Game 7

The Greasby Roaders v The SCC

Thursday 21st July 2011

(report written by James Christensen)

The merest of margins…. again!

Greasby Roaders and SCC have only played each other twice, but the encounters are already proving to be the stuff of which dreams and nightmares are made in equal measure; where heroic deeds and soaring spirits are counterbalanced with anguished heartache and utter despair. Two games of cricket; each ultimately decided by one, solitary ball- the very last delivery of the match. Game one belonged to the SCC, but that was just a bog standard league game. This second encounter had the weight and feel of a preliminary final about it; the first part of a round robin final series to determine bragging rights and minor silverware in the bottom half of the table; but who would the cricketing gods favour this time?

The one thing you can say about the SCC is that they’re keen. When we arrived for our first match against them, they’d already been in the nets for a good half hour warming up, so it was no real surprise to arrive, this time, and find their yellow shirts practising on the actual pitch we’d soon be using; a pitch, I might add, we’d never played on before! To make matters worse, we were about as late as you could be without forfeiting the match- great start! But our lack of a warm up was the least of our problems. As a team, we were about as rusty and out of practice as the Titanic’s number two engine; the cumulative result of cancelled games, blokes coming back from hols, and practice sessions which never quite got off the ground. Yes, our younger, keener opponents already seemed to have the advantage…

We win the toss and elect to field. The pitch is designated as WCC3, which you’d be forgiven for thinking was a reflection of its quality; shortish boundaries, Astroturf deck, with a clumpy outfield- so clumpy, in fact, you’d think Farmer Brown had just driven over it in his combine harvester!

If Ritchie Benaud’s oft quoted cliché, "catches win matches," was anything to go by, we were soon in big, big trouble. At the half way stage, SCC’s score line read twenty overs; 161/ 0. Yes, you read correctly, One Hundred and Sixty One for Zero. ZERO!!!! NOUGHT!!! ZILCH!!! ZIP!!! NOTHING!!! Certainly our worst fielding performance since Game One, when Bromborough Penguins hammered us to the tune of 194, but at least we did get a couple of wickets against them! Nul Points was definitely a bitter pill to swallow and to say that we were feeling deflated was an understatement. In retrospect, I think we were still trying to adjust to bowling on astro rather than turf, and once we’d taken a bit of stick early on, we were a bit reticent to put guys closer to the bat, where a lot of catches were going begging.

(Honourable mentions in the bowling department must go to the good Rev, Mark, who beat the bat on numerous occasions without success- oh for another coat of varnish on those stumps (!!!); and the skipper, Steve, who bowled his four overs for a, comparatively, economical return of 6.5 per over. Thanks also to Nick and Charles, despite their lack of recent bowling experience, for cheerfully stepping into the breach to be our fifth bowler between them.)

Nervous smiles all round, as we trudge from the field and sit on the grass, in our imaginary batting hutch; still somewhat shell shocked, with Charles and Bry padding up. No one needed to say the obvious- we were well and truly hammered. "Let’s just have a good time and enjoy it", someone finally said, and with that, we all visibly relaxed, breathed a collective sigh (of what? resignation?), and, surprisingly, with the prospect of a win pretty much off the cards, we did manage to ‘chill.’

Ah, the agony of choice when it came to bat; Charles’ ‘Kemmerick’ or my new blade, the ‘Quantum Storm;’ the lime green of the Kookaburra versus the fluorescent pink of the ‘Gay’ Nicholls? With two decent bats to choose from, no, make that three, with Pete’s ‘Golden Oldie’ Gunn & Moore (held together with gaffer tape and a prayer), maybe our batting assault might just stand a chance.

Charles ‘The Terminator’ Pickering strode out to the crease with the ‘Kemmerick,’ while Bryan ‘The Brawler’ Jackson brandished the garish Quantum; a look of quiet determination etched across each opener’s face. Who were these yellow shirted kids anyway? We have the talent, and now we have the fire power at both ends. Let’s give it to ‘em; both barrels…

Not a good start for the Quantum, then, with Bryan walking back, having not troubled the scorer one iota; but what a spectacular dismissal! I don’t think anyone has managed to successfully combine the sports of cricket and pole vaulting before, but Mr Jackson certainly gave it a good try. The Terminator is the striker and works a bread and butter single, screaming at the Brawler to move. Bry finally takes heed, and manages to hurtle himself down the track, he slides his bat but, bang, it gets stuck in one of Farmer Brown’s clumps, and Bry goes sailing through the air, fully horizontal, with his grounded bat now behind him.

A photo finish between the ball and Bry would have revealed the following: stumps broken by ball; Bry’s horror stricken face looking back at bat, which is still a good four inches from the crease and totally stuck in the clump, while Bry’s body is till flying through the air, as if auditioning for the title role in the backwards version of Superman: The movie. Yes Bry, you were in, or rather over, the crease but, unfortunately, no part of you was actually grounded, and poor old Nick had no other option but to raise the finger…. (In the polite umpiring way, of course, not in the, err, well, you know what I mean…)

Our first wicket goes cheaply then, and it’s Nick who inherits the Quantum from Bry; but is it going to be a ‘Kemmerick’s bat’ part two affair? Nick looks to be in good touch though, crafting eight, but gets a good delivery that bounces a bit and he lifts it straight to deep mid-wicket. Oh well, at least the Quantum seems to work as a bat!

Next man to go is the Terminator for 17. Once again, Charles had looked the goods with some copy book stroke making, before a dismissal which was almost as bizarre as Bryan’s. When Charles opened the innings, the ground had been bathed in bright sunshine, and he’d opted to wear his ‘terminator style’ sun glasses. Unfortunately, the sky had since clouded over, transforming his terminator sunnies into what were virtually industrial strength welding goggles. Alas, Charles (apparently oblivious to the changed weather conditions) simply never saw the full toss that bowled him. An object lesson for any youngsters out there reading this; there is a very good reason why you never see professional cricketers wearing sunglasses when they bat! Just ask your Uncle Charl!

We’re about two thirds of the way through the match now, and things are not looking much better; already three of our blokes are back in the ‘shed’ with a score line struggling to nudge 35. But cometh the hour, cometh the man or men as the case turned out….

Enter Mark ‘Mayhem’ Montgomery and Peter ‘the rock’ Clowes. Mark’s whirlwind 33 off seven deliveries picked the run rate up considerably, while Peter’s steadying influence of keeping the scoreboard ticking over was beginning to visibly niggle the opposition. Mark’s departure brought out skipper Steve, and the game was well and truly beginning to turn our way. What followed was a beautiful partnership of intelligent batting and controlled aggression. After each over, Steve would ask the all important question about the equation to win; and, suddenly, the equation was beginning to look gettable. 114/ 4 with four overs to go; that’s 48 more runs required at a run rate of about 12 an over. Do we dare to dream?

The opposition were now beginning to look tired and decidedly sloppy in the field, which brought out some classic one liners from their ‘dead scouser’ captain. "Air knobhead you cut them runs off beautiful like (cue walkie talkie static to replicate guttural scouser utterance); but it was a crap attempt at a catch." Or, even more bluntly to his keeper, after a botched run out, "You fookin’ helmet, ya meant to be behind them stumps!" Yes, we were indeed beginning to see why the yellow shirts turned up to matches so early, with the Scouse version of Captain Bligh at the helm. (Actually, he’s a thoroughly lovely bloke with a brilliant sense of humour, who played for us as a ringer not so long ago…)

The Clowes-Willett partnership had brought us tantalisingly close to an upset, and with the momentum we’d gained, it looked like the Steve/ Pete juggernaut was unstoppable! That was until, "Ah, excuse me Mr Batsman, but that is now your 50 and you have to retire." So bye bye to Pete with a well deserved 55 not out. That brought Phil G in with the equation at 16 required from 10 deliveries. A risky little partnership between Phil and Steve ensued, with Phil finally being run out for 10, and the equation was now two from two.

A distinct feeling of deja vu accompanied me, as I walked out to the centre. I’d been here before, but last time I was last man standing and I needed to hit a boundary to get us over the line from the last delivery. I’d scored 7 already and I’d managed to get my eye in during a partnership with Pete. But with Pete gone, it was all down to me. I eyed a huge gap between straight hit and cover and aimed to loft a drive; four runs required from one delivery, easy! Great plan; poor execution and I was comprehensively bowled- from potential hero to zero in a matter of seconds. There was no way I wanted to relive that particular scenario! At least, I was the non-striker this time, and for all I knew, Steve might hit the winning runs without me having to face that dreaded last ball.

I greeted Steve in the middle and he briefed me on the plan- let’s get whatever we can on the ball and run like hell. Hmmm, good plan, I nodded! Second last delivery of the game and I’m half way down the pitch before the ball even reaches Steve. He gets a little edge on the ball and we race through for a scratchy single. Momentary relief as we realise the scores are tied, and we can’t lose; but there’s still an opportunity for victory. Oh crap, it’s down to me again, isn’t it? Steve and I are both pretty quick over 22 yards, so it’s a question of getting something, anything on the ball again and trusting our speed and, to some extent, the shot nerves of the opposition. Whatever happens though, don’t get bowled, don’t get bowled. In comes the bowler, it’s wide outside off, I plant my back foot across and back, giving the bat an almighty flourish. I don’t know if I’ve even connected, but I manage to obscure the keeper sufficiently for him to fumble the ball and, like Forest Gump, I run. Steve, backing up to the hilt, was already home, which left me running and diving at the non striker’s end. My first indication of victory was seeing the ball sail past me and on to the mid on boundary; the result of a desperate and ill directed last throw of the ball (and dice!). Victory! I turn and face Steve and we’ve both got the same silly grins, but I notice the keeper beyond Steve and my heart goes out to him. For I too know what it feels like to be a cricketing helmet!

Game on. The quest for (minor) silverware continues….

James.

The SCC vs The Greasby Roaders
Date: Thu 21 Jul 2011
Batted First: The SCC
The SCC Score: 161 for 0 after 20.0
The Greasby Roaders Score: 163 for 5 after 20.0
The Greasby Roaders won by 3 wickets

match stats:-

http://lastmanstands.spawtz.com/SpawtzSkin/Fixtures/GameDetails.aspx?FixtureId=29096&LeagueId=533&SeasonId=36