Far From The MCC

~ Est. in 1998 ~

 

“Ant’s Egg Flan Goes Down a Storm

With The Wootton Fat Boys”

 

 

Sunday 22nd May 2005

Result:  No Result - Rain

Venue:  Wootton & Bladon

40 overs

Wootton & Bladon

180 - 9

S. Dobner  2 - 23,  I. Howarth  2 - 31

FFTMCC

D.N.B

 

 

 

 

There were many topics for discussion prior to Sunday's doomed match against the Wootton boys. Is it a given that a woman will smash her car up quicker than her bloke if they both drive similar distances over a set period of time? The majority of the team would concur on this notion, unless of course the woman in question is in the vicinity when the topic is being discussed - in which case they all look up to the sky and mutter about how nice the clouds appear against the nice blue backdrop. Martin's bat - now here's an interesting one - why is it when you score yourself a gleaming new lump of wood, that a combination of good batting from other team members, bad weather and general ill-fortune prevents you from ever using it? Maybe it is divine intervention - a sign that you should just stick to bowling? Maybe there is a wicked delivery just around the corner that could ricochet off this virgin willow and rearrange your face? Either way, Martin's bat has seen as much use this season as Baghdad's holiday terminal. Another exchange centred on Spam's idiotic decision to swing wildly at a lollypop the previous weekend and get himself stumped for 99. The team were split on whether he would have done things differently knowing his score. Some voiced the feeling that he didn't have the intelligence to play for a single so why tell him? Other's thought this cruel, but agreed in general to this assumption so sod him. Jake's arriving on time for a match was also muted - had he gone through some weird time-keeping transformation - after all he did arrive in time last week? Fortunately, he arrived bang on time for this particular day's duel - half an hour late, so the members of the No-Mad breathed a collective sigh of relief that this piece of the team's furniture was still in good working order.

 

 

Wootton’s #4 porker tries to farm the strike.

 

Skipper for the day, J. Hoskins, fresh from a drunken 23 hour pool and poker session, correctly called the toss on an overcast and distinctly inhospitable afternoon in the village of Wootton. Noting the pitch to be a potential "sticky", he had no hesitation in sticking the opposition in to bat. This decision would later be discussed by the No-Mad in the confines of the local (more of that later) as they hadn't discussed enough already.

 

Hoskins opted to open the bowling with his quicker batsmen bowlers, L. Davie and I. Howarth, and after a cautious first few overs, the Wootton openers began to expand their game. Howarth, struggling up the hill into the light drizzle from the Ridge End, erred in direction with a wet ball and was summarily hit out of the attack after 4 less than impressive overs. Mr. Davie (8-1-33-0) was more effective from the Pavilion End, but despite beating the bat on numerous occasions, he saw Wootton progress past the 50 mark without any casualties. Things certainly weren't helped by the ruddy ball avoiding fielders at will whilst airborne, and when it did find a pair of greedy mits - it was duly spilled on the floor with the aplomb that could be accredited to a baby child. It wasn’t clever, and it certainly wasn’t improving the No-Mad mood. The main culprit during this ropey phase of the match, D. Edwards, claimed the ball was swerving in the air before dipping nastily every time it neared his outstretched hands. Other members of the team simply thought his efforts were sh*te and he should be sold back to the Marlborough as soon as possible.

 

 

The No-Mad bowling is shuffled around at the end of the over.

 

In the unaccustomed role of first change bowler batsman, the dependable A. Mann replaced the grumpy I. Howarth and began his vagaries of attempted swing bowling from the Ridge End. And after serving up a few juicy full tosses with a non-shiny, soaking piece of red leather, Ant suckered Wootton opener, N. Hambridle, having him driving straight to the shamed gardener at extra cover. This time Edwards hung on to the cherry and Wootton were 55-1. If the No-Mad thought this moment would swing the momentum in their favour they were categorically incorrect. For the next 10 or so overs, R. Hindle and N. Clifton gorged on the many cream tarts and chocolate puddings that our Ozzie (8-0-45-2) cared to throw in their general direction. Now you would think even their obviously healthy appetites would wane after such a generous meal, but alas not, bowler batsman J. Hoskins (7-0-32-1) copped some similar treatment to - although his offerings were more of a vegetarian nature and less appealing to Mr. Hindle.

 

 

G. Littlechild (left) fared much better in the field than poor D. Edwards.

 

With the Wootton score now progressed well past the hundred mark, a rather desperate captain turned to another of his batsmen for bowling duties. Enter, S. Dobner. Morrison’s head advertising guru, who had spent much of the game grazing on the boundary with his hands tucked snugly in his pockets, now ran in from the Pavilion End. And such is irony, it was none of his decent straight deliveries that reaped reward, but a dreadful waist-high full-bunger that was smacked straight down the throat of a back-pedalling Howarth at deep cow to remove the rampaging R. Hindle for a well made 80. Wootton were now 134-2 and the No-Mad breathed a sigh of relief.

 

There are some wonderful #4 batsmen in the cricketing world - one immediately thinks of Sachin Tendulkar, Brian Lara or the prolific Jacques Kallis, but you would never bracket the Wootton #4 in the same group. Oh, no – not this fellow. S. Hastie would have looked more at home with a paddle on a turd mountain. He was inept. Large, but utterly inept. And it came as no surprise when he guided a leg side delivery from the Asda shift-supervisor (5-1-23-2) onto his timber to put him, and the Wootton faithful out of their collective misery. Things were surely being tightened up and the scoring had slowed to a trickle, and with M. Westmoreland (5-2-16-0), the only batsman bowler to find any rhythm from the Ridge End, tying one end up, the Wootton score eventually ground to a halt. This sudden tidiness in the field by the No-Madsters was epitomised by debutant keeper, G. Littlechild, whose tidy work behind the sticks was all the more impressive considering his post-dramatic stress disorder at finding his brother in law still allowed his sister behind the wheel of a car.

 

 

Martin recites some poetry in attempt to relieve the half-time boredom.

 

Thinks got even better for the No-Mad when Wootton protagonist, S. Poole, got himself ran out at the non-strikers end by the luckless L. Davie, after watching in amazement as N. Clifton was dropped at square leg by a sleeping Tesco manager. Poole trudged angrily off the field with the score on 164-4, and this quickly became 174-5 when the returning I. Howarth (7-1-32-2) uprooted Debono's bails after returning to the action from the much luckier Pavilion End. The balance of play had now shifted, and Wootton suffered a quite dismal collapse which saw a further 4 wickets falling for just 3 runs in the face of accurate bowling and some much smarter fielding. The skipper took the final wicket to fall in the 40 overs, a rabbit caught in the headlights, which left Wootton #3, N. Clifton, unbeaten on 62 and the score on 180. The No-Mad could be well happy with their comeback after such a loose and quite frankly insipid start.

 

 

The view from inside the pavilion as rain washes the game out.

 

It was after the teams had departed the field for their half-time knees up and japery that the heavens duly opened. High winds, incessant rain, misery and dejection - especially for the team who had fielded for 40 overs in the cold and drizzle and were now realising that they were not going to get a chance to bat. Despite numerous optimistic remarks regarding "passing showers" and "brighter spells to come", the weather continued to frustrate. Young Wootton express, M. Bateman, had chanced his run up to the wicket after the skies finally cleared, but due to the waters rising above his chest, it was decided to call the match off. A glum D. Edwards and S. Dobner de-padded, as did J. Hotson and an exceedingly bored T. Smith. Damn it all. The No-Mad had fancied this run chase, and with their decision to field 11 batsmen for the day, couldn't help but feel they'd been robbed….

 

So, with no more cricket to indulge, the teams melted away to the local to discuss the merits of bowling first with a strong batting team, on a day where the weather forecasters had predicted shit weather later in the day.

 

 

‘Rain Man’

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

MOTM:  no votes cast

Champagne Moment:  no votes cast

Buffet Award:  A. Mann’s egg flan

 

 

 

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