Far From The MCC
~ Est. in 1998 ~
“Hebbes Falters
As MAD Whinge, Cob And Moan
To Defeat”
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Wednesday 16th
June 2010 |
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Result: Lost by 39 Runs |
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Venue: |
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20 overs |
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Marsh XI |
148 - 7 |
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N. Hebbes 4 - 18 |
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FFTMCC |
109 ao |
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D. Shorten 18, |
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With
the small matter of 49 runs required for victory off the final 3 overs, Mr.
Shorten could be heard berating number eleven batsman, N. Hebbes, from his
vantage point on the boundary. “C’mon, Nick – don’t screw this up! Not after
the solid foundations we’ve laid!” Never a man to shirk a challenge, Hebbes’
danced down the track and hit the Marsh XI bowler straight over his head for a
glorious four. Another couple through the gully, and scorer and spectator,
Shorten (centre) would chair the
Mad heckling pitch-side. T.
Smith: “You fucking Jonah, Howarth.” J.
Hoskins: “Oh, Christ – I thought we were going to win that game, right up
until I got out.” D.
Shorten: “I wish you’d got out earlier! Fucking ‘ell – how many balls did you
use up - boring us to death? D.
Emerson: “This game fucking sucks. Ran out – again – off a bowler’s boot.” C.
Roberts: “At least you weren’t run out by a team mate….” J.
Hoskins: “…that wasn’t my fault, I
had the sun in my eyes! And anyway, if you can’t understand ‘yes-no-wait’,
then you’re an idiot!” I.
Leggate: “I thought my strike-rate was pretty good?” T.
Smith: “Yeah, the two fucking balls you were out there for, you useless
prick!” M.
Westmoreland: “Great game, guys. Well batted….”
Of
course, the evening hadn’t all been about moaning, whinging, and throwing mud
around; it was after all a beautiful summer’s evening, and even though the
council had typically forgotten to prepare a proper pitch, Mr. Westmoreland
had gone against type and actually won
a toss. He had no qualms about sticking Marsh XI into bat either, and when Unfortunately
for The Mad, the opposition had arrived in dribs and drabs, and as a result
their batting order was a little out of synch. Safe to say, the engine room had
only now occupied the crease. D. Darnish (48) and Z. Hussain (27) quickly set
about restoring parity with an increasingly hostile partnership of 88, only
broken when C. Roberts (3-0-23-1) had the former pouched by J. Pearson at mid
on. Cue Mr. Smith (2-0-18-2) to amaze all with a non-throwing display of spinning guile, to raise Mad hopes once
again of limiting the target to chase. Alas, these hopes soon evaporated as a
partially reversed, inversed, and then partially complete batting line-up
ploughed through Leggate (2-0-23-0), Hoskins (3-0-25-0), Shorten (3-1-15,0)
and Pearson (4-0-22-0) to leave the opposition on 148 for 7 off their 20
overs.
‘The Full Monty’ have nothing on
Team A
liquid dinner was provided between innings – carefully brewed and supplied in
metallic cans by a local shop. The contents obviously had no beneficial
effect whatsoever, as Team Mad would soon disintegrate with the bat. Martin
(1) suffered the now regular Mad dismissal to a ball “that came back a
fucking mile”, and D. Emerson’s (8) batting holocaust continued as bowler
Iejaz deflected a ball onto the stumps with our Kiwi stranded. Shorten’s
brief cameo (18) threatened resistance until he “played a stupid fucking
shot” when he’d “been playing sensible cricket up until that point”. Roberts
(11) tonked a six over cow corner only for J. Hoskin’s to run him out a few
balls later. Smith (4), Pearson (3) and Leggate (1) were all bowled looking
awful, whilst J. Hotson (1) was short of the crease for his third match
running – this time stumped as opposed to run out. It
was a dire spectacle, and spirits were only momentarily lifted when cricketing
legend, A. Morley, took a tumble whilst trying for a second run. Good
sportsmanship from the Marsh boys allowed Morlers to retire briefly - hurt as
opposed to run out. Andrew, claiming he got entangled in the one inch thick
grass out in the middle, would later return to the crease after Hoskins’ (16)
unpopular knock came to an end. N. Hebbes required somebody to help him push the
Mad over the finishing line, which of course he failed miserably to do, and of
course which left Morlers stranded on 3 not out with a century there for the
taking.
Thorn (background) prepares for
another cricketing bumming. 109
all out, and time to fuck off to the pub and have a right good moan about a pretty wretched performance. After a
couple of unsuccessful attempts to park his car opposite the Dew Drop, Mr.
Westmoreland called time on his intended whinging, and sped off in the
direction of home to beat up his wife and kids. It left a gaggle of Mad sat
outfront to throw yet more mud at each other, blame each other for slow
scoring, complain about the pitch, get irate about beer prices, question D.
Shorten’s intended mountaineering expedition which clashes with tour, berate
Mr. Leggate’s inability to bowl a 6-ball over, laugh at I. Howarth’s Achilles
tendonitis, poke fun at D. Emerson’s run out, remind “Bob” Roberts his running
between the wickets wouldn’t have looked out of place in a circus, pour a
bathtub of scorn about J. Hoskin’s inability to use his Mongoose bat, and
criticise Nick once more for not seeing the team to victory or breaking B. Mander’s 8 year old
record for a Mad batsman batting at number eleven….
The sun goes down as the shadows
stretch across the park. With
all that whinging, cobbing, sulking and swearing, I am glad to report that
Team Mad are in extremely good health. Just a shame they didn’t take up D.
Emerson’s suggestion of fines, as Tour would’ve probably been paid for there
and then. ‘Avid Fan’ |
*
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No
Fines on this Day |
MOTM: N. Hebbes 4-for and
runs
Champagne Moment: C. Roberts’
six over cow
Buffet Award: