Match Report

Dunc’s report on the Sunday 1st Team game reads thus:

At long long last, the cricket season had become a reality by the 2nd weekend in May. I was beginning to ponder the notion of getting through to June without so much as a soggy squib of a start. But no, the erstwhile timid sun roared out as if it had never been away and the Sunday 1sts meandered into the field, Bolts having won the toss on what was expected to be a tricky batting track.

An early wicket LBW (!!!!) to Omar who also ensured a slow scoring rate from Stothert and Pitt made sense of this decision, but a correct, skilled and clever number three soon began to build a very good partnership via cuts and well timed pushes. The early inroad was not followed up, mainly due to the good batting but unfortunately down to a drop by Andy C., obviously distracted if not terrified by Martin’s exceedingly loud and historically premature celebration. The fielding had been of a decent standard though not stunning. Bowling likewise by the unfortunate but steady Martin, brisk medium paced Andy C., unusually unsuccessful Mark W and VC Deano. Until, that is, RT2 started a second spell which ripped through the middle order consisting mainly of nervous looking yoofs. But an old and familiar cricketing story of a big hitting no 8 began to rear it’s ugly head after this burst of Cowboy dominance, also including Jonsey’s LBW wicket (HUZZAH! HUZZAH!).

5×6’s and 5×4’s plus a few dodgy singles later, the S&P innings had waded through 8 different bowlers, accumulating a rather larger than expected 237 on what was actually a good batting wicket. Hmmmmm??

S&P then stuffed 90% of the sandwiches before we got a look in, leaving the munchy-attacked smoking latecomers somewhat bereft of sustenance, much to their annoyance. Meanwhile, Man City had bought the Premiership title for a few hundred million quid.

And so to the Cowboy reply. Slow starts are not always bad, even chasing high totals. However, this one was. The usual Bolts and Justin duo was swiftly broken, leaving the skipper to bat very briefly with Mark W, who then chopped a slightly wide ball onto his off stump. Your correspondent wasn’t really ready to bat this early despite 8 months of waiting. After a steady but slow short partnership, the inevitable daft run out situation left one batman 5 yards short of his ground (humph) and one wincing at the debacle over his shoulder. A steady flow of wickets, Bolts for 34, Jonathon for 2 and Rob for 9, fell. But amongst all this rather depressing news, a ray of light. The flashing if unconventionally held blade of Omar Miakhill. 31 from 18 balls, mainly over a back-pedalling and surprised covers field gave the rest of us something to cheer sarcastically about. And cheer sarcastically we did until Omar’s stumps were uprooted, whereupon we all lost heart and found solace in whatever alcohol we could blag off the guilty captain.

After some stout but obviously doomed resistance from Andy and Gretch, Martin and Dean were but lambs to the slaying stone. The Cowboys had slumped to a moderately dreadful 109 a.o.

Still, it was a lovely day out from under one’s partner’s feet, a pint at the Plough was duly chugged upon. MOM (Omar I think)/cider moment (Martin’s yelling I believe) votes were cast amid the strains of old reggae and the stories from our similarly unsuccessful buddies from the Sunday seconds.

Roll on next week, unbridled success, and all the painful bruising both psychological and physical it will no doubt bring us.

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