“Lucy Unhappy as Cricket Match Spoils Sunday Roast”

Match: 08 / 166

Lost by 8 wkts

Team	Total
FFTMCC	101
I. Howarth 30, N. Hebbes 29
Astons CC	102 - 2
M. Reeves 1 - 15

“How extraordinary”, exclaimed Lucy as she peered through the kitchen window “those tiresome irks from down the road are playing cricket today! Come and see.” Tim raised an eyebrow above his Sunday newspaper, and with a resigned sigh joined his wife by the window to stare out at a small recreation ground, circled by trees beyond their driveway. Continued Lucy “I can’t believe they’re going to play. Especially after all the rainfall we’ve had this past week – what is it with you menfolk? Why can’t you accept the climate and simply stay at home with your family and enjoy the day?” Tim’s eyes misted over as he watched a slew of cars park at the top of the field and a small troop of guys with cricket bags slowly assemble. God, he missed that sporting camaraderie – the jokes, the banter, the jousting of the locker room; and as he stood gazing out, he felt an emptiness inside the pit of his stomach – that same feeling he felt when he packed up his tennis racket for the final time….

Home is where the Henman is.

“Come and help with the vegetables, darling – my mother will be round in an hour or so, and you know I don’t like to be distracted whilst we’re talking over tea.” Tim’s eyes rolled up in their sockets, and with a dying breath, he slowly turned like a circus bear and headed towards the sink. “Fuck sake” he thought, “is this it? Is this all there is? I give up my livelihood, my career in the spotlight, the adulation and all its trappings for this?” Just a mere three potatoes in, Tim placed the peeler to one side and turned to his wife as she laid out the cutlery. “Sweetheart, I’m feeling a little light-headed – I think I need to pop out and get some fresh air.”

The match was underway by the time Tim had made his short journey to the ground. Astons CC were fielding as he recognised a few of their number trying to keep warm under long sleeve jumpers. He surmised they must have won the toss, as nobody in the right mind could possibly have wanted bat first on what was a pudding of a pitch. “How do, Tim?” A portly burlesque gentleman enquired of him as he passed a bench under an oak tree. The old man blew his nose into a dirty old handkerchief before continuing “I ‘ent much seen you around lately – where you ‘bin? That missus o’yours got you under lock and key?” Tim made a poor effort at a smile and sat himself next to the guy – stroking the head of a messy long haired dog that sat between them. “I’ve been busy, Ted – you know how it is.” There was crack of leather against wood and they turned as the ball shook a wire-mesh fence in the distance. “Nice shot that” said Ted, “but wish they’d hurry up with that bloody pavilion over there.” He motioned towards a temporary building site with a digger that formed a backdrop to where a group of players were sitting. “Not what you’d envisage when you come to a leafy little village ground in Aston Tirrold, is it? Looks fuckin’ awful.” Tim nodded as he watched the ball retrieved from under a pile of muddy roofing slates, “it’ll be nice when it’s finished, Ted. Who are we playing?” His neighbour glanced back to the action as the ball was lobbed straight up to a waiting mid-on [D. Edwards 9]. “I believe they play under the name of the Far from the MCC. Used to be a pub team in Oxford. Just a bunch of piss heads I think.”

N. Hebbes (29) finally finds form as the season ends.

As Tim continued his trek around the boundaries edge, two more wickets had fallen without the score budging [M. Reeves 12, Andy Washington 0]. He passed by some hastily assembled benches and iron portacabins where the opposition sat, and glanced over the scorers shoulder They really were struggling in the wet and mud – amazing they had even contemplated playing this match, but I guess it was end of season so the pitch mattered not. 21-3 soon became 43-5 [T. Smith 6, J. Hotson 1].

Tim’s afternoon was made for interesting by the sight of a young kid who had gone out to bat having never played the game before – a boy called Alex [Washington]. He’d received extensive coaching prior to his knock by a bunch of grown men, who to be fair, hardly knew the basics themselves – and in a most amusing sequence, stood facing the Astons’ bowlers in a helmet which swallowed his head. There was delight all round when Alex (1) did eventually hit a ball, but it was short lived when a ball removed his off bail moments later. Not that Alex knew his innings was over – far from it, he simply stood in his crease and awaited the next ball, before being politely told that “that was [that].” Shame, because for a few minutes Tim had forgotten his mundane Sunday and was rooting for this innocent young underdog – much in the same way as hordes of patriotically decked out females used to root for him at Wimbledon…. Ah, the memories….

What a lovely summer’s day….

The Far from the MCC rallied in the later overs – a little, eventually mustering and underwhelming 101 [Howarth 30, Hebbes 29, Carter 4, Hoskins 1] – with some Australian bitching on about batting at number eleven and finishing 0 not out.

A healthy spread now awaited the teams during the interval, and the sight of all those platters of food steered Tim’s mind back to his afternoon of peeling vegetables. “Hi Tim, where’ve you been of late?” Tim turned to the voice of an Aston regular, forcing a smile as he did so. “How’s retirement suiting you – you bored shitless yet?” quizzed the man. “It’s okay,” mumbled Tim “I’ve got much more time to spend with the girls now. And of course my lovely wife.” After stuffing a sausage roll down his throat and pawing over a couple of scotch eggs, the local man continued “that’s great, Tim – but don’t forget your mates, eh? A man needs his sporting pursuits – keeps his mind healthy. Maybe see you down the pub, yeah?” The conversation was broken by the melody of a phone, as Tim cradled his mobile to his ear. “Yeeeeesssssssssssssssssssssss, I’ll be there in a minute. Just stretching my legs [sigh]….”

“Love the fucking building site, dudes.”

Tim continued his circuit of the boundary, occasionally stopping to breathe in the surrounds. The sun had broken through the ugly black clouds, and the Aston batsmen were now filling their boots [N. Clark 65*]. The track had lost its earlier demons it would appear – pacified by the late afternoon warmth. The visitors toiled away [Hebbes (8-2-11-0), Hoskins (5-0-25-0], Mann (5-0-19-1), Reeves (2.4-0-15-1)], but for a few scalps this match was over – the ball disappearing into hedgerows and bracken with alarming regularity.

With Tim completing a lap of the ground, he re-joined Ted to watch the final few balls. “A’right, lad? My mother could bowl a better line and length than this lot – they’re bloody awful.” [T. Smith 2-0-12-0, I. Howarth 2-0-14-0, D. Edwards 1-0-5-0] “Thought it might be a decent game, but this lot are shit. It’s a complete dickin’. Rubbish. That clown who won the toss and decided to bat first needs shooting.” Tim grinned inwardly – it certainly was a beating, but a quick one at that; and at least he wasn’t going to be too late home after watching the conclusion. He felt the vibration of his mobile once more, and bid his farewell.

‘Andy M’

*

Statto Scorecards

Far from the MCC versus Astons CC Played at Aston Tirrold, 7 September 2008 Far from the MCC won the toss and elected to bat Astons CC won by 8 wkts Far from the MCC debuts: Andy Washington (103) and Alex Washington (104)

08 / 166 Timed match

Team	Far from the MCC
#	Batsman	How Out	Total	Balls	4s	6s	FOW
1	D. M. Edwards	c Moore b M. Wigg	9	(31)	1	-	1-21
2	M. K. Reeves	b Grey	12	(27)	1	-	2-21
3	I. Howarth	b T. Wigg	30	(57)	4	-	7-72
4	A. Washington	c Clark b Grey	0	(8)	-	-	3-21
5	T. P. W. Smith	c Barlow b Dew	6	(19)	-	-	4-36
6	J. C. W. Hotson	b Dew	1	(11)	-	-	5-43
7	Ax. Washington	b T. Wigg	1	(2)	-	-	6-48
8	N. J. Hebbes	c T. Wigg b Moore	29	(40)	4	-	9-99
9	G. Carter +	c Barlow b Napper	1	(20)	-	-	8-85
10	J. D. Hoskins	c Dew b Moore	4	(17)	-	-	10-101
11	A. G. Mann *	not out	0	(6)	-	-	-
	Extras	(NB1, W3, LB2, B2)	8
	TOTAL	(all out, 39.3 overs)	101

#	Bowler	Overs	Maidens	Runs	Wkts
1	Grey	7	1	15	2
2	M. Wigg	7	4	7	1
3	Smith	8	0	24	0
4	Dew	4	0	17	2
5	T. Wigg	5	0	22	2
6	Napper	5	3	6	1
7	Moore	3.3	0	8	2

Team	Astons CC
#	Batsman	How Out	Total	Balls	4s	6s	FOW
1	N. Clark	not out	65				-
2	D. Barlow	b Mann	12				1-40
3	T. Dew *	c Smith b Reeves	10				2-83
4	I. Gibson	not out	6				-
5	J. Shea +
6	A. Napper
7	M. Moore
8	T. Wigg
9	M. Wigg
10	S. Smith
11	L. Grey
	Extras	(NB4, W3, LB1, B1)	9
	TOTAL	(for 2 wickets, 25.4 overs)	102

#	Bowler	Overs	Maidens	Runs	Wkts
1	Hebbes	8	2	11	0
2	Hoskins	5	0	25	0
3	Mann	5	0	19	1
4	Smith	2	0	12	0
5	Howarth	2	0	14	0
6	Reeves	2.4	0	15	1
7	Edwards	1	0	5	0

MOTM: N. J. Hebbes Champagne Moment: J. Hotson running himself out [ball off his arse] Buffet Award: I. Howarth’s bangers and mash (with oodles of onion gravy)

Opposition: V046 / 02 Ground: G035 / 02 Captain: C002 / 09