The Ladder Cricket Club

So that’s it then. The Broken Wicket’s been and gone and with it the season.

An odd season it’s been too. I suppose it was more than anything the weather that did it, that made the season feel so incoherent somehow, so foul and fair, so long and short-seeming, successful and less so, satisfying and oddly un.

What’s here then are a few reflections on the season just gone. These are strictly personal and are based almost exclusively on the games in which I played. If I have missed mentioning your particular fifty, your four-for or your stunning catch, I apologise. But like de Lotbiniere’s 47 at Montenotte Road last year, can we just try not to go on and on about it, OK?

As much as any other single thing, this was the season of identity crisis as we considered the pros and cons of a merger with the Archway Graces. We thought about it, discussed it, debated it. We experimented with playing with them, them playing with us, but so far did nothing definite. It’s been like that moment two-thirds of the way through a school dance with the local girls’ school: mingling is certainly happening but so far no-one’s sloped off to the squash courts to shag.

Otherwise, the episodic way the season unfolded makes it hard to get an exact bead on how we played as a team compared to last season. Perhaps this will come clearer as I write this.

My basic sense is that we were better, that we built on the improvements of last year and that we’d been making over the winter in the nets, that we recruited some talented new players and that several of our standing players made significant strides in their own game.

I think we played with more intent perhaps. But no less grace.

And the season certainly produced a good number of significant firsts and champagne moments. More on these later.

I have this theory that when it comes to culture - and by culture I mean anything you don’t actually have to do – if you don’t remember it beyond a day or two, it can’t have been all that good. By this yardstick, incidentally, it is amazing to notice how many culturally insignificant meals one has eaten in restaurants, and how many movies, plays and books have disappeared likewise without trace down the memory-hole.

So what of this season has stuck in the mind? And I will be stringent here: I will consult neither the scorebook nor the reports. This, initially, will be right off the top of my head.

Well, I remember, Will Hoyle (WiHo) striking a very good but chancy, often dropped, 77 early on. And that we ended up losing that game. And it was as hot as a bastard. And there was, I remember, as I walked over to the ground that day, a very beautiful red-haired girl sunbathing in the field next to the ground.

I remember George Oborne’s bowling. How he intimidated opening bats. And reliably took wickets. And how, since nets, he has ratcheted down the raw aggression and ratcheted up his line and length. One of our best bowlers this season, probably the best.

I remember one of George’s mates, Will Clerk, scoring a very nice 50 at Montenotte Road. And James Oborne playing for us that night, and ADL as well, two rare summer visitors. And we won that game too. And John McMullan got sent off and went home and wrote Mein Kampf.

Andrew Lang’s bowling was as good as ever, rarely as rewarded in wickets as you always thought he might be. And I also remember his excellent 80 + against the Cowboys. That was the game we made more than 300 in 35 overs and then rolled them over for a small portion of that. Gorgeous.

My fifty against Cowboys I remember as well, including a rare and, I might say, rather lovely straight six the ball before being caught behind.

Richard Minton, I remember, playing a couple of games early on and batting with increasing power and aplomb before going back to hockey (for some reason).

I remember all those rained-off games of course. How it seemed, at one stage, like the season might never really get going. And how stodgy the wickets were, the ball never really coming on to the bat, and how slow they remained until the last few games.

Tim Yates came back from Africa a better batsman.

Tim Owen bowled tidily late on.

Parvez was patient at the crease and reliable in the field.

I remember some mighty hitting by borrowed Archway Graces batsmen to give us the total we needed to see off The Beamers. That was early season too, down at North Middlesex. That was the game I gave Chirag out for a first ball LBW. Perhaps there was enough doubt not to give it. But I had to give it.

I remember some great batting by Nathan Ward. A powerful 40 and then a skilfully hit and largely chanceless ton, the first in our history and all done with a most un-Australian self-effacement and grace.

I remember Adam Coffman gaining – or regaining – his batting mojo. And his brisk, sweetly struck first fifty at Ally Pally.

I was absent from but heard many good things about the victory against UCS Old Boys, at Ranulph Road, I think. I hear it was a proper team victory too. Andrew Lang got wickets I hear. And Kit Brown was in the runs and the wickets too.

I remember losing one game at Ally Pally against a bunch of children, fat people and old men and it all being slightly depressing, mystifying even, like one of those dreams where you can’t move your legs, the way they contrived, without particular skill (or charm), to hoik their way past our total. Awful. That was the game with the pushy dad, tastelessly competitive and micro-managerial about absolutely everything. His poor son will be in therapy for years.

I remember quite a few Dave Goodman moments. I’ll mention some of these later. But Dave was our star recruit, keeping wicket, bowling, scoring runs, taking catches, performing impossible run-outs, often all at the same time. His other team will be sorry to lose him.

I remember Kit Brown’s first ever six in one of our tournament games at London Fields. Beautiful shot, went like a rocket, high into the trees. Almost killed a hipster on its way back down to earth.

I remember a handful of John McMullan moments, his wickets at Montenotte Road, an opener’s innings late in the season at Ally Pally, and his appointment, following Rumplestiltskin’s retirement, as UN good-will ambassador.

I remember another of George Oborne’s mates, Jack Boone, hitting an insouciant 89 at Ally Pally. Great innings that, the bedrock of another big win.

I remember James Laddie not playing for us as much as anyone would have liked and, as a result, never quite getting his batting mojo back.

Likewise Ben Bishop, conspicuous by his absence. Likewise Ian Burge. Other absent friends … Srikant, ADL (but for that one game), Andy Tongue, Jim Bonner, James Oborne (but for one game), various others…

There were a couple of pearling moments in the field, a few catches in particular I remember. Dave Goodman’s left-handed take falling away fast at second slip off George’s bowling. Also Mannish’s well-taken low-down chance at something like extra cover to wrap things up in one of the late games at Ally Pally. That was off Kit’s bowling I think. And Andrew Lang’s running catch out on the midwicket boundary. Off my bowling that one was: Lang took it like a rugby winger, made it look easy.

Generally I remember our fielding as being pretty good, certainly compared to last year.

Two particular run-outs I remember, the Goodman through-the-legs number off his own bowling and Goodman again hitting the stumps from deep-ish at the Broken Wicket. Can’t teach fielding like that.

So anyway, that’s what I remember. Here, strictly subjectively, are the prizes:

·     Innings of the Year: Nathan Ward’s 101 retired at All Pally against The Cowboys. A great knock and The Ladder’s first century.

·     Innings of the Year – Special Mention: Andrew Lang’s 87 in the same game.

·     Innings of the Year – Special Mention 2: Jack Boone’s 89.

·     Bowler of the Year: George Oborne, fast, hostile and increasingly accurate.

·     Bowler of the Year – Special Mention: Faisal in the game against Highgate Taverners: 3 overs, 1 maiden, 1 for 2. That’s 1 for 2. Probably won us the game, that spell.

·     ‘First’ of the Year: Adam Coffman’s tidy, stylish first fifty against Highgate Irregulars. A first fifty is a truly special thing and this was a particularly good one. 59 not out it was too.

·     All-rounder of the Year / Recruit of the Year: Dave Goodman. The perpetrator of several – if not most - of the season’s champagne moments.

·     Catch of the Year: Dave Goodman at second slip off George’s bowling. To almost anyone else this wouldn’t even have looked like a chance. A top top catch, at any level.

·     Most Improved Batsman of the Year: I say Coffman. He says me. We’ll share it.

It’s a slightly odd thing then, the feeling that now we’ve got the season out of the way, we can get back to the serious business of nets at Lords, but that is slightly how I feel, I must admit. You’ve got to love the nets though: the ball comes on to the bat, everything you hit is a boundary and you never get caught. I can’t wait. The Pledge resumes here!

Watch this space for further Training Directives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Broken Wicket was strange, like one of those busy but oddly dissociated dreams you have when you go back to sleep instead of getting up and having a piss. The first strange thing was being there in the morning, early, in bright sunshine, but cold, the ground still tarpaulined in shadow and heavy dew glistening over everything. More like the start of the Christmas term, someone said, a morning more for oikball, it felt, than cricket.

Having managed to assemble a more or less full team by nine, it was a little vexing to be given a bye due to the non-appearance of our first round opponents. We loosened up in the nets and then sat around over the Saturday papers and bacon sarnies.

Our first match against Archway Graces felt a little incestuous, given the months of mutual bottom-sniffing that has been going on in the lead-up to a possible merger between our two teams. Jack Boone and Dave Goodman made a positive start putting on 22 for the first wicket. Andy Arkell went in and batted pretty well (I have to say) for his 26 retired. James Laddie struck one good 4 and was then found LBW. Kit Brown was caught for 0. John Byrne was run out for 3 leaving Tom Morris (4) and George Oborne (1) to finish out our eight over innings. We finished on 78 which felt light.

Graces looked like overhauling us without too much difficulty. But with an over left, after some tight-ish bowling, they were still 4 runs or so adrift. Ed Sherwood bravely bowled this final over and it was almost enough. With two balls to go, remarkably, they were still a run shy. Ed was then unlucky to be wided – the umpire being from their side funnily enough - for a not very wide ball outside off. They were level. The next ball though was a wicket, a catch well held by Tim Owen running in from mid-off. And we needed a dot from the last to stay level. Ed went one better than this, trapping their next man also out caught, another well-taken chance by Jack Boone. Scores were level. Ladder celebrations were loud, whole-hearted …

… and short-lived as we were told that we would be deemed, in point of fact, to have lost the game on goal-difference or number of wickets lost or some other shoddy piece of gerrymandering. The audible hiss was the sound of the wind leaving Ladder sails. And this sense of deflation followed us, I can’t help feeling, into our next game.

This was against Jordans. They batted first and having lost one of their openers for 0, made free with our bowling. Despite this early onslaught, they finished their eight overs, however, on a not unachievable 79.

Our batting, in response, stuttered. George Oborne was out caught for 2. Tom Morris, likewise, for 2. Adam Coffman applied himself but was unable to find his normal fluency but nevertheless scored a worthwhile 16 before being run out. Ed Sherwood made 4 and one-man wind-farm Tim Owen eventually got bat on ball but was then out for 1. Uncomfortably late in the innings already, our best bats Jack and Dave went in but were freakishly both out almost straightaway to virtually the same ball, Jack stumped and Dave run out. Andy Arkell went to the middle with too much to do, or too much for someone of his limited offensive batting ability anyway. He did try though and lofted an early ball commandingly over square leg for 6 but he and James Laddie, in the end, were unable to make up the deficit. Arkell finished on 17 and Laddie on 6. Our team total was respectable but insufficient at 64. And with that The Ladder crashed out.

The rest of an enjoyable day was spent supporting Coffman’s umpiring, drinking beer, listening to the steel drums from the wedding reception in the pavilion and admiring the lustrous dark gold of the bridesmaids’ shoulders.

The tournament, by the way, not that it particularly mattered to us by this stage, was decided in a closely fought final between the Beamers and the Graces. It is always nice when a competition like this is won by a really good bunch of lads but sadly, today, this was not to be. The Beamers won. Applause was light. And that was that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every year the Ladder CC plays the UCS Old Boys CC, and almost every year we play well, get ourselves in a winning position, but somehow manage to contrive a loss. Would it – could it – be any different this year? The day was not a promising one for cricket. A wet weekend, dense clouds as far as the eye could see, and intermittent rain, had left visible puddles on the pitch and outfield. We won the toss and chose to bat – to the audible consternation of the other team, who were heard complaining that we were not good enough to post a competitive total and make a proper game of it. An interesting start. Dave Goodman and Parvez Saleh went in to face their openers, and quickly discovered that this was not an easy pitch to bat on. The moisture made it unpredictable: some balls jumped sharply outside off, and there was definitely something in the pitch for the seamer. The result was a slow start, but reasonably steady. We lost our first wicket in the eighth over, as Goodman was out caught for 6 with the score on 14. 3 overs later Parvez was bowled for 8 by the UCS captain’s gentle darts. At this point, Lang and Faisel were at the crease and tried to knuckle down to build a partnership. The batting was still not easy, as every so often a ball would simply stop on the pitch, making it hard to get in. Faisel played with flare, including clobbered boundary down ground off the UCS captain, ultimately succumbing to an ambitious and lusty swing on 22. 3 for 47. There followed a classic Ladder wobble. Chirag looked good, but didn’t hang around for his 1. Waheed didn’t trouble the scorer. 5 for 48, and things looked ominous. At this point, a small rally. Lang and Zeeshad moved the score onto 70, each of them gradually gathering fluency on the difficult pitch. But Lang got one that stopped and popped it to mid on, and was out for a workmanlike 20. Shortly afterward Zasheed was bowled for 11. 7 for 78, and we were in serious trouble. On the sidelines, we started talking strategy. If only we could make it to 100, we agreed, we would have something to defend. Crossing fingers and toes, we nervously counted each run as it came. But we had Coffman in the middle, and, though we didn’t know it at the time, we had nothing to fear. Initially, Coffman and Paresh carefully worked the ones and twos beautifully, and the scoreboard gradually moved from 80 to 90, then to 100, even to 110. At this point, Paresh succumbed for a well deserved 24. But, with some support from our ringers, Coffman took the score even higher, driving and cutting with poise and flair. 120, 130, 140, 150 … until finally the innings concluded on 155 with our brave leader on 33. This was a true captain’s knock, worth a 50 on any other pitch, taking us from a mediocre score to a potentially winning total. Team morale was high as we had tea, and we went out to field knowing that if we played well, we should win. We had been here before … But this time it was different. Paresh and Gibbard opened the bowling for the Ladder, and you could hardly have asked for a better start. Paresh in particular was outstanding: going for 2 runs off his first 4 overs, bowling their No 1 in his fifth, and finishing with 1-4 off his 6. As Lang and Faisel came on at first change, the score was at 2 for 20 odd. Lang managed to get 2 for 6 off his 4 overs, exploiting conditions conducive to swing and seam. The score was 4 for 32 and UCS Old Boys were in trouble. The story from here is easily summarised. Coffman used 8 bowlers in total, and each bowling change brought a wicket. We caught our catches, we bowled well, and we regularly took wickets, even as the required run rate climbed and climbed. Chirag bowled as well as I have seen him bowl – wily and hard to get away – and finished with 1-18. Bayliss and Waheed both took two wickets: Bayliss’ got the one batter (their No 3) who could have taken the game to us, while Waheed comprehensively bowled the UCS captain second ball, happily putting an end to his chatter for the season. From there it was a formality: 7 for 80 became 8 for 80, 9 for 91 and finally all out for 100. This was a resounding win for the Ladder, and clearly one of the best wins I have seen from this team. A truly all round performance – resilient batting, penetrating bowling, excellent fielding. Man of the Match: Captain Coffman, for a sublime knock which was instrumental in taking us from 7 for 78 to 9 for 155.

It is a nice thing to become a connoisseur of victory.

Last week’s win, reported below, was a crushing one, the cricketing equivalent of killing a puppy with a large gun: good fun but not much of a challenge. This week though, against Highgate Irregulars, we were up against a better side. To win this time and to win as emphatically as we did was like coming up against a fully-grown dog or small bear and then killing it, also with a gun, either the same gun or, if anything, a slightly larger one.

Seriously though, what was especially pleasing, even slightly inspiring this time was how every single member of the team strongly contributed to the win. A team win is the best kind of win. As people in retail like to say, there’s no i in win, even though, if you look, there actually is one. Weird that.

Coffman only really loses tosses these days. He did so again today but it didn’t matter: we were put into bat. Dave Goodman and John McMullan opened.

Goodman is a cricketer of efficiency and, as we would see later, considerable flair. As a batsman, he doesn’t hang around. After a couple of sighters he pulled strongly to the short midwicket boundary for six but then, next ball, succumbing to the six-hitter’s particular sickness, holed out to mid-on. McMullan was joined in the middle by Jack Boone.

McMullan too, it’s easy to forget, is an all-rounder, he keeps wicket, if not always the peace, he bowls with good shape and, as he now showed, he bats. This may not have been the hardest charging kind of innings but it was skilled, it was steady, and it was a proper opener’s innings. When he departed, bowled for 26, he had seen off most of their most efficient bowling. Jim Laddie replaced him.

Jack Boone, a welcome newcomer to Ladder cricket, may look like Hugh Grant’s stunt-double but he knows how to bat. His proved to be one of two anchor innings in our total. Particularly impressive was his back-foot offside drive, forcefully struck: a number of these went flat and fast to the cover boundary, really nice shots to watch.

Laddie hasn’t had much cricket this year and his stay at the crease was brief. He still made 10 though, before being out bowled to a lolloping, deceptive slow one. Adam Coffman replaced him.

Everyone comments on Coffman’s classical technique with the bat. What may have been lacking before was a measure of confidence – and time at the crease – to back it up. But today was the day. He started making runs with some fluency including a powerfully struck (marginally top-edged) pull to square leg for 6.

Boone meanwhile passed fifty and was looking set for his ton before he was out, stumped, for an excellent, elegant 89. Coffman was joined by Adam Mellows-Facer.

At this stage, 30 or so overs in, I would guess, we were around the 200 mark. Mindful of last week’s 300 and the short boundary on one side, 200 looked OK but not yet par. The batsmen looked to step things up a notch.

But first there was a celebration. There are certain firsts in a man’s life, not many, which serve as the real waymarks, stainless and memorable, the milestones in his life. First beer, first kiss, first car, first arrest on the Tottenham Court Road for toilet-trading. A man’s life is made up of these things. One of the greatest of these signal moments is a batsman’s first fifty. And today was the day for Coffman’s. Not only was this a characteristically compact, stylish knock, it was also rapid. His fifty came from only 20 scoring shots. Very well done indeed.

Mellows-Facer departed for a quick and useful 16 and Andy Arkell went out for the last three overs. While Coffman made his way to an excellent unbeaten 59, Arkell, not previously noted as an aggressive striker of the ball, biffed the ball inelegantly but effectively around for 27 before being out caught on the last ball of the innings. We closed on 259 after 35 overs. Par or even a little over, some thought.

Tea was taken.

Looking back, the damage was done early on. The spells bowled by our opening bowlers were both economical and destructive and meant that they were never really in the game.

George Oborne, like uncle and like father, is a significant bowling asset, fast and well-targeted. He removed their opener, bowled for a duck and also had what could be described as a pretty sure-fire LBW shout mysteriously turned down by an umpire who should, you could argue, have gone to Specsavers. But then, making up for this, Oborne was the enabling force behind one of this game’s – and this season’s – champagne moments.

A ‘caught behind’ is not something you see all that often at this level of the game. Spongy wickets, pedestrian bowling and slow hands generally see to this. So to see a sharp fast ball edged hard and quick to second slip and then held there, an inch from the ground, by a man going over fast to his left, is a rare thing. Dave Goodman was the catcher in this case and what a catch it was. To most fielders this ball would have been 4 to the third man boundary and scarcely noted as a chance but Goodman made the catch look almost easy. This was, I would say, the catch of the season and by some margin. Superb.

Oborne finished with an excellent 2 for 21 off 6. Sunny from the other end also bowled with good consistency and finished with 0 for 26 off 7. With bowling like this, they never really looked like getting anywhere close. Lang came on and also bowled with characteristic skill, going wicketless but managing, with his accuracy, still further to choke their run-chase.

Their batsmen three and four did, it’s true, stick around for good while and punished anything leg-ish for 4’s and 6’s to the short boundary. But a breakthrough came when Arkell got their number four trapped LBW. This batsman mistakenly thought the umpire’s raised finger meant stay at the crease and bitch for a couple of minutes but he did eventually mutteringly remove himself and play resumed.

Throughout their innings, Coffman shrewdly kept the short boundary well-policed. Adam Mellows-Facer, in particular, let very little through out there. Andrew Lang also took an extremely good running chance out on the midwicket boundary. Arkell finished with bowling figures of 2 for 49 from 7.

Dave Goodman often and very capably keeps wicket but, with Parvez Saleh today keeping wicket (and doing a very good job of it), Goodman had the chance to bowl. And an excellent job he made of that too. He bowled slowly but with good line and length and soon accounted for their top-scorer clean bowled. While bowling he also produced another of the game’s champagne moments.

Essaying, I think, a quick single or being sent back from an attempt at one, the batsman found himself short of his ground at the non-striker’s end. Goodman, fielding his own bowling, stooped, but instead of retrieving the ball, scooped it back through his legs like a badger and broke the stumps. The batsman was out by a distance. Beautiful piece of cricket: great awareness, great panache, great skill. Goodman finished with 1 for 31 from 6 as well as that classy run-out.

And that was pretty much that. They finished well short with 196 after 35 overs. 

There was some talk after the last match I played in, a few weeks ago, which we had, incidentally, just resoundingly won, about whether it is better to win by any distance, or to win in a closely fought contest.

There was even some fop with a French-sounding name who claimed that he would rather lose a close game than win a walk-over. Historically speaking, this is much the same as saying that you wouldn’t have minded losing the Battle of Britain, say, because, you know, at least it was really, really close. Communism, basically.

Anyway, you know those nature programmes on TV when lions or cheetahs or whatever gang up on gazelles and chase after them and catch them and then rip their guts out and eat them. That was what happened yesterday against The Cowboys. It was brilliant.

Adam Coffman, captain tonight except for the crucial final overs, lost the toss but was given what he would have asked for. We would bat.

Kit Brown opened with Andy Arkell. Their bowling looked fairly tidy at first. Brown looked discomfited by their opening man’s shorter ball but was part-unfortunate, part-found-out, when, dancing to leg, he accidentally dribbled the ball back into his own wicket. Not the greatest of starts.

What we did have though, it transpired, as Nathan Ward came in to steady the ship, was a pitch where the ball would finally, at this late stage in a damp season, come on to the bat and an outfield which would hurry any even moderately well-struck ball to the rope. It wasn’t long before the total was advancing by seven or eight an over.

There were really three scores in the total tonight and, as much to his own surprise as anyone else’s, Arkell’s was one of them. A few of his fours were flukey, it’s true, one gloved through the keeper, one butt-ended to square leg like a snooker shot but the majority were proper shots, cuts and drives mainly and quite a nice sweep to go beyond fifty. Next ball from Ben Greenacre bowling up the hill with a Zapata moustache went back briskly over his head for a straight six I might even myself be tempted to describe as magisterial. But straightaway next ball, chasing a wide one with similar intent, he got an edge, Arkell did, well held by the keeper and was out for a useful 59. Fair play though, good knock. Andrew Lang came in to join Ward.

Nathan Ward is a proper batsman, I’ve said so before and so he showed again this afternoon. He was playing, if anything, in this innings, within himself, less expansively perhaps than we’ve seen before, but no less effectively. He started amassing runs, as often with singles and well-run twos as with boundaries. One of his most impressive strokes is when he stands up on the back foot, tall as he is, and canes the ball to off with a straight bat, taking the ball on the up. Unless they actually picked out a fielder, those strokes were four from the moment of impact.

Andrew Lang often also looks like runs and he looked it this afternoon. He took a while, I think, by his standards at least, to look really relaxed with his stroke-making and, like Ward, built up the foundation of his total with singles and twos and lots of tidy running between the wickets.  And meanwhile the total went on creeping up, leaping up if anything: even their tidier bowlers were going for a run a ball.

Now, in its short-ish but distinguished history, The Ladder CC has never posted an individual hundred. That was to change this afternoon and it was Ward who scored it. After a series of effortless glanced fours off his hips to fine leg, applause was heard from the boundary and it was confirmed. 101 to Ward. A top top innings, that, all done with economy and grace and a sense of power in reserve. Well done. Ward retired at this point and Reeve came out for the final overs.

Meanwhile, sensing that a team total of 300 was within reach, Lang went up a gear. Clinical on the off side, one shot of his really stood out. Late on, he got a fairly full ball, maybe a tad short, that looked almost like it was cramping him up and he just kind of liquidly fenced it away square and it went away like a rifle shot for four.

Ian Reeve hasn’t quite got his eye back this season but he looked like surviving and, at the end, was 5 not out. Lang also, having surged to an excellent 87, was undefeated at the close. And we had, we’d broken another record, finishing with 302 for 2 with one retired at the end of 35 overs.

Tea was taken.

This was a strong Ladder outfit, it’s true, in bowling as with batting. Coffman opened with the spinners. Not the 1970’s folk-pop combo, but with Chirag from one end and Mannish from the other. Mannish bowled two tidy overs and two slightly more ragged ones finishing with 0 for 19. Chirag though bowled with great variety and discipline and deserved the wickets that started to come his way. He finished with 3 for 35. Good figures.

Mention has to be made, as we pressed home the not inconsiderable advantage of all those runs on the board, of the quality of the catching this afternoon. Coffman has occasionally, very occasionally, not been the safest pair of catching hands but he caught two tough-ish chances tonight. Kit Brown too, running round from slip took a very good catch, one of those really tricky ones dropping in over his shoulder. Catches like these win matches and win matches quickly.

Tim Owen, managing a rare evening away from the sex dungeon where he is being fattened up with pork pies by an Australian woman taxi-driver who intends, eventually, to wear his skin as a kind of flesh-coloured track-suit, was brought on first change, bowling up the hill. And he did well, keeping it generally tight outside off stump. He finished with 2 for 13 off 4. Nice figures.

Andrew Lang bowled and did so with characteristic control. How he went wicketless is a mystery, finishing with 0 for 9 off 4.

Nathan Ward bowled also, off a shortened run-up, and through as we were, pretty much, to the tail, tried to bowl with clemency but still couldn’t help removing two of their batters, finishing with 2 for 2 off 2.

Kit Brown came on for what looked like it might be the last over but it didn’t even go this distance as their skipper hit one hard and low towards midwicket where it was bravely, skillfully held by Mannish. Great catch that.

And so that was that. They were all out for 87, equal only to our second highest individual score. Come on The Ladder, you ruthless killing machines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After what seemed an eternity, but was in fact merely the traditional August hiatus, the Ladder reconvened at Ally Pally to take on the Players, led by the sometime Ladderite Roger McCann.  The home side was short on numbers, not for the first time, and we were grateful to the opposition for making a few calls to procure 3 players, 2 from Epsom CC’s women’s side, to swell our number to 10.

Who won the toss is unclear to your correspondent, but the Ladder took to the field under grey skies and the command of Andrew Lang.  Lang was understandably concerned at the dearth of bowling options - again, not an uncommon phenomenon - but whenever Lang plays, the Ladder have a fighting chance of making inroads.  The Players’ openers made a steady start, watchful against Lang but playing a few shots off the bowling of DC, one of our Epsom ringers.  Then Lang made the breakthrough, prodigious inswing resulting in the death rattle for number 1, out for 15 ish.  The opposition’s number 3 looked compact until he fell to DC in what was to be her final over, stumped by some nifty work - not for the last time - by John McMullan behind the stumps. 

The skipper then made the bold move to toss the ball to Brown, not known for his pace, spin or accuracy with the cherry.  For once, however, he largely held it together, aided in no small measure with a wicket with his first ball, the number 2 falling LBW to a slow straight one, out for 20-odd.  Lang then bowled ‘Jabba’, the hulking nunber 4, who shouldered arms to another huge inswinger, and finished with stunning figures of 7-3-7-2.  In his place came Nicki, the other Epsom CC stand-in.  She and Brown bowled with discipline, each removing another middle order batsmen, whilst fielding was tight, too - so tight that Reza brilliantly ran out their top scorer with a direct hit from deep backward point.  Then, to round things off, Tricks was introduced to the attack.  Whether by fluke or design, this was perfect timing: the dangerous McCann, coming in at number 9 and still playing himself in, was lured down the track, only to be utterly beaten by a heady mixture of flight and turn.  McMullan did the rest, and McCann was trudging back for a single.  Could that be a key moment in the match?  Another wicket for Tricks soon followed, and Players closed on 144 all out - a competitive, but eminently gettable, target.

Following a jolly good tea, Parvez and Lang opened the Ladder reply. Lang looked in good touch, hitting 2 or 3 sweet boundaries, before pulling McCann straight down the throat of short midwicket.  Tricks followed soon after, playing all round a full one from the other opening bowler.  In came Reza, who looked a powerful striker of the ball, if not the quickest between the wickets: McCann even hauled himself out of the attack, after just 4 overs, after being straight driven for six.  But it wasn’t to last: he was out LBW to another full one from the oppo’s strike bowler. At 40-odd for 3, things weren’t looking rosy.  And 60-odd for 5 wasn’t much better: Raj Desai’s short but eventful innings yielded a six and not much else, whilst Parvez, having showed admirable sticking power, fell for 8. 

It was from this point on that things started to look up.  McMullan, coming in at 7, played a graceful innings, replete with elegant cuts and sweeps. Following the departure of our number 6, Tom, our other stand-in player, for 7, Nicki doughtily held up an end. With McMullan playing well, the score read 90-odd for 6 - so just 45 or 50 to get, and those in the pavilion beginning to hope once again - but then, inexplicably, he got out. So as Brown strode to the crease he knew, or at least thought, the game was pretty much up.  There were just 6 or 7 overs left, very few wickets to play with, and a fistful of runs needed. Nicki was marooned on 2 and was in the cricketing equivalent of the doldrums. All of that seemed to have the effect of liberating Brown, though, for he proceded to play an innings full of aggression, if not always of timing: gone, at least for now, was his traditional caution and inability to hit the ball off the square.  Over the course of the next few overs, a mixture of lusty blows to leg, suicidal running and comedy fielding ensured we still had a chance going into the last over: 12 needed.  Sadly, however, it wasn’t quite to be: Nicki was bowled and DC run out to leave us 5 short of our target.  Brown finished 28 no.

Once back in the safety of the pavilion, all agreed that it had been a very good game, played in a similarly good spirit.  Hopefully, now that the August cobwebs have been dusted off, the Ladder can return to winning ways in the remainder of its September fixtures.

Kit Brown

On Saturday 30^th June a Ladder XI – make that VI – was spotted in an unnatural habitat.  I say unnatural for two reasons. First, the location was the lovely London Fields, way to the east of many Ladderites’ comfort zone.  This is undoubtedly one of the finest places to play cricket in London, and the views from the boundary had Arkell drooling – something about a cloud formation hanging over a 60s tower block, if I recall, and the odd remark about the local talent.  (I digress.)  Second, this was a sixes tournament, which, by and large, is not a format of the game well suited to Ladder cricket absent the likes of Roger McCann and Will Hoyle, each game (and there were 5 for us, there being 6 teams in total) a 5-over-a-side thrash.  And, sure enough, they, like most Ladder stalwarts, were absent.  Saturday cricket doesn’t seem to sit well with most.

I should also add that the omens were not good.  The Ladder’s inaugural appearance at this august event 12 months previously ended with it stalking off with its tail firmly between its legs, after taking a royal spanking from every Tom, Dick and Harry it came across.  (In a cricketing sense, you understand, less there be any misunderstanding.) Baraka will remember it well.  Moreover, just a few days before the tournament the ‘squad’ stood at precisely 2 players.  Far from ideal.  

So, it may come as a surprise that the Ladder actually performed rather well.  It punched well above its weight. More than creditable.  And so on.  I say “Ladder”; it would perhaps be more accurate to say “half a Ladder and 3 debutants”, although even that might be misleading, suggesting as it does that the debutants might play again.  Which they might, and hopefully they will, but equally they might not.  No matter: they were Ladder heroes for a day at least.  To cut a long story short, Messrs Arkell, Brown and Goodman were joined by Messrs Brown (Jr), Vijay and Siju, the last two recruited via that trusty medium known as Gumtree.  And what players they were!

First up: Broadway Market CC.  Brown was particularly keen to get off to a good start, having unpleasant memories of the year before and having turned out for the oppo on more than one occasion this term, suffering the ignominy just a week before of being slow hand-clapped for his less-than-electric scoring rate. Having won the toss and fielded,  Siju, Vijay and Arkell all bowled very tidily; Siju was more than that, a real menace.  You could see he was a proper cricketer, and no mistake.  BMCC were restricted to 46 off 5.  The two Gumtree men then made very light work of the total, Vijay proceeding to the retirement score of 25 for the first of several times.  We won with a whole over to spare.

We then played the white-hot favourites, London Fields CC. Chasing 80 to win, we fell just short, on 65 or thereabouts.  No disgrace there.

Then Pub on the Park, named after the local boozer, but no slouches: this one was won with 3 balls to spare, Arkell getting among the runs, and Goodman too.  Great work from all concerned. A real team spirit was emerging, allied to no lack of skill and dedication.

We then played what turned out to be the most satisfying game, at least on a personal level, against Stoke Newington.  After another creditable performance in the field and with ball in hand, particularly from Goodman, who was more miserly than a Scotsman in a recession, we needed some 55 runs to win. Cruising to victory thanks largely to solid knocks up the order, we then suddenly went without scoring for a few balls and lost a couple of wickets.  Panic began to set in.  At this stage, your correspondent arrived at the crease to join his brother, who was looking every bit the man who hadn’t played in a long while.  18 needed off 10.  Arkell was understandably looking nervous on the boundary edge as the Brown brothers conferred in the middle:  Brown Sr was not known for his quick starts.  But, to everyone’s surprise (not least his own), Brown’s first three balls were dispatch for 4, 6 and 4.  Yes, you read it: a six.  Brown’s first, so it was said.  And a big one it was at that: pulled hard and high into the trees over square leg.  Blame it on Goodman’s bat: a fine piece of willow. Oh, and some friendly half-trackers from the bowler. Any road, we were almost there. And next over we were there, courtesy of opposition bowler bowling a wide and going into meltdown when it was, unsurprisingly, called a wide: perhaps Brown Jr’s polite suggestion to the umpire that he might like to call it a wide wasn’t entirely sporting, and certainly wasn’t necessary, but it almost caused fisticuffs in the middle.  But who cared? Not us, for we had won again.

In with a real chance of winning the tournament, the Ladder’s hopes rose when London Fields unexpectedly lost, against POTP. So going into our final match, we were in with a shout of the title.  From zeros to heros – what a story that would be.  Alas, it wasn’t in the stars: deprived of Siju, our standout bowler, who had left to go to work, our final opponents, Saracens, were able to swing more freely, setting a tough target of 60, and they bowled pretty well too.  It came down to the last ball, Brown Sr – needing 3 to win - failing to connect with a leg side delivery that had him cursing for some time after.  Arkell was also kicking himself, having gotten himself out at a critical stage. 

So we lost that final game, which left us out of the running, but we could reflect on a very good effort all told – won 3, lost 2 – and against decent teams to boot.  There were some fine individual performances – Siju’s double wicket over against POTP; Goodman’s thrilling straight driving for 4s and 6s against the same team; Vijay’s classy batting throughout; Brown Jr’s very tidy keeping – but we could also take great pleasure and pride from a wonderful team ethic and unrelenting good humour: even if it was on unfamiliar terrain, this was very much the Ladder we know and love.

Kit Brown

Let’s be philosophical. Sometimes we win a game by playing well against a good team. This evening we went to the dark side of that gestalt by losing a game by playing badly (overall) against a moderate team.

With little to celebrate, I am going to be brief.

We were put into bat. Arkell got out for 8 to a good ball, cutting in from well outside off. Arun Joseph, having scored a beautiful 4 angled down to the third man boundary got out to a disgusting daisy cutter. Reeve looked comfortable before playing on for 6. Ward and McCann came in to steady the ship.

Australian Nathan Ward did bat very nicely. His innings was one of the few things we had to cheer. He played with a straight defensive bat when necessary and with a straight aggressive bat when appropriate. His one six, a stratospherically lofted pull to square leg, would, I imagine, have comfortably entered geo-stationary orbit had he middled it. He was eventually extremely well – that is to say, tragically – caught just shy of his half-century at 47. A very good innings it was though, particularly from a man coming from a country where almost no first-class cricket is played. Well done indeed.

From a grooming point-of-view, Roger McCann was on top form, his bushy new dark-ginger sideburn and bugger-grip combination exciting admiration and envy in team-mates and members of the opposition alike. Would his batting match his tonsorial achievements? Well, I would have to say, possibly not. Today McCann’s batting seemed, by his own standards, somewhat stilted. I was standing at square leg for much of McCann’s innings today and it was like watching the real Roger McCann batting but down the wrong end of a telescope. He still made 21, however, much of it in uncharacteristic singles before being out caught. An odd un-McCannish innings.

Parvez Saleh went in and, like a miser counting out a fortune in penny pieces, started amassing singles. He did a good job though and was beginning to shift up a gear when he was finally out bowled for a worthwhile 19.

John Byrne went in and was horribly and avoidably run out for three. Bad luck that.

Andrew Lang, a rare visitor, went in and he too looked strangely hesitant – probably out of practice. He scored 8 before being bowled by an innocuous slow one.

Gary Boyd went and came out for 0, caught.

Sam Burstin scored 4 and was undefeated.

Coffman, lastly, the captain, has had his inner workings extensively remodeled by the team psychologist. I have to say it shows. He has always had the technique. Now he also seems to have the fire to make it count. He made a brisk, precise 21, more than half of which in boundaries before himself being mysteriously bowled by the small child bowling slow balls from the pavilion end.

We closed, then, for a total of 165. Pundits reckoned we were short.

Cricket is a mysterious game governed by unpredictable tides. On the face of it, even with this modest total on the board, this could still have been anyone’s game. We had the bowlers, none of whom actually bowled all that badly and one or two of whom actually bowled quite well.

Even right from the early overs, however, this game seemed to be one that was destined, slowly but inexorably, to go away from us like a thing moving slowly and inexorably away from another thing which is powerless, seemingly, to do anything but watch the first thing move slowly and inexorably away from itself. That was what it was like.

It was nevertheless galling, even once we had got rid of their more able-seeming top-order batsmen, to watch our total being steadily overhauled by their middle order who ranged from elderly prodders to graceless sluggers. If these hackers and hoikers really were better than us then how bad did that make us? It was depressing, like looking at yourself in a mirror that makes you look old and fat and tired.

But overhaul us they did. And so we lost.

Let us not be downhearted though. Games of cricket, like wars, turn on the smallest things. We should comfort and encourage ourselves with the thought that if we can only make substantial improvements in our batting and bowling, then defeats like this evening’s will become things of the past.

Onwards.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some matches hang on an outstanding performance from a solitary player - a multi-wicket haul from an Oborne or a McCann, a big knock from a Lang or a Hoyle – and these can be enjoyable things to be a party to. Those occasions though can feel like star turns, with all the match-winning being done by the one man while we, the little people, the extras, the bit-part players, are pulled along in the wake of the central performer like little people, extras, bit-part players, pulled along in the wake of a central performer.

And then there are nights like these.

There is only one thing, in my view, better than a good win against worthy opposition and that is a win that calls on the team’s strength-in-depth, a win that hinges not on one moment, one performance, but on a series of pivotal moments and on a range of talented contributions.

It is always best when Coffman is captain. I’ve said this before and it’s true. He may not be able to catch to save himself (nor, stop press, play tennis) but he is a good, instinctive and equitable captain. With Coffman at the helm, standing on a box if necessary, victory seems natural, inevitable almost. He lost the toss, and we were put in in to bat.

Minton is a discovery. A week or two ago he looked like a hockey-player with a side-interest in cricket. Now, he looks like a cricketer all through, confident and postive at the crease and wielding a bat with a middle. He opened with Fazeil who, as everyone knows, is a proper cricketer in all areas. These two made a positive start, each launching a huge six early on before both succumbing to good-enough deliveries, Faizel for 11, Minton for 10. A good, no-nonsense start though had been made.

Goodman went in and likewise, after a couple of sighters, started finding the boundary before being caught for 10. George Oborne was also in at this time. What he lacks in finesse, Oborne makes up with a belligerence some might describe as verging on the bucolic. No matter: it wasn’t long before he was in the runs. Oborne’s eventual 18 was one of the pillars, it turned out, of our innings.

Somebody got out next and Rashid was in. I just have a feeling that on a better, faster wicket, Rashid would score a pile of runs. It could look, watching him wait and wait and then play and miss like watching a capable sports-player having to play on a poor or uneven surface. He was bowled eventually for a useful 15.   

Controversially recalled to the side, Ben Bishop went in and scored a series of mimsy singles before being out caught and bowled for 6. As the captain commented, this was a typical second innings after a lay-off. First one back is all muscle-memory and natural timing, the second so often is tighter, more effortful and often less productive.

Tim Yates went in. I think Africa has done the man good. This was an innings of a much-improved batsman with a number of powerful, well-timed and –executed shots, including a rare and deft on-drive. Also excellent was Yates’s running between the wickets. He eventually succumbed, well-stumped for 17 but that was a good knock that was.

Arkell went in and fannied around unconvincingly for a bit before being comprehensively bowled by perfectly ordinary straight one for 4. Parvez also batted but did not trouble the scorer, bowled for 0.

Burge, back after a long absence and sporting an extremely sharp Chariots of Fire hair-do, went in and was soon in the runs. He and the captain, Coffman, worked hard and well to lift our total from sickly to competitive in the space of about two overs.

Shot-of-the-day came from the bat of the captain: penultimate delivery driven hard, slightly high but with genuinely silky-sweet timing to the extra-cover boundary. Beautiful. Four runs from the moment the bowler started his run-up. Gorgeous.

Burge finished on a really timely 14 not out and Coffman on 8 not out. So there we were. A perfectly creditable 120 for 9 after 20. Change.

Ian Burge opened the bowling in his normal compact way and could have broken through early had Adam “Look No Hands” Coffman held on to a fast but straightforward chance in the first over. It is my view that catches are held or not held in the mind, not the hands, of the fielder, a matter of belief, in the first instance, not skill. Confidence was however restored almost immediately afterwards when good work in the field by Rashid and then typical skill from Goodman behind the stumps resulted in the running out of one of their openers. Good cricket that. Burge, typically tidy, finished with 3 overs, 1 for 18.

Rashid also opened the bowling from the other end and was typically aggressive and economical. He finished with 2 overs, 1 for 7. You can’t ask for more than these sorts of figures in the short format.

George Oborne is the number three in the Oborne bowling dynasty and bowls with a full measure of fire and occasional waywardness in line and length. I think he should slow his run-up down a fraction and discipline himself to the off stump. He will then be the match-winning bowling asset as Obornes tend to be. He finished though with 4 overs, 1 for 23, which is still, broadly speaking, in the region of tidy.

Now, here was one of the moments on which this match turned. And it wasn’t a moment, it was a spell, a bowling spell by Faizel. Nor was it just a bowling spell, it was a duel, essentially, between Faizel, with the ball, and their best batsman, with the bat (obviously). Their man, their captain, had already shown his credentials, having, at his disposal, a clean defence, an admirably straight bat and the power to do merciless damage to the loose ball. He could have won it. We knew it. He knew it. What’s more, he farmed the strike ably so that Faizel’s spell was basically bowled at him. That Faizel finished this pivotal spell with 3 overs, 1 maiden, 1 for 2 almost defies belief, in the circumstances: 1 for 2. A beautiful spell of bowling by any standard. Beautiful.

But then another thing happened and this was what made this thing a team performance. Coffman brought himself on to bowl and their danger man was on-strike. And the thing was, this was no kind of accident, this sort of thing happens all the time: Coffman bowls him a friendly-looking full-toss, middle and leg-ish and this chap’s eyes light up and he tonks it into the middle distance where, sadly for him, joyfully for us, the safe hands of Faizel await. Gone. You beauty. Coffman finished with creditable figures of 2 overs, 1 for 13.

The way was open. And it fell to Arkell, re-born as a bowler, to come on and mop up. Modesty would have to say that it doesn’t take any real talent to cut off a tail, but it did still need doing. Arkell has clearly been working on his run-up and bowled a mixture of wides and rather good balls. He finished - and he finished them – with figures of 2.1 overs, 4 for 13. I hate to say this but that was a good spell, that was.

So there it was, The Ladder won by 41 runs, a good team well-beaten by a better team who played well and, best of all, played well as a team. Well done everyone.

Here’s a picture.

 

 

 

 

 

If there is one lesson to be learned from sport and which conveniently then applies to almost everything in life, it is this: “Don’t think, act.” That’s it. That’s the message. That’s my new mantra, the Way of the Crouch End Samurai.

Coffman challenged me to a game of tennis. Not, it’s true, the Real thing which is played indoors with lop-sided rackets by grumpy members of the Establishment with knee-braces, but this new-fangled version for the middle classes, Lawn Tennis I think it’s called, which has, I’m told, become quite popular.

I was there at the court early, naturally, five minutes before the appointed 9.15 but only, in fairness, because I do own a wrist-watch and so I had fully twenty minutes to do some slightly elderly stretching exercises, look around the court and do a little discreet milf-watching in a perfectly normal healthy way. But at a quarter to ten, with a rattling of bicycle stabilizers, here was Coffman.

On the face of it, this was always going to be a mis-match. Coffman is incredibly keen, plays four times a week, is a qualified tennis coach, is sponsored by Robinson’s and wears a pair of tight white shorts. I, on the other hand, have played tennis – or this vulgar corruption of the game – only once or twice in the last 30 years, had to borrow a bat and was suffering from a chill from ingesting too much pond water over the course of the heat-wave week.

The problem with tennis, ask anyone, ask any of the top players, is the serve. It’s a dilemma. The first serve, being flat and fast and delivered with the customary grunt, never goes in, ever, or hardly ever, maybe one in a thousand. The second serve, lollopingly slow, bounces up and hangs like a fluffy little planet waiting to be creamed wherever the returner chooses. It’s a problem, the result of which, in the first part of the match at least, was that neither one of us did much in the way of holding serve. We got to three all, in games of pleasingly long rallies – or ‘rests’ as we call them in the older code – and lots of extended deuces.

This is the other thing. I’m getting to my point here: Unforced Errors.

Unforced errors are caused by the brain, by thinking, or specifically by thinking when you should just be acting. Unforced errors are caused by the brain thinking it has a better idea how to do things than the body: it never does.

You know how it goes. The ball comes across, not too hard, not too low, not too deep: you get there easily. Your feet, which have done all this a thousand times before, do what they need to do. Your arms and hands likewise. Your ankles, knees, hips, spine and neck also fall into just the right alignment to deliver the killer pass or lob or drive ramrod straight down the line, even your lips, getting in on the act, fix themselves in a steely sneer of certain victory and then the fricking brain pipes up.

“’Scuse me,” it goes, “But how about a drop shot instead? Or a cheeky little cross-court dink?” And so you do. I don’t know why you do, but you do, you try it, you do, you go for Plan B.

Which fails. Obviously. The ball goes into the net or goes wide or chips up off the wood. You lose the point, you always do and why? Because you tried to play with your brain, your stupid brain, instead of leaving it to the experts, to your clever feet, your skilful hands, your innate hunter’s eye and timing. You fool.

By the end, Coffman, metronomic of serve and oddly quick and deft returning, had won, 6:4. But it was a good game and lessons were learned and next time will be different.

In other sports news, The Ladder lost a cricket game.

Hoyle came to the correct ground and batted well for his 77. He did get dropped almost every other over however. He also kept doing this thing of not running when he miscued a shot and just standing in his crease haranguing himself. He also did this thing of trying desperately to give his wicket away every time he was dropped. He did bat well though but there again, he would do, he’s a good batsman. (On balance though, it is probably no calumny to record that he later fielded like a complete spas.) Arkell second top-scored with a tedious and unstylish 27.

Overall we made heavy weather of getting to a modest total of a hundred and sixty something. This under-powered batting performance could be put down to the heat, the pitch or the currency markets but actually should be put down to generally bad and occasionally very bad batting.

Bowling was also a struggle, especially given our lack of decent bowlers. That’s not entirely fair. We didn’t disgrace ourselves. Neither did we greatly trouble their batting. Nathan bowled well and with a nice action. Chirag bowled quite well as did Raj and even I did OK and even got a wicket, my first in over 30 years.

In summary: we lost. We were bad. They were better. It was hot. Jim Laddie was captain. And John McMullen tried to start a fight with their whole team, bless him.

Match Report The Ladder CC vs. The Beamers May 12^th 2012

I’m sorry. I’m late with this. Adam has been on my case. The dog ate my match report. So here it is and I’m going to be brief.

First game of the season then, on the top pitch at North Middlesex, a dry enough spell of weather emerging from a dark, damp Spring. Not that I personally minded the weather we’d been having, what with the drought, and, say what you like, the groundsman did seem to have played a blinder, the pitch looking pretty dry and tight and the outfield glowing, when the sun shone, in mixed greens like the nap on fine velvet.

Not that you’d call this a grudge match, but there is a slight frisson to the fixture, us and the Beamers: peas in a pod perhaps, both sides local, familiar, affable, ageing, of markedly mixed ability and both sides, make no mistake, behind the smiles, wanting to win.

Only one side could win of course and today it was The Ladder. Win and win well, we did, even, by the end, a little easily. And it was certainly played and won in typical Ladder style, fairly, generously and in good spirit. But a question lingers: was it really a Ladder victory?

Coffman was captain and either won or lost the toss. We were to bat in any event.

Ikram and Arkell went in and did well. Ikram, one of several Archway Graces players guesting today, looked good, aggressive and making up for a certain early-season lack of timing with a heavy batted, determined style. Arkell, at the other end, was definitely the Wise to Ikram’s Morecambe, scoring a ferrety little single for every one of Ikram’s boundaries. Not to worry. It was a sound opening stand that lasted until, just after his first and only four, a trademark and not unattractive cut through point, Arkell was out LBW for 17: OK for an opener’s knock nonetheless.

Laddie went in. Question was, with all the talk of the famous batting Pledge still ringing in his ears, would the man temper his normal natural batting exuberance with some defence, some restraint, some discretion? Batting-wise, if you’ll forgive the gynecological analogy, how would Laddie’s restored hymen hold out? Not long was the answer, sadly. Batting-wise Laddie showed he’s still a bit of a slapper and was out bowled for 6.

Sometime in the meanwhile also, Ikram also got himself out, LBW, and this was a pity. It had been a really good knock: belligerent, powerful, with many more runs coming from boundaries, including a dizzying six or two, than from anything more modest. Getting out for 86 though, it must be noted, Ikram set a new all-time Ladder high-score, eclipsing my own 80 on the adjacent ground from two summers ago. So well done, Ikram, well batted indeed.

With Ikram’s strong knock we were looking well-set. So it was high time for a wobble.

Dave Goodman, a new recruit went in and prodded about quite creditably before being bowled for 9. Chirag took guard to face his first ball and this is where I have to pause.

1.           I would rather play for the kind of team which does, when umpiring members of its own team, have the probity and balls to give batsmen out LBW.

2.           I do think it was out.

3.           So I did give it out.

4.           It might have been a fraction high.

5.           No, I think it was out.

6.           I now regret giving it, I must admit. I think it was out. But there was just enough doubt not to have given it. I shouldn’t have given it.

But, as the scorebook records, I did give it and Chirag, unfortunately, had to go, which, sportsman that he is, he did without a backward glance. Can there be any true honour without regret?

Salah came in and did not tarry, third victim, for 0, of their terrier-like Kiwi captain. Then Faizel came in, himself, on his day, a hell of a batsman, and he too was removed, bowled for 0. Our wobble started resembling collapse. This ship needed steadying and Shady Shadid was just the man to do it.

Shady was joined by our own terrier-like captain, Coffman, who after scoring a single and one gorgeous languid four (he is a far better batsman than he lets himself be), in what would later transpire to have been a singularly elegant stroke of captaincy, got himself out caught behind for 5.

Shady was joined at the wicket by Rashid. At this point, a pundit might have reckoned we were about 70 runs off the pace, maybe 90. And that was just what these two gave us. Devastatingly, as if in tandem, like lumberjacks felling the same tree with mighty blows, these two punched our total to 200 and then beyond, far beyond. We didn’t in the end even need our reliable and muscular number eleven, Will Hoyle, or WiHo as he likes to be known, still valiantly combing North London for the correct cricket ground. RTFE.

Our innings closed at 253, a rather strong par. It was invidious, at that moment, to wonder what it might have been without our guests from the Graces. Tea.

253 then. 253. It felt like a fair score, even a good score. But would it be enough. We all knew they had some strength in their batting line-up, and some depth as well. We would see.

The key moment for me was when their skipper fell. He had got a ton against us last year and could have done the same today had it not been for a very alert piece of work behind the stumps by new wicketkeeper Goodman. With him gone, stumped a mile out of his ground, it all began to seem like a foregone conclusion.

Rashid got a couple, as did Faizel. Shady got one. Coffers, bowling, got a couple and fielding, dropped a couple, although he was in fairness a bit short for the first one and horribly misled by WiHo’s calling for the second. Chirag bowled well also for his pair. Arkell even bowled a few overs without giving the match away. We were pretty sharp in the field, pretty tight in our bowling and, as firmly as a parent takes a hand-grenade away from a small child, we took the game away from them. All out for 173. Easy peasy.

A good performance then. A good victory. But the question remained: what was the name of the team that won it?

Was it The Ladder? Well, clearly not. Was it the Archway Graces then? Well, again no. What about The Ladder Graces? Or Laces? The Archway Gradder? The Ladderway Grarches?

One thing is certain. Without the efforts and talents of our Archway Graces guests this afternoon, it would have been a very different game.

 

 

 

 

 

An Open Letter from the Senior Batting Coach

Cricketers!

The thing is this. As you may know Adam has asked me to take the job of The Ladder’s Senior Batting Coach. I wasn’t sure at first: I am very busy. I mean, I was flattered obviously. True, I was last year’s top scorer in terms of total runs scored but all the same, what could I bring to the table? Well, after a lot of thought (it wasn’t just the money, although Adam was more than generous) I decided to take the job.

Having looked back over last season and subjected the results to a rigorous analytical examination, the following trends emerge:

1.           When we lose, we tend to lose because either a) we have not scored enough runs, b) even when we have scored enough runs, the opposition has scored more, and/or c) we have lost too many wickets.

2.           When we win, we win because either a) we score more runs than the opposition, or b) the opposition loses too many of their wickets prior to scoring more runs than we have.

3.           In the case of either winning or losing, the number of runs scored against the number of wickets lost is almost always an important, and occasionally the most important, factor that decides the outcome of the game.

None of this will, I’m sure, come as any surprise. But there’s more.

Apart from bowling, fielding and having a really tip-top mental attitude, batting is quite literally the only thing that wins games. But it’s not just batting: batting in itself does not win games. No. It is batting without getting out. According to the Laws of the Game (by which we are bound), it is only by not getting out that you, as a batsman, are legally entitled to go on batting, scoring runs, steadily amassing the kind of total that morally and psychologically castrates the opposition, unmans him, shames him, destroying his will to compete, to look his wife and children in the eye, even to sleep. This should be our aim.

In order to achieve this we have to do no less than to become:

Unstoppable Run-Scoring Machines

And to do this: we have to learn, to submit, to train. We have to be disciplined, we have to commit. We literally have to become, batting-wise, like Japanese soldiers on remote Pacific islands who do not know that the war is over (although, after nearly 70 years of no shooting whatsoever, they must be starting to wonder).

For this reason, I ask you to Make the Pledge.

Making the Pledge is a training mechanism designed to make it quite literally impossible to get out. Ever. You will literally never lose your wicket again. You will never again hear the sickening music of your wicket being broken. You will never again hear the word ‘owsthat spoken in your presence. Bowlers will fear you. Fielders will hate you. You will never offer a catch. You will never be given out LBW, nor will you ever have to walk. Hours after the game, even in the pitch dark, you will still be out there, in the middle, taking guard. Other players will esteem you. Children will admire you. When you are near, women will moisten slightly, in a good way.

Making the Pledge means that, for the entire period of training in the nets and for as much of the playing season as is humanly possible you will play only the following shots:

^1.                        The Forward Defence

^2.                        The Backward Defence

^3.                        The Leave

To every ball that is bowled at or towards you, of whatever quality, length, line and pace, you will select from the above list and the above list only, the most apposite stroke and play it. You will then resume your guard. Next ball, again, you will select either of the two defensive strokes or a firm leave outside off stump and thus will you proceed.

For the entire training period and for as much of the playing season as possible you will disdain the pull shot, the hook and the clip off the pads or toes to leg. You will abandon the sweep, the slog-sweep and the reverse sweep. You will cancel the cut. You will rise above the drive, be it to leg or off or through the covers. You will never even dream of striking a cricket ball anywhere but straight into the ground. Aerial shots of any kind will henceforward be the sole preserve of homosexuals and Frenchmen.

By the end of the training period, you will have changed. You will have become more. You will have become awesome. If you started out awesome, you will be something like 20% more awesome. You will be mighty, immoveable, a Force of Nature. And once the games start, you will never be out. We will win all our games by sickening margins, always by ten wickets and sometimes more. Won by ten wickets. Won by ten wickets and a hundred runs, two hundred runs, more. We will be awesome. People will refuse point-blank to play against us but in a good way.

So it is with this proud dream erect in my mind, I ask you, enjoin you, beseech you to join me. Make the Pledge! Defend or leave or die! No more of these aggressive, flamboyant or “run-scoring” shots. Forward defence, backward defence or leave. Do it for yourself, do it for The Ladder, do it for England. Join me!

Andy Arkell - Senior Batting Coach - The Ladder CC

A Personal View           

So that was the season. The games have been played, reports filed, end-of-season drinks drunk. The only thing still unresolved is whether ADL’s disputed early season ‘50’ can now, in fact, be safely recorded and regarded as such.

As mere team diarist I naturally hesitate to enter my own opinion here, but from what little I understand of the matter – after all, I was several yards away and paying close attention when he rashly got himself out one short of the landmark, I do think that there are circumstances, albeit unusual ones, when 49 does, after all, equal 50. Such unusual circumstances include dyscalculia, dementia, extreme drunkenness, wishful thinking and/or a pathological disregard for clear documentary evidence. Whether or not any or all of these obtain in the present question is far from clear. We are thus constrained to go on referring to de Lotbiniere’s knock at Montenotte Road as a North London-weighted “half-century”. Now can we all try to move on?

This then is a personal look back over the 2011 season, my first as a full-time member of the team. Calling it a personal view means that I can say what I like without Adam telling me to change what I’ve written.

If I look back over the season and condense it into a single imaginary game, it goes like this.

Arrive early. Heavy black clouds race over Ally Pally but so far no rain. Walk out to the middle and look at the pitch. I have no idea what I’m looking for. Go back to the pavilion, get bat out and swish it around a bit. Put bat back and get out ball. Throw myself a couple of catches. Bowl towards pitch. Walk over, retrieve ball and bowl it back towards pavilion. Repeat once. Briefly wish I had some rolling tobacco. Eat banana. People arrive, mainly from their team. Say hello and wonder whether they look any good and especially if they look like fast bowlers. (Fast bowlers: I hates them.)

Three minutes to the start, a few of our own players come into view: one is Roger or Tom P-S who, it transpires, sickeningly, is playing for them. The word is this: if we win the toss, we will bowl first and chase. We lose the toss and get put in.

Laddie goes in. He looks in awesome touch, hits some boundaries and then gets out for 19. Our other opener is Matt Woolston or some other stringer who will end up, having had a look at us, only playing for us about twice. Matt looks in awesome touch, hits some boundaries and then gets out for 39. Will Hoyle goes in. He looks in awesome touch, hits some boundaries and gets out for 29. Next in is Ian Reeve, who is looking much improved. In fact, with or without footwork, he is looking in pretty awesome touch, hits a couple of boundaries but then gets out. Dev goes in. He looks in awesome touch but gets a really good one from their opener, back for a second spell, and gets out. Kit goes in and makes a painstaking 11 in singles and is then out caught and bowled. Srikant goes in. He hits his first for four, misses his second by about eighteen inches, his third for two, his fourth for four and is then out for 10: a pity because he was looking in good touch there for a second. I go in, wearing a helmet and a sickly look, feeling like a sixteen year-old who has lied about his age, on the first morning of the Somme. First ball I get a fat edge which goes for four down to vacant third man. I stay in for the next three overs and only offer shots to anything well short and outside off: everything else I either miss or leave. I am on 19. I am actually beginning to feel in pretty awesome touch myself and am then out bowled. Disgusted with myself. Adam goes in, scores a careful 9 and is then run out. ADL goes in. He looks in awesome touch and scores a rapid, martial 19 before getting out to a total dribbler from their elderly fourth-change bowler. Andrew Lang goes in. As ever, he looks in awesome touch and starts scoring sweetly to all points of the wagon wheel as the remaining wickets fall at the other end. We are all out for 153, which is a fair score but may not be enough. We all know that runs went begging there. We change over.

Lang opens and bowls with grace and consistency but doesn’t break through. Tom P-S (if he is appearing for us that day) charges in from the other end and absolutely fires them down: he also gets no wickets, obviously. They have made a lively start here: one of their openers is that Kiwi wicket-keeper who is extremely good and hard to get out. They are on about 40 for none. Change of bowling: ADL runs in at a fast trundle and bowls somewhat erratically but breaks through, Srikant taking a good catch at mid-on. Jim Bonner comes on and bowls well, pretty fast and getting some movement. He too is soon in the wickets, Will Hoyle holding an absolute screamer at slip (this catch ends up being the third best catch of the season). James Oborne comes on and is utterly surgical. I have no idea how he does it. It is as if he presses a pause button and then threads the ball under the batsman’s bat by hand. He bowls two overs and finishes with four for, all of them clean bowled. They are on 96 for 6 and beginning to wobble. Adam comes on and bowls his loopy, deceptive spin. Batsmen’s eyes light up but one by one they are lulled into indiscretions. Catches are held including one, in the far deep, by me, believe it or not. I run forward sharply, back-pedal sharply and take the ball high over my head in one hand. I am amazed it sticks. My hand actually hurts quite a lot and I have hit my head as I fell over backwards. No matter. This, incidentally, ends up being the sixth best catch of the season. They are on 133 for 8. We are scenting blood here. Then either Ian Burge or Andy Tongue comes on and cleans them up. We have won by eight runs. Bloody marvellous. It is now dark. We go off. Then drink beer. Then get the train. Then home. Then pasta. Then telly, Then teeth. Then bed.

That’s how I remember it anyway. Something like that. I’m sorry if I have not mentioned you by name, but I couldn’t name-check everyone who has appeared for the team this year, because, as the little boy in Jude the Obscure says before killing himself and all his brothers and sisters, ‘We were too menny”.

I reckon I have probably played alongside about thirty or thirty-five blokes this season and yet every different Ladder team that took the field seemed to manifest some consistent sense of fairness, enthusiasm, generosity, all-round niceness and occasionally limited competence. I think that is rather to our credit, all of us.

What I have written here, then, is a condensation, a sketch of what was, I think, a highly enjoyable and not unsuccessful season which was played with just the right mix of gentlemanliness and cut-throat ruthlessness.

So, what was the season’s basic story then? What was its arc? Well, we were rubbish to begin with, improved sharply, won more than we lost (I think) and then faded slightly at the death.

On average we batted OK. Again, if I were to perform an imaginary condensation of every Ladder innings into one innings, it would be a free-wheeling, pugnacious knock containing exactly as many quite good shots as horrible, delinquent swishes. It would get a bit of luck and be dropped on three and then again on 9. Most of its runs would come from boundaries, the rest in sketchy singles. It would be going on quite nicely before getting out completely unnecessarily to a bad ball for somewhere between 14 and 31. Not a bad knock though. If we would only learn to play ourselves in, play the occasional defensive shot, look after the singles, take our eyes of the boundary rope and get out even 50% less frequently to bad balls, we would go from pretty good to formidable. I’ll highlight some of the best batting performances in a bit.

Bowling likewise: a pretty good effort, with the established bowlers generally bowling tidily, with spirit and discipline and some of the non-regular bowlers bowling really really badly. This last comment is certainly directed at myself as much as anyone else. There were also some real stand-out performances from bowlers, some of which I will highlight later.

Fielding was a clear story of huge improvement. Some of our fielding, especially early-season, was indeed, as Adam despairingly pointed out at the time, abject. It cost us games. But it really did improve, markedly, across the board. And again, there were some stand-out performances, of which more later.

So let’s make the awards. These are, of course, completely subjective and only relate to games I played in. And the winners are …

Catch of the season: Brian Mack at slip in the last game at North Middlesex. A beautiful, beautiful moment. A very good Roger McCann delivery finds the edge of one of their best batsmen who is on nought. Mack performs a fast elegant sideways stoop to take the ball in one soft left hand. Brilliant catch, at any level.

Most improved batsman: Ian Reeve. Ian joined us for the latter part of Winter nets and looked horrible. By mid-season this had all changed, he had found his run-scoring mojo and was loving it. Best knock was a muscular 33 at All Pally.

Best fielding by a non-regular player 1: Matt Woolston. Even injured one evening on the far pitch at Ally Pally, Matt fielded and caught like a warrior. This was the kind of fielding that wins games and, on this occasion, did just that.

Best fielding by a non-regular player 2: Ollie Biles. It was the same game actually as the one in which Matt Woolston made those catches (see above). On this same occasion, Ollie Biles fielded with tremendous zest and aggression: there just weren’t any runs anywhere near him. It was the kind of fielding that reminded you of what it was like to be young. Or more precisely, of what it might be like to be young and a really good fielder.

Bowler of the Year: for me it’s James Oborne in the 20 20’s. I have probably said enough about James’s bowling above. In the first game I captained, the one that was rained off, I asked him to bowl first change. He came on and took five, each one of them clean bowled. Astonishing.

Equal best innings of the year: Lang’s fifty at Ally Pally in a 20 20 at the end of June. I know lefties often just look like better batsman than right-handers but this was a lovely innings. 50 retired and all done with elegance and economy.

Equal best innings of the year: as assured in its own way as Lang’s 50, but in a totally different vein was Will Hoyle’s stubborn 53 in a Sunday game at Ranulph Road. Against some fast, accurate bowling and in searing heat, Will’s knock combined patience, endurance and hefty hitting. This innings was the winning of a good game here. At the end of the innings, you could have fried an egg on Hoyle’s head but he probably wouldn’t have let you. And it would have been a waste of an egg.

Best fielding by a regular player and catch of the season (runner-up): Dwayne Baraka. Amazing performance this. Previous to this game, to be honest, I would not have placed Dwayne all that high in the fielder ratings. Seriously. Nor would I, in truth, have called him much of a catcher. This though was a brilliant performance in the field: aggressive, committed and almost entirely non-porous. Dwayne’s fielding alone would have won him this award but he also pulled off the most extraordinary lightning-fast, full-length, finger-tip catch at point. It’s always good to see cricket played well, but sometimes it’s a privilege: this catch was one of those moments.

Innings of the year (special mention): Kit Brown at Parliament Hill. As I may have hinted earlier, Kit has not generally been known for his aggressive batting style. This innings at Parliament Hill in poor conditions – rain, greasy pitch and ill-mannered opposition – was an exhibition of patience, solid defence and sweet striking of the bad ball. This half-century was the foundation of our innings and was also Kit’s maiden 50. A rather special innings.

Innings of the year (special mention): My fifty at Ally Pally. Awesome, obviously: DVD should be out in the Spring (£22.99).

Bowler of the Year (Runner-up): Adam. If a bowling attack can be likened to a cake then, having seen him in the nets pre-season, I had tended to think of Adam’s bowling as the sponge rather than either the jam or the icing. But a run of decisive performances in the 20 20’s disproved this. Along with James Oborne, Adam was probably our most consistent wicket-taker.

So there it belatedly is. The 2011 season can now be said to be over.

Watch this space for The Pledge – a genius idea, one of mine, that is going to win us a lot of games this coming season. A lot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Half this game went a little under twice as well as might have been expected. The other half, sadly, went only a little over half as well. The result of this algorithm was defeat: a game not so much taken from us as given away, a game we certainly could have, arguably should have and, were it not for a naively generous concession by the day’s captain, probably would have won and somewhat easily at that. Not an undignified defeat by any means, but a disappointing one nevertheless.

At the end of the day (as they say), wondering whether it is a better, nobler thing to play in generous spirit but lose than to play hard-heartedly and win ignores the obvious third option which is to play nicely but still win. This last option was certainly wide open to us today. Agonizingly though, we ended up opting for the first.

So, this was to be the last proper fixture of a long season, long at least in duration if not, strictly speaking, in total numbers of games played. A disjointed season too with so much of the high part of the Summer passing cricketlessly. It felt rather odd to be gathering again now, in Autumn, with the air cooler and the outfield’s grass still silver-beaded with dew at midday.

North Middlesex was the venue, the farther of the two good pitches there. Highgate Irregulars were the opponents. And Andy Arkell was captain for the day: his first act was to lose the toss. We would bowl.

On paper perhaps we were not the strongest bowling side. But that was on paper. On the pitch it was a different story. Andy Tongue opened and bowled with skill and discipline, finding no little movement in the air and off the pitch. Roger McCann, from the other end, matched him for steady line and probing length. Their opening batsmen, known as hefty hitters of loose bowling, were reduced to watchful defence, deferential leaving and dark muttering, between overs, as to the prodigiousness of the turn that both bowlers were getting. Their total advanced at test match pace. A breakthrough was only a matter of time.

It was McCann’s relentless line and length that did for their opener, clean bowled. And there was more to come in the over. Only a ball or so later, their number three was gone too: it was one of the plays of the Summer.

Both bowlers, as well as finding movement, were getting the odd ball to pop, to jump up off a length. Only certain lines did it but McCann found one now, outside off stump to the new man, a left-hander. The ball reared just enough on him, he parried with a straight bat, got a fat edge and sent the ball low, fast and well wide of Brian Mack at first slip.

Wide of Mack it may have been, wide of his deft left hand it was not. Over he went, in a swift, sharp arc to his left. The ball went straight into his hand, stuck and the rest was celebration.

There are moments in sport that reduce all present, other players included, to awe-struck spectation. This was one of them. As good as any catch at any level of cricket, Mack’s catch was instantly enshrined as Catch of the Season: not a but the, a beautiful bit of cricket. We were making inroads here. And more was to come.

Tongue was rewarded for a good spell with the wicket of their number four. Raj Desai came on to replace him and then came another magic moment. Their number two had been unusually tentative but was showing ominous signs of finding his range when he flashed at a wider Desai delivery. Fast and hard it went, fizzing out past point with four written all over it, where, stunningly, Dwayne Baraka waited.

Had we not just been witness to the Catch of the Season, this would certainly have been it. Baraka launched to his right and intercepted the ball low, at diving stretch and in the very tips of his fingers. It was a catch of tremendous instinct and commitment, another catch that would sit well in any youtube best-catch countdown. To witness two catches of this quality, in one innings, by men of your own team, is no small thing indeed.

Further changes to the bowling were rung. Srikant Chakravarti came on and bowled some well-judged and varied spin, finishing nine overs with figures of 1 for 39. Late arrival Andrew de Lotbiniere came on and bowled six good and economical overs finishing with 1 for 12, a very good spell. Desai also bowled six overs, finishing with an equally good 1 for 14. Tongue bowled ten overs over two spells and finished with an excellent 2 for 35. But bowling honours surely went to Roger McCann who, with the final ball of his second spell, clinched a richly deserved five-for. He finished his fifteen overs with a first-rate 5 for 33. (A five-for is splendid enough. That this was McCann’s maiden five-for made it only the more so.)

So we had bowled well indeed and we had needed to. Never ones for the timely declaration, our opponents had required that we bowl them all out. And not once, but in the case of their number three, twice. Which is where, largely due to a naïve concession by Arkell, the captain, the plot of the match thickened against us.

What happened was this. At the start of the game, our team numbers both stood at 10 men. Ours pending the arrival of A de L, theirs more permanently. Courteously but misguidedly, our captain asked theirs whether he would object to our bringing on our late arrival when he arrived. No objection, he said, on condition that he could bat one of their men again. Sadly, Arkell, our captain, did not have the acumen to deem this unfair and agreed. Therein lay the seed of our troubles and, it transpired, the key to the outcome of the game.

When it came to our batting, it must also be said, we did little enough to help ourselves. It was a performance with the bat as lacklustre and strangely stricken as our bowling and fielding had been assured. Some fell to good balls and some to bad, but sure enough, like one of those dreams when you cannot move your legs to run, one by one, inexorably, our batsmen fell.

Batting highlights today were lamentably few. James Laddie, top-scoring with 24, provided one or two moments of characteristic belligerence. Two of his hard flat pulls to midwicket stand out in the memory. As does one almost vertical six from Andrew de Lotbiniere down the order. The ball, in the case of this shot, a tremendous lofted hoik over the midwicket boundary, travelled about five hundred yards, most of them straight upwards: it was the earth’s rotation more than lateral force that took the ball over the boundary rope.

Survival at the crease alone would, I think, have brought us victory in this game. Apart from Laddie, only Ben Bishop with 11 runs and Raj Desai with 14, looked like sticking around for any length of time. We were all out, in the end for 134, close enough to the target to save face, not so close as to save the game.

A warm and sunny day in West Hampstead greeted The Ladder CC and UCS Old Boys who were both looking forward to getting on the field and playing some cricket given the rarity of sunshine recently. The game was a closely fought affair although both teams at various stages will have felt they were going to ease to victory.

UCS won the toss and elected to bat, much to the relief of Ladder skipper Adam Coffman who was unsure whether to bat or bowl first as while the weather was ideal for batting, the pitch had more than a tinge of green to it. We opened the bowling with two law lecturers from the London School of Economics - debutant (and sometime oppo for the Unavoidables) Charlie Webband Andrew Lboth of whom found early movement with the new ball. We dropped a couple of early chances and the second dropped chance (a caught and bowled) resulted in Andrew rushing to the local A&E with a dislocated and split finger; we wish him a speedy recovery. A special mention should go to the UCS skipper Joe Craig, who gave up his position in the batting order to take Andrew to hospital.

After the break for Andrew’s injury we took three wickets in quick succession (two to Charlie and one to Jim who had replaced the injured Andrew). For the next 15 overs we were on top taking wickets at regular intervals, including two from rank full tosses from Charlie and Srikant, to reduce UCS to first 79 for 7 and 108 for 8. Baji (another debutant) in particular was proving difficult to get away and bowled three maidens on the trot.

However, some loose bowling combined with some good shots let UCS off the hook and their 9^th wicket partnership of 49 took them to a sporting declaration of 157 for 8 at tea (again a special mention to Joe for deciding to give us a score to chase rather than trying to bat us out of the game after tea). Our bowling figures were Andrew 4.1-2-14-0, Charlie 12-2-39-3, Jim 9-0-37-2, Srik 9-2-36-2, Baji 9-3-22-1

We opened the batting with Ben Bishop and Sam Martin who made a steady start progressing the score to around 20 for 0. How much of this initial reply other team members saw is open to debate, as most were distracted by Stuart Broad taking a hat trick in the Test Match, which was being shown in the bar! (We would shortly witness a less welcome hat trick!) Sam was dismissed for 5 bowled by Ben Bloom, which brought Tom Harlow (the 3^rd debutant) to the crease who having just opened his account with a boundary was stood at the other end while Bloom possessing a Malinga like action blew away our middle order with a hat trick. First to go was Ben for 15, bowled after the ball rolled onto his stumps from a defensive shot, second was Ian Reeve who perhaps played a slightly too aggressive shot first up and was bowled, third was Tim Owen who got a full straight ball and was out LBW.

This brought Charlie to the crease who along with Tom began a recovery operation. However, this was brought to an end when Bloom had Tom adjudged LBW to complete his 5 wicket haul. This brought skipper Adam to the crease, with us needing a captains knock.

Charlie was given out LBW for 27 by the neutral (UCS) umpire, which from the scorers’ hut seemed to be missing leg, but as the umpire is always right Charlie had to go. Adam was denied the chance to be the hero when adjudged LBW for 8, although there was more than a hint of an inside edge.

However, Jim and Srikant mounted a fight back with dealing mostly in boundaries and suddenly we were within touching distance of victory. UCS from a period of relative strength were suddenly bringing back their strongest bowlers (James who bowled well without reward and the ‘5 for’ Bloom) in an attempt to stop the free flow of runs. Immediately this had an impact with Srik being bowled for 31 by Bloom’s first ball upon his return. With our last wicket pair at the crease (Andrew being unable to bat due to his finger injury) and 20 still needed to win, it seemed that perhaps we would come up just short. However, arrangements were hastily made for Sam’s future father in law to pad up and take Andrew’s place at number eleven if required.

With 13 to win Jim was run out after a misunderstanding with Baji and the usual ‘can we send in a non-fielder tobat’ conversations were being had on the sidelines. The consensus was he had looked ok in the nets earlier. However, Bloom who finished with excellent figures of 11-1-31-7 bowled Sam’s future father-in-law first ball, to end a closely fought game of cricket, which was played in an excellent spirit.

On a final note a thank you must go to Peter and Tony from UCS who sub fielded for us due to Andrew’s injury - Peter also took a great catch to get rid of one of their best batsmen!