Far From The MCC

~ Est. in 1998 ~

 

“The Thrill of the Chase”

 

 

Sunday 29th April 2007

Result:  Lost by 4 Runs

Venue:  Wootton & Boars Hill

40 overs

Wootton & Boars Hill

204 - 8

M. Reeves  4 - 29

FFTMCC

200 - 8

I. Howarth  70,  T. Smith  40,  S. Dobner  24*

 

 

 

Popeye Doyle – the iconic seventies streetwise cop played by Gene Hackman – he loved the thrill of the chase. From the claustrophobic streets of New York, to the squalid drug-addled maze of Marseille, our man was always in pursuit of his target, Frog One – be it on foot, or by car, Popeye just loved the chase. Relentless. And every time his adversary or target seemed out of reach, he’d knuckle down and come again, because this was the thrill of the chase.

 

Robbie Williams – latter day musician and sex symbol to legions of adoring fans (mostly female, but he does have a Mad advocate), who left his famous boy-band image behind in pursuit of rock n’ roll stardom, and… women. He’s pursued them all, although it is the females apparently, that fuels the man’s passion. Be it Nicole Kidman, or Ginger Spice – our man is always thrilled by the chase.

 

 

 

Did Popeye Doyle inspire the Mad’s wardrobe and thinking?

 

From the hunts and their foxes, to Ricki Hatton in the ring, from the Ant Hill Mob and Dick Dastardly and Muttley, to Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty - there has always been the thrill of the chase. And to obtain one’s goal, after so many ups and downs and self-doubt, is infinitely more satisfying than having it served on a plate. And so it was that the season of 2007 would become synonymous for the Oxfordshire cricket outfit – Far From The MCC – with batting second and enjoying the thrill of the chase.

 

It had become almost routine for the Mad to bat first if ever they won the toss. I mean, they never won a match batting second did they? And they never had any bowling to justify bowling first, other than convict A. Mann who bowled from both ends and took all their wickets in every game…. Or at least this was the mindset which was so ingrained in the Madsters after a decade of… well… batting first… and being shy of numbers… that that’s just the way it was, and that’s just the way it had always been. “Bat first! Bat first! Bat first! Bat first!” But no more, elected skipper for the season I. Howarth was having none of it – numbers in the Mad ranks had swelled profusely, and Ant’s bowling quota was being trimmed to a meagre 39 overs a game, and aside from the odd Sunday of intense crop-wilting sunshine, the Madsters would be entertained by chasing down totals in 2007 – and no longer batting first.

 

This team had to get the monkey off their back. This damned primate had been weighing heavy for far too long – squawking from shoulders and getting hysterical at any thought of batting second. But times were going to change.

 

Times were going to change.

 

* * *

 

 

Amie D’s “twinkle” was quite evident at an early age.

 

Without the distractions of an air-show, and with temperatures far in ascendancy of the polar conditions of the previous year, it was another fine display of correct coin-tossage that allowed skipper I. Howarth the luxury of galvanising his plan and sticking the Wootton boys into bat on a rather iffy, pit-filled, dusty brown track. And the decision seemed a good one, as M. Reeves (back from his jet-setting mission to resolve the world’s sewage problems) bagged an early scalp to lift Mad spirits. And Mr. Small (3-0-12-1), looking every inch a cartoon version of the Matrix in reverse, would celebrate in a manner befitting a goal at Bramall Lane after rumbling the timber at the other end. M. Westmoreland (7-1-19-1) would wobble it and pouch a smart caught and bowled, and a comical run out would further increase Mad hopes of a mediocre total to chase. But these hopes were quickly doused in petrol as Wootton upstarts and teenage sensations W. Morton (70*) and A. Kidd (35) deposited errant Mad bowling to all parts of the pretty Boars Hill ground for the following hour.

 

Such was the onslaught, the Mad even introduced a bizarre new field-placement to try and break the flourishing partnership. Spin-wizard J. Harris (5-0-37-0) who was returning from a year’s sabbatical of daddyhoodism - utilised a fielder standing on the picnic-table at deep long on (the position would be hitherto referred to as deep picnic-table). However one of John’s slower slow ones sailed straight over the skipper’s head - in this new position, and settled quite comfortably amongst some nettles and cow turd some 4 miles further west. The experiment was subsequently aborted, and J. Harris was instructed to bowl a considerably better line and length and stop being so… mad.    

 

 

“Haha. You look like a right twat, mate.”

                                                                                                          

It would take some Marlborough magic to finally slow the Wootton total, and unfortunately D. Edwards (4-0-23-0) had absolutely none of it. M. Reeves did however, and returned the rather thrifty figures of 4 for 29. Not a bad return for someone with a rotator cuff injury and a very big head. S. Dobner (8-1-36-1) would then reap the rewards for some fairly tidy bowling, whilst the skipper (5-0-30-0) would not. And despite some customary Barrow Boy aggro and incitement of violence, 40 overs had elapsed and the Wootton boys had totalled 204-8.

 

Time for tea. And what a healthy spread it turned out to be - where even the thinning, pale skinned vegetarians amongst us would comment on how wholesome it all was, and that it was almost as good as some red-dripping meat served with northern gravy.

 

After numerous body emissions and groans from aching limbs, the Far From The MCC began their reply with the monkey on their back. Glovesman G. Littlechild had looked superb in the fall of 2006, but today he didn’t and bagged a duck. M. Westmoreland, famed for his “3 good knocks” of the previous year, would also try and put a particular demon to bed – that of staying at the Wootton & Boars Hill wicket for more than one delivery. This he failed miserably to do, and the Mad were left bobbing on choppy seas at a perilous 0-2.

 

 

“Look at this shambles – our top order is a joke.”

 

Fortunately, calmer waters allowed the doughty D. Edwards and more aggressive I. Howarth to steady the ship and gradually up the scoring rate. Together they pushed the ball into spaces, pulled the odd bad into a vacant parking lot, and took the Mad to close to a hundred before Edwards swished at a straight one and left for 14 after being worked over by Wootton dobber, M. Wiskin (4-18). Alas, his demise was followed soon after – as is often the way - after Howarth (70) misread a treacle pudding from the aforementioned lobber, and joined Tree Dude in the hutch. Their disgruntled company was soon to be swelled by a shell-shocked G. Carter (0), who fell foul of a South African umpire to leave the Mad on 102-5.

 

At this point, the team a significant distance from the home of English cricket, required a further ton for victory off the remaining 16 overs. A tall ask maybe, but step forth ex-Pike, and now fully employed boat-building guru, and basher of the cherry, T. Smith. Fresh in the knowledge that his last great knock came back in 1846, Mr. Smith obviously decided he was owing the team some runs, and this discrepancy was soon settled with a brand of extravagant swipes and cudgelling smears which injected life back into the game. And whilst Smith (40) thrashed merrily before losing his bails to a cream tart, J. Hotson – sporting hair down to his arse - would inject a brief cameo himself before getting stuck in a swamp and ran out for 13.

 

 

The excitement was relayed through to the local radio station.

 

After J. Harris fell for the second portion of golden poultry dished out on the day, the baton of victory would finally be passed to a resurgent S. Dobner (24*) and Marlborough refugee M. Reeves (8*) - who together would slap the Mad to the requirement of needing a six off the final ball of the match to record a quite memorable win. With a short leg-side boundary, and with a quaking Wootton teenager in his sights, Reeves made a horrible mess of depositing the final ball of the match on the pavilion roof, and instead opted to protect his average by carving the ball for a single to their skipper at square cow.

 

* * *

 

A cracking game then – and one to remember for years to come. An unfortunate result maybe, but it was thrilling in it’s conclusion, and it captivated the half-dozen pissed kids from the village who were kept on the edge of their BMX bikes for that final delivery.

 

 

So despite the naysayers, maybe the skipper was onto something with this whole batting second scenario?

 

It’s the thrill of the chase, dudes. It rocks.

 

And the Mad are getting addicted.

 

 

‘Spam’

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

MOTM:  I. Howarth’s brisk non-century

Champagne Moment:  T. Smith’s six through a fielder’s hands

Buffet Award:  J. Harris’ appetising apple soufflé

 

 

 

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