Game Day #3: Ockham

After the previous week's Interclub extravaganza, it was back to our usual 40-over Sunday cricket. We were rectifying another of last year's unfortunate mismatches by matching up my Boars team against Ockham; last year, they played one of our stronger teams, and got a bit of a hammering as a result. Which, of course, is nothing new to us; twice last year we faced teams that were a hell of a lot better, and conceded 300-plus each time.

Beforehand, however, our Fixture Secretary had received an email from the Ockham representative, carrying a warning that probably befalls most village teams with their own facilities; there was, it said, a band of travellers in the area looking to pounce upon any kind of green space that looked like it needed three-dozen bags of nappies and human excrement thrown around to make it look properly British, and so could we park in the road around the corner as the car park was sealed off? No problem. Rob, John, Dave and Waleed ferried everyone down to Ockham; the drive was pleasant, the weather was warm and sunny and the prospects for a good game of Sunday cricket were very high indeed. Ockham is lovely; a village down the A3, quite a sleepy little place from the looks of it (the travellers, it turned out, had invaded the nearest airfield instead, so frequent flyers can spend the next week trying to buzz the caravans and playing "spot the turd bag" - whoever sees it from highest up wins)...it's always nice to get out of London to places like this, because it's that one day a week when you not only play your favourite sport but you don't hear a single screaming ambulance or fire engine siren for the entirety of your visit. Huge Pavarotti-sized concrete blocks barred the way to the car park - no travellers were getting through that lot all right, although, judging by the rabbit droppings that decorated the square, they weren't enough to keep out the local wildlife.

On arrival, Rob discovered that they'd lost their first two games of the season, and relayed the news to the rest of us. With us having lost our first three - counting the two T20 games we played in the previous week's Tri-Series - that meant that one of our clubs would be breaking a losing streak, and when it turned out that they'd been bowled out for 64 the previous weekend, we all took notice. Could this be the day we notch our first win of the season?

The pitch was bone-dry and clearly better for batting than what we'd seen so far in 2018, but there were enough bald patches and grassy areas at both ends to keep the bowlers interested. And so, on winning the toss, I decided to bowl first. "Killer" Smither and Rob were entrusted with the new ball and didn't disappoint; only one boundary was struck during the first ten overs, and though the pitch wasn't troubling the batsmen they weren't able to get going. Killer's killer ball is the one that looks like a full toss but dips at the batsmen's feet at the last moment, but on more than one occasion the batsmen were adept at keeping it out. On came Ian - the Bawn Wicket-Taker - and, making his Merton debut, Sujanan. Ian's clever cutters were strangling the batsmen at one end and they were forced to take lots of scampered singles due to their best shots getting stuck in the jungle-like grass that lined three-quarters of the boundary (is there is a lawnmower shortage in the South of England this year?). Drinks came and still no wickets had been taken...but we were keeping them to a shade under four an over and fielding tidily; the only comedy moment being Hassan and Alex going for the same ball, ending with Alex rugby-tackling Hassan to the ground. Waleed enquired if they were OK, especially as Hassan was due to bowl after drinks.

Hassan and Waleed replaced Ian and Sujanan, and it was in the 28th over - and with the openers having posted a century stand - that the breakthrough came. Opener Watson tried to force a good-length ball from Waleed off the back foot and lost his off-bail instead. Back came Killer and Rob for their final three overs each, and once again kept the scoring to a premium. Catching chances to Hassan and Sujanan came and went, but as soon as the other opener, Skidmoore, reached his fifty, he pulled a ball straight into the waiting hands of Hassan, taking the catch so low it was virtually off his bootlaces. Would the floodgates open? Could we knock the rest of them over like ninepins?

Ockham's batsmen were suddenly full of attacking intent and, sadly, our fielding flagged in the last dozen overs. Openings appeared between fielders legs that were so spacious an agoraphobic wouldn't go near them...unfortunately, cricket balls aren't prone to such phobias and precious runs were leaked; I'd wanted to keep Ockham to under 150 but that was now looking unlikely. A run out, courtesy of the Killer/ Barber combo, suddenly heralded a wicket spree. The Bawn Wicket-Taker snaffled two in quick succession; the first a catch for Killer in the gully area, was almost a calamitous pile-up as Alex at slip and Dave Barber (keeper) both joined John in the quest for the falling ball. A WWE-style fatal three-way was on the cards and I anticipated a collision and spending half an hour untangling a mass of mangled human limbs, until Killer called for it and the ball dropped safely into his hands. Ian's second wicket was the player they call Chizzy Rascal, who had a bit of a thrash but ended up spooning up the ball to me at short extra cover, and Sujanan took the sixth and final wicket to fall by bowling their young deaf and dumb player. It was his first Merton wicket and so another cherry popped, and after three years out of the game he'd bowled really well - especially his second spell. I think we've unearthed ourselves another Merton prospect.

Their innings finished on 172-6; deep down, I thought, around thirty too many. Once again, our efforts in the field and with the ball had been exemplary; despite our late-innings fielding wobble we had chased everything down and stuck to the task well. Ockham were in the box-seat, but all we needed was a tad more than five an over and we'd win. I told most of the guys that, if we all scored an even 15 each, we'd win.

A lovely tea was served up, and I made sure my daughters got stuck into the picnic I'd done for them. Waleed and I then padded up and opened the batting; the bowling was tidy but there was enough loose stuff to put away. Waleed certainly did that with two ferocious pull shots to the boundary - mine were getting stuck in the long grass - but perished with the score on 20 by trying to pull a ball to leg that popped up, took the glove and ballooned over everyone's shoulder to first slip. Aleem came out and pushed the singles on with myself, who was playing the best shots of my season and frustratingly seeing them dribbling to a stop. So, when I got bowled a nice, juicy full toss, my eyeballs spun around like reels on a fruit machine and I obligingly pulled it as hard as I could...straight into the hands of mid-on. I couldn't believe it, and trooped very slowly off to the pavilion with the dread-filled demeanour of a man who'd just found a hole in his post-intercourse condom. Still, we were 39-2 off ten overs and going well - if only we could keep wickets in the bank, this game was by no means over. And it was at this point that a typical Sunday moment suddenly appeared before us: their eleventh man was a guy who'd driven three hours from Herefordshire to visit everyone, and ended up playing. He fielded at midwicket, in a pair of blue trousers and almost permanently had a lit fag in his mouth during our innings. He was their best fielder. Only on Sundays...

Latif, their captain, came on with his slowies, and our batsmen suddenly found themselves totally bogged down. Just eight runs came off the next nine overs, during which Alex "The Senior Steriliser" scored his first Merton runs but was then bowled by Latif, and Johnathan "The Junior Steriliser" and Aleem tried to force the pace but couldn't get a clean connection. The Steriliser, Dave and Hassan all came and went quickly to, in all probability, seal our fate, but then two things happened to check that pessimism; the Bawn Run-Scorer came to join Aleem, and the young deaf guy came on for two overs. As Aleem and Ian suddenly began finding gaps and getting the scoreboard ticking, the young man bowled nine wides across two overs to push us quickly past 100 (oh, how we cheered

doubling our entire score against Hook a fortnight previously). Credit to him, he kept on going and never stopped trying, and credit to his team-mates who didn't lose patience with him and kept on encouraging him.

With about seventy needed from 48 balls, their death bowlers came on and tightened the tourniquet around our scoring, in such a way that would warm the heart of any active serial killer. Ian was bowled for a well-made 21, leaving Aleem to face out the last couple of overs. He ended up 49 not out, and our innings closed on 133-7. My daughters had made friends with the dogs of the Hereford man and so they were happily being dragged along the boundary, and we were offered the remains of the barbecue that had been sizzling away earlier in the day.

And so our day in picturesque Ockham came to a disappointing end; their losing streak ended, while ours remained intact. The other two Sunday teams had mixed fortunes; the Wolves ran out winners over Windermere while the Rhinos put in a spirited performance but fell short against Tooting United. Next week sees my Boars side visiting Morden, old friends and rivals, and a fixture that almost every time brings rain and stoppages. Not this time, hopefully!