Far From The MCC
~ Est. in 1998 ~
“Mad Lose Match
After Day On The Piss”
|
Saturday 15th
August 2009 |
|
|
Result: Lost by 48 Runs |
|
|
Venue: |
|
|
40 overs |
|
|
KEVIS Old Boys CC |
239 - 9 |
|
M. Westmoreland 2 - 17,
N. Hebbes 2 - 21 |
|
|
FFTMCC |
191 - 9 |
|
I. Howarth 62,
D. Shorten 42, S. Parkinson 26* |
|
|
A night on the piss is sometimes compared to a
race. A race whereby you go from “A” to “B” in a specified length of time - “C”.
“A” would be sober, and “B” would be wankered. It’s certainly not athletics,
but it certainly seems to be held close to heart by many a budding amateur
sportsman. So is it a sport? Personally I don’t think so, I regard it more as
a companion for an evening out; others would disagree, such as Ian Botham,
Alan Lamb, Doug Walters and the irrepressible David Boon. To them, the
drinking aspect of their “game” was almost as important as their
playing side – a badge of honour. Mr. Walters would never retire to bed after
a day’s test cricket unless he found himself alone at the hotel bar. Sometimes
he stayed alone at the bar thereafter; at least until the hotel proprietor
summoned the guys responsible for the team to shift him. Even then, the tour
manager would often have to broker a deal to get Doug away from the bar –
offer incentives like “go to fucking bed you clown or you’re out the team.”
The
Mad’s Tour Ambassador (centre) demonstrates his tact. The Friday leg of the Mad’s tour of Louth seemed
like a marathon, only ran at 400 metre pace. At least it felt like that. Many
of the party awoke in their respective sleeping quarters with a hangover from
Thursday evening, and within hours found themselves slumped on the banks of
Louth CC to watch a day’s cricket between the home side and the Women’s I think there was some eating at some point in
the evening - a pizza restaurant down the road. Others wobbled off to the
town’s takeaway strip to sample local fish and chips. It’s just hard to
relate the exact order of events, but I do remember being escorted to one of
the town’s shittiest nightclubs by our “Tour Ambassador” much later in the
evening; on the previso that knowing “him” would open doors for me in this
town…. Quite which doors is open to debate, but judging from said night club
(Samuels - a darkened chav filled cellar), the door he was referring to would
be the toilet door – hanging loose above a pool of piss and vomit….
On the
piss watching the ladies cricket. I didn’t make the ball, I left that pleasure to
other members of our party, who did the club proud by being asked to behave
themselves on the dancefloor, and to pull their collective necks in to avoid
getting thrown out. This they did, I’m happy to relate, but their drunken
shenanigans left them hopelessly adrift of their senses come Saturday
morning. Saturday morning…. Ouch. * * * On arrival back at the Louth CC ground for the
KEVIS Old Boys fixture, it quickly became apparent that many of the squad
were the worse for wear. Some were drinking soft drinks, some sleeping on the
grass banks, and others simply staring into the distance trying to recount
the evening before. It was a shambolic mess. When team kit courier, D.
Shorten opened the back doors of his van, you would hardly call it a clamour
for kit; it more resembled crappy meals for the homeless being dished out to
people who would rather not…. Elected skipper for the day, M. Reeves,
surveyed his squad. Today was going to be a difficult affair, maybe even
depressing; in fact, he could already feel pangs of despair….
A good
job Joe Puppy didn’t see the state of his owner. After quickly registering a lost coin toss, and
watching N. Hebbes pouch a smart catch at square leg off his bowling, Mr.
Reeves’ (8-0-39-1) humour began to desert him as the Mad started to accept a
good natured tonking – a little like an under-performing circus lion getting
a good whipping. D. Shorten was erratic, J. Hoskins (3-0-24-0) chucked complete
marmalised pie, and I. Howarth (3.3-0-25-0) retired hurt midway through his
spell citing a shoulder injury that then spilled over to his arm – many
thought his leaving the field was an opportunity to puik. It was all rubbish,
and Mike despaired. Thank goodness to Essex stalwart S. Dobner, who
after protesting more injuries and illnesses, managed to make the
breakthrough after receiving a similar tonking. A nice slower one did for J.
Connor (56), and a shit half-tracker did for N. Russell (26) – another catch
at square leg for
I.
Leggate chases leather in true Mad style. A despairing skipper turned to his lesser bowlers
and prayed to god. He chose the wrong god when praying for D. Edwards
(3.3-0-31-0), whose burger stall was completely sold out after less than 4
overs. However, Mike did pray for the right god when asking M. Westmoreland
(3-0-17-2) to turn his arm over, who, after 433 days without a wicket, and at
least 2 years of carrying the bowling yips around him, finally – FINALLY -
hit the timber! M. Smith (74) was the unlucky batsman who must have wondered
what all the fuss was about. One brought two, and Martin claimed another
scalp when Edwards caught J. Irving (6) in the outfield. It was an excellent riposte from the tourists in
eventually restricting the home side to 239-9 off their allotted overs.
Hebbes (5-0-21-2) and Shorten (8-0-32-2) bowling smartly at the death. Time
again for tea, and time again for Mike to find something else to despair at….
This time it was his batting order. Mike had apparently spent many an hour
formulating who was doing what and when, and who should do the when with the
what. As it transpired the team had decided between them that none of them
were opening the batting, and all of them were batting at number six or seven.
“I’m a little stiff” stated Martin, “I’m still pissed” stated Dan, “I
couldn’t give a fuck” stated Thorn, “I’m the best number 12 this team has
ever had” stated James, “I’m not bothered” mumbled Ian, “I haven’t had my
cigarette and cup of tea yet” yawned Jake, “Hmm,” mumbled Nick, and so it
went on…. At this point Mike finally snapped, hurled his piece of paper on
the table, and stalked off into the depths of the pavilion leaving the team
in no doubt about his feelings “I’m totally in despair, I’m the skipper and
that’s the fucking order. Ian, Nick pad up!”
I.
Howarth (62) leads the Mad reply. The Mad reply almost got off to one of the most
comical and ridiculous starts in their short 10 year history – Howarth well
short of his ground after being turned back first ball of the innings by Mr.
Hebbes. It was uncertain whether S. Parkinson (umpiring at square leg) would
have given it, as his view of the run out was slightly obscured by a fielder,
but the decision was taken out of his hands by the KEVIS keeper M. Smith, who
decided not to appeal. This was an act of great sportsmanship and well worth
noting in this report. As for the running between the wickets of Hebbes and
Howarth, one would only need look into the history of the Mad to see that these
two have a less than impressive resume…. Nick’s (2) stay at the crease would however be
rather limited as he spooned a catch to square leg, and T. Smith’s (9) stay
wasn’t much longer. But there then followed a most unlikely partnership
between the two Ian’s. Whilst Howarth had enjoyed a renaissance this year
after his annus horribilis of 2008, Mr. Leggate’s career with the bat was
rather chequered. In fact, Leggate’s top score for the Mad before this day
was just 2. Well, he surpassed that, in fact he got into double figures - using
a mixture of poorly timed drives, flicks, swipes and misses; but he didn’t
get out. His partner on the other hand was at his fluent best, mixing cuts,
drives and the odd hoik over the bowler’s head as the two celebrated a fifty
partnership. The highlight (or lowlight) was the amusing single they ran to a
ball that stopped inches from the long off boundary – they could have ran 4,
but were convinced it would go for a boundary, so didn’t bother running. In fact
Howarth was almost ran out! Funny. It was just a shame when Howarth (62) did
hole out on the deep square boundary to end the enjoyable “Ian-ism”. 90-3.
“Ian-ism”,
dude. It rocks. M. Westmoreland (6) came and went, as did J.
Hotson for a golden; the latter spending the rest of the day bemoaning his
luck and the fact he never gets a chance to build an innings. Nor has he had any
nets, and nor had he woken up sufficiently before midday to ever get to a
net. It was good moan though, and one which continued into the evening, and
into the night, and into the early hours of the morning as he walked back to
his farmhouse accommodation with the two Ian’s…. So who got the much-touted number 6 spot then?
Tour Ambassador S. Parkinson that’s who. Chest puffed out, head held high, it
took all of a handful of deliveries before P. Bexon had had enough of his
posturing and peppered him with a few short ones. One slammed into his
shoulder, the second crashed into his helmet. It was lucky Steve was wearing
a lid, as failure to do so might have orphaned his new child. The unsavoury
incident left him groggy, and needless to say he brought all of his amateur
dramatics to the fore as a crowd of about three theatre lovers watched on.
The game only got back underway when someone mentioned the use of a
stretcher. Miraculously Steve then recovered.
S.
Parkinson wears one after excessive posturing. In an entertaining period of play, Parkinson and
a swashbuckling D. Shorten then took the game to the KEVIS Old Boys unfurling
some lovely straight drives and the odd cavalier moo to cow corner. They
added 67 before Shorten (42) stupidly gave his wicket away heaving one in the
air. But that’s how Dave bats, so nobody could really argue with his method.
He reminds me of Mitchell Johnson of Australian cricket – blocking by numbers,
interspersed by a seriously good tonk. Both Shorten and Mitchell have
hod-carriers shoulders curiously.
D.
Shorten (right) watches G. West’s pie trajectory. The Mad would eventually total an enterprising
191-9 with Parkinson protecting his average on 26 not out, and D. Edwards
(11), M. Reeves (1) and M. Bullock (1*) all contributing in a late flourish.
It all left J. Hoskins saddened on the boundary that he never got a chance to
bat at number 12; a position agreed on by the teams beforehand due to an
excess of numbers. So the Mad still do not have an 11th wicket
partnership record, nor a high score at number 12. Unlucky James. * * * Banter was extremely good natured after the game,
with the Louth personnel doing themselves proud with their generous
hospitality and love of the game. They have left a good impression on the Far
From The MCC, and I would be surprised if we never tour the place again. The Mad would eventually leave the Louth CC
ground and retire back to town, where they naturally dragged up sufficient
energies to get plastered all over again - safe in the knowledge that knowing
Stephen Parkinson had definitely opened doors in Lincolnshire for the Mad. ‘Spam’ |
*
|
No Fines
on this Day |
MOTM: D. Shorten’s runs and
tight bowling
Champagne Moment: D. Edwards’
straight six
Buffet Award: D. Edwards’
jelly pudding