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.