a ball, up steps young Aran to meet his moment of destiny (for this week anyway) and bowls a wide, positive growling from the, by now, slightly deranged with pressure skipper. A single to Backwell. A clatter of wickets and the sound of flesh upon manly flesh as the Cowboys cuddle-fest begins.

Blimey.

See the full score card here

The Sunday Second Team lost to Portway by 44 runs. TT reports thus, originally posted at http://greenlung.blogspot.com:

Of all the appendages that homo sapiens has evolved, the medial malleolus is one of the least effective with which to catch a cricket ball. At least it was a unique, innovative method to choose. The hand thing hadn’t worked for anyone else, barring the notable exception of Ben Salt’s smart return catch and Jeff the keeper, who had gloves.

The day started early, having a chat with a fox up the allotment while harvesting stuff for tea, then DC2 came round to cut up dolphin in my kitchen. The sandwich malarkey was behind schedule when the call came through from the 1st XI to nick one of our players owing to their own deficiencies. We rolled with it and even ended up with jam appreciator and all round top gun Rich Grove to replace and bolster.

Portway’s opening batsmen were keen to get on with it after winning the toss, but some tight, unrewarded opening bowling by Mackie, assisted by the other one, limited them to below four an over and happily, a couple of catches stuck. Unfortunately, all this did was to bring better batsmen to the crease. We watched some of the biggest sixes hit at Frenchay and heard the tinkling of glass from the golf driving range and hoped they wouldn’t fire back. Some tried reasoning with the batsmen not to hit it quite so far, especially when we were having difficulty finding a replacement ball. They wouldn’t even let us continue with a brand new one.

Despite positivity in the field, the Cowboys couldn’t rein Portway in. They could induce one of their batsmen to fling his bat to square leg, but you don’t get points for that. Just giggles. Dave, Ben, Rich, Grant and Alan all bowled admirably in the face of the onslaught. The short square boundary didn’t help and did I mention the dropped catches and the fool who took one on the ankle? Even when the ball was caught and the batsman started to walk, the umpire wasn’t sure and the batsman curtailed his homeward hike.

So somewhat daunted then by the prospect of scoring 298 to win. Those nice ladies in the kitchen had done their bit by laying out all the sarnies, veg, dolphin and that. They even had the brew on. Nice one. People were heard to say with their mouths full that it was the best tea of the season. Good to see some friendly faces to support too.

And so to bat. What’s this? Who’s this? Excuse the novice Cowboy (and scorer for the first twenty overs) but which one’s George and which one’s Adam? Or is it Alan? No, that’s Alan spectating in the Tavern Stand. The one without the hat’s just smashed another four. Fifty up. So soon? Crikey! Game on.

After the loss of Adam at the end of a great opening partnership the Cowboys consolidated and pressed on. George, supported by Grant and the early order ended up with a personal best in the eighties, making it all look possible and Jeff, Rich and Ben all tried to keep the hope alive.

It would seem that the ankle bone isn’t connected to the batting bone and the No.7 batsman didn’t need a runner. After getting off the mark with a six it didn’t look like he was in the mood for running at all, but if the run rate was to be kept in sight then the slightly beguiling bowling required a bit of nurdling as well as spanking. Not spooning to the keeper off the back of the bat, although appealing when the batsman was walking was a strange custom, as was the Portway Haka at the fall of each wicket.

Dave and Mackie powered the lower order, the latter hitting his maiden six, followed immediately by another which won a few nominations for the cider moment, but it was unreasonable to expect him to do that every ball, which is what was required of the last couple of overs. In the end, 253 for 7 was a bold effort, leaving Stroddy and DC2 with their pads on, possibly salivating at the short boundary and what might have been.

See the full match scorecard here.

Not the best start to the day as the Sunday 1sts attempted to match the 7 
league-wins-in-a-row record shared by the Saturdays and Sunday 2nds, when, at 
12.15, it was discovered that Sadat was too ill to play. James Tinks stepped 
into the fray, without too much persuasion needed, and it was game on versus 
Backwell Flax Bourton at their rather fine ground: Flaxmead.

Our dithering skipper tried to lose the toss, failing once more, and had to use 
the maximum permitted time to decide to bat first. A disciplined bowling attack 
from 'The Flax', a massive outfield and a slow, green wicket curtailed the 
Cowboy's batting, Wilki with a stand out 49 helping us stagger to a 147 for 7 
total.

A stunning start from the Cowboys bowling attack saw us into the driving seat as 
Backwell found themselves at 21 for 4. Gradually, a Backwellian partnership 
developed and the tables had turned. 147 was surely too small a target and 
with 7 overs to go Backwell were well placed at 125 for 6. The unbeaten run was 
over, excuses were beginning to form in Cowboy minds. Hang on there, hold those 
horses, 131-7, 133-8, 141-9 and into the last over. Backwell need 7 to win, more 
than a run a ball, up steps young Aran to meet his moment of destiny (for this 
week anyway) and bowls a wide, positive growling from the, by now, slightly 
deranged with pressure skipper. A single to Backwell. A clatter of wickets and 
the sound of flesh upon manly flesh as the Cowboys cuddle-fest begins. 
Not the best start to the day as the Sunday 1sts attempted to match the 7

league-wins-in-a-row record shared by the Saturdays and Sunday 2nds, when, at

12.15, it was discovered that Sadat was too ill to play. James Tinks stepped

into the fray, without too much persuasion needed, and it was game on versus

Backwell Flax Bourton at their rather fine ground: Flaxmead.

 

Our dithering skipper tried to lose the toss, failing once more, and had to use

the maximum permitted time to decide to bat first. A disciplined bowling attack

from 'The Flax', a massive outfield and a slow, green wicket curtailed the

Cowboy's batting, Wilki with a stand out 49 helping us stagger to a 147 for 7

total.

 

A stunning start from the Cowboys bowling attack saw us into the driving seat as

Backwell found themselves at 21 for 4. Gradually, a Backwellian partnership

developed and the tables had turned. 147 was surely too small a target and

with 7 overs to go Backwell were well placed at 125 for 6. The unbeaten run was

over, excuses were beginning to form in Cowboy minds. Hang on there, hold those

horses, 131-7, 133-8, 141-9 and into the last over. Backwell need 7 to win, more

than a run a ball, up steps young Aran to meet his moment of destiny (for this

week anyway) and bowls a wide, positive growling from the, by now, slightly

deranged with pressure skipper. A single to Backwell. A clatter of wickets and

the sound of flesh upon manly flesh as the Cowboys cuddle-fest begins.

 

Blimey.

 


Blimey.