“Me and Geoff Matt”
Match: 17
/ 433
Lost by
2 runs
|
Team |
Total |
|
Wootton &
Bladon CC |
155 - 7 |
|
J. Hoskins 3 - 39 |
|
|
|
|
|
FFTMCC |
153 - 7 |
|
L. Ainsworth 53, R. Hadfield
25 |
|
|
Me and Matt were dropped
for this game, surplus to requirements is what we were told. We’ve got new
blood in the team and we’re told it’s squad rotation, but when your club has
managed 2 wins in 14 attempts, surely you’ve gotta be playing your big guns?
It’s not like we’re fucking Chelsea is it? Anyway, getting dropped
is okay, especially when there’s a local beer festival on, Iffley way. Me and
Matt like nothing better than a good drop of ale, homebrewed stuff and none
of that imported shit from Angela fucking Merkel. These little festivals are
great, helps to keep the prices down and you can get proper wankered in the
company of others. You get none of them condescending types ratted on half a
Stella sneering down their fucking noses at you.
…to the booze festival. Shame Geoff couldn’t make it, he finally sold that fucking house of
his and cried off. Cheap cunt could’ve got a few rounds in instead of moving
all his shit out this weekend. Talking of which, he’s done with dry land,
he’s living on some boat by the Nags Head in Abbo.
Shrewd man is our Geoff, that’s about fifty steps to the bar from his sofa
that is. Saying that, that ain’t the pub it used to be, I played football for
them back in the day, star man I was, then we got old, folded and the pub
closed. It reopened some time ago and it’s gone all gastro. That’s the
trouble, innit? A pub trying to be a restaurant, it’s
got no soul, you’d rather have a pint in Marks & Fucking Spencers. And look at those prices… dear, oh dear. Is it
twinned with somewhere in fucking Islington?
Photo of Geoff’s offshore knocking shop. Does anyone know what
level of IQ you need to be a weatherman? Supposed to be wet and cloudy out today,
groundsman said we’ve got fuck all chance of finishing the match, so why
start? Good man is our Dan, straight to the point and no pissing about. Well
the sun is out and these strips of
beer tokens work out Ł3.66 a pint, so any potential cricket can fucking wait.
The BBQ has just got fired up n’ all, but to be fair, the burgers look like
they were scraped off the Cowley Road. The Indian muck is fair game though. Matt fancies a few more,
so I’ve text JMO to ask what the fuck is going on down at Brasenose. “We
fielded, just came off – kept them to 155….” Sounds a few too many to chase
that, especially without me, Matt or Geoff in the team. Whatever, there’s some
of these fifteen barrels we haven’t touched yet, so let’s get stuck in. It’s about thirty
minutes’ walk to the ground from The Tree Hotel, and Matt can’t be arsed,
says he’s off in town to tuck in and catch the train. Not sure I can be
fucking arsed either, but the Isis Farmhouse is on the way, so I’ll nick in
there for a couple. Shabby chic is what they call it, I call it fucking lazy.
I mean how much is a can of paint from B&Q? Just as long as it doesn’t
stink of cat’s piss, eh? I’m also not a fan of these London-types mooring
their hire boats outside. Fashionably countrified are ya? Piss off, you’re spoiling the view with your Pimms
and your faux Barbour bollocks.
Tucking in (Bullock and Howarth). I read we were 5-3 when
I turned up, but Hadfield was struggling with putting the right numbers on
the board. Actually, we’re 57-3 and I guessed Richard (25) was one of the 3
to go, as he’s got a face like a slapped arsehole, that’ll bring his bloody
average down. Williams (16) has slipped into his civvies n’all,
sat on his butt cheeks chuffing a fag, so I guess his day is done too. The
future of MAD batting? Fucking ‘ell, give me strength. Let’s look at this
scorebook then… who’s the other failure? Turner, a blob. Didn’t waste any
time mind. And who got our wickets? The usual suspects I imagine, told you
so, Reeves (6-0-27-2) and Hoskins (8-0-39-3), and that’s my whole point, you
can’t leave the best wine off the table. Right, let’s
get some tinnies, I’m fucked if I’m watching this without a beer to hand. I used to live on the Abbo Road back in the day and that Londis was shit back
then. They cater for the needs of the down and fucking out with high strength
lager to dissolve your brain. Fair enough I guess, they know they’re custom, but no cheap deals and Ł1 for a shitty
lighter is taking the piss. Williams can shove that bloody lighter right up his arse when I get back to
the ground. Loving it,
Westmoreland’s (caught behind for 8) lost his shit with Trigger Turner. He’s
having a right one in the changing rooms. Top man is our Moo. You get that
inner anger out, sunshine. I love a good cob and this one is fucking top
drawer, gotta be worth a fiver. Shorten’s (3) gone too, trying to hit one
into Witney. We’re making a right fanny of this at 76-5.
Westmoreland about to give it the big one. Why is it in the late
afternoon that most pavilions are located in the fucking shadows? Nearly every single one. D’you need a masters in engineering to have it facing where the sun
goes down? No doubt some European bylaw at work here, unelected unaudited
wankers. Sod this, sat here getting fucking cold, I’ll go out to the middle
and do some bloody umping. At least it’s warm out there. I’ve seen some paraplegic
tennis players with better turning circles than this Wootton lot. Some of
them look like they’re having a cardiac arrest running after the fucking
thing. Ainsworth’s running ‘em ragged, taking the piss he is. Can’t say much
for the bowling either, if you can’t bowl medium these days, try spin, or is
it more a case if you’re knackered after one over, dob some pie down (M Ryan
4-0-28-1). “How is that?” You
serious? Pearson’s halfway down the bloody wicket and shaping to leg? Umpire Bucknor wouldn’t given that after a night on the Don Papa Rum, fucking
halfwit. “Not bloody out, sunshine.” (Haywood 6-0-24-1) In fairness, if that
was halfway up middle I wouldn’t given
it, not with his fucking attitude. This is bloody easy. 2
overs left and 10 required, 2 men well set and 5 wickets in the bank. The
Bodleian couldn’t shag this up. Oh, hang on, Ainsworth’s ran Pearson (19) out
and Trinder’s (4-1-10-0) bowled a bloody maiden, bye aside. Amazing. Makes
for a grandstand finish I guess, but equally, we’re wasting time out here
when the pub’s open.
Ainsworth (right) heading off for a brain
transplant. Reevsie’s (5*) tonked a
four and Ainsworth’s (53) back on strike with 3 needed off 3 balls. Stumped.
Stumped? I know he hasn’t slept much with a new kid and all that, but are
they really that fucking inbred in Wallingford? Best Timms (0*) twats the
winnings runs, or not, as this case
may be…. Embarrassing, truly embarrassing, and I come back to my original
point about having your best wine on the dinner table. Right, sod this and all the
bloody handshakes and this modern day nonsense, let’s get back to the job at
hand and get over to the White House pub. Which reminds me, if you’re going
to rename a pub for the umpteenth fucking time, get the bloody spelling
right? It is on a road with no gap
in ‘white’ and ‘house’, that ‘gap’ is only between the brewery’s ears.
‘Me’
|
*
Statto Scorecards
|
Far from the MCC versus Wootton
& Bladon CC Played at Brasenose College, 23 July
2017 Far from the MCC won the toss and
elected to field Wootton & Bladon CC won by 2 runs Far from the MCC debuts: none |
17 / 433 35 over match |
|
Team |
Wootton & Bladon CC |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
# |
Batsman |
How Out |
Total |
Balls |
4s |
6s |
FOW |
|
1 |
A. Hambridge |
b Reeves |
6 |
|
1 |
- |
1-6 |
|
2 |
J. Trinder |
b Hoskins |
48 |
|
7 |
- |
2-89 |
|
3 |
D. Floyd |
c Pearson b Hoskins |
53 |
|
6 |
- |
4-134 |
|
4 |
M. Ryan * |
b Hoskins |
26 |
|
2 |
2 |
3-120 |
|
5 |
W. Dale |
c Hotson b Ainsworth |
1 |
|
- |
- |
5-142 |
|
6 |
G. Dogget † |
c Timms b Reeves |
13 |
|
1 |
- |
6-144 |
|
7 |
J. MacDonough |
run out (Shorten) |
5 |
|
- |
- |
7-155 |
|
8 |
D. De Bono |
not out |
0 |
|
- |
- |
- |
|
9 |
J. Bishop |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 |
S. Edwards |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
11 |
N. Haywood |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Extras |
W2, B1 |
3 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
TOTAL |
(for 7 wickets, 35 overs) |
155 |
|
|
|
|
|
# |
Bowler |
Overs |
Maidens |
Runs |
Wkts |
Econ |
|
|
1 |
Reeves |
6 |
0 |
27 |
2 |
4.50 |
|
|
2 |
Shorten |
4 |
0 |
18 |
0 |
4.50 |
|
|
3 |
Pearson |
7 |
0 |
28 |
0 |
4.00 |
|
|
4 |
Timms |
7 |
0 |
33 |
0 |
4.71 |
|
|
5 |
Hoskins |
8 |
0 |
39 |
3 |
4.88 |
|
|
6 |
Ainsworth |
3 |
0 |
13 |
1 |
4.33 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Team |
Far from the MCC |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
# |
Batsman |
How Out |
Total |
Balls |
4s |
6s |
FOW |
|
1 |
R. P. Turner |
lbw b Edwards |
0 |
(2) |
- |
- |
1-1 |
|
2 |
C. T. J. Williams |
b Edwards |
16 |
(21) |
3 |
- |
2-37 |
|
3 |
R. J. B. Hadfield |
lbw b Bishop |
25 |
(38) |
3 |
- |
3-46 |
|
4 |
M. T. Westmoreland |
c Dogget b MacDonough |
8 |
(22) |
2 |
- |
4-73 |
|
5 |
L. G. Ainsworth |
st Dogget b Ryan |
53 |
(79) |
3 |
- |
7-153 |
|
6 |
D. Shorten |
c MacDonough b Haywood |
3 |
(6) |
- |
- |
5-76 |
|
7 |
J. W. Pearson |
run out |
19 |
(38) |
1 |
- |
6-147 |
|
8 |
M. K. Reeves |
not out |
5 |
(4) |
1 |
- |
- |
|
9 |
G. J. Timms * |
not out |
0 |
(2) |
- |
- |
- |
|
10 |
J. C. W. Hotson † |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
11 |
J. D. Hoskins |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Extras |
NB2, W13, B9 |
24 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
TOTAL |
(for 7 wickets, 35 overs) |
153 |
|
|
|
|
|
# |
Bowler |
Overs |
Maidens |
Runs |
Wkts |
Econ |
|
|
1 |
Edwards |
7 |
3 |
14 |
2 |
2.00 |
|
|
2 |
Bishop |
7 |
0 |
36 |
1 |
5.14 |
|
|
3 |
MacDonough |
7 |
0 |
31 |
1 |
4.43 |
|
|
4 |
Haywood |
6 |
0 |
24 |
1 |
4.00 |
|
|
5 |
Trinder |
4 |
1 |
10 |
0 |
2.50 |
|
|
6 |
Ryan |
4 |
0 |
28 |
1 |
7.00 |
|
|
MOTM: L. G. Ainsworth Champagne Moment: J. W. Pearson’s catch
over his shoulder Buffet
Award: J. D. Hoskins’ roadkill
ratatouille with extra home-grown vegetables MAD
Moment: n/a |
Opposition:
V027 / 25 Ground: G040 / 59 Captain: C022 / 62 Match No: 35 / 152 |