First win of the season (Part 2/2)

And thence to the second innings:

Chasing a mammoth 231 was always going to be tough. But with some controlled aggression and typical 'effortless superiority' Balliol got off to a fine start.

THE HEAD made 24 before being bowled by a ball which 'reverse swung in at 85 miles an hour and was impossible to pick up in the fading light - possibly the best delivery the universe has ever seen' - others amongst us thought it was a normal full toss - different people, different needs. Although JS 'Jimmy D' Douglas departed for 1, the scorebook will show a 30 run partnership - with some classic strike farming employed. Indeed the strike agriculture will be further referenced in a few entries time.

Wino, in his capacity as fearless captain, took control of proceedings along with Pooley, and a partnership blossomed. OG Williams suffered an uncharacteristic lapse in concentration and was caught on 19 from 22. We were teetering, with three wickets down, but Isaac was hitting the ball with all the verve of Merv, and the stage was set for an entrance. Contrasting the entry 'Career Best' - this game was full of parallels.

A young TS Trudgian strode out with a brimming mixture of confidence and mavericity. 5 balls to get off the mark, thence a shaky loft over the covers, but from then on Charles Bannerman in his composure. Pooley had a very useful knack of remonstrance at the end of each over: "Let us be here in five overs time... that would be nice... runs, sure, they will take care of themselves." Just like that.

At one end I. Poole raced away, and reverting to his Tasmanian forestry ways, he felled all the trees in his path - or rather, scored runs. He cracked a 50 while I was still scratching around for a dozen or so. I had finally got my eye in and was enjoying my lofted cover drives - it seemed not to dawn on Keble that I could only play straight (classically... in the V [which is apparently where people in the Blues are taught to play in the start of their innings. I find this absurd - surely if the ball is short and there is no one out for the pull/hook, go for it. Apparently no, says the coach, who in true American Football locker room style, insists on being called 'coach'. No need. And speaking of American Football, there was a brace of mavericks who entered onto the Master's Field the otehr day, just Matt Prior before our innings. No need for shirts, they threw around a football saying things like, 'Wow man, this is like good grass,' and 'I could like go for some tuna fish now' - characters.)

Anyway, one of their bowlers was trying desperately hard to become the ultimate fast bowler - he was huffing and puffing, and giving some chat and staring one down. If he was a yard quicker then perhaps it may have been minatory, but ended up just plain mental. Anyway, he pulled the classic Allan Donald manoeuvre and pretended to shy at the stumps after collecting the ball - the hard man's hard man. I told him it would be in his interests to not do that. This fuelled him up like a Shell service station and the next ball was an attempted bouncer. Not at this time of the season - it sat up, and I had already decided to take a leaf out of ML Hayden's school,

http://content-uk.cricinfo.com/magazine/content/story/351213.html

and managed to club it down through mid on for 4. Touche salesman.

Anway, we continued to go on, with Isaac hitting with ease and my occasional club through the covers after a string of misses. Then the incident arose - keeping with the Balliol vs Keble tradition, I 'nicked' a ball through to the keeper. I was supremely confident that it had hit the shoulder of the bat, and was on my way, walking off, when a piece of my pad come undone. Well, surely in their ecstatic state, the fielders wouldn't begrudge a man fixing up his protective attire? Surely not. So I bent down and administered some running repairs. Sure. As I rose I saw the umpire (THE HEAD) unshakeable, indeed, immutable. He just stood there shaking his head. What ho? Ring the alarum? I decided there is no harm is staying at the crease - if I am indeed adjudged out I can always shift off after he gives 'the signal'. Nothing, not a sausage. Mmm... luck perhaps has gone my way (since the weekend previous I was 'caught' down the legside after the bat brushed the pad) so I stayed a little longer.

By now the fielders were confused and there euphoria turned to confusion, forming a ring around the umpire and appealing for caught behind. After a Sergeant Schulz esque 'I saw nothing' the Head took himself out of the equation by requesting that they get ready to bowl the next ball. That should have been the end of it. But their ring of fury refocussed around me, with firstly pleas and then threats that I should leave the field. Originally I was all keen on anti-banter, but I decided there was no need to provoke them furhter. Otherwise balls which are thrown at the stumps 'accidentally' miss the keeper's gloves and 'accidentally' collide with the unhelmeted batsman. So I stayed and the taunts began - the cheater, honest jack [who sounds like a 19th century bare-knuckled boxer], and the girl (sexists - sure).

Anyway we kept on plugging away - another five over block successfully navigated. Pooley, who by now must have been seeing the ball like a melon, moved onto 98 (unbeknownst to him) and targeted the short boundary for a six. Lamentably he was caught achingly close to the rope and departed, his job more than done, and Balliol needing a relatively comfortable 7 runs an over from the last 8 overs.

First win of the season (Part 1/2)

I have been holding off writing a cricket report (for tis summer now in England... well, there is a sun in the sky, so you need to take what you can) until we had a win. After three agonising losses (one in the knockout tournament which saw us knocked out; and two in the league - one to Frank Oz's team of muppets) we finally registered a victory. And whom better against than our old sparring partners, Keble - see the post on the 30th of May last year for a prelude (in e minor).

So, the team sheet.

Jim 'The Head' Head
James 'Blue Shift' Douglas
Isaac 'Prozac' Poole
Owain 'Wino' Williams
Tim 'TS' Trudgian
Travers 'Netball Visor' Macleod
Tim 'That's what she said' Southphomassane
Bertie 'Reverse slower ball' Alla
Phil 'Cool, calm and collected' Clarke
Tom 'Douglas Senior' Douglas
Alex 'Super Sub' Heath.

And what a side. Wino was absent for the start of the match, and so my years of slugging it out on synthetic wickets at the ANU and nights playing at the formidable National Indoor Cricket centre (where I recall bowling underarm once and taking a Mankad at the height of sportsmanship), proved useful enough to earn the promotion to temporary captain. With only 10 men on the field for the first 20 overs, some cunning field settings were in order. Right out of the Kim Hughes school of not debating field settings, we stuck with 7(-1)/2 field and for the most part went alright.

Douglas senior opened the bowling, and once an astute keeper suggested he come around the wicket, it would be a lie to say that he was not unplayable. The Superman (Tim other) opened from the other end with characteristic movement off the seam and that occaisional one that moved away, or the reverse straight delivery as it is known these days.

It was state vs state, mate vs mate, in perfect origin style when my erstwhile teammate (for the Oxford vs Cambridge ANZACs match) Simon Quinn was on strike. I thought I didn't need to execute lightning glovework down the leg side, and let him get away with going walkabout to (Malcolm) Douglas. Fortunately off Pooley I had recollected my bag o'tricks and he was sent packing, which no need for Symonds-esque decisions.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ny6YS0Ofkrc

As always Ian Chappell is the last pony to cross the line, 'The keeper is appealing for a stumping because he sees the foot out of the crease': another world beater.

The other day in a shop I saw a young kid carrying some cheese, which looked like Red Leicester, and I made a comment as such to Di. [We have interesting converstations when shopping... sure.] She thought it a bit rough on me calling a young ginger haired fellow 'Red Leicester'. Anyway, what? Oh yes, there was anotehr batsman, the other opener indeed, who had ginger hair, and for the purposes of this presentation (and we are all learning something today), he will be denoted RL.

Not through lack of trying, we failed to nab RL before he raced towards a century. JS Douglas had a couple o' chances from his bowling, and to his credit did not get hit into the tennis court. Some would call that a backhanded compliment - but the field was askew inasmuch as we were playing on an extreme wicket (and I don't mean 'extreme' in the sense that Americans riding skateboards down the footpath and flipping in the air think that their 'sport' is 'extreme... man' [It seems that young Americans are called Brody or Dylan, and older ones are called Hank or John]. Where was I? Oh yes) so bowling was tough from theNorthern or Mansfield Road end of the ground.

Before Quinny departed in peace (according to Pooley's word - a nod to the church goers there: Nunc Dimittis banter... sure) there was a colossal LBW shout by the speed demon Phil Clarke. Hit's the pad... there's a big appeal... and not a sausage from the umpire. An off cutter, not bouncing, bloke padding up, striking him just outside the line of off stump (which does not invalidate anything in this context)... not out. That was crushing. The ball was a swing and a miss, I managed to take it cleanly but my typing hand is now battling to reach between the 'g' and the 'p', without erupting in protest.

Alex Heath, forever available at short notice, was like a fox terrier crossed with an illegal fishing net in that he let nothing through. He was 'whiteless' at the start of the game, but with some clothes from The Head's special clothing cupboard, he absorbed some power and finesse, and became Jonty Rhodes - without the match fixing.

Bertie chipped in with some tight bowling (and also steered clear of the tennis caught) to pick up a few wickets towards the end. There was an incident when I pulled a Viv Richards and had to coerce the umpire

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SNT53tLziM

into not giving a no-ball due to height. Simple enough law, but often mavericks go on some sort of vigilante mission, with bad news all-round. Then there was the running on the pitch. One ball, at the end of the over, the batsman takes off down the middle (it was RL) and I had a quiet word to him, that's all. Next over three balls in a row the same thing happens, remonstrance with the umpire proved to yield no fruit.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JBWMxhL0ZCU


Anyway, RL ended up with a century, after giving many chances in the field, and I may or may not have remarked that it was certainly the best century seen in this universe, and maybe even in others. Following some fielding advice by The Head, fields were jigged around, runs were cut down, and Wino took a rather straightforward catch to restrict the visitors to 231 from their forty overs.

That was going to take some chasing, but I. Poole, whose middle name remains a mystery to us at Wisden, commented that he "couldn't remember the last time he had lost three on the trot". And indeed he not only steered us to victory, he drew the map, drove the car and stopped for icecream at every petrol station.