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.
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.
posted by Tim Trudgian | 1:31 pm
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