BOARS v KINGSTONIAN, Sunday, 28th April 2019
"It's the most wonderful time of the year..."
Andy Williams, 1963
The sun beating down upon your back; heat ripples on the
horizon; slapping on copious amounts of sun cream; packing an extra water
bottle in your kit bag. For the weekend cricketer, all of these things are
synonymous with days in July and August; unfortunately for the returning Sunday
Boars of Merton Cricket Club, this was the arse-end of April and we were in the
London Borough of Kingston, exposed to the unforgiving arse-end of Storm
Hannah. The sun bathed us in warmth only intermittently, between rolling gusts
of wind that made the player’s nipples stick out like Zeppelins, and the
majority of the game was played beneath a sky so low and grey, if you stood up
too quickly you’d bang your head on it. But what the hell…the cricket season
was BACK. Seven long months had elapsed since our last game of 2018, a
shellacking at the hands of Ewell, which saw us bowled out for 40 and the game
over before the tea interval was a glint in the tea-lady’s eye.
There’s just something about the first game of a cricket
season that non-cricket fans will never comprehend. That 22-yard strip becomes
the centre of our universe for the best part of five months; the cricket green
becomes our refuge from the working week, the studying week, the housework, the
bills, the raising of the kids, the tending of the ill. It provide a welcome
distraction for those who are perhaps not having such a great time of it, and
for others it can be the icing on the cake of what’s been a brilliant week.
Regardless of circumstances or background, state of mind or physical fitness,
the cricket ground is our (to use a modern phrase) safe space. No sirens, no
blaring music, no traffic. Just ball on bat, and fresh air. And, if you’re
playing on a common, some fox poo to dodge.
For our opening game of the Sunday season, the Boars were
just a stone’s throw from the opulent and overpriced surroundings of Hampton
Court Palace. Indeed, several tourists were hastily dodged in the walk to the
ground, each of them presumably having paid about £15 to look at some bushes
that Henry VIII may or may not have relieved himself against seven hundred
years ago. Perhaps our club should raise some funds by claiming that Winston
Churchill took a dump behind our clubhouse back in 1940, on his way to making
his “We shall fight them on the beaches” speech. Anything is worth a try in
this day and age…
Kingstonian were our opposition for this opening games of
the Sunday season. Why we haven’t been playing them regularly is a mystery; the
two teams looked physically well-matched, with a couple of athletes mingled
amongst those of us that look about as mobile as something you’d find in the
Argos white goods department. Jim, their skipper, and I tossed up…and after
winning all but one of the tosses in 2018, I started off 2019 by losing it. Jim
decided to bowl, and so I instructed the Boars to pad up and layer up.
The ground itself was in good condition. Three of the
boundaries were a reasonable distance away, but the fourth boundary belonged
more to a Kwik Cricket pitch; our bowlers suddenly started to work out which
end they didn’t want to bowl from. As I manned the scorebook, Paul and Jake, a
brand-new opening pair, went out to bat. Spandan and Jawed opened the bowling
for Kingstonian, and found the pitch very much to their liking; it was very
tacky for the first few overs, with some balls shooting through very low to the
wicket-keeper whilst other balls leapt up rib-high off the same length. Paul
and Jake found it tough-going; when Spandan bowled it straight he was a
constant threat, and our batters survived a couple of enthusiastic lbw appeals.
Jake swung and missed at Jawed, as he looked to settle himself down. Paul
started to break free of the shackles and hit a four in the fourth and fifth
overs, but off the last ball of the over he played slightly early to a delivery
that just stopped in the pitch, and he spooned a regulation catch to cover
point. 13 for 1 after five completed overs.
Gopal, formerly a Sunday Wolf guesting for the Boars, came
to the crease and nearly waved goodbye to Jake, who miscued a pull that went
sailing just over the head of Terry at midwicket. That seemed to finally calm
Jake, who crunched a couple of exquisite cuts through the off-side. Gopal was
straight into the boundaries too, with a lovely cover drive and a straight four
sent back over the bowler’s head. Gopal was playing shots along the ground with
confidence, while Jake faced a couple of stump-grazers from the unlucky Spandan
when he wasn’t belting K’s skipper Jim for three consecutive boundaries.
Spandan finished with 1-11 from six very good overs, and batting suddenly got
easier. The pitch was rapidly losing its trickiness and the first-change bowlers
weren’t always able to get the ball to pitch, with Jake in particular helping
himself to some choice full-bungers. Drinks came at 20 overs; tea or Bovril
were what was ideally required, but everyone had to make do with squash; our
score was a very respectable 87-1. Considering that the last two seasons had
begun with us being bowled out for 74 and 53 respectively, this was already a
massive triumph.
Ten balls after drinks, though, second-change bowler Cameron
struck, with just his fourth ball. He pitched the ball short, trampoline ball
sent it revolving slowly to Gopal - who was a fraction early with his pull shot
– and, instead of being sent into Norbiton, the ball thudded into the stumps.
Gopal had batted really well for his 31, the partnership had been worth 78, and
we were now 91-2. Terry came into the attack and Jake instantly took a shine to
him, belting him for two fours. Finally, having been stuck on 47 for two overs,
he brought up his maiden Merton fifty with a two and a single; after receiving
the congratulations of everyone, he suddenly went into overdrive, hitting five
fours off the unfortunate Terry in the space of nine balls whilst, at the other
end, Aleem was batting with his trademark calmness: working the ball into the
gaps, taking the singles, putting the pressure on the fielders. He wasn’t
afraid to hit his own boundaries either, but Jake was in his stride and the
boundaries really started to flow. While Ali kept one end tight, runs came
river-like at the other end, including a booming six from Jake that flew into
the game on the neighbouring pitch.
Then, on 94, Jake started swinging and missing. As the rest
of us winced and screwed our eyes shut, he eked out single after single,
seemingly determined to bring up his century the hard way, until a misfield
gave him the opportunity and he finally took the century-making single. The
rest of us erupted; it had been a gritty, patient but flowing innings, with
only the one catching chance given. Sportingly, the K’s players lined up to
shake Jake’s hand, after a couple more boundaries from both he and Aleem, and
as their partnership reached 131, the innings ended. 222-2 was the score, with
33 not out from Aleem and 111 not out from Jake; a monumental effort that
seemed to have put us in the box seat.
After tea, during which the strong winds stilled and the sun
brought a pleasant warmth to the ground, we took the field. I was feeling good
about things; there were similarities with games against Carshalton Athletic
back in 2016 (incidentally, the opening game of that season) and Flying
Ducksmen later that season, when we only lost two wickets for over two hundred
runs, one of our players notched a century, and we went on to win by about
40-odd runs. Could history repeat itself, I wondered…
It only took the first ball for it to almost be the perfect
start. Ali and Anuj opened the batting for K’s with Ali facing the first ball
against Boars debutant Rob J. It was a good ball: fast, full on a good length;
Ali drove it with terrific power straight to Zubi at mid-off, who got his hands
to it but couldn’t hold on. What a start that would’ve been! Ali immediately
made the best of reprieve by dispatching Rob to the long-on boundary, where
only somebody the size of the BFG would’ve caught the ball. “Special K” Kaleem
took the ball from the other end, but found that when he strayed onto Anuj’s
pads, Anuj was flicking him to the ultra-short boundary. Only a ring of
fielders on that line would’ve stopped the boundaries, but I wasn’t concerned.
Rob was flying in and Ali was hitting the ball murderously hard, but as the
score whistled past 50, he struck. Anuj stepped a little too far to the
off-side and, beaten for pace, lost his leg-bail. The old adage of “one wicket
brings two” wasn’t far from everyone’s lips when Rob fired one through Madhav’s
defences, and the death rattle sounded out once more. Still, at the other end,
Ali was flaying the ball to the boundary, seemingly set to take down our score
single-handedly. If only we could keep him off the strike…
Jango came in and banged a full-toss to the fence, but as
Sujanan “The Silent Assassin” replaced Special K at one end, Rob picked him up
for a third, deserved wicket, getting him to spoon one up to the safe hands of
Gopal at shortish mid-off. A couple of balls later and Rob was agonisingly
close to a fourth wicket, as Dhuruv smashed an on-drive straight at Sujanan
at mid-on; like Zubi earlier, Suj just couldn’t wrap his hands around the ball,
and it went to ground. Dhuruv then stroked a cover drive to the super-short boundary,
and when he tried it again the next ball, Paul “The Wall” literally spilled
blood for the cause by cutting off the ball with his chin. I was nearest and
feared for his choppers, but a quick check from Paul reassured us he still had
all his teeth. If it had hit him two inches higher, his smile would’ve looked
like one of those of things Elton John has spent the last six decades playing.
Sujanan was bowling well, including one truly unplayable
ball to pitched on middle and beat the bat outside off-stump, and got due
reward when he had Kamran trapped plumb lbw. It was easy for the umpire; his
feet were nailed to the crease, bang in front of the stumps. Still, Ali hit
out, mercilessly going after Bawny (1-0-29-0 was his spell) and brought up his
fifty with another cleanly-hit four. Dhuruv was keeping him company, but as
drinks came, the K’s were already past 120, with just 100 more needed for the
win. All hopes seemed to be on somehow keeping Ali off the strike, while
picking off the rest of the batting line-up one by one.
Until, that was, the end of Sujanan’s seventh over. Sensing
Ali wouldn’t be able to resist having a go at the sixth and final ball, Rob
retreated from mid-off to the long-off boundary. True enough, Ali slashed at
the ball and sent it flying high through the air but not hard enough, towards
where Rob had just gone, and when it dropped into his bucket hands we went
wild. Key moment. Their best batsman gone, and the trap had worked beautifully.
Rob had bowled out his eight overs and taken 3-33, was proving to be an
inspiration in the field with his ground-work, and now had safely pouched the
catch to dismiss the man threatening to beat us on his own. It couldn’t have
gone any better for him…only it did. Two overs later, Dhuruv called Spandan
through for a risky run; Rob glided gazelle-like across the grass, picked it up
one-handed, and fired it in under-arm at the stumps. The stumps rocked back,
the bails went flying, Spandan was short of his ground, and the umpire’s finger
went up. Pandemonium ensued; some of would have struggled to keep the batsmen
to three runs if we’d been the fielder. Rob found himself mobbed by everyone,
only to reveal he’d landed on his nuts as he’d thrown the ball in. I surmised
that they must’ve kissed the turf like a pair of space-hoppers to give him the
perfect trajectory for throwing the stumps down.
Four more wickets were required for a famous win, but they
were only sixty runs short with plenty of overs in which to get them; the sun
had said “Cheerio” for the day, and a murky grey sky hung above the ground.
Gopal was proving to be pacey and accurate, bowling from the same end as Rob
had, and he was desperately unlucky with a couple of close-looking lbw appeals,
but he finally got overdue reward when Amer was trapped in front. The umpire’s
finger went up, and in Gopal’s next over he shattered Alan’s stumps with a
straight one. Two wickets left, 40 runs to get. Kaleem had returned from the
other end and bowled with his usual threat and accuracy, but couldn’t nick
himself a wicket. And, when he was through with his eight overs, it was down to
myself and Bawny to carry on the attack. It would not be a partnership that
would frighten anyone but our own players…
Ian’s second over went for a respectable five runs, as the
now-watchful K’s batsmen were looking to dig in and run us as close as possible;
they had whittled the target down to nearly thirty. A few lusty blows, and it
could be all over…but they hadn’t reckoned on my slow tripe. With an action
deserving of a blue badge, I trundled up to the wicket to let the ball go, and
with my fourth ball struck gold. Their dangerman played around a straight one
that actually pitched in his half of the wicket, the ball thudded into his
pads, I crouched down and give it the full Dennis Lillee, and punched the air
when the umpire’s finger went up. Just one more wicket needed, and only one
more ball was required to take it. Terry was the luckless number eleven, and
miscued a pull shot straight to the waiting Gopal at short midwicket. Game
over; I was on a hat-trick with no more wickets to take, and Kingstonian had
finally been bowled out for 191, sealing a 32-run win for us. Dave “The Demon”
confided in me that, when he heard me calling out the bowling change to the
scorers, only one thought had crossed his mind: “Oh, sh*t.” I confided back
that I’d been thinking exactly the same thing when I "ran" into bowl!
A fantastic game of cricket – one that had encapsulated
everything that was good about Sunday recreational cricket – had drawn to a
close. We had a good chat with those K’s player that remained until the end of
the game, and hoped the quality of the day was a harbinger for the twenty
Sundays to come. But you just know that we’re going to run into a gun team at
some point, that will make a point of smearing our bowlers all over the ground
for 300-plus and bowl bouncers at our tail-end rabbits; we will have to, whilst
paraphrasing someone old and probably expired, “treat Sunday social cricketers,
and those that want to tee off from ball one, with the same equanimity”.
Hopefully, without growling about “f***ing hockey players” when their number
three has swiped another across the line to cow corner.
No comments:
Post a Comment