“Buses”

Match: 09 / 179

Match Abandoned

Team	Total
FFTMCC	141 - 9
D. Edwards 56, I. Howarth 40
Astons CC

It’s safe to assume it’s the middle of summer – you’re uncomfortably warm in a jacket whilst standing in the rain. The skies are charcoal grey; with persistent drizzle punctuated by the odd clap of thunder and cursory downpour. Gone are the hazy days of July yesteryears, where you attended festivals in the glare of the sun; where you lied on your back on parched straw grass, watching revellers dance in fields with shimmering heat. You were happy then – to be on whatever you were on, because failure to find your tent mattered not. Because it was dry and you could stagger and fall wherever you wanted – safe in the knowledge that when you awoke, it wouldn’t be to a muddy slush of piss and detritus all around you.

Umbrellas? Pools of water? Must be cricket in July.

I’m starting to really hate July. It’s a crap month where it always fucking rains. You make outdoor plans, and it rains. But it’s summer, so you make some plans anyway, or you rearrange things – and it rains once more. Rain rain fucking rain. And yes, I did attend the Glastonbury festivals of 1997 and 1998 [where it rained]. It really fucking rained. So much so, people incurred trench foot in some of the fields. I ended up boshing everything I had when I first arrived, lost a day, and awoke in a muddy puddle of piss and detritus vowing never to go back again. Now I hope it rains whenever I see, or hear, the term ‘G-l-a-s-t-o-n-b-u-r-y’…. Hell, now that there is TV coverage of the event – I PREY FOR RAIN!!! Bastards. July’s for me now consist of back and forth phone calls to fixture secretaries, checking a game of cricket is still on [after it’s rained]. If it is still on, it’ll probably rain anyway, so you best ask them if they mind turning up on the proviso it might stop raining, just for a few minutes, so we might get in a few overs of cricket in [before it fucking rains again]. Since when did July in the UK become such a goddamn chore?

Lush.

So I was extremely heartened by the “Dunkirk” attitude of the Astons team this Sunday, that despite the horrific weather overnight and leading into the day, they were still prepared to travel over from Didcot to try and get some cricket under their belts. Their skipper Ralph summed it up quite nicely on his mobile, by stating “if we don’t turn up and play, the sun will come out, and since we’ve got bugger all else to do today, we’re going to turn up anyway. Most of my guys are drunks, and they don’t want to spend another weekend solely in the pub.” I relayed this good news to our skipper, who sat inside the Folly Bridge pub with the rest of the team – hiding from the rain. “Moo, I’ve spoken to Ralph, and they’re definitely turning up. It’s been dry near Didcot for at least 3 minutes, and that small epicentre of non-rain is moving this way.”

The covers had more exercise than most the players….

It was about this time that divisions within the ranks of the FFTMCC began to become apparent. Good natured banter turned into a more argumentative office management style crossfire. J. Hoskins was quick to board the positive bus [unsurprisingly] and stipulate that Brasenose had covers “and the rain outside is just a passing squall”. D. Edwards climbed eagerly onto that bus by mentioning that “we’ve paid for teas, we’ve paid for the ground and I want a damn good bat.” Others boarded A. Fisher’s more negative bus citing it “was a complete waste of fucking time starting a game you’re clearly not going to finish”. The negative bus did become crowded at times, especially when a non-playing T. Smith commented that he’d like to buy a pass for both buses as he was unsure where he stood on the matter in hand [he’d had a late night]. With people dismounting and boarding buses at regular intervals – almost in synch with the cloud cover alternating outside; nobody seemingly was able to agree on anything. Thus both buses set off for Brasenose with twenty minutes remaining for a proposed 2pm start.

It was somewhat ironic that after all the rainfall and bickering that the game actually started roughly on time. The FFTMCC were the beneficiaries of a rare win of the toss [Astons lost it of course, and no, mini-Moo was not in attendance], and were more than happy to watch their opponents slip and slide on the soggy outfield chasing leather. Even more dramatic was the sudden change of weather – THE SUN CAME OUT!!! And like all those cheap and crappy recycled postcards you get from shops on Blackpool seafront, the pavilion at Brasenose now sported a line of colourful deckchairs – with Mad players relaxing into cans of lager in readiness for some cricket.

Blackpool seafront.

Out in the middle, skipper M. Westmoreland’s (20) stay at the crease was ruined by a deflection of ball from pad to wicket. A shame, as he’d looked in good touch before that incident – providing an attacking foil to the stoic resistance of D. Edwards at the other end. Dan was joined at the crease by a back-to-form I. Howarth, and together they took The MAD total past 100 with no undue alarms. The bounce seemed consistent, the bowling less so, so eyebrows were raised when Ian (40) was bowled by another ball that deflected from pad to wicket. He moaned about “a fielder walking behind the bowler” and trotted out varying other excuses, but there was no cob as such, so maybe he’d boarded the resigned bus back to the pavilion?

S. Dobner was next to the crease, soon underlining why his nickname should change from “Twinkle” to “Pinball” [or maybe “Tommy” – the pinball wizard?] A forward defensive saw the ball stopped in its tracks, bounce off a cushion of dirt, spin back against the flipper of grass, and disappear down the gutter onto his bails for a duck. Shocking luck, but perfectly in keeping with Steve’s record of “pinball” dismissals [being bowled in an unorthodox manner; often utilising every part of his anatomy]. 104-3.

“He’s the pinball wizard… la larrrr la-larrr…”

D. Emerson (3), worryingly sober, strode to the crease, and soon after, strode straight back again, but not before unfurling the best shot of the day – a towering throw of his own bat into a faraway puddle. An exemplary demonstration of cobbing, Dave – for that we salute you. At the other end, Edwards had been suffering the jitters, having been stranded in the nervous forties for well over half an hour. He must be close to his fifty? Surely? A quick check with the scorer [J. Hotson] and he was informed it had actually happened a while ago [his 50 that is]. Relaxed in the knowledge, Dan (56) was summarily bowled hoiking to deep square cow.

Dan’s innings was all the more remarkable considering he had no bat.

If there is one thing that you can rely on in a Mad match, it’s the now traditional collapse. Many teams have tried to imitate, but none have ever succeeded in such a deflatory and shambolic fashion. The Far from the MCC pride themselves in a tumble of chaotic wickets – all played out to a backdrop of cobbing, finger pointing and the summary use of colourful adjectives. 122-3 became 141-9 as the procession of hapless batting continued apace. M. Reeves (6), having tried valiantly to get himself out [run out] on no less than four different occasions, eventually succeeded by swishing over a straight one. A. Fisher (1) missed everything including the one that hit his middle stump. J. Hoskins (2) scored at a run a ball, whilst JP Collins (4) scored at double the rate. All four were bowled, three of them in A. Napper’s (7-0-19-3) final over. It all left our poet, A. Morley, defiant and undefeated on an average protecting 1 not out. I. Leggate did not bat. 35 overs had elapsed.

Time for tea, time for the golf on TV – and time for the heavens to open once more. Whilst the romantics cried in their cuppas as an ageing Tom Watson failed at the last to win his sixth golfing Open, Brasenose was being smudged from memory by diagonal rain. It fucking hosed it down. There were optimistic attempts at removing the covers, but these only succeeded in making it piss down some more. Barrel loads of it. Bathtubs of it. A sea of water now enveloped the outfield. With numerous discussions on various buses about pool systems, Duckworth-Lewis recalculations, buggering off or waiting it out, Messrs Westmoreland and Smith shook hands and agreed a draw.

Fuck it.

Martin has a crap in front of the kids.

In the end, July had the final word – again – and whether I got on the negative or positive buses before the game is largely irrelevant. I did climb on one final bus however; I bought a ticket for the Folly Bridge Bus, as this seemed to be the only vehicle that had the team united. Funny that – something that sells alcohol….

‘Spam’

*

Statto Scorecards

Far from the MCC versus Astons CC Played at Blenheim, 19 July 2009 Far from the MCC won the toss and elected to bat Match Abandoned Far from the MCC debuts: none

09 / 179 35 over match

Team	Far from the MCC
#	Batsman	How Out	Total	Balls	4s	6s	FOW
1	D. M. Edwards	b Clark	56	(91)	4	-	5-128
2	M. T. Westmoreland *	b Shea	20	(34)	2	-	1-37
3	I. Howarth	b R. A. Smith	40	(38)	5	-	2-103
4	S. L. P. Dobner	b Clark	0	(5)	-	-	3-104
5	D. Emerson	c b Clark	3	(10)	-	-	4-122
6	M. K. Reeves	b Napper	6	(11)	-	-	7-133
7	A. J. Fisher +	b Wigg	1	(8)	-	-	6-133
8	A. Morley	not out	1	(10)	-	-	-
9	J. D. Hoskins	b Napper	2	(2)	-	-	8-135
10	J. P. Collins	b Napper	4	(2)	1	-	9-141
11	I. C. Leggate
	Extras	(NB2, W2, LB2, B2)	8
	TOTAL	(for 9 wickets, 35 overs)	141

#	Bowler	Overs	Maidens	Runs	Wkts
1	Napper	7	0	19	3
2	Wigg	7	3	25	1
3	S. Smith	7	0	27	0
4	Shea	4	0	18	1
5	R. Smith	6	0	41	1
6	Clark	4	1	7	3

Team	Astons CC
#	Batsman	How Out	Total	Balls	4s	6s	FOW
1	R. A. Smith *
2	N. Clark
3	I. Gibson
4	J. Shea
5	S. Merrifield
6	J. Imbush
7	M. Moore
8	G. Smith
9	M. Wigg
10	S. Smith
11	A. Napper
	Extras
	TOTAL

#	Bowler	Overs	Maidens	Runs	Wkts
1
2
3

MOTM: n/a Champagne Moment: n/a Buffet Award: n/a

Opposition: V046 / 03 Ground: G040 / 04 Captain: C011 / 12