If you are only attending one cricketing event in 2008 make sure it is...

The 2008 ICC World Cricket League Division Five Tournament in JERSEY:

The following juggernauts (although unfortunately, they can't ALL win) will compete:

Botwsana
USA
Afghanistan
Norway
Nepal
Singapore
Jersey
Mozambique
Bahamas
Germany
Plus two extra qualifiers from the 2007 East Asia Pacific Cricket Cup: That is to say, two from the following:

Cook Islands
Indonesia
Japan
Samoa
Tonga
Vanuatu

I will be there, if anyone from home is planning a trip out here - make sure you coincide it with this tournament of tournaments. The tournament takes place in around May/June, but more details will follow.

Stay tuned for more details and hints and tips for the betting types.

Destructing The Last Stand

The classic cricket two-step has been missing for some time.

Firstly: there are only two matches of cricketing fury left in the season. Currently the undefeated Balliol machine will play Worcester College on Monday in a top of the table clash. Winning that would almost certainly see us crowned league champions as we play our final match against Queen's [who have become renown as being on par with the Bundaburra Girl Guide's 3rd XI who are missing their star batter due to a local netball tournament (some trivia there, in men's cricket the one who bats is always referred to as the 'batsman' {c.f. baseball} but in women's cricket 'batter' is used {although the award for best player is still 'Man of the Match') - now you know)].

However it would appear that the weather is not on our side: BBC's weather website displays a cloud with a jagged line emanating from its centre - surely that musn't bode well, no matter how you read it.

But to get there we had to play Pembroke college last week and, in the words of Simon O'Donnell, our bowlers took joy in 'Destructing the middle order'. We batted first and ratcheted up 241, the willow services of TS Trudgian not being required, but naturally I opened the officiating and informed fine leg (as usual) of his illegal fielding [starting outside the boundary as the bowler ran in] - a schoolboy error.

Bowling well - they opened with someone who wore his 'Tic' shorts - the shorts that you can buy if you are in the OXford 2nd XI - I don't do shorts, nor do I do team wear, so I wasn't overly intimidated with his proclamation of skill. Far more encouraging was his use of a white helmet, in the style of GA Gooch - and hence (indeed despite his Sub-conintenal appearence and name of Minesh) we christened this batsman Goochy and the banter began. I took delight in reminding him that as captain he had lost 3 successive ashes series - and when the pressure mounted I recalled the 1993 incident at Old Trafford where Goochy lost the plot and handled the ball. He tried to retaliate with some banter of his own (like the Emperor, his overconfidence was his weakness) and was dismissed the next ball by a legstump yorker (but my faith in my friends was not mine).

We won by 150 runs, and didn't even need to crack out the Deal or No Deal bargaining chip.

Thence to the Old Boys game - Balliol Past vs Present. In a timed match (which must be one of the best sporting formats in the world) the old Boys declared at 5 for 220. When the last hour commenced (I was umpiring and at last was able to employ this erstwhile rare signal of raising the index finger of one hand to the opposing wrist - I may have gone on a rant last time [what the hell does rant mean?]) we needed 160 from 20 overs with 7 wickets left - an interesting situation. Certainly we gave it the ol' college try but ultimately we pulled the plug and played for the draw. In a replay of The Oval test of 2005 wickets tumbled and an almost certain deadpan draw came to life in the final stages.

The shadows lengthening, the college chapels competing for precdence in bellringing practise, overs dwindling, a team of Balliol old boys galvanising in the centre, wickets tumbling and the hopes and dreams of at least his team, if not the Commonwealth, resting upon his square Matthew Hayden esque shoulders, our officiating protagonist was called upon to drop his umpiring coat, pad up and see off the remaining 3 overs.

First ball: defended (casually) with a rather long and (oh yes, casual) 'No.'
Second ball: same again, with a longer, more nasally, 'Noooo.'
Third ball: I put on my best Ian Healy nasally voiced impersonation and when calling No, it degenerated into a 'Naaahhhoooo' - Healy in voice, Trumper in footwork [that will one day become my family's motto].
Up the other end, a recently turned 20 MC Wood, fearless captain of the 2nd XI was doing more than enough to hold his own with his patented Gibralter strong defence. A huge stride forward and an Atherton straight bat [except that young Wood wasn't dismissed by Glenn McGrath 19 times] saw the bowlers defeated yet again.

In the final over I dispatched one for four (no harm in helping the average?) and trotted out my classic casual defensive strokes with my even more insouciant [you heard it here first] calls of no. Eventually on the last ball I hit a drive over mid off and watched it run all the way to the boundary only to stop inside. No fielders were after it - the game not winnable by either side now - so to inject some excitement into the finish for the punters and spectators, off we set on an attempt to complete a mitfull of runs. We had got to three when one of the fielders [who was already pulling out the stumps in dismantling mode] threw in a joking shoulder to end our hi-jinks, [part of my wanted to appeal for the 5 penalty runs - the other part smacked the first part in the chops] and in the end we ran four after a comical Laurel and Hardy esque overthrow.

Today marks a maverick event in the Master's Field - June Jamborree. It sounds like those events I used to attend as a boy scout, and hated as I had to make bird feeders and learn to sow as opposed to climbing trees or fighting eskimos, or whatever the other children would do at home. But the sun is out, the weather is warm [around 20 degrees, so the English have begun to faint] and it promises to be a fine day and hopefully not scout-astic.

Leather Fantasy

Not what you are thinking.

It was a warm day in Oxford [must have topped at least 22 degrees and so the English were sweating here there and everywhere]. At one stage I made the comment that twenty degrees would be the minimum in Darwin, to which I was given the riposte - it is probably 50 degrees in the Sahara - that is certainly something to consider.

I arrived, as par for the course, with my 7 Euro Jacket [which I bought in Ireland and now wear on a day to day basis], my socks and sandals [as I don't want to blunt my spikes on the likes of the concrete] and a hip flask of Aberlour 10 yr old inside my jacket pocket: for close encounters. Towards the nets I ambled, keen on rolling the arm over to pass the time. And then witnesses reported that a young D.K. Lillee had become incarnate in this jacketed clown: smooth action, high elbow and seemless follow through. The first ball: a beamer - sorry says I, it slipped out [if you say that's what she said I will punch you].

So the skip sees a few and thinks that I might be able to roll the arm over during the match - excellent, as I didn't take my teaspoon of Cod Liver Oil that morning and hence hadn't the most supple of joints for keeping. I like to think the Blog is a lot like a good TV series: each episode is self contained, but there is a small undercurrent running throu... don't slouch.

So I came on as the number 2 bowler and bowled the first over for 2 runs. This occurred once before [in the entire history of cricket] namely, when I took the pads off for an ANU match and bowled some fiendish Tim May esque off spin for two overs, the first of which went for two and the second went for 12. Di was watching from the sideline and made the remark at the end of the over: 'Why didn't you bowl as well in the second over as you did in the first?' Indeed.

As I was walking back to fine leg I shook my head and practised bowling a few with my hand - I have seen bowlers, in particular GD McGrath do this, and what is good for the Pigeon, is good for the gander... genius. Oh yes, while I am on a roll, I was cracking out the Doppler Shift Banter in the nets and to a lesser extent on the cricket field. Claiming that the red ball become even redder after it left my hand, was, for my mind, Nobel Prize worthy.

Thence to the second over: oh yes, a ball short of a length on the offside, caught at cover and I had my first wicket since the second XI match of 2001 in which I hurled off the pads to deliver mindboggling offspin for 4 wickets for a miserly 6 runs.

Next over went for a maiden - I was quite getting into this shaking of the head for bad lbw decisions and questioning the umpire as to what laws of physics he would need to employ to ensure that the ball would have missed leg stump. He wasn't up for as much physics banter as I though.

With a game plan of bowling the ball at the stumps and letting the batsmen do the rest I was rewarded with three balls clashing into the wickets off 'intelligent' deliveries, one more which was chopped on from outside off, and one more catch at cover [same man as before - for minute I thought there was a glitch in the Matrix] to end up with the Coloss[os of Rhodes]al figures of 6 for 25 after 11.4 overs. Sorry about the brackets there, I thoguht I was onto somehting, some more classical humour, but no, I lied.

We had to chase down 125 with a minimum of 40 overs to face. On that note I was keen to be umpiring when we hit 6:30 - as it was a timed match the 'last hour' would commence at this time and 20 overs would need to be bowled. There is an oldschool symbol of the finger pointing to the wrist of the opposite hand to inform the scorers that the last hour has commenced [Law 16], and I could have gone to bed tonight a contented man if I could have given that signal. But no, it wasn't to be... still, exiciting times... I don't need your accusing stares.

We got off to a reasonable start, 23 runs with 2 wickets down and more than 30 overs remaining, almost walsable. But no, a slight [violet] crumble here and there and we made it difficult. I strode out to bat at number 9 (well opening the bowling, why not?) and dispatched the first ball promptly for four, the next for a single, the next for two runs out to mid on, and then oh dear, the nadir of my innings - getting out to Kermit the Frog/Gonzo/Fuzzy the Bear: a muppet. Hit the toe of the bat, I didn't try to work it, rather I tried to lob it over his head for runs - error - TS Trudgeon* caught and bowled the Swedish Chef for 7. The young firebrand Jack Deegan suggested I should have fought the bowler. A cunning stratagem, but one best avoided at this level.

Oh yes: photos - remember those? I will take some and put them up.

Now for a lazy Sunday evening, as I finish off the last of my Glen Moray 10 yr old, listen to a bit of Bach, and take great delight in eating cold sausages and bread so as to cash in on the bachelor days while I can.

*Indeed - It was not I but some other joker called Trudgeon who took 6 wickets [A Michelle +1 {Pfieffer = 5; 5+1 = 6: bullseye] and scored 7. He was a damn fine bloke though, and his banter about the Doppler Effect - capital.