(In best dodgy accent)
Khello, my name Prefab Borat and this is my willage. You like ? I am pleased to speak up with you and for you to visit me in Ulhaqistan. Please not mispronounce Turkish Kurds wrong way as offends my mother - you right ?
We have new game, "Hit Ball Stick". Very popular. We use cow bits as ball and cow leg-bone as bat. You use willow tree, yes ? Very strange to us. What is Willow ? Is he man with dodgy goaty beard and appear to be some throw-back from a decadent age of "jazz hat" cricket where men wore frilly shirts with cuff-links made from Grandad's gold teeth whilst quaffing a quart of gin at the wicket ? We don't know this custom but we like this Willow. I may sleep with heem.
We have game now. Come see. With me is team. They are very nice. See this man ? He is Hedge. This is because he live in hedge outside willage. He have big strong 'tache but no hair. We say he should put yak dung on head to help hair. Hedge say "My eyes are bleeding" and "Fact" a lot and he virile with 'tache. Some say he look like gay icon from "Boogie Nights" but we not understand this cultural reference.
See him ? He is Mike. He speak in unintelligible manner and say "Aye" and "Wee" a lot. This can be funny. He bowl like wind and often in night he sound like wind. He think that "Darren Fletcher" is good soccer player. This can be funny. "Darren Fletcher" has first touch like pig I keep for pleasure in my front yard tied to stick. "Darren Fletcher" about as mobile too.
See him ? He known as "Twice Nightly Whiteley". He is small and blond for an Ulhaqistanian. He very popular with all men in willage. Nights are long in my country.
This "JC3". He new to us this year and we find out about him. He settle in well. He number three JC. We keep him as spare in case one and two break down like tractor.
Game start. We clear chicks and ducks and geese better scurry. Cow pat on good length. No touch. stinky. Where Willow ? He late. Facking "First Capital Connect" we hear. Trouble. They are cow-fart-horse-ass-flies-round-outdoor-toilet-hole-neighbour-wife-armpits-son-of-hairy-wrong-end-of skunk. Nearly three grand for a season ticket, muddy-funsters.
In lime green mankini I look good no ? See crease from behind ? Nice. Borat (34 in 17) knock it around and Whiteley (46 in 16) strong through off side. Big Mike (0 in 1) smack one back to Srini who dance to hold on to smoking ball. Big Mike sent to cage. No good. Bad Mike. Ulhaqistan kids throw rocks at heem later. Hedge (26* in 14) decide throw off shackles and go for it. No more "Barry Block" for heem. Mash it everywhere. Watch out back wall ! Hedge strong. Men like. With JC3 (16 in 12) we make 151-5 notches on big stick. I am interview by Ulhaqistan TV after innings. I have train for this. I say "To be honest, credit to the lads and we had to respect Vocalink and take each game as it comes after the disappointment of the cup loss to Final CC. If you'd have offered me this before the game, Charles Colville-basha, I'd have taken it".
Second dig. We like to dig in my willage. We dig a lot. Not much else to do in evenings otherwise if Whiteley and Hedge not available. Vocalink struggle. JC3 (3-0-10-1) start well and wickets fall like acorns from big oak. I catch a good one and fumble some not so good. JC3 catch and Hedge catch too. Good catch Hedge ! Big Mike (0.5-0-1-2) out of cage. Kids, leave Big Mike. No rocks. Ah, Big Mike, too much speed on ball and too much something called "zoomer". Harsha and Ken, they don't see it so good. Stumps over. 35 all out.
Now for big main tent and drink and songs ! Me feel good and like some man company. Where Whiteley and Hedge with 'tache ?
MoM : Blond Whiteley. He good. Stroker. 46 and 1-4.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
THE COLTS V. FINAL CC : CUP SEMI-FINAL : 17/11/11
Crap. Lost.
Colts : 90 ao.
Final 91-5 in 11.1 overs.
MoM : Sprowson family cat, "Bella". Impressive feline bouncebackability from having been thrown repeatedly down the stairs......(for Daily Mail readers - that's a joke).
Colts : 90 ao.
Final 91-5 in 11.1 overs.
MoM : Sprowson family cat, "Bella". Impressive feline bouncebackability from having been thrown repeatedly down the stairs......(for Daily Mail readers - that's a joke).
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
THE COLTS V. LONG MARSTON : LEAGUE : 15/11/11
“Let's talk about sex, baby. Let's talk about you and me. Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be....”. Let’s face it, after all the time spent ducking the issue, we have finally scooped to the bottom of the barrel. We will have to poke in places where we shouldn’t be poking and sniff around in places where we shouldn’t be sniffing.
With the season reaching a climax (so I’m told) the G-spot to be was the Choice Cricket Penthouse where two teams came together locked in an embrace at the top of the league table. There was barely a merkin between us. One side was cock-sure and wanted to dominate. We were hoping that Long Marston would be ready to receive. Bally, ever the playboy, even had a coloured handkerchief poking from his back pocket but we weren’t entirely sure what that was all about. With both sides having perfect records something had to give and the Colts were determined that it wouldn’t be us ending up in the gimp mask.
For the record, Capt. “Plonker” Prefab had a posse of stiff members lining up alongside him including Andrew “The Length” Hedges, David “Dick” Whiteley, Steve “Spurt” Ball, Mike “Dobber” Howard and Simon “Wee Willy” Williams. There was testosterone everywhere at the toss and after a quick clean up with a Kleenex it was the Colts who were to show off their posing pouch first by taking to the carpet with bat shafts in hand. History will record that this wasn’t the finest of Colts’ innings as in many ways we weren’t that well hung at 127 all out in just about the full 12 overs. It was nip and tuck as both sides knew what was at stake and we struggled, almost too much, to ensure a decent total on the board.
Capt. “Plonker” (26 in 21) took an absolute age before he retired in the 11th over (and how he wasn’t run out before retiring is the subject of a Ben Dover investigation) but there was some value to his knock as it was a night where runs had to be earned. “Dick” (10 in 11) and “Dobber” (21 in 9) were both out to extraordinary catches. “Dick’s” was a one-handed snatch by the bowler whilst “Dobber” smashed it (did you smash it ? I bet he smashed it) to midwicket where the fielder held on using his arms, hands, legs and gentleman’s area before throwing the ball up. “Wee Willy” (28 in 21) put his years of indoor experience to great use as the score kept climbing at 10 an over. At halfway we were 62-2 and Long Marston will reflect, with a post coital cigarette before they roll over and go to sleep, that by the end of their bowling stint they had given us 38 extras of which 32 were wides. In an x-rated final over from the slippery Rashid we managed to lose 4 wickets (that’s right, 4) without adding to the total. Not even a short stroke or one off the wrist for a single. Uncanny. From 127-2 we gave up a series of run outs from the sort of understandable to the downright brainless to close on 127 all out with a ball left to spare. Not great but they were runs on the board.
With his best “actress to the bishop” voice Capt. “Plonker” was heard to say “I’d have taken that if only you’d offered it to me before”.
As Claire Swire (remember her ?) would have said, our bowling attack is tasty. It’s known for being balls out, direct, dirty and even downright nasty, a bit like The Hedge when he’s been on the Tennent’s Super. “Dobber” (3-0-25-2) and “Length” (3-0-18-0) opened with some vajazzling deliveries but the Marston openers looked solid and after 3 overs they were 34-0. Time to slip them something. An easy run out brought in Rashid (25 in 14) and it was quickly apparent that he wasn’t going to die wondering. “Spurt” (3-0-24-0) and “Wee Willy” (3-0-12-0) then made like Michael Hutchence and choked the innings off with a spell of 6 overs for 45 runs that pegged Marston back to 84-4 off 10. Also in that period of play was a run out of such elegance from “Dobber” that it deserved a nice dress, a decent meal and a hotel room before the appearance of the beast with two backs. A drop and run to the off was anticipated by “Dobber” who didn’t try to pick the ball up but instead hockey-flicked the ball from the floor in to the leather and suede ‘keeping gloves (and iron fists inside on the evidence of this performance) of Capt. “Plonker”. “Dobber” finished up clean bowling the last pair with an unlikely 32 still needed to win at the start of the final over. Astonishingly, the analysis for the combined last overs of both sides was 2-1-1-6.
MoM : So who was the Casanova of the carpet ? Who was our top swordsman ? Who took one for the team without blubbing ? “Dobber” was close for sure but for an invaluable knock of 28 and a superb spell of leg-spin conceding only 4 an over for his spell it’s .....Simon “He’s a lover not a fighter” Williams.
With the season reaching a climax (so I’m told) the G-spot to be was the Choice Cricket Penthouse where two teams came together locked in an embrace at the top of the league table. There was barely a merkin between us. One side was cock-sure and wanted to dominate. We were hoping that Long Marston would be ready to receive. Bally, ever the playboy, even had a coloured handkerchief poking from his back pocket but we weren’t entirely sure what that was all about. With both sides having perfect records something had to give and the Colts were determined that it wouldn’t be us ending up in the gimp mask.
For the record, Capt. “Plonker” Prefab had a posse of stiff members lining up alongside him including Andrew “The Length” Hedges, David “Dick” Whiteley, Steve “Spurt” Ball, Mike “Dobber” Howard and Simon “Wee Willy” Williams. There was testosterone everywhere at the toss and after a quick clean up with a Kleenex it was the Colts who were to show off their posing pouch first by taking to the carpet with bat shafts in hand. History will record that this wasn’t the finest of Colts’ innings as in many ways we weren’t that well hung at 127 all out in just about the full 12 overs. It was nip and tuck as both sides knew what was at stake and we struggled, almost too much, to ensure a decent total on the board.
Capt. “Plonker” (26 in 21) took an absolute age before he retired in the 11th over (and how he wasn’t run out before retiring is the subject of a Ben Dover investigation) but there was some value to his knock as it was a night where runs had to be earned. “Dick” (10 in 11) and “Dobber” (21 in 9) were both out to extraordinary catches. “Dick’s” was a one-handed snatch by the bowler whilst “Dobber” smashed it (did you smash it ? I bet he smashed it) to midwicket where the fielder held on using his arms, hands, legs and gentleman’s area before throwing the ball up. “Wee Willy” (28 in 21) put his years of indoor experience to great use as the score kept climbing at 10 an over. At halfway we were 62-2 and Long Marston will reflect, with a post coital cigarette before they roll over and go to sleep, that by the end of their bowling stint they had given us 38 extras of which 32 were wides. In an x-rated final over from the slippery Rashid we managed to lose 4 wickets (that’s right, 4) without adding to the total. Not even a short stroke or one off the wrist for a single. Uncanny. From 127-2 we gave up a series of run outs from the sort of understandable to the downright brainless to close on 127 all out with a ball left to spare. Not great but they were runs on the board.
With his best “actress to the bishop” voice Capt. “Plonker” was heard to say “I’d have taken that if only you’d offered it to me before”.
As Claire Swire (remember her ?) would have said, our bowling attack is tasty. It’s known for being balls out, direct, dirty and even downright nasty, a bit like The Hedge when he’s been on the Tennent’s Super. “Dobber” (3-0-25-2) and “Length” (3-0-18-0) opened with some vajazzling deliveries but the Marston openers looked solid and after 3 overs they were 34-0. Time to slip them something. An easy run out brought in Rashid (25 in 14) and it was quickly apparent that he wasn’t going to die wondering. “Spurt” (3-0-24-0) and “Wee Willy” (3-0-12-0) then made like Michael Hutchence and choked the innings off with a spell of 6 overs for 45 runs that pegged Marston back to 84-4 off 10. Also in that period of play was a run out of such elegance from “Dobber” that it deserved a nice dress, a decent meal and a hotel room before the appearance of the beast with two backs. A drop and run to the off was anticipated by “Dobber” who didn’t try to pick the ball up but instead hockey-flicked the ball from the floor in to the leather and suede ‘keeping gloves (and iron fists inside on the evidence of this performance) of Capt. “Plonker”. “Dobber” finished up clean bowling the last pair with an unlikely 32 still needed to win at the start of the final over. Astonishingly, the analysis for the combined last overs of both sides was 2-1-1-6.
MoM : So who was the Casanova of the carpet ? Who was our top swordsman ? Who took one for the team without blubbing ? “Dobber” was close for sure but for an invaluable knock of 28 and a superb spell of leg-spin conceding only 4 an over for his spell it’s .....Simon “He’s a lover not a fighter” Williams.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
THE COLTS V. TOTTERNHOE : LEAGUE : 10/11/11
It was a jam session down at the “House of Blues” Choice Cricket Centre with the good ol’ Colts All Star Blues Brothers Boys Band tuning up for an assault on the Christmas number 1 single (if the sodding X Factor version of “There’s no one quite like Grandma/My Dad/My Dog/My dead Mum who died after a serious illness” doesn’t beat us to it). It’s tough in the music biz. We were on a mission from God but we didn’t know it and James Brown hadn’t yet pointed the way towards the light.
A & R man, John Belushi look-a-like and lead singer Capt. Prefab Sprout (sort of the perfect nickname) called incorrectly as tails it was and Totternhoe elected to play first and strap on their 6-string “Gibson Stratofender” (they bought it at the “Five ‘n’ Dime” and played it 'til their fingers bled if rumours are to be believed) complete with “wah wah” peddle and sustain gizmo. The Colts house band was made up from “Andrew “Blind Lemon” Hedges (who admitted after the match that he needs glasses), Rupert “Howlin’ Wolf” Garrett, JC “Fun Boy” 3, “Seasick” Steve Ball, and Pete “Muddy Waters” Makower.
The Colts looked and sounded great in the sound check and warm-up (with the amps turned up to 11) but as soon as the match started for real it was a bit of a different story. As any Blues fan standing at a crossroads will tell you, good places for the Blues are a) a lonely highway, b) a jail, c) a “cat house” d) an empty bed/cot or d) the bottom of a whisky bottle. To this can be added the first few overs from the Colts during this match. There were leg-side wides, off-side wides, long wides and short wides such that over the course of the innings we conceded 33 extras out of a total of 83-5. Capt. Prefab had a right to bemoan his luck and reach for his rusty revolver due to the lack of love from a good woman or indeed a well pitched delivery on a good length outside of the off stump. It wasn’t that we was bad, we were jus’ no good and sure enough yo pappy was goin’ to reach for the switch and tan our dang hides.
“Howlin’ Wolf” (3-0-21-2) put down his harmonica, tucked his mojo down the front of his pants and got us back on track as he bargained part of his soul with the devil and “Seasick” Steve (2-0-20-2) nabbed a couple including an LBW shout after a cunning signal from behind the stumps. There was also a snaffled run out from “Fun Boy” who was quick to pick up the ball one-handed like he’d found the butt of a king size Camel filter-tipped on the floor and with a sharp release he hit the two stumps that he had to aim at for a brilliant direct hit. Totternhoe were forced to confront the fact that it’s hard to gamble when you lose every bet and even harder to save money when your several wickets in debt. Their only recourse was to the bottle and a bunk in the rundown shack of Mean Momma Dumpling.
The Blues is not about choice. If yo stuck in a ditch then yo stuck in a ditch and there ain’t no use yo cryin’ ‘bout it. Ask Michael Jackson’s physician.
Anyway, Capt. Prefab (27* in 9) was on form with the bat as he made it sing like an angel’s harp with a number of ruthless punches through mid on. “Blind Lemon” (21 in 13) was more wary of a ball that was only partly in focus to him but at 38-0 off 3 overs we were flying. “Howlin’ Wolf” (27* in 15) re-adjusted his mojo which was now dressing to the left and took us closer to the promised land and “Fun Boy” (12* in 3) came in and slapped it like a mean ol’ sheriff from the wrong part of town.
The Colts closed at 88-1 in the 7th over and repaired to the bar to drink gasoline with a bourbon chaser for those who were not drivin’. Others had black coffee or a slug of cheap red wine from a bottle that the barkeep had “out back”.
MoM : If white men can’t jump and only black cats can sing the Blues then the award goes to “Howlin’ Mad Wolf” Garrett for 2-21 and another cheeky red-inker 27*.
A & R man, John Belushi look-a-like and lead singer Capt. Prefab Sprout (sort of the perfect nickname) called incorrectly as tails it was and Totternhoe elected to play first and strap on their 6-string “Gibson Stratofender” (they bought it at the “Five ‘n’ Dime” and played it 'til their fingers bled if rumours are to be believed) complete with “wah wah” peddle and sustain gizmo. The Colts house band was made up from “Andrew “Blind Lemon” Hedges (who admitted after the match that he needs glasses), Rupert “Howlin’ Wolf” Garrett, JC “Fun Boy” 3, “Seasick” Steve Ball, and Pete “Muddy Waters” Makower.
The Colts looked and sounded great in the sound check and warm-up (with the amps turned up to 11) but as soon as the match started for real it was a bit of a different story. As any Blues fan standing at a crossroads will tell you, good places for the Blues are a) a lonely highway, b) a jail, c) a “cat house” d) an empty bed/cot or d) the bottom of a whisky bottle. To this can be added the first few overs from the Colts during this match. There were leg-side wides, off-side wides, long wides and short wides such that over the course of the innings we conceded 33 extras out of a total of 83-5. Capt. Prefab had a right to bemoan his luck and reach for his rusty revolver due to the lack of love from a good woman or indeed a well pitched delivery on a good length outside of the off stump. It wasn’t that we was bad, we were jus’ no good and sure enough yo pappy was goin’ to reach for the switch and tan our dang hides.
“Howlin’ Wolf” (3-0-21-2) put down his harmonica, tucked his mojo down the front of his pants and got us back on track as he bargained part of his soul with the devil and “Seasick” Steve (2-0-20-2) nabbed a couple including an LBW shout after a cunning signal from behind the stumps. There was also a snaffled run out from “Fun Boy” who was quick to pick up the ball one-handed like he’d found the butt of a king size Camel filter-tipped on the floor and with a sharp release he hit the two stumps that he had to aim at for a brilliant direct hit. Totternhoe were forced to confront the fact that it’s hard to gamble when you lose every bet and even harder to save money when your several wickets in debt. Their only recourse was to the bottle and a bunk in the rundown shack of Mean Momma Dumpling.
The Blues is not about choice. If yo stuck in a ditch then yo stuck in a ditch and there ain’t no use yo cryin’ ‘bout it. Ask Michael Jackson’s physician.
Anyway, Capt. Prefab (27* in 9) was on form with the bat as he made it sing like an angel’s harp with a number of ruthless punches through mid on. “Blind Lemon” (21 in 13) was more wary of a ball that was only partly in focus to him but at 38-0 off 3 overs we were flying. “Howlin’ Wolf” (27* in 15) re-adjusted his mojo which was now dressing to the left and took us closer to the promised land and “Fun Boy” (12* in 3) came in and slapped it like a mean ol’ sheriff from the wrong part of town.
The Colts closed at 88-1 in the 7th over and repaired to the bar to drink gasoline with a bourbon chaser for those who were not drivin’. Others had black coffee or a slug of cheap red wine from a bottle that the barkeep had “out back”.
MoM : If white men can’t jump and only black cats can sing the Blues then the award goes to “Howlin’ Mad Wolf” Garrett for 2-21 and another cheeky red-inker 27*.
Saturday, November 05, 2011
THE COLTS V. CRAB DADS : LEAGUE : 1/11/11
From Capt. Hedge:-
And so it came to pass, late one Tuesday in November, the Vets, fresh from the previous nights trick or treat avoidance, did once again roll up to the Crabtree Indoor Cricket Centre – aka the Theatre of Delusion – to once more exorcise the demons of past glories. They say that the older one gets the better one was, and never was that more appropriate for some on this eve.
Captain Hedge (Ed: do what ?) won the toss, opted to bat and discharged himself to the cage to watch his band of merry men plunder the (weak) oppo’s bowling to all parts/walls. Except, er, it didn’t quite work out like that. We raced to 27 off the first 3 overs, 17 of which were extras. Dave was smashing it to all manner of fielders, plundering his 13 runs off merely 11 balls whilst Willo was even more extreme, smashing his 7 runs off a paltry 11. Both got out in vaguely comical circumstances to be followed by Pete - run out first ball without facing - and Hedge, caught for 6 off 3 playing another lazy symptomatic-of-his-season shot.
The Colts were 40-4 off 4 overs. Capt Hedge was puzzled. Captain Hedge was worried. Capt Hedge - had he had any hair - would have been pulling it out at some rate of knots by now. Still, all was not lost. Tim had dropped anchor, keeping the ball on the deck and playing quite beautifully. Then along popped The Messiah: aka Rupes. After an early scare, where he could quite easily have been run out by approx 129 yards, he then cranked the tempo up and showed us all (frankly) how to do it. A mixture of brute force, belligerence and deft touches (yes, you read that right) earned him 49 glorious undefeated runs. Tim and him put on 112 runs to leave the Colts with a bonus point dans le poche and a 152 total. Rupes even gloriously turned up a chance to receive a standing ovation for his 50 by completely missing the last ball of the game. What a Gent, 50’s are so vulgar and all a bit 1980’s (darling). Tim also remained undefeated with an utterly classy knock of 46.
So an eminently defendable target against oppo that we presumed would bat far better than they bowled. Which, er, they didn’t. Pistol Pete opened up and was his usual unplayable self. Suffice to say Crabtree Dads were 10-3 after 3 overs and 17-3 after 5: game over. The remainder of the game was somewhat turgid, not least because the oppo adopted a long term strategy of overhauling the target; such a strategy clearly involved batting through to the following Tuesday to get there. Despite a myriad of bowling changes/ styles we couldn’t get the last bonus point (6 wickets) – not even Our Lord Rupes could prise them out, despite some heroic charging in and accompanied puffing. A few chances went begging but the game petered out in a somewhat soporific manner, the mood only occasionally lightened by Bally’s never-heard-of-before calls of “right hand” from the Scorers hut above. Fair play to the bloke that he was still awake to be fair.
And so the Dads ended up on 73-3 and we retired to the bar to digest. In effect the 3 of us – Rupes, Tim and Pete – were enough to beat their 6. Si, Dave and Hedge – after amassing a dizzying 23 runs off 21 balls – were left to ruminate on past glories, furiously trying to remember when they had all collectively batted so dismally. A further 2, maybe 3 minutes later and we were all on our way home.
MOM: Has to be Rupes or Tim. On balance, because the former’s knock made us all chuckle just a little bit more (sorry, Tim) I've handed it to Rupes (even though he dropped a sitter). Mucho thanks to these two for digging us (me) out of a v. big hole.
And so it came to pass, late one Tuesday in November, the Vets, fresh from the previous nights trick or treat avoidance, did once again roll up to the Crabtree Indoor Cricket Centre – aka the Theatre of Delusion – to once more exorcise the demons of past glories. They say that the older one gets the better one was, and never was that more appropriate for some on this eve.
Captain Hedge (Ed: do what ?) won the toss, opted to bat and discharged himself to the cage to watch his band of merry men plunder the (weak) oppo’s bowling to all parts/walls. Except, er, it didn’t quite work out like that. We raced to 27 off the first 3 overs, 17 of which were extras. Dave was smashing it to all manner of fielders, plundering his 13 runs off merely 11 balls whilst Willo was even more extreme, smashing his 7 runs off a paltry 11. Both got out in vaguely comical circumstances to be followed by Pete - run out first ball without facing - and Hedge, caught for 6 off 3 playing another lazy symptomatic-of-his-season shot.
The Colts were 40-4 off 4 overs. Capt Hedge was puzzled. Captain Hedge was worried. Capt Hedge - had he had any hair - would have been pulling it out at some rate of knots by now. Still, all was not lost. Tim had dropped anchor, keeping the ball on the deck and playing quite beautifully. Then along popped The Messiah: aka Rupes. After an early scare, where he could quite easily have been run out by approx 129 yards, he then cranked the tempo up and showed us all (frankly) how to do it. A mixture of brute force, belligerence and deft touches (yes, you read that right) earned him 49 glorious undefeated runs. Tim and him put on 112 runs to leave the Colts with a bonus point dans le poche and a 152 total. Rupes even gloriously turned up a chance to receive a standing ovation for his 50 by completely missing the last ball of the game. What a Gent, 50’s are so vulgar and all a bit 1980’s (darling). Tim also remained undefeated with an utterly classy knock of 46.
So an eminently defendable target against oppo that we presumed would bat far better than they bowled. Which, er, they didn’t. Pistol Pete opened up and was his usual unplayable self. Suffice to say Crabtree Dads were 10-3 after 3 overs and 17-3 after 5: game over. The remainder of the game was somewhat turgid, not least because the oppo adopted a long term strategy of overhauling the target; such a strategy clearly involved batting through to the following Tuesday to get there. Despite a myriad of bowling changes/ styles we couldn’t get the last bonus point (6 wickets) – not even Our Lord Rupes could prise them out, despite some heroic charging in and accompanied puffing. A few chances went begging but the game petered out in a somewhat soporific manner, the mood only occasionally lightened by Bally’s never-heard-of-before calls of “right hand” from the Scorers hut above. Fair play to the bloke that he was still awake to be fair.
And so the Dads ended up on 73-3 and we retired to the bar to digest. In effect the 3 of us – Rupes, Tim and Pete – were enough to beat their 6. Si, Dave and Hedge – after amassing a dizzying 23 runs off 21 balls – were left to ruminate on past glories, furiously trying to remember when they had all collectively batted so dismally. A further 2, maybe 3 minutes later and we were all on our way home.
MOM: Has to be Rupes or Tim. On balance, because the former’s knock made us all chuckle just a little bit more (sorry, Tim) I've handed it to Rupes (even though he dropped a sitter). Mucho thanks to these two for digging us (me) out of a v. big hole.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)