Match: 11
/ 249
Won
by 6 wkts
Team |
Total |
Oxenford CC |
177 - 7 |
T. Smith 2 - 18, J. Pearson
2 - 22 |
|
|
|
FFTMCC |
179 - 4 |
I. Howarth 71, J. Pearson
51 |
Sunday. Another day in
the cricket calendar, and presumably another day of crushing disappointment
followed by a journey home in brooding silence to bitch on to the
long-suffering wife about what a waste of fucking time it’s all been. Magic.
Sets you up for the working week ahead, doesn’t it? Fucking game. Arrive at nominated pub
before the match and exchange banter with similarly delusional team mates
about false expectations, rising beer prices, shitty summer weather and
depressingly familiar worldly events we have no say or control over. Well done, guys – you can drink beer. Fucking
amazing. Fuck off to the ground.
Inspect the pitch – though Christ knows why…. Would my season be any worse if
we played it on the Botley Interchange at rush hour? Would it fuck. So why on
earth are we gathered about on an uncovered strip of grass pushing down the
odd divot and making comments about it being “soft” and that it might “do
something”? Of course “it” will do something – “it” always fucking does…. Climb into whites whilst
anticipating a signal from the skipper, out in the middle, on what the hell
we’re doing – though knowing full well we’re probably fielding first as we
always fucking do…. Why? Well, it saves us the embarrassment of being bowled
out for fuck all and the game ending before of 5 o’clock. Plus the fact we’re
great at chasing down totals – apparently. Apparent to who exactly? Fuck
knows. Yep, we’re fielding
first. Let me pick myself off the floor…. I have to admit to being
rather smug with myself after somehow bagging the first slip position. Don’t
get me wrong, I’m no mean slip fielder, but I’m usually stuck out in the
covers chasing down fucking tripe all afternoon. That wouldn’t be so bad, but
it’s usually accompanied by throwaway comments from the usual sarcastic
fuckers, chuntering under their breath about this and that. They know who
they are…. Why men force their women to watch this shit is
anyone’s guess? What’s this? A textbook
opening bowling combination? For The MAD? Tight, tidy, regularly beating the
bat outside off, runs at a premium? Fuck off. Fair play – welcome back Del
Boy (A. Darley 8-2-15-1) and well done Wonky (D. Drinks. 40-2. And I have
to say I’ve hardly done a fucking thing – save walk up and down the wicket
carrying Steve’s helmet, or hat, or whatever “Sir” would like me to carry for
him as he goes about his gobby business behind the sticks…. JMO’s done good (J.
Hoskins 6-0-28-1) – and stop press, he’s got one to turn – though it probably
hit a divot or something…. And Fats (J. Pearson 6-1-22-2) looks like he’s in
the groove. Maybe we’ll have a manageable total to chase for once? That’d be
a pleasant change…. “So what’s the secret?”
I asked Spam. “How the fuck do you get a bowl before me?” How did he catch the Skipper’s eye? [sigh]
He’s probably got some incriminating photos of his missus or something,
because fuck knows how that awkward bloody trundler got the nod – Jesus….
[sigh] Here we go. Here we
fucking go! I tell you, this left
hander of theirs (R. Davies 68) is a pain in the bum hole. When the fuck are
they going to outlaw left handers? Oh, I’m a left hander… best scrub that. Howarth batting. He’s a twat at times – he is. I didn’t even see it…. I
quote: “How didn’t he catch that?”
Do what, Howarth? What the fuck is he moaning about now? “Look you stupid
cunt – I lost it in the background… probably against that red car on the
boundary, so no, I didn’t see the
fucking thing coming – alright?” Oh – I’m sorry – it almost decapitated me as
it flew past my earhole! Wanker. Maybe he could try and bowl a decent line
and length the stupid northern twat. Eh? EH??? Meanwhile I’ll just run as far
as the eye can see to go and retrieve the thing from the fucking boundary…. About fucking time, I’m
finally getting a bowl. “Cheers, Moo – I won’t let you down.” Oh, for fuck’s
sake as I serve up three full tosses in my first over. Doesn’t anything ever
go right these days? Finally I get it right, for all of my mammoth,
sweat-inducing four fucking overs (4-0-25-0). Thorn’s done well (T. Smith
2-0-18-2). Christ knows how he manages it – but he sure has a habit of
picking up important wickets here and there. Maybe he isn’t pissed for once? Actually, who fucking cares…. That’s 40 overs out the
way and time to eat. 177-7? Well done guys – make sure we get Oxenford to a
decent total, eh? Let’s have a look at the
batting order. Four. Fucking four?! I see Howarth gets to go in at three. He
opens all year, moans about being pissed off with it, and gets to usurp my
position of number three. Is he sleeping with Martin (Westmoreland) or
something? [sigh] Still – whatever happens, I’ll have been involved in the
game longer than he was last week in Appleton – hahaha
– useless platinum prick. Me – sat with my pads on bored out of my fucking
mind. This is fun. Sat here
with my pads on watching Jake and Fats bore the tits off everyone as they
block out the opening overs…. I think I’ll get Wonky to throw some balls down
– get my eye in. A WICKET! (J. Hotson 5) That brings Howarth to the crease.
Ha ha – daft bugger’s had two goldens in his last
two matches in Oxford. Here it comes… ahh, bugger, he avoided a third
golden…. OH – an appeal! Ahh… not out. Best I keep my thoughts to myself on
that one. And he’s off the mark – hmm…. God almighty – this is
insipid. Where’s the cavalier approach and aggressive batting we were
promised? Poke, poke, prod, block, dot, dot, single, block, poke, plod…
fucking ‘ell, this is like watching Geoff (Carter)
bat. I’ll just sit here with my pads on nervously awaiting a chance to shine,
shall I? [Yawn] This is tedium on
a grandiose scale…. Drinks. 94-1 and they’re
still there. And the sun has come
out. How nice to still be sat with
my pads on watching this partnership drag out to it’s inevitable conclusion….
I think I might stand up for a while – my arse is getting numb from all this
sitting about. I’ll stand next to Steve and “Shit, isn’t it lads?
Like watching fucking paint dry.” Still sat here with my fucking pads on…. 50 for Fats. Yawn –
whatever. 50 for Spam. Yawn – whatever. 100 partnership – god, will it ever end? That’s the 150 up and the
Oxenford guys look like they’ve ran out of ideas. Jesus, they’ve even brought
that old man on to bowl (S. Terry 4-1-22-2) who looks like he’s dodged a few
coffins in his time…. WICKET! Howarth gone for
71 – one slog too many. Arrogant twat. 165-2. A record second wicket partnership
for The MAD (139) – whatever. A mere 13 runs to chip off for victory. Oh,
well – at least I get to smack a few balls around after this insufferable and
interminable wait and pocket myself a nice little asterisk for the averages.
Okay, I’ve gotta get the mindset right – take guard, prepare to face the… old
man. Ha – old man – prepare for a pasting! Oops! You’ve got to be
fucking joking me… top edge first ball!? The next time I have to pose for a photo – the
Duck goes up Dave’s fucking arse! “Unlucky, Mike.” Fuck
off. “Hey, don’t worry about
it, mate.” How about you don’t
fucking worry about it? Mate. My day has been an utter waste of time – again
– so go and fucking do one. “Chin up, mate – you’re
just having one of those spells.” Yeah? Well it’s been a long fucking spell
and you can fuck off too. Right. Sod this. Let’s
get these pads off, pack up and fuck off. I can’t believe this – I honestly
can’t – another complete waste of a
day…. “Fats (51) is OUT! We’ve collapsed to 165-4!” Big fucking deal. We’re
obviously going to win the match from here so who gives a shit? Surprise,
surprise we’ve won the game. Oh, the joy. Great – Steve (Dobner 3*) and Moo
(M. Westmoreland 11*) get to top their averages up. Bully for them. The sun goes down on another fucking soul-destroying
day. Match fines? Fines can
fuck off this week – as can any post match socialising. I’ll shake some
hands, sort some monetary matters out, and then I’m off home to give the wife
a right good shoeing. Fucking game. ‘The Real Mr. Reeves’
|
*
Far from the MCC versus Oxenford CC Played at Keble College, 28 August
2011 Far from the MCC won the toss and
elected to field Far from the MCC won by 6 wkts Far from the MCC debuts: none |
11 / 249 40 over match |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Team |
Oxenford CC |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
# |
Batsman |
How Out |
Total |
Balls |
4s |
6s |
FOW |
1 |
T. Hamp |
c Dobner b Hoskins |
9 |
(59) |
- |
- |
3-41 |
2 |
A. Cosgrove |
lbw b Darley |
1 |
(21) |
- |
- |
1-5 |
3 |
R. Ewings |
c Westmoreland b Pearson |
26 |
(35) |
1 |
1 |
2-40 |
4 |
R. Davies |
b Smith |
68 |
(47) |
8 |
1 |
6-156 |
5 |
S. Terry |
b Pearson |
8 |
(13) |
- |
- |
4-56 |
6 |
A. Hirtenstein |
b Smith |
37 |
(33) |
4 |
1 |
5-149 |
7 |
A. Thompson |
run out (Reeves/Dobner) |
11 |
(11) |
1 |
- |
7-176 |
8 |
S. Cutterbie |
not out |
8 |
(5) |
1 |
- |
- |
9 |
W. Banks |
not out |
1 |
(1) |
- |
- |
- |
10 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
11 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Extras |
(NB1, W3, LB2, B2) |
8 |
|
|
|
|
|
TOTAL |
(for 7 wickets, 40 overs) |
177 |
|
|
|
|
# |
Bowler |
Overs |
Maidens |
Runs |
Wkts |
|
1 |
Emerson |
8 |
2 |
12 |
0 |
|
2 |
Darley |
8 |
2 |
15 |
1 |
|
3 |
Hoskins |
6 |
0 |
28 |
1 |
|
4 |
Pearson |
6 |
1 |
22 |
2 |
|
5 |
Howarth |
4 |
0 |
30 |
0 |
|
6 |
Roberts |
2 |
0 |
25 |
0 |
|
7 |
Reeves |
4 |
0 |
25 |
0 |
|
8 |
Smith |
2 |
0 |
18 |
2 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Team |
Far from the MCC |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
# |
Batsman |
How Out |
Total |
Balls |
4s |
6s |
FOW |
1 |
J. W. Pearson |
c and b Davies |
51 |
(119) |
5 |
- |
4-165 |
2 |
J. C. W. Hotson |
b Banks |
5 |
(30) |
- |
- |
1-26 |
3 |
I. Howarth |
b Terry |
71 |
(74) |
8 |
1 |
2-165 |
4 |
M. K. Reeves |
c sub b Terry |
0 |
(1) |
- |
- |
3-165 |
5 |
S. L. P. Dobner + |
not out |
3 |
(6) |
- |
- |
- |
6 |
M. T. Westmoreland * |
not out |
11 |
(11) |
- |
1 |
- |
7 |
D. Emerson |
|
|
|
|
|
|
8 |
C. D. Roberts |
|
|
|
|
|
|
9 |
J. D. Hoskins |
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 |
T. P. W. Smith |
|
|
|
|
|
|
11 |
A. Darley |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Extras |
(NB11, W18, LB3, B6) |
38 |
|
|
|
|
|
TOTAL |
(for 4 wickets, 38.2 overs) |
179 |
|
|
|
|
# |
Bowler |
Overs |
Maidens |
Runs |
Wkts |
|
1 |
Hirtenstein |
8 |
1 |
27 |
0 |
|
2 |
Banks |
5 |
1 |
21 |
1 |
|
3 |
Thompson |
6 |
0 |
39 |
0 |
|
4 |
Cutterbie |
7 |
0 |
32 |
0 |
|
5 |
Davies |
6.2 |
0 |
25 |
1 |
|
6 |
Cosgrove |
2 |
0 |
13 |
0 |
|
7 |
Terry |
4 |
1 |
22 |
2 |
|
MOTM: J. W. Pearson Champagne Moment: T. P. W. Smith’s first
ball wicket Buffet
Award: C. D. Roberts’ assorted
sausage and pepperoni meat feast pizza (14”) |
Opposition:
V061 / 02 Ground: G049 / 02 Captain: C011 / 59 |