Bally had too much time on his hands. Riffing through his CD collection he came upon “Frankie Goes to Hollywood” (a bunch of largely scouse poofs in black leather but hey, we’re not judging) and as the teams warmed up, the bass intro of “Two Tribes” thundered across the arena. There was even a small crowd minus the obligatory pooch. This was big news. The last Colts league game of the season and everything up for grabs. Final are the most improved side on the circuit and were handily placed to dethrone us but the papers were reporting a quiet confidence from the Colts camp. We’d even considered getting our new damson coloured playing shirts out (borrowed from Team England Rugby).
For the record, the men facing history were: Skip Prefab Von Run Out, David “Tyke” Whiteley, Simon “Michael Jordan” Williams (he leaps, he soars), Mike “Class Act” Howard, Rupes “That’ll be a pound” Garrett and The Hedge. Mako, JC and JC3 were there in spirit as were many others.
God it was tense. It was as tense as NATO nuclear disarmament negotiations conducted inside a tent. That’s how tense it was. It was tense like Jagger. Tense like Glastonbury. Tense like inside The Duchess of Cambridge’s uterus. It was that tense. Did I mention the tension ? It was beyond comprehension. Final sprang a surprise by winning the toss and deciding to bat. “I knew that we’d bowl” sniffed Hedge. When asked if he knew what the result was going to be Hedge said “Yes....but I’m not going to tell you”. Would he be right ?
Hell we were good. When rheumy eyed old men scratch their codlings by the fire and stretch their various joint replacements at some distant point in the future, they will talk of how good the Colts were in the field. We were legends of awesomeness. We took hold of it, slapped it about a bit, stacked it and then smothered it in golden syrup before having it with bacon and a cup of coffee. Our seamers bowled like a dream and a particularly sexy dream at that. Mike (3-0-19-1) knocked over Paul (7 in 8), their decent opener and followed that up with a screamer of a catch to get rid of Tariq (7 in 7). He was also involved in one of our three run outs. Hedge (3-0-19-0) was as mean as Pacino in “Scarface” but with a visage containing the innocence of a newborn child. He was vocal from backward point as well. Apparently Rupes was “epic” (word of the day toilet-paper coming in handy). Rupes (3-0-19-1), he of the lengthy warm up and creaking arm, made the ball weave in the middle overs meaning that Nick (28 in 22) was kept pretty tied down. “Tyke” (3-0-27-1) was like a Yorkshireman with a spare brass farthing, not giving anything away if he could help it. You’d have to prize this match out of his cold lambing hands. The Colts were fighting for the inches and the breaks were coming for us. Hedge dropped a chance but the next ball we had a run out. Skip gloved a stumping chance and was momentarily confused when the umpire in the cage shook his head but then pressed the red button.
At halfway Final were 40-3 and knew they were in a match. Have you ever seen a bunch of strapped up, middle aged geezers swarm ? Well, The Colts swarmed on this night. The blood was up and with minimal motivation required we flew in to the match. No runs were coming except for side wall singles. Nick decided that “Tyke” had to go. He hit a dream of a lofted straight drive. Would it be 8 or even a max 10 ? The crowd drew breath. But hang on.....is that his Royal “Airness” I see complete with Jordan Nike pumps, tongue flapping in the breeze and just about to block the attempt crying “Allez Oop” like a banshee ? Well, sort of, yes. This was what it was to be a Colt last night. The very essence of being a complete and utter Colt. The impossible made to seem ordinary and commonplace. Simon Williams, leaping like a flea just bitten by another flea whilst standing on a Mexican jumping bean. He’ll never reach it. Reach it ? He very nearly bloody caught it. A minimum 6 runs saved. Massive. Vital. 84 all out in 11.3 overs. 7 an over to win. Not huge in indoor terms but only half a job done.
Hedge was succinct. “If you think that’s the match won then you’re facking nuts. We ain’t there yet. Long way to go”. So wise; so young, they say.
It was tense (oh please for the love of God get a move on – we get it – Ed.). Skip Prefab thought his heart condition was coming on. He was popping tabs. “Tyke” may have had IBS. Rupes was jittery. Bally was mumbling to himself. Simon was patching up his pads. We needed a good start and we got one. 35-0 in 3 and going well. Over 3 went for 14, the most in the whole match and that was off Tariq’s twirlers. Skip (13 in 13) had been dropped from his very first ball. Another inch. Then it went pear. Or possibly melon. A bad call (not exactly a novelty) and the skip sold “Tyke” (17 in 13) down the Humber. Yorkshire (with some soft Southern vowels) oaths filled the air. As so often this season, another wicket followed shortly afterwards as Skip steered his guilt in to the hands of gully. Shades of Redbourn (also coincidentally the title of Simon Williams’ new album of experimental guitar pieces).
It was time for a class act. Mike (25* in 23) controlled the game with a well paced and crucial innings. He even had the patience to play out an almost unheard of indoor maiden. We were 50-2 at the half and ahead on anyone’s card but those last 36 runs needed scoring. Simon (6 in 7) popped one up and Final sniffed something. It may have been Skip Prefab sitting up in the bleachers, powerless but endlessly flatulent. Sage old Bally muttered “That was a crucial partnership”. Nick to Mike; smash. The ball came back hard at the bowler. Too hard. Like the Times crossword. Nick got his hands up but hardly stopped the momentum of the ball as it headed for a huge 8. A massive moment in the game. Incredibly, the umpire had not been able to duck and the ball smacked in to his cranium before diverting away to safety. Had it rebounded to a fielder Mike would have been caught. Another inch. When their turns came (after Mike retired) both Hedge (4* in 8) and Rupes (3* in 4) showed great sense in picking off the remaining few. Over 10 went for 11 runs but in the 6 overs before that we had scored just 30. An unexpected Tariq leg-side wide and another from Nick helped and we needed 10 from the last 2 overs. A final over wide from Arif and the league title was again ours.
There was no riotous cheering (yep, we’re that popular). This was a hard won and hard fought title from the loss to Redbourn to eking out the final win against Final who are now very much a team to be reckoned with. It was a match that deserved it’s own DVD. Not the exciting classic of the Cup semi-final loss of last year but a nerve-shredding, chest tightening, nose bleeding, headache inducing test of character.
Well done boys, Harpenden salutes and is proud of every squad member. This was a tough one.
MoM : Big matches need big players and vice versa. Like Lionel Messi on a sugar high and the boobs of that blonde bint from “I’m a Celebrity”, Mike Howard was all over the place last night. 25*, 1-19, a great catch and a run out.
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