Season Two, Game Eight

Season Two, Game Eight: Plumbing the Depths- 3rd July, 2012

(by James Christensen)

After the stratospheric heights of twin victories in the recent ‘Super Sunday,’ came the crashing depths of a re-match against The Real Neston.  For those readers of a certain squeamish disposition, I would advise you to proceed no further, as what follows is neither pretty nor nice; suffice it to say that we allowed an opposition to score 205 and then were bowled out for 103 in reply.

There you go- job done, end of story, stop reading…

Except, of course, you haven’t stopped reading- nor will you, until the whole sorry episode is laid bare, like an abandoned carcass set before a horde of baying hyenas…   Oh you sad, sadistic, macabre people.  What is it about the human psyche that derives such pleasure from tales of carnage and woe? Okay then, I’ll continue, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Our first mistake, believe it or not, was in winning the toss. The intermittent sunshine which shone at present was not to last- the dark clouds would gather steadily throughout the evening and the light would only worsen as time wore on. Several members of the team (myself included- ‘nah nah na nah nah’- see, I told you so!) recommended that we should bat first and make the most of the sunny conditions, while they lasted. Others, however, suggested that we were at our best when chasing down a total, as the last two games had demonstrated.  A borderline decision then… we would put our faith in another strong bowling performance, and hope that we would be chasing a smallish total.

So we take to the field, feeling pretty confident. After all, we’d dismissed the last two sides we’d played for 72 apiece. One concern, though, was how unusually close the boundary flags had been deployed, either side of the wicket; which seemed to be a good fifteen feet closer in than usual. This meant that little flicks or thick edges through the air (off someone of pace, like The Big ‘O’) would find their way to the boundary, even if they weren’t particularly well timed or middled.

And so the carnage began…. Five of us went for, close to or over, ten runs an over, while it was only Peter Clowes who bucked the trend by returning the excellent figures of 2/ 24 from his allotted four.  The other wicket takers were Nick 1/ 21 (from two) and James 1/ 42 (from four).

Of course, there were the inevitable chances and half chances that were grassed, but the classic catch of the afternoon had to be Renners’ effort on the straight hit boundary. The ball had been struck high and handsome, and was travelling at a colossal rate of knots. Undaunted, Renners positions himself underneath, and bravely allows his chest to absorb the full impact, much like a mini trampoline. Ouch!!! You could actually hear the sound of the ball smashing into Rob’s sternum and then echo throughout the ground. With echoes still bouncing back from the neighbouring hills, the ball pops out but Rob has the presence of mind to gather it back for a miraculous catch. Nick was fielding close by and described it as the finest use of ‘man boobs’ he’d ever seen in the taking of a catch! Great commitment Renners and well done! (Yet another candidate in our growing list of nominees for ‘catch of the year’…)

For me, the champagne moment of the innings came when Nick Birtwistle (aka Captain Mechano) was brought on to bowl toward the end. “Are you sure you’re okay to bowl Nick?” “Are all the pop rivets still in place?” “Sure this is a wise move, twisting and contorting those tortured vertebrae of yours?” Nick only shrugs, takes the ball and proceeds to bowl the most exquisite over of legspin one could hope to see. It had turn. It had flight. It had drift. Beautiful length deliveries which bamboozled the batsmen and bang- Nick disturbs the furniture, returning figures of 1/ 2 off his first over. Quick! Someone check the obituaries!!! For that could be the only possible explanation. Was Nick, a guy who’d only bowled as a part timer, channelling the cricketing spirit of Shane Warne? Or could it be that the great Shane Warne had been brought in as a consultant in Nick’s wrist and back reconstruction? I don’t know what those canny Frenchmen did in that ten hour operation, but they seem to have created a kind of Frankenstein’s leg spinning monster… Nick’s next over went for 19 and he was bowling like a top order batsman again, but no-one bowls a first over like that without having potential. Is this the birth of Captain Mechano the all rounder? Only time will tell…

206 runs at an asking rate of 10.3 per over was always going to be a tough gig, but what made it virtually impossible was the dramatic change in match conditions.  For a start, the light had appreciably deteriorated and the outfield had slowed down due to several brief but intense showers. (These showers would return at certain points throughout the innings and I can distinctly remember batting with the sound of rain pelting on my helmet, as if it were a piece of corrugated iron). Finally, the match ball had softened somewhat, making it doubly hard to get value for shots across the, now, wet outfield.

The psychological weight of chasing 206 told almost immediately, with Charles out for one, trying to smack a ball over the infield, but only succeeding in holing out to mid-on. So we’ve lost our first wicket with only a handful of runs on the board, and it’s Phil Green who joins Rob Rennison at the crease.

Phil and Renners combine for a useful little partnership, with Phil playing the anchor role and allowing Renners to go for his shots.  Renners appears to be striking the ball well and makes a quick fire 19 (from 12 deliveries) before the finger is raised in a borderline lbw; from the ‘hutch’ it looked a little high, with the ball possibly going on to scrape the very top of the bails (if anything!).

And so with the score on 28/ 2, it’s Captain Mechano who strides to the middle. Nick ends up top scoring for the team with 27 (from 24 deliveries), and puts in a typical Nick innings of consummate patience; trying to adjust to the soggy conditions, refusing to be intimidated by the near impossible situation, while endeavouring to keep the run rate ticking over. During Nick’s stay in the middle he loses several partners. The first to go is Phil Green, caught out for 16, trying to break the shackles, and sending Captain Mechano desperately sprinting back to the non-striker’s end, where you could just about hear the pop rivets groaning under the stress! Phew! Double play avoided, but we’re now three down with the required run rate steadily creeping upwards.

The next man in is our ringer, Matt Whitley, on loan to us from Eight4Sport. Conscious of the rising run rate, Matt is bowled trying to launch a straight delivery into next week, and departs, having made a valiant 7 runs (from 8 deliveries).

The improbable is fast becoming the impossible, as yours truly takes guard. What’s the required run rate, I wonder, must be in the order of 18 runs an over by now. Nick and I put on about ten together, before Nick is bowled, playing around a delivery he intended to work into a gap.

Rob O’Keeffe joins me and we set about rallying and putting together a useful partnership; a couple of boundaries here and there, some well worked twos, not to mention some near suicidal singles! Eventually, it’s me who departs first, having fallen victim to the second contentious lbw of the day. Like so many of our batters, I was trying to work a straightish delivery square of the wicket, when the ball moved just enough off the seam to strike me on the pad. I personally felt the ball had moved sufficiently to take it down the leg side, but the man making the decisions disagreed, and I was on my way back to the pavilion, having made a run a ball 20.

With six wickets gone, we’re down to our final pairing, and that’s when it happened; an act of absolute infamy to rival Douglas Jardine’s Borderline, Trevor Chappell’s underarm or Safraz Nawaz’s appeal for Handled Ball. Peter Clowes strolls to the crease, strikes the ball for what should have been an easy single, but half way down the pitch he’s obviously in trouble. His back is gone and the poor man can hardly move. Like one of those half dead marathon runners you see periodically, who’ve had some terrible mishap during the course of the race (like being hit by a lorry), Pete comes limping home. If it were a marathon, we’d have forgotten about him by now, turned off the stadium lights and gone home. But grimacing with agony, every step a milestone of bravery and courage, Pete inches closer and closer… He’s no more than two centimetres from the popping crease now and one of the Real Neston boys, I don’t know which one, let’s call him Ming the Merciless, whips the bails off and runs him out, when possibly a handshake and a pat on the back would have been more fitting. Given the fact that we required about 40 runs a ball to win at this stage, it did seem a tad unsportsmanlike.

It’s just the big man now, Rob O’Keeffe, with the impossible task of scoring 103 runs off the last delivery, as last man standing. Given the futility of the situation, any sensible bloke would have either gone for the glory of a ‘homerun’ (Sorry, still hate that baseball term!!!) or concentrated on keeping the ball out to guarantee a personal not out score, but Rob works the ball for a gap and begins to run. Yes, RUN!!! There was only ever a single there, but Last Man Standing rules require an even score, so Rob has to come back for a second. (Knowing Rob, he was still probably trying to win! I can see it now - his cunning plan churning over in his head!!! “If I can get them to overthrow a hundred and one times to add to my original two, we can still get this- GAME ON!!!”) Unfortunately, Rob doesn’t even get the first single of his ‘cunning plan’ and he’s run out for 13 (from 11 deliveries).

It’s congratulations through somewhat gritted teeth, then, as we shake hands with the Ming contingent, who played a fairly ruthless brand of cricket. I told you it wasn’t pretty, and I did give you the option of not reading on. Not our finest hour, but there were a number of positives as well. We did manage to bat through our entire innings, in very difficult conditions, and never gave up the fight.