“The
Return of the TFC Spotter”
Match: 13 / 168
Won by 10 wkts
|
Team |
Total |
|
Cholsey CC |
76 |
|
JP
Collins 3 - 11 |
|
|
|
|
|
FFTMCC |
78 - 0 |
|
M.
Westmoreland 50*, D. Edwards
26* |
|
|
Firstly,
my sincere apologies for my near three year absence – all the more surprising
when you consider just how much I enjoyed my previous visit to Oxfordshire to
take in a few games of Sunday cricket featuring the Far from the MCC. I was
of course thoroughly amused by those matches, and of course by the sheer
number of TFC’s* that were accrued – it was pure comedy. I promised myself I
would return one day, and of course here I am, once again to scribe my
observations from the day. I must admit to being a little disappointed that
the new captain of The Mad – the rather rugged M. Westmoreland – saw fit to
give so many of his team a bowl on the day; as otherwise the ten wicket
victory that ensued would of course have thrown up so many more TFCers than
the two I am about to detail….
A right pair of TFCers. On
my previous visits, the Far from the MCC were then skippered by Mr. I.
Howarth; a brash and headstrong northerner, whose propensity for colourful
language would have been more appropriate on the terraces of Stanford Bridge.
He did on one particular day net himself a TFC, even though he had the powers
to prevent it from being so. Today was a different matter altogether; with his
lackadaisical approach in the field probably influencing the decision to not
hand him the ball. He did pad up however, and looked quite smart in his cricketing
attire, although as The Mad innings progressed it gradually dawned on him
that he maybe scooping another TFC. His eyes and mind began to wander,
and he sought some alternative entertainment by kicking a spiky green rubber
ball back and forwards with a two year old boy on the boundary. Even this
became mundane, with his deadpan sarcasm giving way to moaning and grumbling
as he shuffled backwards and forwards spouting crap to anyone who would
listen [most people did not]. One
crumb of comfort for Mr. Howarth was the similar plight of his cohort in
boredom, one Mr. Hebbes. This gentleman, always high spirited, had also
failed to have a bowl during the Cholsey innings. He did however take a
catch, although even this wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Harold Lloyd
movie – scrambling backwards before cannoning off his teammate and sent
sprawling on his backside – his contact lenses popping out and disappearing
amongst the thick uncut grass. He would also remain padded up for the
duration of The Mad reply, and he too got involved in kicking the spiky green
football with the two year old boy. Likewise this activity would eventually
lose its appeal, as he sat on the boundary with a stray dog he had befriended
for the remainder of the afternoon; a forlorn expression replacing his usual gaudy
smile.
Welcome
distractions: a 2yr old boy and a
stray dog. So
another excellent day out, and one with happy memories I shall I take with me
on my travels. As I left the leafy little ground, I could hear their skipper issue
those immortal words “thanks for coming”. ‘TFC
Spotter’
|
