“No Retirement for Old Men”

Match: 11 / 236

Won by 7 wkts

Team	Total
Saxlingham Gents	101 - 7
T. Smith 2 - 2
FFTMCC	102 - 3
D. Emerson 30*, T. Smith 26*

A glimpse into the future? On reflection, and having socialised with this wonderful bunch of guys that comprise the Saxlingham Gents – then maybe…. Their camaraderie unsullied by advancing years, but their collective conscious aware of Father Time creeping about in the shadows of the changing rooms; tapping them on the shoulder and asking if there are other interests they would rather pursue. Sad in a way, but as you watch them enthusiastically boost the Oxford pub trade – you realise you can’t doubt their intelligence and pride.

Wheelchairs and blankets were moved out of shot.

Who uttered the phrase “you play until you can play no more”? Or was it simply thoughts in my own head? From where I stand, pint to hand, having bumped rockily through the 40-something doorway recently, the dream dies when it ceases to be fun; and as a northerner, it ceases to be fun when it’s no longer reasonably competitive and you’ve lost the respect. “It’s not the losing it’s the taking part.” Taking part in a weekly humiliation? – watching your less-than-average opponent lower their standards to a level they think is appropriate to give you a chance? Never. The last person who did that was my dad, and I told him to ramp it up and give it a go. “I don’t want to look good in the nets with you bowling shit” I told him, so he did – he gave it a go – a right fucking go. I had bruises for weeks, but that one ball I drove back past him earned me respect. So maybe it’s simply about respect and not your age? If you’re northern and you lose respect – then it’s fuck this for a game of soldiers; if you’re southern and lose respect then you can always pose for a team photo and enjoy the cream and scones at half-time; but if you’re eastern and from Norfolk… hmm, I dunno, but any team that has an average age of 50 and still tries to compete gets my respect.

G. Timms does his bit entering dialogue about BUPA.

Maybe the Gods of The Oxford Weather sensed another rainy day would spoil the party and increase devil worshipping in the Shires, for things remained dry from lunchtime onwards; dry enough for the Norfolk Coffin Dodgers XI to finish their pints of medicine at the City Arms and navigate their wheelchairs up Bartlemas Close to the field of dreams at Jesus College. There, they were to contest a T20 against the much-maligned and ageingly introspective, Far from being Fucking Young Anymore. Forget the episode of Holby City where the elderly doctor’s played a game against a geriatric ward – this was the game that represented the true connoisseur’s choice of hospital drama.

The FFBYFA’s recent trend of winning the toss was again in evidence as Eric “Hotson” Clapton punched his fists in the air (or was it an air guitar?) and chose to let the pensioners have first crack (or should that be creak?) A noble decision, but perhaps Mr. Hotson was swayed by the notion that any inclement weather may end proceedings early; and that the elements would play merry hell with the doddery opposition as they shuffled around in the outfield under their protective wraps and blankets? – much akin to the zombies who milled around the perimeter of the shopping mall in Dawn of the Dead.

The images of zombies has been removed… now just this dark image of foreboding remains….

Things got off to a slow and juddery start for Saxlingham as the home team rotated their bowlers after just one over apiece. Maybe this was another portent of things to come: one over spells to avoid any cramping or burnout? With the score on 12-0 the unfortunate P. Barrow (1) tripped over his walking frame and fell well short of his ground; medics were quickly onto the scene and he was rushed for a precautionary X-ray. Parkinson and Strickney both fell foul of T. Smith’s (1-0-2-2) leaking bedpan, whilst C. Roberts (1-0-2-1) rattled T. Woodward’s (0) timber after the latter’s dialysis machine played up. Normally under such circumstances, the FFBFYA’s maverick leg-spin maestro I. Leggate could be relied on to bring balance to such proceedings; wheeling the wonderful aromas of his buffet wagon to the pitch as he calculated the distance to the boundary markers from out in the middle. But Gonzo has felt unloved of late, and his eyes narrowed as he sent S. Bradley (2) packing with a champagne scooping one-handed caught and bowled. 18 for 5.

History would now dictate the FFBFYA setting up an interesting contest by at least handing the ball to their lesser mortals (or known turds of bowlers), but Mr. Leggate, perhaps misguidedly, was having none of it “give me that fucking ball – I’m bowling! I bat number ten these days, I stand for ages in the sodding field chasing shit around – and even then I don’t get a bowl. Well not today – I’m fucking bowling!” Perhaps alarmed by Ian’s militant leanings, Skipper Hotson retreated back behind the stumps and set his field on the neighbouring rooftops.

I. Leggate (left) “You ever mugged an old fogey, Dave?”

Fortunate then that Gonzo (4-0-43-1) didn’t quite hit his straps; fortunate also that G. Timms – the youngest man on the pitch – caught like someone afflicted with a hip replacement; and fortunate equally that the Coffin Dodgers XI would find a pair of useful old crocks down the order in S. Brownlow (30) and N. Phelan (32*), who proceeded to give the surrounding hedgerows a nice feel of the ball. During these latter overs of the tourists innings, Westmoreland (3-0-9-1) and Howarth (2-0-5-0) both went through the motions of puffing their chests out as they sought to parade their youthful vigour, whilst J. Pearson (1-0-1-0), one of the youngest of all, leapt about and caught like a young man should (twat).

Watching from afar, as he circled the boundary like a hungry Serengeti lion, cricket bat at the ready, D. Edwards soaked up the crushing disappointment of twelfth man duties as we watched the Dodgers finish on 101 for 7 – and even more alarmingly, with none of them retiring to the JR for a blood transfusion. Also worth noting was L. Ainsworth’s display of maturity beyond his years – grumbling and chuntering throughout, as he contrived to do sod all in the field. His incessant mutterings would put any old fucker you find on a park bench to shame.

Two legendary moaners of the game – Ainsworth and Howarth.

In reply, D. Emerson (30*) repelled the mobility scooters of Barrow (2-0-22-0) and Brownlow (4-0-19-2) as he apparently saw benefits in beating these bespectacled grandad’s all over Oxford. Brownlow did have some success however, knocking Westmoreland (15) over as he found a second gear to his scooter; and he then sent I. Leggate (1) packing as Ian’s trousers got caught in the spokes and saw him tumble on his stumps. Hopes of the Terminal Ward XI pulling off a miraculous victory were further increased after G. Timms (1) was ran out in farcical circumstances, after he stopped halfway down the pitch to change the mattress and bedding for Woodward (4-0-15-0). So 40-0 off 5 overs had transformed itself into 50-3. These Funeral Escapees were coming back strong – or at least they were still breathing after a couple of hours play.

In the end it was all peripheral, as T. Smith (26*) and J. Hotson (19*) saw the FFBFYA home with a diligent and unbroken 52 run partnership. Both these two looked untroubled by the bleeping of heart monitors and clinking of stretcher trolleys on the marble floor tiles, as Pointer (4-0-22-0), Phelan (3-0-17-0) and Royse (0.1-0-3-0) went unrewarded for bothering to wander out of their convalescence rest room and onto the field.

Jake (right): “The JR is just down the road, mate.”

A win is a win is a win as they say; and this represented the first win for the FFBFYA in fourteen attempts. Well done them in showing Dad’s Army how a real battle should be fought on the beaches. A glowing endorsement of their current form and expectations that some of the home team actually felt a tad elated….

Post-match buffet was served up at the Oxford Blue courtesy of perennial barman and club legend, Ade Fisher. Chips were cheap fry, sausages were filling; and the company of these fine blue-beret sporting men from Norfolk was excellent. The best of their playing days may well be behind them, but they served notice at the pumps.

We wish them well, and hope to renew our rivalries in the coming years – even if the main annex of the JR’s geriatrics ward is now fully booked out.

The Gents soaking up the Oxford weather – literally.

As a footnote to this somewhat cruel send up of the game; it is perhaps worth noting that the nurses at the care home, where the Saxlingham Gents were staying on Tour, did such a fine job that evening they entered the field of dreams for a second time the day after – renewed and reinvigorated. So much so, they took a patched up A. Darley led OU Office ensemble apart – swiping them hither with their walking sticks and colostomy bags as they did so.

Respect indeed.

‘G. A. Romero’

*

Statto Scorecards

Far from the MCC versus Saxlingham Gents Played at Jesus College, 7 July 2011 Far from the MCC won the toss and elected to field Far from the MCC won by 7 wkts Far from the MCC debuts: none

11 / 236 20 over match

Team	Saxlingham Gents
#	Batsman	How Out	Total	Balls	4s	6s	FOW
1	P. Barrow	run out (Pearson/Smith)	1				1-12
2	K. Parkinson	b Smith	3				2-13
3	K. Stickney	c Pearson b Smith	6				4-17
4	S. Bradley	c and b Leggate	2				3-16
5	T. Woodward	b Roberts	0				5-18
6	S. Brownlow	b Emerson	30				7-99
7	T. Sheppard	c Pearson b Westmoreland	6				6-39
8	N. Phelan	not out	32				-
9	H. Royse	not out	1				-
10	D. Pointer
11	R. Pearson *
	Extras	(NB3, W11, B6)	20
	TOTAL	(for 7 wickets, 20 overs)	101

#	Bowler	Overs	Maidens	Runs	Wkts
1	Timms	3	0	14	0
2	Shorten	3	0	14	0
3	Emerson	2	0	4	1
4	Westmoreland	3	0	9	1
5	Smith	1	0	2	2
6	Pearson	1	0	1	0
7	Roberts	1	0	2	1
8	Leggate	4	0	43	1
9	Howarth	2	0	5	0

Team	Far from the MCC
#	Batsman	How Out	Total	Balls	4s	6s	FOW
1	M. T. Westmoreland	b Brownlow	15	(17)	2	-	1-45
2	D. Emerson	retired	30	(21)	3	-	-
3	I. C. Leggate	b Brownlow	1	(8)	-	-	2-48
4	T. P. W. Smith	not out	26	(28)	4	-	-
5	G. J. Timms	run out	1	(2)	-	-	3-50
6	J. C. W. Hotson *+	not out	19	(27)	1	-	-
7	C. D. Roberts
8	D. Shorten
9	J. W. Pearson
10	I. Howarth
11	L. G. Ainsworth
	Extras	(W6, B4)	10
	TOTAL	(for 7 wickets, 17.1 overs)	102

#	Bowler	Overs	Maidens	Runs	Wkts
1	Barrow	2	0	22	0
2	Brownslow	4	0	19	2
3	Woodward	4	0	15	0
4	Pointer	4	0	22	0
5	Phelan	3	0	17	0
6	Royse	0.1	0	3	0
Note: D. Emerson retired with the score on 45-0

MOTM: D. Emerson Champagne Moment: I. C. Leggate’s one handed caught and bowled Buffet Award: I. C. Leggate’s Summertown Riviera pasta extravaganza

Opposition: V065 / 01 Ground: G037 / 03 Captain: C012 / 09