Far From The MCC

~ Est. in 1998 ~

 

“Reeves Makes History

As The Skipper Gets Egg on His Face”

 

 

Sunday 10th June 2007

Result:  Lost by 32 Runs

Venue:  Bloxham

40 overs

Milton CC

127 ao

M. Westmoreland  3 - 23,  J. Harris  2 - 20

FFTMCC

95 ao

G. Littlechild  26,  D. Edwards  23,  M. Reeves  23

 

 

 

A year on from the now infamous Milton debacle of 2006, Team Mad arrived in the picturesque village of Bloxham for pre-match drinks and banter along with Joe Puppy - the popular black Labrador dog who’s face now adorns his doting father’s jeep and works wagon. The fact that Joe is now a good few years old and his “cute” days are now a distant memory, the players of the Far From The MCC would still refer to him as “a puppy”. A strange quirk, and maybe the guys prefer to remember the lovely little pup who could sit on your lap with hangdog eyes and fall asleep with his lovely floppy ears, than the behemoth hound that diets on raw cricket balls and drags any willing dog walkers through the mud and dirt as they desperately hang on to his lead? Whatever the reason, Joe will always be a “puppy” – just a very big* one.

 

 

“Puppy, or not a puppy? Or just a big fat smelly disorderly puppy?”

 

With the weather very reminiscent of the previous year – blue skies peppered with little fluffy clouds – it was a given that this would be a great day for winning the toss and electing to bat. There’s not much better than slipping into your shorts, putting your feet up, and watching the opposition toil in the sun as your teammates belt a cherry around a field. It’s cool - just sitting there, chewing the cud over a cold beer, joking about the ills of the world surrounded by nature and your buddies. It’s just a great way to unfold after a fraught week at work, or if you’re one S. Dobner – a good chance to unwind after a week of CBeebies, mother’s meetings, and trading blow for blow with baby Amie D and her plastic maraca. It’s just a shame then that the incumbent skipper of the Far From The MCC never wins a f*cking toss anymore and the Mad always find themselves being asked to field first……..

 

* * *

 

Since Milton only lost a single wicket the previous year in chasing down the modest Mad total (read shit total), their batting strength was largely an unknown. Though the Mad were aware of one G. Wilby, who had feasted on the sausage rolls and egg flan on that particular day to post a rather thunderous unbeaten half-century. So it was something of a disaster to see M. Westmoreland spill the ball to the ground after the aforementioned opener spooned a delivery off S. Dobner first up. Fortunately, Moo had the wits about him to snatch the ball off the turf and hurl it to the keeper to leave a hapless Mr. Wilby ran out for a duck. What a difference a year makes, huh?

 

 

The Mad lament on fielding in the heat (again).

 

Despite the humidity, both a luckless (and cursing) A. Mann (6-2-11-0) and a miserly S. Dobner bowled with excellent control to keep the Milton score in check. And with the score on 24, Dobner was rewarded with an authentic cricket dismissal as he found the outside edge to his shell-shocked brother-in-law behind the sticks. Edges to the keeper are about as rare to the Mad as finding a lady in Essex sporting a pair of knickers – so celebrations were raucous and much backslapping was had.

 

With the green coloured pitch now starting to show a discerning variation of bounce, I. Howarth (6-0-24-2) replaced S. Dobner and immediately found success with a rattle of the timber and a sprawling A. Mann pouching a good one at mid off. M. Reeves (6-0-25-0) had no joy at the other end, but with the introduction of M. Westmoreland (6-1-23-3), Mike’s day would soon improve. In fact, Mr. Reeves’ day would soon become something quite memorable. He would first take a couple of catches off Moo at mid on; the first gaining a big high-five from fellow Marlborough refugee D. Edwards, and the second - a skier – greeted with much more elation from his teammates. And after the introduction of twirler J. Harris (6-0-20-2) at the other end, Mike sprinted a good 20 metres off the boundary at deep-cow to swallow his third. Surreal. Had Mike suddenly become a source of magnetism for the small red round thing?

 

 

Hours would tick by as Edwards took guard to bat for the Mad.

 

The Milton innings was now falling apart, and when J. Hotson hung onto the aggressive D. Smith (39) after the skipper had grassed the same batsman amidst a volley of self-abuse, it was all left to a returning S. Dobner (6.3-1-21-2) to exact the rights on their efforts. Naturally the ball to slay the beast was a rank long-hop outside the leg stump, but unfortunately for M. Pearson he decided to smear it straight to a waiting mid-wicket fielder – a certain M. Reeves, who after a gloriously entertaining juggle managed to snag his fourth catch of the match. With chants of “Marlborough, Marlborough – give us a wave” echoing around the boundary, Mike had thus equalled a 6 year old Mad record held by one Howard Jones and the Milton boys had been bundled out for 127.

 

 

“Ha – we really are crap when we come to Milton!”

 

The Far From The MCC team would certainly enjoy their tea after their excellent effort in the field. It was during this respite that skipper I. Howarth unravelled a change to the batting order. Much of the team had experienced little or no batting practice in recent weeks due to the incessant rain and poor standard of opposition, and with such a mediocre target to chase, he decided to tweak the batting order to give lesser individuals a chance to improve their averages and cement their moaning at being too low in the order. And what a disastrous decision this would turn out to be (not that the skipper would sink into a foul mood of self-loathing and cop an excessive bundle of fines at the pub later)………

 

On the resumption to the game, G. Littlechild and D. Edwards would see off the hostilities from Milton paceman D. Smith, and usher the Mad along to a respectable 40 before Gary (26) scooped a treacle pudding to short cover. He would subsequently complain in an embittered fashion about his lack of energy due to keeping for 35-odd overs in the blazing sun, and although his case seemed a plausible one, the young Essex sports teacher would be later fined at the pub, and also told to “toe the f*cking line” by his loving and all-embracing skipper. Edwards would now watch as partners M. Bullock and a returning A. Fisher collected some poultry for an evening roast, which all left the Mad momentum grinding to a halt.

 

 

D. Edwards (23) drives through the covers.

 

Enter man of the day M. Reeves, who used a mixture of French-cricket-like defence and cudgelling smears to get things re-energised. Alas, Edwards (23) parted company with him in comical fashion after going walkabout by his crease, and if Dan’s dismissal was ridiculous, what came next wouldn’t have looked out of place in a circus. After a 3 hour walk to the middle, A. Mann (1) groped for a length ball, allegedly got his spikes stuck in the turf, fell flat on his arse, and somehow got clean bowled…. There was hardly a man standing after that dismissal - the whole of Bloxham erupting in laughter which could clearly be heard in nearby Adderbury.

 

Howarth’s face continued to darken as both J. Hotson (0) and J. Harris (0) exited the stage with a duck apiece; John’s specimen garnished a lovely golden colour – his second such find of the year. And when M. Reeves (23) departed after a hoik too many, it left the Mad tottering on 81 for 8. Even at this stage the skipper had confidence that the game hadn’t bolted; his Essex understudy could more than hold his own, and the unpredictable Westmoreland was still due his 3 great knocks for the year. Things didn’t go to script, and after clubbing a boundary on his way to 13, S. Dobner was cleaned up whilst dealing with a straight one – the wanker. 95-9.

 

 

The Mad collapse was all so amusing for W. G. Grace.

 

A cacophony of various insults and banter greeted Howarth at the crease – all good jest, and all fully expected, and he solidly blocked out the final ball of the over to reconcile with Martin just what was needed to be done. In short – save some face, and dig the team out of this shitty hole he’d engineered at half-time. Alas, the day was to come to a swift conclusion before any heroics were possible, as Westmoreland (5) was pouched the very next ball to a smart leg-side take by the Milton keeper. The Mad had lost by 32 runs, and as the opposition milked an unlikely win, Howarth (0*) was left with egg all over his face and a mood to match.

 

* * *

 

The fines committee would later boost club coffers considerably after this fiasco – nobody was spared. Even the beer on the table went the way of the match as an off-kilter frisbee some local kids were playing with sent tankards a tumbling. And with Howarth’s shorts stained the same way as this chapter in Mad’s cricketing fairytale, he left the Black Boy pub in his battered Skoda still cursing and moaning about the follies of the day. However his feelings of downright self-loathing have been completely replaced in subsequent days by the conviction that all his decisions were completely correct and that it was the entire team that was at fault. Not him.

 

 

“Taxi for Howarth, he’s gone and made a right fuck up.”

 

Self-denial rocks.

 

Two sayings do remain with him after this game, however:

 

-  never count your chickens before they hatch.

 

-  once bitten, fucked.

 

* * *

 

*  -  It must be noted that Joe is now on an official pizza-free health drive, and is hoping to boil down to 16 stone before Crufts 2007 Dog Show.

 

**  -  It is also worth noting that M. Reeves secured another unlikely feat on this day with a clean sweep of the Mad post-match awards.

 

 

‘Spam’

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

MOTM:  M. Reeves’ 4 catches!

Champagne Moment:  M. Reeves juggling 4th catch

Buffet Award:  M. Reeves’ Marlborough doughnuts

 

 

 

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