Last Ball Thriller

Talk about close shaves, this one takes the epidermis along for a ride. The scene: Fortress Jowett. The foe: Worcester. The victory: Delicious.

I suppose the cat is out of the bag, but we managed a win by 1 wicket with a total of 0 balls remaining. Even Thwaiter's scoring database shuddered at the proximity between the worms in those final overs.

To set the scene though: Worcester, several time Cuppers champions and a team full of talent, has never defeated Balliol in my time here. Last year's game was rained off the and previous two times we played was after they had made an appearance in the Cuppers finals (something Balliol has not done since... 2005?). We will still face them in the League in the last week of term, where I'm sure they will be up for a rematch.

There was lots of talk heading into the game about 'this being the real final' and what have you. This was one quarter of that, but four times of that? No, that one needs a little more thought.

Plenty of Tics players in the Worcester line-up, and the so called 'potential Blues players' which the Cuppers committee love including in their roulette-style seeding system. But a champion team versus a team of champions = there can be only one winner. That winner is clearly Coach Gordon Bombay from The Mighty Duck Trilogy


oh, and us on Monday, dontcha know?

The fact that we managed to beat a team which had such mercenary bandits as 'The Real Bowles', some seven foot-tall gunslinger known as 'Large' and two nomadic ninjas by the elusive names of 'Player 10' and 'Player 11', speaks volumes about our levels of concentration at this elite level of competition.

It was a class act by the opening pair, scuttling along at a fair clip, before one of the best LBW shouts you would ever want to see. Following on from the maverick decision during the previous match against Queens [see previous post] --- in which Clarkey and co went up in a half-hearted appeal and then we all died down when we realised the ball was missing another set of stumps, only to see the umpire fire the batsman off. As he left the field he turned to the umpire and said, in the tone of a brother who has had his elder brother nick his turn on the Sega Mega Drive (mine was a happy childhood) "They didn't even appeal properly." Classic.

Anyway, Trav wraps R Bowles (not the 'Real Bowles', oh no, his entrance into this rich tapestry will come at a later date) square on the pads, in line with the stumps, sure, but one in which I had little time for the appeal. The bloke is a tall man, ball hitting just below the knee-roll on the up. I'm no aerodynamical cavalier, but I thought that was an optimistic appeal at best. I joined in to be part of the crowd. Once we died down, Trav, sensing blood, let out a second, more urgent appeal, continued with the question, politely phrased "What IS that missing?" Apparently that swung it for the umpire and the Rudi Koertzen slow finger came out to say g'day. Bemused and beguiled, R Bowles returned to the pavillion. Trav struck again in his next over dismissing the number 3, but then Worcester had a cool pair of heads at the crease, who put on 99 between them.

A good catch by The Head and a runout from S(olomon,) J(oe) Thwaite from third man removed both established batsmen.

Some lusty strokeplay from the Worcester middle order saw the Foe in Pink reach that 200 mark, which is a good par on any D/L method. However, we all thought that Balliol had done well to restrict the scoring in the latter overs, and as you can see by the Manhattan Murder Mystery Graph

there wasn't an MEK Hussey-esque explosion towards the end.

So 201 to win... always going to be a big ask, and it called for a good all-round effort. The top five all got to double figures - indeed the first five wickets made 184 and the last five made 17, but, as we know now from the previous post, Wino's prophetic 'taking it to the last over' does make strange things happen.

Wino and the Head proceeded with caution and headed to drinks at no wicket for 68. 133 required from the last 20, but with bags o' wickets up the cuff. Jim departed first ball after drinks, and despite a quick fire 14, Gav couldn't overcome the stark reality of 'The Real Bowles', and chipped him a catch. Captain Kohnny, who seems to become Val Kilmer: Iceman, when batting, knocked a barrage of sweeps for four, and put on 50 with Wino, who kept playing the back foot cover drive which caught the selector's eye and secured his transfer from the Welsh hinterland to this side of the Cotswolds. Such was the onslaught of Gav, Wino and Kohnny that the required run rate dropped from 7 to a tick over 5.

Thwaiters arrived, keen to straight-drive his way into Wisden, and belted three boundaries. Then was the first of four, count them FOUR, run-outs. That classic gambit of 'Wait, Yes, Wait... oh ah yes?' Wino departs for a well earned 79. Entire a partnership of Trans-Tasman unity. Thwaiters and I kept the runs ticking over before he was bowled and Vidhu copped an LBW decision in the same over. 12 to win, 2 overs to play, and Arjun and I at the crease. I had already whipped the punt pole out for a mow over the croquet green, and the time had come for another trip down the river.

Arjun hit a ball out to deep cover and we ran a quick one, I turned and was heading back for the second, huffing and puffing like a trooper. I think my huffing swallowed my shout for 2, indeed it was deafening in my mind, but I managed to find myself down the other end almost shaking hands with Arjun, or rather, something far less cordial, when the stumps at the keeper's end were broken.

Arjun was run out in that same over (bowled by the man-mountain known simply as 'Large'), bringing us into the final over needing 6 to win with 2 wickets in hand. Take it to the last over... kept repeating over and over in my mind, after I had calmed down on the sideline.

First ball - swing and a miss. There must have been some collaborative confusion in the mid-wicket conference at the end of the over. Running for everying may or may not mean running for everthing. With the keeper back a bye was 'on', but the stumps were hit and Matty P in his skin-tight white shirt, departed.

6 to win from 5, with Clarkey our last man in, on strike. Bunt, run, a comfortable single.

5 from 4. Bunt from Trav and another run, comfortably home.

4 from 3. Would you believe - the field is set so deep that they plunder another run!

3 from 2. Tragedy! A dot and almost a wicket. A hit into the covers, set off for a run and turn back. Clarky turns like the QE II, but he jolly well got the after burners on and scampered back.

I was rather disconsolate up in the pavillion. I decided to come down to the boundary thinking that we should get ready to shake their hands.

3 from 1... certainly doable: Trav on strike and his 20 against Queen's included some big shots. Before the bowler ran in there was a reminder about the rules: a tie meant a bowl out! Oh this was getting too much. The bowler runs in, and would you believe it Trav swings, swings well, and gets, oh no, just a single. But wait! A no-ball for height! Clarkey keeps his cool and doesn't go for the glory-suicide second to go for the win.

1 ball left, 1 run to win, number 11 on strike. This is script material. I feel that I could not possible tell the tale in words. Here are pictures taken by Shiv:


Ball is bowled, swing and a miss... surely it is the bye with the keeper standing back...

In comes the throw, Trav is really struggling here, remember the keeper hit once before...

Blimey! Trav isn't even in the frame, the ball is right there! AHHH!!!!!


A miss! A MISS!!!

And, to complete the series, the look of despair from the keeper. Teaches him to stand up, I suppose.

Blimey... I can't handle any more now. I'm off for a beer.

There's still Keble's game to go up... stay tuned.