Far From The MCC
~ Est. in 1998 ~
“Moo Catches Five
As The Mad Catch Pneumonia”
|
Sunday 3rd
August 2008 |
|
|
Result: Lost by 87 Runs |
|
|
Venue: |
|
|
35 overs |
|
|
R. T. Harris |
207 - 8 |
|
A. Mann 2 - 24,
T. Smith 2 - 19 |
|
|
FFTMCC |
120 - 9 |
|
D. Edwards 22,
G. Littlechild 21 |
|
|
What
makes something memorable? And what makes something more memorable than
something else? And does it depend on the individual, and their own personal
outlook on life as to what really is memorable? It’s all theoretical,
dude – but my own take is that’s it’s a personal opinion, and as we all know
- opinions differ. So what might have framed a photograph in my brain and been
placed on a lofty perch above other happenings in the day, may well have
slipped under the radar for somebody else…. Today
we live in a world of national phone-ins;
where the British population are canvassed to realise the general view – or at least to get the
dumb arse majority of us to throw money at a rigged vote as to what is / was…
the winner, the supreme candidate… or what really was the most outstanding
moment, the most sensational
moment, the most historic moment, the
most extraordinary moment, the
most… amusing and laughable moment…. So what exactly is
the hierarchy for being memorable? Or
does anyone reading this actually give a fuck?
Dave phones his missus to let her
know how much he’s enjoying the
day…. This
Sunday gone produced several memorable moments that I took away from the
match; some made me smirk and giggle (particularly the morning after), some
made me plain fucking annoyed, and another made me think “hmm, that really
was quite special – quite memorable.”
So where d’you start when recalling them? In which order do you begin? What order
of importance? What makes one memory have more gravity than another? Well,
since I’m writing the fucking report, and I generally seem to remember things
over time that have brightened my day… then what amused me most gets the vote…. * * * 1 - The run out Christ,
how funny are run outs?
Particularly if you are not involved
in the shambles which is… a run out.
The method of dismissal which never fails to bring out howls of laughter and
derision in equal measures (from both sets of players); where two adults can make a complete arse of themselves
whilst negotiating 22 yards between stumps after a ball is in play…. I of
course have to concede to being involved in more than my fair share of cock ups over the years (mostly my own
fault as well), but the one witnessed this weekend has got to take it’s place
at the very top of the Podium of Turd.
This was pure theatre, pure unadulterated idiocy at it’s best – in fact
Laurel and Hardy couldn’t have done a better job with the choreography if
they had been hired. Picture the scene as our two hapless heroes slip around in
the rain and mud, mumble “yes, no, er… what?”, witness a dropped catch, utter
some other bollocks about “waiting” and then completely losing the plot and their
sense of direction take off…. The fact that both A. Mann and A. Small both stood at the same end as the
bails were taken off at the other end didn’t stop them from finger-wagging at
each other and refusing steadfast to accept any blame for the mess. Neither
were out (in their humble opinion),
and neither of them were going (in their
humble opinion)…. But ultimately someone had to go. And I suppose it is
credit to both of them that they accepted the reasoning of this umpire and the toss of a coin to
settle the argument – A. Mann eventually leaving the field of play under an
even darker cloud than the one’s that were pissing all over Kidlington at the
time. He claims he never had dark
thoughts on this day (at the
Fines Committee), but as Catherine Tate would say “whateva….” Funny, dude – amusingly so.
Martin is great at catching when
Stevie D isn’t bowling. 2 - The 4th of 5 catches by Moo S.
Dobner didn’t play on Sunday; our mild mannered Essex Boy was nursing his
shin splints in the Land of the White Stiletto – that or he was still raging
from the sheer ineptitude of the team that was stuck under his guidance the
previous weekend; and thus decided that Cobville was a better alternative….
But if anyone was to relay to him
that during his absence a certain M. Westmoreland had pouched a staggering 5
catches in the outfield he’d have been coughing up in his cheap Tesco lager
all over Kim’s new white leather handbag. 5 fucking catches! 5 of them! But
it really did happen…. This, the same dude who spilled a regulation dolly to
deprive Steve of a 5-for at Wootton
& Boars Hill a few years ago… not that Steve still harbours a grudge or any dark thoughts you understand. So
what were these catches like? Pretty damned good. In fact, every one of them
was a damn good catch in it’s own right – but my pick was his fourth; a fine
spirited juggle on the boundary after a M. Bullock strawberry cheesecake had
been smacked into the stratosphere. I was lucky enough to be almost standing
on Martin’s feet when the ball finally nestled in his hands – but just to see
the joy on his face having equalled the Mad record for catches in a match was
superb. Who would have thought he would go on to break that record?
Memorable, dude – and quite historically
so. 3 - The weather Sorry
to hark on about it – but did anyone else find it only slightly surreal to finish
a game of cricket off in the early evening of the first week of August in
cold, squally showers and perpetual gloom? This is the summer holidays if you remember? Standing out there umpiring
towards the end, as my “sunhat” soaked up the rain and water dribbled down
the sleeves of my coat, I could only giggle as the R. T. Harris bowlers struggled
manfully to keep their feet on a pudding of a pitch which lay totally
obscured by sawdust at either end…. And if I signalled to the scorebox, I just
could make out the entire Mad team taking shelter in there – huddled next to
J. Hoskins as he scribbled down the scores…. Memorable, dude – infamously so.
The super summer weather gave
birth to the 4 - Others Other
memories of the game are less memorable, but memorable still the same. It was
great see Dave Shorten back after his summer of house-building and life of a
recluse – always the genial fellow, he brings much to the team (and no small
measure of skill with the ball); it was heartening also to see some top cobbing in the ranks - from T.
Smith and D. Edwards – the latter reemphasising why he is now King of the Cob; and of course there
is my memory of being heckled from the “scorebox” despite finally finding some form with the
bat… but at least this gave me the excuse to blame others for my own failings
of late…. * * * And
what of the match itself? Well,
we got a good arsing. Not quite the sort where you have to bend over and take
it without lubricant (see Cholsey last week); but it was a dicking of sorts. Predictably we lost the toss again
(apologies once again from the writer), and predictably we got splattered
around the Oxfordshire countryside by a more than handy R. T. Harris outfit
on their way to plundering 207 for 8 from their 35 overs. D. Shorten
(7-0-36-1) and A. Mann (7-0-24-2) bowled fairly tidily at the start, as did
I. Howarth (7-0-36-1) and D. Edwards (7-1-40-1) before copping a tonking late
on. A. Small (2-0-25-0) copped an uber-tonking to reaffirm his status as The Brigadier of the Buffet, whereas
pie-men M. Bullock (3-0-27-1) and T. Smith (2-0-19-2) at least bagged some
wickets in between watching their caramel doughnuts sail into hedgerows and dense
bracken…. When
it came to the chase, an already degenerating pitch made a somewhat difficult
ask distinctly implausible. Dan (22) and Martin (18) got off to a cautious
start, but when Gary (21) and I. Howarth (18) departed in the ensuing rain,
the middle of the team slowly sank without a trace - Thorn (0), Dave (8),
Jake (3), Ant (4), and Geoff (5) all lost at sea. It all left the skitty A.
Small (3*) and obdurate M. Bullock (5*) to protect their averages whilst
seeing the Far From The MCC to 120 for 9 from their allotted overs.
I. Howarth received no heckling
from the scorebox whatsoever…. So
we lost, big deal. Pieces of that day stuck in my head – and most of them
were good. Some of them…quite memorable.
So it seemed entirely in keeping when I got home later that evening to find
Michael Vaughan had resigned as England skipper; after another soul-searching
loss to South Africa… tears in his eyes, the shortage of runs had finally got
to him… and the poor guy just cracked under the media scrum…. Memorable,
dude. Quite
memorable. ‘Spam’ |
*
MOTM: M. Westmoreland’s 5
catches and entertaining knock
Champagne Moment: M.
Westmoreland’s 5th catch
Buffet Award: A. Small’s
banana split surprise