Match Report Archive

SUFFOLK SUBLIME

VCC triumph in perfect setting for cosmopolitan clash

The Pink ‘n Greys had set a ridiculous early pace: 12 off the first Soho over, and 21 off 2, after a dizzy Cobra’s fall off the 12th ball of the innings. With Vuvu rampant we passed 40 in 5, then 50 in 7 before Capt Green’s timbering. In the 9th, the lunatic cake-quaffer scythed wildly again, but this time only managed to haplessly skew the cherry into a tragic up and under space-age parabola toward the oppo keeper. Amid Vuv’s latest vile outpouring of guttural language, which scores of perplexed shrinks and endless sweaty Bikram yoga sessions with bikinied Notting Hill lovelies have failed to quell, Muller trudged off blathering into his dummy-like mouth guard. 65-3 - and Sat Nam Sam marched in to join The Horn, the Sri Lankan maverick briskly instructing the bemused broker to “Shut up!” before Hornay could even complete his trademark welcoming advice. The bemused broker duly silenced for once, Kankan smashed a straight drive for 4 off his first ball. But sadly these 2 firebrands were not destined to repeat their sparkling 88-run middle order partnership at Coleshill of just 3 weeks before: Sam fell swashbuckling in the 11th and – after exerting his steadying Chairman’s influence on his cruelly-usurped kingpin officer predecessor Stocko, Nicey in the 18th. With The Currymen’s incoming number 7 Tiger being the last remaining established bat to join the impish boutique financier, the score of 99-5 was seriously worrying…

This was supposed to have been a cakewalk, but now – shockingly - our newly-formed opponents had blown out nearly all the VCC’s big candles. Stocko and Atif were the only flames left flickering and the Left-leaning Collective, with their exulting shouts of “C’mon Comrades!” were clearly closing for the last-slice kill.

Puffing out his magnificent chest, Hornay steeled himself for the challenge: Reluctant to share his thoughts, possibly for fear of further rebuke, he – the umpires later reported - now resorted to talking to himself…

“Right – nothing in the air for the next 10 overs.”

At the other end, too, big-hitting Tiger was also showing superb restraint and discipline. An excellent 14-over partnership of 69 ratched the score up to 168-6 at Mughal’s dismissal for 27. Stocks had meanwhile passed 50 - perhaps one of the most important half-centuries of his glittering Curry-career: One that could potentially save us from inviting a humiliating defeat. But the oft-cravated roué wasn’t finished yet – a last, bittersweet fling with Adelaidy ensued, before he graciously retired on 63, to allow the 3rd Aussie of the day’s line-up, ‘Queenie’ – aka Rachelle from Queensland - in to bat with her fellow countrywoman. As a final theatrical flourish, gentleman actor Sir Tedward Edwards of Valetta, marvellously returning to the VCC stage for the first time in 21 years, shortly joined Rachelle. With the score finalising on 203-6, a reprise reading of The Bard’s classic ‘Leather Taunter’ was promised by the booming-voiced thesp – who’d long ago written himself into VCC legend with his Richard Burton-esque interpretation of the club classic poem, read to a rapturous restaurant audience on the Malta Tour of April 1990. All these years later, The Horn bristled once again with star-struck pride.

But first, there was business to attend to: Tea! One of the finest we have ever enjoyed…even the notoriously faddy Vuvu threw his customary caution to the wind and gorged himself on scones, choccie and coffee cakes. Thank you Mrs Blackedge of Brockley Green!

As they had with the ball, with the bat Soho again showed they were going to be no pushovers, reaching 40 in 10 and 71 in 20. It was only another great performance by the ever-quicker Qantas – this season’s top wicket-taker to date with 9 – that, with a 3-for including the scalps of the dangerous father & son team of Mark & Buster Blackedge, laid the groundwork to make any chance of Soho accelerating to victory look unlikely. Capt Green’s compatriot Adelaidy also had a stormer - her Third Way bowling stultifying the middle of The Collective’s innings, with the most economical figures of our entire attack. This display was not even tarnished by an admiring Captain Cappuccino’s ludicrous attempt at a music hall-era ‘joke’ on completion of the South Australian’s long spell:

“I look forward to studying your figure – I mean figures – later!”

For this sexist outrage, Gé was roundly admonished in the field by that widely-acknowledged beacon for feminism, The Horn - before the 2 ageing dandies combined for stumpings in 2 successive balls, ‘keeper Stocko pouncing like a gloved tomcat on a double-serving of Graham’s Colombo and Kandy-honed ‘lugubrio’ ball. The Currymen’s very own father and son combo of Ted & Freddie Edwards (who’d nobly rotated fielding duties with his brother Theo) chipped in with the final 2 Soho wickets – the former making a sharp caught and bowled look easy, while the Fredster struck with just his second ball, His Modness The Nice coolly snaffling another difficult one in the deep.

On this gloriously hot day in the idyllic, deep countryside of sleepy Suffolk, against delightful opponents whose sporting spirit and approach mirrors our own at its best, cricket was truly -the winner.

Scorebook

Soho Collective 127 all out in 30.2 overs

Result: VCC win by 76 runs

VUVU GOES BANANAS

As Currymen skin Chilternites

The blue Piaggio sped expertly through Athens’ early evening rush hour. Captain Grey, still ludicrously dressed for a revival of Paul Weller’s Style Council, clung desperately around the 25-inch midriff of his blue-helmeted, black-sunglassed driverette. The European film star accent commanded him to hold tighter. Grey lightly squeezed the purple leather of her biker jacket under his fingers, the shreds of his gentleman’s image further tested as he felt the gentle feminine curve of abdominal muscle tense and relax each time the bike bent into and accelerated out of corners. But Gege had a boat to catch. So, surging through those ancient narrow streets of Plaka and Polonaki, the ageing dandy used the tried and tested method of restraint practised by generations of men at potentially thrilling moments such as these - Grey forced himself to think of cricket. After all, it had been only a little over 18 hours since…

“That was the worst fielding performance I’ve ever seen by a Curryman.”

Hornay, VCC’s most experienced wicketkeeper, his bullworker chest puffed out, on tiptoes and directly facing the alleged miscreant Rob ‘Evil Vuvuzela’ Muller, clearly wasn’t joking. It was tea break at Leyhill. Vuvu’s 90-hour working week was etched through the warped stress-lines of his forced grin. Admittedly, it had been quite a show. Let’s take a snapshot:

For the 7th time in as many overs, the ball arced towards Rob at long leg and the demons inside his exhausted mind started, undoubtedly, to babble again.

“Stupid bastard co-captains. And that C*** Stockman. Telling ME what to do. Where to field…HOW to field?! I’ll hit them, hard, with my missile ‘effin arm. I am…coiled spring man. ‘Effin Leyhill. Launch. Release. NOW! Golden’effin’ arm man. Me…Rob…MULLER!”

And yet again, 150 yards away, 8 Currymen scramble to avoid this latest incoming howitzer from the crazed outfielder, yet again screaming high over stumper Stocko and his back-ups, as a further 2 Pink n’ Greys flail like broken corn dollies in a rebel church stampede to prevent a further 4 overthrows.

Vuvu’s tortured psychosis of a display on the bench boundary, however, was the only blot on a hard-fought session in the field by The Currymen, after Pinkster had won the toss and put Leyhill in to bat: With team spirit and fielding grit both much improved from the season pipe-opener at Tillington, VCC skittled all the pesky Bucks hill tribesmen within 33 overs and stopped them – just – from passing the psychological ‘Go’ of collecting 200. Monopolizing (sorry!) the wicket taking was Nicey: Our new Chairman-elect twirling his languid, art-rockin’ off-spin through 9 deadly overs from the pavilion end to take a personal best 4 for 41. Ibzy (returning for the first time since his own 4-for at Churt last September), another welcome returnee Steve ‘Hat Trick’ Webster, Vice ‘Captain Green’ Qantas, Pinkie and new Aussie star Didgeri-Stu Bam-Bamford all chipped in with Chiltern scalps too. The oppo included several clearly talented bats, but dogged determination by the North Londoners prevented any developing partnerships turning into match-threatening ones.

But as The Modfather led us off, through what sounded like a somewhat dour, disappointed clap-in by Leyhill, who knows what dark, desperate thoughts were now whirling around the fetid cranium of one of our own leading bladesmen, whose responsibility – nay, destiny – it could well be to chase down 1- bitchin’ -98?

Tell you what, just for fun, let’s step back inside that volcanic cauldron of mental destruction concealed beneath the regular work of Notting Hill’s finest crimpers. Only for the tea break, say? We’ll be back to ‘normal’ service soon, promise…

“Right. Tea. S**T! How many cakes? Need to know where I’m batting first. Number 1 – 1 cake. 2 – 3. Or is it 3-2? DOUBLE S**T. No, that’s only after 50! S**T S**T S**T!! I’m batting 4. FOUR? Don’t they realize I’m number ONE!? Still, 4 is rare and means 4 cakes. Double Great! Apart from batting 4…”

Enough, dear Mat Rep reader, enough. But believe it or not, you have just glimpsed into the shattered nerve control centre of the VCC’s current greatest batsman. 2010 batting award winner no less. 452 runs last season, etc. And etc. Surely though, on the evidence presented of Sunday thus far, this Jungian basket case couldn’t unzip his own (huge) bat-bag, let alone the monstrous Leyhill bowling attack…

Vuvu first had to endure the upstart openers The Archbish – serenely smashing a sublime off-drive to establish his heavenly authority in over 1 - and Hornay, hopping frenziedly to the bullish quick. The impish legend soon feathered behind for a nervy 5, replaced by the new object of his man-date desire, Stu. But Canberra’s finest couldn’t find the touch that earned him a thrilling 42 not out on his VCC debut at Tillington, and was soon snaffled for the same score as his would-be sugar daddy.

A worrisome 20-2, and in strode Muller, swishing his hips with bat held horizontally in both hands: The slightly camp, trademark entrance of our master willow wielder. His demotion to bat at 4 though, had clearly not helped Vuv’s tormented brain, 18 scratchy dot balls uncharacteristically following. Thank the Lord for the comforting spiritual sustenance offered the poor fellow by his batting partner The Holy Don, Archbishop Trio. Slowly, gently, the leader of The Third Way coaxed the fevered former opener into a performance, and the blessed seeds of a Curry-recovery were herein sown. Verily, fittingly, the fatherly Don was first to reach 50, his temporarily adopted, crazy crease ‘son’ following soon after.

This unlikely pairing put on a mighty 128 for the 3rd wicket, before Ewing Senior fell at last, for a superb 70. A few angry tonks – murderously aimed towards picnicking yokels on the near leg side boundary – and his be-devilled disciple was gone too, given out stumped for 74. Naturally, umpire Qantas’ decision was (rightly) disputed by Muller. A bat of his pedigree simply is never out - unless he, said champ blade, decides so. And Sir Vuvu Of The Sothern Cape has decided, in advance, for life, that LBW and stumpings are invalid methods of dismissal for him, adjudged as they are by inferior umpiring mortals.

As, back in the pavilion, Vuvuzela derangedly whinged to Gege about this latest injustice, his batting position and life in general, Captain Pink and The Black Knight were out in the middle, both finishing the job in fine style - taking us home without further loss to a stonking 6-wicket victory.

“74? Just another day at the crease for me”, modestly commented the formerly rabid Rob, over beers in the gloaming.”

The following evening, as the blue scooter sped past the familiar 5 rings, which mark the sight of an ancient stadium symbolizing all the best ideals of amateur sporting contest, Gege felt the Olympic gods chuckle…or was it just a pothole?

Leyhill      198 all out
(Nice 41-4)

Result:      VCC win by 6 wickets

“Easter marks the end of Lent, a forty-day period of fasting, prayer, and penance. The last week of the Lent is called Holy Week, and it contains Good Friday, commemorating the crucifixion and death of Jesus. Easter is followed by a fifty-day period called Eastertide ending with Pentecost Sunday.”

A tale of Sacrifice and Rebirth on which the stone was rolled back and the season bumpily got underway…

The VCC mustered for Sunday Communion in the Horseguards at noontide on a baking summers’ day in April to toast the start of an Endless Summer of the most classic Village Cricket.

Pontius Hodd and the rest of his pagan Tillingtonians propped up the bar.

A nail biting loss last year followed by a Winter of constant frenzied netting and good turnout created a sense of cheerful confidence among the faithful travelers. This turned out to be totally unfounded but thus they filed merrily up the hill.

Co-Captain Pink, giving orders on the day, summarily won the toss and chose to bat. A weighty high-pressure system had sat over our Island for weeks and no February, March or April showers had been noted in the almanac. It looked like a wicket from the subcontinent or the straight bit of the A3 that you can get up to a ton on 2000 revs in Marie Claire. We had batsmen and women down to 11 and the aforementioned confidence.

Absurd in retrospect. The decision went against the Bishop’s Information and would therefore cost dearly.

Some kept low, some sprung up viciously, some looked like they would rear up but then stopped and floated around in the breeze. Some spun, some pitched off at oblique angles and some did nothing. Most went straight for one’s knackers. I don’t know if anyone got away without some blows to the body as there was plenty going around. Arnica prices are sharply up today so congratulations to anyone who is heavily invested.

Anyway, Father Max and The Spring Horn strapped on the armour of battle and were immediately pelted by the variations above. As Pontius Hodd’s men jabbed at them with their darts these two manfully resisted and accumulated slowly, but in the fourth Tinos spliced one up and was caught for 4. Lord Ozone joined Max at the crease and looked like his nicking and pulling technique would work. After ten we were 26 for 1, which though slow was not a disaster but alas after a vicious peppering the Great Colossus was dispatched caught. Pinko joined the now-in Max who had started to open up but again, the sacrifice continued as he fell caught to another uneven bounce. The Archbishop, secretly nursing various broken fingers, came in to impose order on the proceedings as we were now about 30 for 3 after about 14 overs. We decided to start again. But again, the Lord spaketh and further sacrifice was demandedeth. The number of crosses on that Golgotha of Uneven Bounce reached 4 with Don failing quite to get above the ball despite his definite height.

The situation was now dire on 4 for 30 but the two captains were now together looking to “start again, again”. A turgid spell during which neither could hit anything and the scoreboard stayed on 30 lasted for a while. More painful blows but then little by little the scorer was made to work. A useful partnership of 16 came to an end with Captain Ge bowled looking to on-drive at 46 for 5.

The Exiled Mr Hooper from Brighton beach donned some clothes and took to the crease and for a while Pink and he made progress. Shortly after receiving holy pardon from the Bishop at square leg Pink lamely set up another catch and departed for a stubborn 28 and then from the shade of a tree…

…out strode our no. 8.

Stuart, a VCC Virgin who’d last laid down his bat a mere 15 years before in some Koala-infested suburb of south of the equator. Sounds of the harp rang out from the valleys and angels’ warbled away somewhere in the hills and those on the boundary looked on with interest as he played his first shot. Stocko experienced a sort of mini resurrection and issued an immediate invitation to the Charlotte Street Hotel as Stuart crisply drove and cut. The Brighton Bull holed out at long on and was replaced by Steve and then Nicole and finally the Salmon of Holy Spawn.

We were onto our final wicket but the total climbed sharply towards and past 100. A short one kept low and was sent far over the bowlers’ head and the boundary into the field of buttercups in the valley below. Salmon now SalmAn took all they could fling at him before returning the strike. Stuart continued to plunder fours into the wall of Petworth House and sixes over it until with 9 minutes to go before tea Salman was adjudged LBW by the Dark Lord’s stern finger.

Tea was taken during which the final pair were warmly saluted for having saved us from a two-figure total. The topic of hushed conversations was mainly along the lines of “Better than Madness but what about the Beast?” The Dark Lord Chancellor made rapid calculations as to how much of his slush fund he could spare if it were necessary to bribe the newcomer to join the club while the less mercenary members’ thoughts turned to nicknames.

Of the fielding there is not much to be said. The curse had been removed from the wicket and the batsmen knew their pitch. All bowled satisfactorily but without much success. The Salman and Stuart were our fastest and perhaps most incisive bowlers. Maximus worked hard behind the stumps and ended up evens. I hope I don’t flatter myself if I said field placings were five out of ten. A usually workaday catch at long on by Bishop Big Hands off the Brighton Bull was made exceptional by the fact that most of the bones in his body were cracked. Basically though we didn’t get enough runs on a wicket that was as different from Lords as it possibly could be.

Man of the Match: After JC, Our Father and the Holy Spirit, the Easter Sunday Man of the Match award has to go to Stuart who batted tremendously, bowled well and brought along a truly delightful group of supporters including multiple WAG of the year contenders and Nelson the Hound.

EGM: An EGM was held in the Horseguards Inn with all Officers available voting to welcome Stuart into the arms of the VCC. This was passed unanimously and included the telephone vote of Chairman and Secretary Nice. Metal Hammer is dwarf hunting in the Far East and therefore uncontactable in his state of delirium. I will send out an email to members asking for objections but imagine that there will be none. So subject to said objection email we warmly welcome him into the fold and hope he has a long and prosperous career in it!

A. O. VCC Business: Although it is unthinkable to have a member without a nickname, the management feel that given his rapid accession to the club that a matter of weeks should pass to see if one organically takes root.

However, various were touted such as Tillington Croc/Koala Killer, Dundee, The Canboro Man, Convict 3 (but what about Kiwis?), Mr Cricket, DidgeriStu and Bea(st Mad)ness 2.0. This last, though phonetically challenging may also serve to lay down the gauntlet to the absent heroes of yesterday.

VCC lose timed game by 9 wickets on a gloriously sunny Easter Sunday.

Lethal Pink

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Letter to Mr T Graham

Dearest Saint
Dear Mr Graham

Ref;  The VCC v Hit & Miss CC — 2nd August 2009

I am writing to you to confirm my appreciation of the events that have 
I write this letter more in sorrow than in anger regarding the events that 
unfolded over the past seven days since your esteemed appointment as 
have unfolded over the past seven days since your dubious appointment  
captain and that of your excellent choice of nominating for the day your 
as Captain. Of my many concerns you can include your decision to 
Vice Captain, Mr Richard Barker...
nominate for the day your Vice Captain, Mr Richard Barker...

... to read more please download the letter in either PDF or Word format:

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Shamley Green Match Report

Day two of the Sussex tour after a nail biting loss at eternal Ebernoe. All boded well for the afternoon’s cricket – the sun was out, the hangover slight and ALL had cooked breakfasts inside at varying stages of digestion.

Robin opened the bowling with a juicy mix of wides and peaches. The first over went for 4. On to the stage, enter right Don, who fathered the over that changed the course of history.

History can often be seen pushing people about in back alleys, barging through crowds to get to the front and then sitting in places that mean that no one else can see. It blunders about like an autistic mammoth in no direction at all, breaking most things and with scant respect for individual individuals.

Sometimes however, great events are caused by the actions of men alone, and in the Over that Don Fathered, history was Our Bitch (‘OB’).

Whether it was struck before it bounced or on the half volley the chronicler cannot recall, but it was struck hard. The batsman found the not just the middle of the bat but himself as well. The Ball found it too with a masochism similar to people on TV who suspend articulated lorries from their testicles. The cherry flattened on the blade to perhaps three molecules thick, braced itself, changed direction and accelerated towards a spot on the edge of space.

The distant universe was the plan. Perhaps it would find a pleasant orbit and revisit us every million years. This was what history had ordained. The fates had decided this and moved on to something else. God had rubber stamped it. It had basically happened, but OB had yet to catch up.

But it did not happen because Ben caught it, although it was more of a scene from the Bodyguard, as it hit him full in the sternum before coming to rest in his hands. We saw it first and then heard the noise as the air was forced from his lungs. A boom resonated like an African drum around Sussex. The Gods on Mount Olympus stopped what they were doing and listened like meer cats. OB was at a loss. Fate looked around blankly. Nostradamus is still looking in his notebook. Ying and Yang became at one each other and time stood still.

Ben might even have died for a second. He was certainly possessed by a glorious metronomic spirit that would linger over the Shamley Green and scythe down batsmen in hideous ways for the rest of the afternoon.

The score was 1 for 5 after 1. 3. Robin took the third over and the Shamley Green number two manfully ignored the catastrophe. Don’s second over ceded only three. Robin took the fifth and Shamley took advantage of his sprightly pace again, but time was running out. Like a pendulum, the metronome reached its extreme and hung in the balance. Don’s third over: a four, a dot, a six, a dot and then a mighty blow that again was destined for the boundary but instead found the Hands of Captain Madam. The Gods were perplexed again and scowled at OB. Ben had another catch, this time a harder one down and to his right.

The score was now 2 for 36 after 5.5. The ball passed to Robin. Then back to Don. Then to Robin and then back to Don. Shamley again enjoyed themselves and scored happily. But they deluded themselves because in Don’s fifth over, the evil spirit struck again with a superb wobbler from the Archbishop that clean bowled the semi professional batsman.

[It was so exciting to be on the pitch at this time because it felt like the oppo were capable of scoring well over 200 against us and were still averaging 6 an over, but that we were severely disturbing their karma].

The score was now 3 for 55 after 9.5. The openers continued to alternate, Robin, Don and then ROBIN! A key wicket as the batter was on 33! With Robin’s lovely length and bounce it was almost inconceivable it hadn’t happened before – the faintest of snicks through to No. 3 of the Boygloves. Everyone’s face muscles received a going over as it was hard not to extreme grin. This was insanely good fun cricket.

The score was now 4 for 68 off 13.2. Robin bowled an impeccable over before Don’s last came and went. The batsmen were now nervous and edgy like the Romans watching the Ascension and his spell with 3 wickets at an average of 10 encouraged entire populations of the heathen of that part of the land to convert. Robin, in sync with the universe by now, delivered another tray of elegant Vol au Vents, and the enter in the shoes of the Archbishop the renowned swinger and up and coming evangelist, Oscar “leave your spermicide at home” Ewing, Fisher of Batsmen and Son of Way, otherwise known as Vampire Love Victim, Spunky or Salmon, and often referred to as The VCC Youth Policy.

In his first over Oscar struggled to tame the swing and accumulated almost half the runs of his spell, which just shows how devastating he was later. Then back to Robin, who crisply and perfectly banished their number 5 clean bowled. His figures were 2 for 44 off 9, which though respectable, especially against the obvious Shamley talent, does not reflect how enjoyable his bowling is to watch.

The score was now 5 for 84 off 18.3. Oedipal complex in full swing, the young Oscar set out his stall in direct competition with the Church of Way. As trainee Vicar of the Pescytarian Church he claimed the conversion of their number 7 with what he later confirmed was his best ever ball. It was clean bowled and a warning to all outside the VCC of what this young offender has to offer.

The score was now 6 for 88 off 20.3. Enter Hurdo International with supporting noises that, though much appreciated, sounded like a herd of cows without the choreography of Saint. Now there is no such thing as a Shamley tail because they are all talented and therefore more docked Doberman than fox au naturel. However, the lower order batsmen were understandably traumatised by what had preceded them such that any wag of the Doberman stump was unlikely. Being familiar with canines, Hurdo knew what to do and together with Oscar and the evil spirit that had first possessed Ben, they mopped up the last four wickets in five overs. 7 for 99, 8 for 106, 9 for 109 and 10 for Shamley’s total of 120.

As individually brilliant the three clean bowled wickets were by Don, Robin and Oscar, the seven catches that today did not go down were doubly brilliant, taken by Ben (3), Andy (1), Max (1), Don (1) and Oscar (1). I heard the opposition chatting later and saying that there was only one misfield by our team during the entire innings and that was only for a run. The bowlers bowled excellently but were ultimately humbled by the fielders, on a characterful ground in which cars were free to drive as the boundary included various byways, car parks and the odd drag strip.

Tea was not had due to the tea ladies being otherwise occupied.

We went in to bat with 121 to win, and in contrast to the day before where we failed to reach 102 against Ebernoe, we won with 8 wickets to spare!

The bowling was Barker plus with no question. Shamley had two young county colts, one of whom was generally acknowledged to be bowling above 80mph and well. The pitch was bouncy, sometimes a bit erratic and took turn. It basically offered something to anyone who fancied a bowl.

When the innings began and Andy and Martin were out there, the rest of us saw the speed of their bowler no. 2 and figured it was a just a matter of when he’d get it on the stumps. Our batting line up, even with the Great Names of Ben, Rob, Don, Chris, Jonty, Maxis, Robin, Chris and Oscar, seemed like a tail with no torso, possibly like a snake, and not really anything with any venom. An earthworm. Of the four batsmen who had an innings, Andy stands out and when he was out, Rob supported the Captain who played a great innings.

Andy batted magnificently. He really is someone you would value in your trench. This can not be understated and should be repeated a couple of times at least. Ben looked like the mad professor that he is destined to become - waving his bat around the square like he was trying to mime a complex formula to his postgraduate physics class.

Rob calmly despatched the bowling like an experienced fisherman from Newfoundland clubbing seals.

It was serene to feel the afternoon sun soften as the overs ticked by and the runs heaped up. The man of the match award goes to the whole team for a devastating fielding performance with special plaudits for Ben and Andy.

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VCC lower order almost bring about an astonishing victory in Babraham-no Axis to grind on a wet afternoon in Cambridgeshire

*The match was originally to be a timed game — as the interruptions due to weather became more frequent, a 35 over game was decided upon; in the report I’ve not mentioned having to come off in driving rain, cover the square, wait for the weather to improve, remove covers and restart play but these interruptions were regular occurrences throughout the afternoon.

The prospect of play looked decidedly slim as we sat at Chez Nous;having assembled an Axis-free X1(our four resident batsmen of the Apocalypse having decided to wreak their unique brand of malevolent havoc elsewhere that day), we were keen to take on the might that is Babraham CC.

On receipt of the call that assured us that “we’ll get a game whatever the weather” we set off to Cambridgeshire. The local pub was our first port of call where Rob (yes my replacement car is an Aston Martin) and Metal Hammer were waiting for us; Rob was as usual seeing the world through rose tinted glasses — ridiculously over-optimistic regarding the weather and the chances of any play at all-but nevertheless we arrived at the ground, changed and waited for our two final members to make up the X1, Fareed and Aamer.

Our besuited and immaculately groomed Bollywood star arrived on cue, a welcome return after a far too long absence — Aamer mysteriously failed to turn up at all.

We won the toss and elected to bowl, opening with a Beast and Charmer combo to give the Babraham openers something to think about; they had a think for about 2 overs before crashing the ball to all corners of the ground. Whilst Beast was bowling a fine line, at pace, to keep the Babraham pair on their toes, Fareed naturally enough was taking a while to find his lethal rhythm.At 7 overs, Babraham had 50 on the board, aided by some Chaplin-esque fielding from the Colonel at slip, and Nicey in the covers.

Their opener, as is the custom when playing us, retired when he’d scored his obligatory 50 and things were looking grim at 99 without loss after 16 overs. Rick completed his 10 over spell conceding only 29 runs, Fareed bowling his 7 overs with little to show for his Herculean efforts up the hill.

3rd way was introduced to replace Rick and Nicey replaced Fareed; reward came soon after-Rick snaffled a good catch off Nicey’s bowling and I got a couple at my end-119 for 3. Nicey then got 2 to turn to bring him another couple of wickets as The Colonel entered the fray at the top end.

Bowling a clever line, seemingly offering plenty, but in reality only misery to the batsmen, and Geoff claimed his victim caught by Nicey.

Steve Webster came on at the pavilion end bamboozling their middle order taking 3 wickets-one bowled, one stumped (nice work metal hammer) and one snaffled inevitably by safe-hands Nicey.

The early confidence of Babraham had been shattered by our bowlers, so much so that their retired opener, who seconds earlier had been eyeing up the fondant fancies for tea was despatched back to the square to attempt to salvage something for the home side.

From 99-0 to 144-9 at tea-a great turnaround, top drawer bowling all-round and some magnificent if not unorthodox fielding keeping us very much in the game.

Surely we had enough strength in batting today to give this a total a go………..errr no.

Chris and Andy opened for us; both brimming with confidence and looking to set about the openers. A few quick singles here and there, before Chris was undone and bowled whilst Andy edged a simple catch. Enter Rob, exit Rob; enter me, exit me.

Oh dear,oh dear, 27-4-victory’s looking a little unlikely, but as ever put Rick and Max together and something good will come out of it. Both started to play themselves in, deciding attack being the best form of defence; Max hitting 5 fours and running some nicely timed singles, Beast bullying the bowlers all over the park. Having got us back into a competitive position Rick fell to a catch at mid-off for a good-looking 38, Max soon followed with a well crafted 17, also caught whilst trying to push the run rate on, but our dynamic duo had got us into the nineties……

Were we done for — not a bit of it; Action man Nicey back in the thick of it, continued to take the battle to the bowlers; his timing was impeccable including a couple of meaty blows back over the bowler’s head to the boundary. Ably supporting at the other end was the Webmeister, nicking and nurdling the odd single and running like a gazelle to support The Nice.

Steve exited to be replaced by Bollywood; The Charmer’s mind was obviously on Monday’s early morning call and he returned to the pavilion without troubling the scores.

Here comes The Colonel; Babraham’s Cambridge blue thought Geoff easy pickings, but after settling himself with some well-timed cover drives we had the amazing sight of this highly talented young bowler steaming in at full pace only to see our unperturbed number 10 smashing him all round the ground.

A couple of 4’s some well run 2’s and we were back in the game. Nicey got a good one to end his innings on 17 and was replaced by our guest player — Wirey — son of Babraham’s Captain.

Wirey and Geoff had an almost instant telepathic connection, running like a well-oiled machine taking us closer to our target.

It all came down to the last over-we needed 9 to win; the bowler’s steaming in — 2 runs, a dot ball, 2 runs, a single, a dot ball — last ball — 4 to win, 3 to draw………… Geoff swung at the ball like a man possessed ……………. he missed it.

VCC lost by 3 runs-great game though; plaudits to all but particularly Geoff, Nicey and Steve for getting us back in the game whist fielding, and also to the same trio for almost bringing us home to an improbable victory. Naturally Rick and Max for getting our batting on track, everyone for their spirited fielding in difficult circumstances, and of course Kaz for the scoring.

Babraham 144-9 after 35 overs

• Rick 10-1-29-0
• Fareed 7-0-61-0
• Nicey 7-1-32-3
• Don 3-0-9-2
• Geoff 5-0-9-1
• Steve 3-1-8-3

VCC 141-9 after 35 overs

• Andy 3
• Chris 3
• Rob 0
• Don 7
• Max 26
• Rick 38
• Dave 17
• Fareed 0
• Steve 4
• Geoff 17 not out
• Wirey 20 not out

MADNESS MACHINE CRUSHES UPSTARTS

Workaday win for Cap’n Chaos, as he cold-bloodedly chases down Jonty’s record

The VCC may have descended to scoring on torn-out scraps from a borrowed WH Smith reporter’s notebook.

Nowadays too, it may cram its crumpled, soiled whites into bags to which folding, kit organisation and self-respect carry all the mysteries of an ancient Eastern art.

It may not even be able to correctly identify its President from a shortlist so simple and obvious it would be unworthy of appearing as a multiple-choice question on the most base television gameshow, ie…

QUESTION:

Who is VCC Honorary Club President?

ANSWER:

• a) A world-famous cricket legend?
• b) An industrial psychologist?
• c) A suburban newt-fancier, who introduced the loathsome London Congestion Charge and tried to change our fair city into one resembling Peking in the 1960’s at the height of the appalling ‘Cultural Revolution’, when teachers and intellectuals were paraded in pointy dunces’ caps and hoards of horrible bicycles impeded an innocent V8’s every sporting manoeuvre?

…but boy, Team Madden has become an unstoppable juggernaut for victory junkies, as the hapless Brighton Exiles – ruthlessly beaten at home here by an expansive 6 wickets – will testify…

*

In fact a Currymen victory – and revenge for last year’s surprise upset at Petworth House – was probably inevitable from one precise moment very early in the match: During the 4th ball of Aussie opening bowler Steve ‘Qantas’ Flew’s 3rd over, the hulking, wild-looking Exiles opener ‘Matt’, distressingly a-flush with what are these days called ‘Issues’ - and suddenly charging down the wicket with vivid red socks flashing and crazed bat flailing like a medieval Downland scythe - desperately bellowed…

“F*** YOU!”

…at the very moment that his mighty wrong-willow cross-connected with the morally-wounded cherry, slugging it in an extremely ugly and un-aesthetic fashion over the square leg rope, at a crude air speed well in excess of 115 miles per hour.

High in the South Downs beyond, the skeleton of the American World War II fighter pilot in an unmarked plot, his ghost still possibly rueing the slight wing-roll he missed on his return approach over the Channel to Shoreham, that fog-bound night 67 summers before, did not turn in his lonely grave. The 91-year old retired Indian tailor, dozing in his favorite afternoon TV chair, not 3 miles away in a genteel Preston Park semi, hazily slipping into a dream world of worries ago - of racy Jazz-era stitches and the sumptuous tropical beauties of his youth – well, he stirred not one muscle either. And the feral children of East Brighton, unwittingly representing the ITV reality judges in this most awful freeze frame of the yet-to-be commissioned ‘Broken Britain’ series, carried on playing right next to the very boundary of The Gross Affront To Cricket, oblivious to this most shocking of outrages.

Even the supposed recipient of this vile Exiles expletive, Sydney native Steve, remained unmoved, his wry grin perhaps even indicating slight derisive amusement at this Pansy-Pom-Under-Pressure nonsense.

But Cap’n Madness and his best-est pal from The Radleigh College Poetry Society, The Beast, were not best pleased.

Not Beast-pleased at all. At all, at all.

As if suddenly receiving a single silent order as one, from their respective VCC trenches at short midwicket and behind the stumps, they loped determinedly to engage in an emergency mini-summit concerning The Snarling Pirate of The Soul of Cricket, who stood, resting from his vile orgasmic exertion and almost foaming at the mouth, just yards away. ‘Things’ were possibly about to turn, well, quite Beastly.

Not cricket at all, in fact. At all, at all.Thank heavens, then, that The Currymen had an unexpected peace envoy on hand. Enter, perhaps somewhat too swishingly, Ade ‘Pof-Pof’ Lawal, club secretary, no less, of Matfield Green CC, our Kentish opponents of the previous weekend, from whom we had subsequently borrowed ‘Pof-Pof’ as one of our two star ringers for the day (the other being Phil from the Weston Williamson design sweat shop, of whom more later.) With a couple of well-chosen words, the 46-year-old former Queens Bench lawyer was able to quietly dissuade the two young Love 50 hotheads from bringing the summer game into further disrepute.

*

Having predictably put Exiles into bat (the Brighton side having chased in their surprise win last season), Madness had then chosen to open the bowling with…Madness. This deeply unstable Union traitor, having been advised by his overstretched psychiatrist to jettison his elegant but limpid leg-spin - following once being savaged for 30 runs in a single over during the Jonty era, then subjected us to 6 turgid overs of his interminable new stodge derivative, the dour spectacle only lightened by two elements: Cobra Sports Management’s much-touted client number 2 ‘Qantas’ operating from the Downs end; and surreal sound bites from the other – via the sideshow of an unashamed retro-public school love-in between ‘keeper (Rik) and bowler (Ben)…

R: “Oh YEAH, Benny!” (cue loving, overlong, mutual stare)
R: “Your best ball yet!”
B: “Thanks kid!!”
R: “I love you more than the throbbing pleasure-sensation of your balls smacking into my gloves”
B: “But - will you be true forever?”

(OK, the last one was slightly exaggerated, but you get the picture)

However, at least for once this introductory pie-chucking brutality-fest was incisive (last season’s stats reveal it to be the least effective or economical of all 3 VCC bowling factions), as well as remorseless, as a panicked Exiles crashed faster than a Gordon Brown downturn to 45-5.

The Vile Pirate Of Issues Indeterminate was long-gone by now, snaffled by Phil off the bowling of Rik’s Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name, the young enslaved architect visibly shaking while precisely adjusting foot position, catching hands and alarmed mind during the tortuous 8.7 seconds it took for the skied vermillion harlot to drop to him at short mid-on.

And – most joyously – the treacherous Exiles’ founder and potentially most rabid bat Dave ‘Brighton (nee Bushey) Bull’ Hooper was also ousted cheaply, clean bowled by Cap’n Chaos with “the ball of my life”. Embarrassed Currymen were then treated to an adoring paean to said projectile’s various attributes and wobbles by a quivering, devoted Beast, as we waited to clap in the next shuffling South Coast victim.

*

Once Madden had fully gorged himself with another merciless stump-clattering - and Aussie finally notched a much-deserved wicket (after being let down thrice before, inept field-placing and catch-judgment in the fly-slip / third man zone denying him more victims) – The Enforcer and Colonel Horror were summoned to take the ball.

What a joyous aesthetic contrast these two bowlers offered! Shuffling to the popping crease with the stealth of a silent jungle death squad, crazed military glare recalling a hundred cricketing kills, Kurtz was on fine form. And the Kiwi kick-boxer, all classic long-strided run-up and rangey release, was really bending his back for the Pink and Greys.

Despite these pleasures, Exiles at last were beginning to offer some consistent resistance, with their numbers 6 and 7 slowly ratching up the run total to near the ton. The Enforcer was having none of it though. For a man who had put in a dedicated 72-hour shift on his Welcome to the Far East Pleasuredome, the challenge of breaking up a pathetic Pom partnership was a mere trifle. Exit Exile 6, the bearded Ben, stumps splayed in sweet surrender.

More unpleasantness threatened as the Sussex Rebel leader tried to refuse a 20-over drinks break. Eventually, his embarrassed minions fetched much-needed glasses of water for grateful Currymen.

However Ben’s batting partner, the suspiciously tanned and boy-band coiffured Simon, was now becoming a problem. A problem that Pof-Pof, called on his VCC debut to replace Deano at the Pavilion end, had the answer to. Foolishly attempting to blast the Nigerian left-arm magician into submission, the classy number 7 was soon lured into P-P’s entrancing spell and bowled, for a classy 38. Ably supported by tidy line and length from Adelady at the Downs end, a giggling Pof-Pof set into the Exiles tail with relish. Clearly panicked, their number 8 was bidden into a horrible misbalancing act and, while he scrambled on his stomach for the safety line, stumped by a rabid Beast.

Nicole was having no such luck. The Founder was enjoying his afternoon nap at long off when he was rudely awakened by the ball shooting through his gait for 4. Madness, wrongly choosing not to dive fully forwards to a pop-up, dropped a sitter at short mid-wicket. And Adelady’s compatriot Qantas couldn’t get his bearings under an over-shoulder skier. How different the South Australian filly’s figures could have been, if she had been better supported by her buffooning teammates.

Pof-Pof, meanwhile, was enjoying a dream debut, as he conjured up the final two traitor’s wickets – a caught and bowled and a catch from his captain. The ebullient debutante, 4 vital wickets under his belt, led Belsize off with a modest 146 to chase.

*

Tea was distinguished by the unusual provision of chips, a detail reminiscent perhaps of a long-gone British seaside era, when cricket drinks breaks were honoured, scorebooks remembered and barrack-room language banned from the gentleman’s field of play.

Chaos – perhaps mindful of damping down further Axis tabloid interest in his stewardship after the Love-In overs, plus his lacking absent batting goliaths The Don, El Creamo, Lethal and The Behemoth - announced an innovative line-up.

In strode Rob ‘Evil One’ Muller and The Founder, both experienced opening bats in their own right, who were perhaps quietly determined to make a point or two to the Ewing-Stockman pairing of late. The initial bowling challenge they faced was crisp, coming from two tall Exiles pacemen, Pete and the oddly Christian-named ‘Nugent’ (worryingly wearing a Sussex shirt), but the VCC duo responded magnificently from the off, reaching 47 without loss, just 6 overs in.

Evenly scoring at first, the character of the partnership changed distinctly after the 50 was reached, Rob accelerating like a man possessed and Chris settling into a supporting role. This was the fearsome, record-breaking Muller of Ebernoe 158-fame, ludicrous Leyhill cap askance, violently dispatching anything that moved and unnecessarily apologising to the oppo for the very occasional thick edge, his mouth guard making him sound like a drunk Malaysian toddler.

With 85% of his rampant 57 coming from boundaries, including an ecstatic straight-driven six, Rob imploded to midwicket in the 13th, having rushed The Currymen to 94-1. We had 9 wickets in hand to score just 53 runs and, with plenty of time remaining, understandably the run-rate slowed right down. With Pof-Pof Ade joining Chris at the crease a phase of patient attrition began, with maiden overs beginning to appear for an ever varying Exiles attack. The Founder was eventually run out for a mature 23 and was replaced by his eager wage-slave Phil. After more stubborn batting, including some inspiring flourishes courtesy of said Phil, a fuming Hooper had had quite enough, summoning the ball grimly. Responding immediately with theatrical élan, Ade nonchalantly Poffed a single and Phil stroked an elegant 4 through the covers. The snorting Brighton Bull stamped, but persisted, finally bowling Phil in his 3rd over after tying down Ade to a tense maiden in the 2nd.

At 121-3, Curry-bat 5, the double-dealing Exiles ‘Python’/VCC ‘Cobra’ split-impersonation of a cricketer, slithered towards the middle, foolishly hexing himself by making an outrageous showbiz display of kissing an Exiles crest. He lasted one attempted bouncer from Hooper, before a deeply pathetic senior moment-style run-out did for him: 121-4. Ssssss!

Enter The Enforcer. None of that noncey ‘Saint’ s*** for him! Clearly inspiring Pof-Pof with his brooding machismo and huge bat, the requisite 25 were soon reached with a clattering Scott 4 past long-on.

With a 6-wicket victory, a long year’s wait for justice had been restored to The Currymen at last – and as they partied in The Brighton Marina, the old tailor of Preston Park slept soundly, awaiting Stocko’s best pal, his suburb-named son Preston, who would visit him in the morning, as he did every Monday. And high in The South Downs beyond, a soft summer breeze whispered through the wild grass, above the airman’s grave.

*

Exiles v VCC Match SCOREBOOK : 28-06-09

EXILES Batting 4s 6

1. Matt B ct Phil b Madden 14 1 1
2. David H b Madden 1
3. Nick P ct Barker b Aussie Steve 4
4. Iain S run out 11 2
5. Julian M b Madden 9
6. Ben K b Deano 28 5
7. Simon b Pof-Pof 38 7
8. Steve R st Barker b Pof-Pof 0
9. Pete T not out 14 2
10. Nugent ct Madden b Pof-Pof 4 1
11. Jonny M ct & b Pof-Pof 5 1
12. Extras 17 (11 w & nb)

TOTAL 146 all out

VCC Bowling (averaged out at 140 runs / 6 bowlers, due to no records)

1. Madden 23-3
2. Aussie 23-1
3. Col. Kurtz 23-0
4. Deano 23-1
5. Adelady 23-0
6. Pof-Pof 23-4
7. VCC Batting 4s 6s
8. Muller ct (m’wkt) b Matt 57 10 1
9. Williamson run out 23
10. Pof-Pof not out 10 1
11. Phil b David H 15 1
12. Cobra run out 0
13. Deano not out 7 1
14. Extras 37

TOTAL 149 - 4

Exiles Bowling

1. Pete T 6-1-19-0
2. Nugent 5-0-22-0
3. Jonny Miller 3-0-35-0
4. Iain Sallis 4-1-13-0
5. Matt 5-1-18-1
6. Simon B 3-2-2-0
7. David H 3-1-7-1
8. Nick Patly 1.1-0-6-0

VCC win by 6 wickets

*

Withyham Match Report – The Weald Tour – Day II

And so it was that the VCC limped westwards from the Oast Houses and De La Warr badlands of Kent to the ancient woodlands of East Sussex. Matfield Massacre had left the Beast armless. Worboys’ toe had been beaten to a pulp by friend and foe. Mental damage was evidenced in the whole troop, although the appearance at the Dorset Arms of Don, Aussie Steve and the once thought extinct Deano diluted this.

Reinvigorated by morning walks in rabbit infested orchards and uncensored poetry readings, the ragged brigade drank its fill of Harvey’s Pale Ale. This had a miraculous effect, with toes returning to their normal colour, ligaments tightening and tortured minds finding peace and it was a lighthearted band that made its way to the square behind the pub.

Set in a hollow between medieval forests and lush pastureland, the stands were already at capacity with song birds, oak trees, pedigree cattle and sheep. Somehow with a few “Excuse me’s” and “Can I get through’s?” the WAGS squeezed in. The enemy were already assembled - a band of fearsome child soldiers led by some hardened veterans. The latter wore green caps with yellow hoops that gave the bone chilling impression of ducks in the early afternoon sunshine. The usual negotiations took place on the square, and our glorious leader put them into bat without further ado.

Notwithstanding the soft and pleasing spectacle of this new ground with all its ingredients, there was trepidation in the minds of those that had played the day before. Some of the worst bowling statistics in our club’s history had been chronicled Only two wickets were taken. Some of the least civilised pie chucking ever seen on the circuit had also been witnessed after which even the union was unable to salvage dignity. From the batting, one memory stood out – a fearless attack from the blade of the Warrior Saint – with other wickets surrendered cheaply in various ways.

Keenly appreciating the fragile state of our collective psyche, our steely captain took it upon himself vanquish such uncertainties from the mind of the team and opened the bowling, with Aussie Steve at the other end. From the first delivery the pendulum seemed to swing the way of the VCC with a spirited and measured off stump medium pace attack that restricted the opening batsmen to defence or death. The pressure on them increased so fast that within three overs their second batsman succumbed, playing across the line to His Skippership, and popped an outside edge to Jonty at mid off. Playfully toying with the Withyham youth he nosed it back up into the air before pouching it between flippers and crashing back into the icy waters - a killer whale doing a backward somersault. The score was 7 – 1 and that was just the beginning.

Having scored just eight more runs, the number one batsman, attempting to pull a flighted delivery on leg stump from the Madness, found a very thick edge and sent the ball into the air with much force but little sideways movement. The ball hung in the air long enough for each on the field to weigh up their chances, but it was to the trusty Gloveman of the Black Toe, that the ball fell and now the score was 15 – 2.

With their fourth man in, another youth, it was surely Aussie Steve’s turn to strike. Consistently hitting the right areas on and around off stump with the easy style of one to whom it all comes naturally, he’d struck the padding of the batsmen several times and been denied. He remonstrated forcibly with the Gods of Sky Sports to cries of “Less of the Village, Steve!” but really his field, having tasted blood wanted more. His time came and he clean bowled their fourth batsman for very little. As natural as skinning a roo. The score was 16 – 3.

Such early bowling progress had not been seen since the days before the Beast had scratched his barren paw mark on both wicket and run columns. In stark contrast, Steve continued to heap rich manure on his bowling stats by claiming their number 3 caught and bowled. Another roo on the barbie and the score was 20 – 4.

It looked like the battle would be over before it had started. These batsmen, though young appeared to be capable. The VCC were executing a near perfect performance in the field with catches taken, superb bowling and very few gaps in the field. Even in the heat of battle, benign sportsmanlike urges took root and germinated.

After Our Skipper had drunk his fill of wickets, maidens and other youths, he handed the ball to Deano.

Deano had been away from the club for a while, and despite the numerous Enforcements that had accrued by all during his absence he was welcomed back joyously. The club system of checks and balances was instantly restored and the VCC can look forward to a rest of season that will be thought of as a Golden Age. An age where off field scandals reduce to acceptable levels and where the only power bases are legitimate ones. An age where pretenders to official positions seek fulfilment via the proper channels. Where unofficial titles drift into the history books, their existence to be endlessly debated by cricketing enthusiasts of a bygone era. An age where, under the benign countenance of the Enforcer, rebel and fractious behaviour ceases to titillate and the simple pleasure of village cricket is allowed to flourish.

And so it was that Deano took the ball. As if to welcome him home, their number five immediately surrendered his wicket by mis-hitting an off drive and lofting it skyward and into The Great Hands of Don, which began to have a similar gravitational pull to those of a Black Hole. After this propitious start, Deano crafted a delightful spell of pie, notable for its fresh ingredients, meaty content and powerful fragrance.

At this point the Cobra slithered in from the deep grass to toil and sway from the Pavilion end. Masterful hiss-assisted guile and energetic pie combined to awesome effect. The opposition were left stunned and hypnotised by the contrast in delivery speeds and although no wickets fell for a period, the run rate remained firmly in the doldrums.

The enemy gradually became entrenched as the sun beat down. A queer man child, under five foot tall but with a deep and authoritative call, showed great maturity in his hitting. Again and again he eyed the juicy and tempting opportunities offered up by the Cobra, and again and again he blocked and parried. And likewise at the other end, a duck billed elder statesmen of the Withyham side parried and blocked.

After four enchanting and ruthlessly economic overs from the Cobra, during which the WAGS were treated to the loopy one, the faster and flatter one and the Pyongyang (that is launched above the dew point where clouds are apt to form) the snake was replaced by the Ade-Lady.

Together the Ade-Lady and her Kiwi kinsman plied the batsmen with offerings, and they in turn began to make small steps towards a total, passing the fifty and sixty. With a the shorter boundary up a steep slope, sublime field settings and tight bowling the batsmen needed to place their shots precisely. They stuck to the task of balancing risk with reward in the knowledge that they were five wickets down and sitting on a small battle chest.

Having bowled six overs at an economy rate of 2 per over, Deano was relieved amid much back slapping and contented noise. Hurdo was given the ball and charged to continue the Withyham siege. Many times at this stage in the match Hurdo is tossed the ball with similar instructions only to toss it back four overs later with forty runs attached and no shiny side, but today was different. The man child rashly swiped outside off and flicked the ball into the air. He was justly and properly Enforced back to the pavilion at point by Deano. The score was 95 – 6 and a useful partnership of 70 had been broken.

Another duck billed statesman strode out like an Indian Runner to join the first one and against the onslaught of the Ade-Lady and Hurdo they made their nests at either end, rarely straying from the safety of the crease to hazard a run. Soon frustrated however, their number 8 skied a drive that once more entered the slipstream that leads only to the Church of Way. The Giant Hands of Don harvested another victim amid much chanting and bell ringing and the Ade-Lady had one more VCC wicket to add to her burgeoning collection. 112-7.

At this point a flipper appeared at the fishing hole, a sure sign that the Walrus was somewhere nearby, and the Ade-Lady was replaced at the pavilion end. A fine spell of straight up feminine charm came to an end. Withyham were then offered fishy treats by the Lord of the Arctic who measured his run up in seal cub rib cages. The Walrus soon found his length and was rewarded with another skyward mishit. Inevitably the ball succumbed to the Universal Law of the Great Hands and the ball accelerated towards and into them. The Hands had now attained the frightening gravitational properties of a White Dwarf, a tea spoonful of which weighs several tonnes at normal atmospheric pressure. 132-8.

With Hurdo back at point, The Arctic Beast and was now performing with the Beast of All that is Not Fishy, as Rick debuted his one arm off tweak. For the first time in the afternoon some unrest was noted in the VCC camp. The injured Beast had come cap in hand to the Union to seek temporary dispensation to spin the ball. Without hesitation the plea had been generously granted by the Union Bosses and what happened next went beyond controversy and was a slap in the face. The Beast, off two or three paces and with one arm in a sling, proceeded to hurl the ball southwards such a speed that despite it turning several feet appeared to give off a whiff of pie. The first over of his thankfully short spell was greeted by stunned silence by all save the Toe Hammer who muttered “I’m not fucking standing up to that” before retreating several hundred metres. Union Bosses held called an EGM before his second over and decided that the ultimate sanction was called for, Ironic Hissing, and this was administered for the remainder of his spell.

Internal wrangling aside, with Walrus and the Beast seeded one and two in the food chain, it is not surprising that the opposition failed to make progress until things changed, and it was not until Pof Pof appeared that any hope at all was seen in the eyes of the batsmen.

Pof Pof, (better known as Stocko, Martinez, Tino etc) had been renamed the day before amid much ceremony after a Nigerian waffle dumpling of dubious nutrition and high calorific value. He proceeded to administer these sticky bonbons to their number seven, who had batted patiently as those around him fell. Although the Pof Pof is irresistible it is also unhealthy and soon the batsman advanced nearly half way down the pitch, swiped and missed. The ball passed him but so slowly that he was able to turn around and not miss any of the action. Toe Hammer was able to admire the Pof Pof rotating for a while before it reached him and he impaled it on the stumps as a warning to all. The score moved on to 132-9, and later to 140 all out after a quick bit of fielding from Aussie Steve terminated the resistance.

A tasty and refreshing tea was enjoyed by all. The WAGS in their delightful summer garb were located and appreciated. Factual tit bits from the Pregnant Head were digested and enjoyed. Maria and Tina were enchanting in their conversation and storytelling and Linda made insightful comments about the local area not missing out sheep, cows, rabbits and green things.

With a smallish total, our Masterful Skipper decided on a sort of inside out or granny knot approach to the batting line up, with our normal openers to start, followed by the lower order and finishing off with the batting grandees. If you like it was as though an amateur archaeologist had found some bones on a dig, got the head in the right place but mixed up the torso and the tail before sending it to the natural history museum for approval. In any case, Pof Pof donned the pads and The Great Hands picked up the bat.

The youth of Withyham, save for the gritty man child, had surprised us with the willingness they showed to fall on their bats, but whatever they had for tea did the trick. The bowling was so fast and accurate that the boundary pundits compared them favourably to whatsisname from elsewhere on the village circuit that served up devastatingly wholesome pie. The lanky tall one, apparently the opener from their 1st XI was even complimented with “Oh yes, faster than Barker, much…” by one knowledgeable onlooker. General panic beset the lesser batsmen and the pelt of the Beast prickled imperceptibly. A drop of rabid saliva loosed itself from the jowls. He watched the daisies turn black and shrivel before rising and toying with the entrails of a sheep he’d slain earlier. Although he did not know how it would happen, he knew that by nightfall Natural Order would be re-established.

Meanwhile Stocko and The Great Hands were battling successfully. There was the usual mixture of dot balls as the batsmen either let them go by or played and missed. Soon however The Hands grasped the nettle sent a crashing three and a wholesome four to the boundary. With Pof Pof nurdling for the singles and Don now castigating anything unworthy of the utmost respect, the spectacle from the boundary was gripping. Excellent bowling complimented by equally excellent batting, and all blessed with fine afternoon sunshine. Stocko Poffed one over the boundary, Don replied in kind. Suddenly with the score on twenty something their opening bowlers looked less of an obstacle. Just as suddenly this changed as the ball clattered into the stumps and The Great Hands were then used only to pack the kit and shake hands with the opposition. A small cloud appeared somewhere to the West.

Deano went on to Enforce the matter and with arms like great branches swaying in a tempest he wrought havoc in the outfield. A quick succession of twos advanced the score on, and Pof Pof continued to support with singles snatched from nowhere. The fielding side were valiant and well positioned but the sun shone on the VCC upper order for the time being. Indeed there was no time to sharpen the scorer’s pencil when Deano finally located the boundary and began to flay it with upper cuts and Dragon Punches. Just the lead began to smoulder from overuse however, a kidney punch picked up in Kowloon missed its target and the scorer scratched “Deano, bowled, watsisname,14”.

Pof Pof who had been gainfully employed since the off sticking to the original plan, which was to score runs and stay in, had notched up something in the mid twenties. An excellent score, though modest by his standards, was made great as it provided a firm foundation for the middle order. After the valuable contributions from Don and Deano these then proudly donned the strap.

Aussie Steve, who had contributed possibly the most enchanting spell of bowling during the opposition’s innings, entered the fray and took guard. History does not relate how many balls he faced, but it can’t have been that many, as he was soon noted trudging back to the pavilion muttering politely.

The Warrior Saint, of Brook and Matfield recent fame, strode on looking for his fifty. He too was soon treading the same path but in reverse and with little wear and tear to his kit.

While not in panic, the VCC was in dire need of a statesmanlike innings, and it did not help matters when Pof Pof, perhaps in disgust at seeing his foundation stone so callously chipped away at, struck at a fielder, was caught and went to see how things were going with the WAGS.

At the crease were now Lord of the Flies that Hover over a Seal Cub Carcass and Hurdo International. Surely some stability would come now with the score teetering around the sixties and five wickets down. Calculations were made for the 80 runs yet to get and the 18 overs remaining. Ever the accountant, Hurdo computed that at under 5 runs an over he could afford to play himself in. Once he had done this he flailed cross batted at an inoffensive straight one and trotted back to boundary to check his average.

And now to the tail, which as I have said was more of a torso. Ben, the Mad Professor of Invisible Green Things from both Oxford and Cambridge, bounced erratically onto the square. With his WAG (or should we call them WOG in the singular?) and team demanding satisfaction he was understandably apprehensive. But how often have we demanded a Captain’s Innings from any Skipper of the VCC and been disappointed?

Um, dunno.

Anyway, the Prof inserted himself into the torpedo bay and effervesced vigorously. The Walrus filtered for plankton at the other end. Scoring alternate ones and fours the run requirement reduced from cardiac arrest levels toward normality. The sun beat down and the score increased from the sixties through the seventies with 141 the target and 15 overs to play. Linda the WOG was treated to a wonderful show of masculinity, a sort of sexual dance that perhaps because she was there, was free from the usual curiosities. All bystanders were sitting up and taking note. The cows and sheep delayed toilet breaks and trips to the bar. Tea ladies crowded the stands.

By now the Professor had reached 22 on a strike rate well above 100% mainly thanks to four fours. Now, according to the Pregnant Head, a dinosaur has two brains as its nervous system is so big that it needs a substation to keep up the voltage. The Skipposaurus is no different. He engaged in a classic big head small head debate on whether to attack or defend. As this discussion went a the wily veteran bowler pinched his off stump bail and the leader of our executive returned to the WAGS leaving the question unanswered.

He now became a general that knew that at that moment, it all hung in the balance. At 120 for 8 and needing 141, we needed a batsman, even a sick batsman.

So it was that with five overs to go and twenty-one runs to make the opposition brought back their opening bowlers. The WAGS corner was silent. The Skipposaurus paced the ropes. Walrus, responsible statesman, was on 27. The Beast was on strike seeking purpose through his pain. Seeing some cows and perhaps feeling a pang of hunger, he flat smacked towards them. The ball flew horizontally at an altitude of three feet and appeared to take the shape of a trident missile. Happily no cows were hurt but the ball did go for four nonetheless. A young fielder berated himself for not catching it, but it is suicide to mess with a warhead without some sort of glove.

To reinforce his education Beast then drilled another in his direction, this time three inches above the turf. The enlightened fielder respectfully left this one and it clattered past the pavilion. A leg bye then oozed past the wicket keeper for a single, bringing Walrus onto strike. A screeching bellow LBW appeal from the child man fielding side quietened the birdsong in the ancient forests but Aussie Steve, the exemplary umpire, was impassive. Walrus proceeded to place the finest of edges through the slips for another valuable single, Rick blocked the final ball of the over and the birds resumed their chirruping.

With 127 for 8, and thirteen needed from 24 balls it looked like a no brainer, but their best attack was in place and the tension was as high as when the dinosaurs first understood and that a meteorite was coursing toward Mexico.

Facing extremely tight bowling the Walrus blocked the first ball of the next over, and then dug out a middle stump yorker to mid on for a hurried single. The Beast cut an excellent delivery to cover for another single to an anguished cry from the opener of the Withyham 1st XI. The Walrus nudged towards the igloo at point and ran, the local inhabitant fumbled and the cries went up. The Beast played and missed on the off. Again the exasperated Inuit population cried out. On the final ball of the over, the Beast clipped two to fine leg and amid more wailing from the fishing holes, the VCC were 132 for 8 with 9 to win off 18 balls.

The Walrus again cut to point, but this time was restricted. The next ball clattered into the loins of the arctic mammal to great and hopeful cries of the local tribe. But it was not to be as Aussie Steve, a stickler to the rules, remained low fingered. Meanwhile the batsmen crossed for a scampered leg bye.

With eight runs to win off sixteen balls the Beast, mind numbed by neurone deadening pharmaceuticals and years of alcoholic abuse, forgot his pain. He flashed and missed at the third ball of the over. The fourth ball came straight but too full and in a moment of genuine animal instinct the shoulders opened and a vast four was straight driven back past the umpire. The bowler did not finish his over as the winning runs came with a second driven four, this time less animalistic and more perfectly timed, into to the space behind long off.

And that was how the VCC returned to its winning ways after the Matfield Massacre.

Nominations for Man of the Match go to Ben for batting and bowling impeccably, Rick for dragging us over the line, Don for his Great Hands, Jonty for what was a truly match winning innings and Saint for walking the Weald and finding this most wonderful of settings. The eventual winner is Aussie Steve for a charming but deadly opening spell and for umpiring nerves of steel at the end.

The Cobra Cup retained !

The inaugural match of the Cobra Cup, celebrating cricket at its most eccentric, took place between the VCC and Hawridge & Cholesbury CC on a warm Sunday afternoon in the Bucks countryside.

The trophy itself is not quite as small or subtle as the ashes urn but will surely someday be as valuable (maybe only while the batteries last to power the flashing blue snake eyes). Over breakfast Jonty regaled the team with stories of nights out with “Rooky” before leading a slightly wayward convoy (suffering flashbacks?) to Hawridge armed with the immaculately crafted and completely unique piece of silverware (many thanks to Max and his friend Matt for the design/construction effort).

12 of VCC’s finest made the trip accompanied by various wives, sons, daughters and daughter’s boyfriends. With a 12 a side 40 over match agreed and the toss lost the VCC took the field. H & C have a long established tradition of drawing lots for the batting order and were made to pay when Aussie Steve took a wicket in just the second over with his first ball. It was of a perfect line, drawing an edge, and Max completed an excellent catch behind the stumps. Rick at the other end was having less success but H & C weren’t getting away.

Four overs later and the second opener fell to Flew bowled – 15-2 and the VCC very much in charge. Next up was our youthful destroyer Oscar who once again moved the ball prodigiously in the air, buoyed by extortions to “visualise” from Daddy Darko. From the pavilion end there was the welcome return of Nicey, bowling with deceptive flight, he lured the stubborn H & C number 3 into a rash shot and cleaned him up.

Oscar, meanwhile, was bowling a tighter and tighter line and getting great swing. It was only a matter of time before he struck bowling the number 4 for 25. With both Oscar and Nicey bowling well, H & C were struggling to make any sort of impact with the bat and at the half way mark the VCC had restricted them to 70 for 4. From square on it was difficult to judge the amount that Oscar was swinging the ball but from all accounts it was moving a mile. Nicey too was giving a fine demonstration of spin bowling on a wicket that wasn’t taking much turn. He was getting it to loop and dip, making scoring tough for the batsmen. There had been a couple of chances put down but it was great bowling from the VCC.

Next up the man after whom the trophy is named, the Cobra. To a chorus of hissing Tim served up the sort of bowling that has made him famous around the world and was rewarded in his second over by bowling the dangerous number 5. It was a Cobra classic: slow (despite Tim’s assertion that it was his “quicker one”), tempting and in the end all too good for the batsman. The union were attacking from both ends (not uncommon, especially at H & C) with the only other internationally famous VCC player “Lethal Weapon”. With a benign pitch and the H & C stars batting, the Cobra did leak a few runs and so on came the “Adelady” Nicole. She ignored the rather patronising umpire who introduced her as “right arm over, 6 balls to come…. at least” – he’d clearly not seen the metronomic Nicole at work in the nets – and emulated her hero Steve Waugh by bowling a wicket to wicket line. She struck in her second over when the Cobra, clearly determined to retain the trophy, took the first of two excellent catches. The batsman played forward and the popped the ball into the covers where, with serpentine strike, Tim dove forward to make a tricky catch. Credit must go to Capt’n Ben for superb field placing.

Next up it was Hurdo’s turn to be grateful Tim’s yogic suppleness as he leapt to his left at square leg to dismiss the H & C number 7 (once again Capt’n might take some of the credit): 148-7 off 31 overs. Despite the excellent bowling H & C’s big guns were batting and the runs were flowing. The last 9 overs conceded 60 odd runs with Don taking some punishment before responding with a wicket and Capt’n Ben bowling a tight last couple of overs. An excellent VCC fielding effort was topped off with a run out and H & C finished with what felt like a handy 216 -9.

Tea was delicious.

The chase got underway with Stocko and Don. The experienced pair quickly took to the bowling despite aggressive pace from one end. Stocko kept the score ticking over with some well-placed singles whilst Don found his stride. Soon the ball was fizzing across the turf with astonishing ferocity as both batsmen played their shots. Stocko departed bowled by the H & C quick for 9 but Don was playing some excellent cricket. He took on the quick, leaning gently back and climbing into his shots. With Capt’n Ben at the other end playing some surprisingly “straight” cuts the H & C bowling was being shredded. This was T20 stuff and Don moved brutally to 50 with a crashing four… and then something off the field clearly caught his eye: lying on the boundary, chatting happily with Don’s daughter Poppy was Kit, her boyfriend and a delightful lad.

Whether Don saw an inappropriately placed hand or a cheeky glance will forever be lost to history. What will remain was the crashing on drive that he smote towards the lad. Kit, oblivious to the danger, was still talking away with merry abandon when the ball sailed clean onto his noggin. The result: an almost instantaneous mirror image of a throbbing red cricket ball, replete with seam, appeared on Kit’s forehead.

Thankfully the young lad was ok with a bit of ice but the accident clearly troubled Don and he departed bowled for an awesome 71 off just 56 balls. As a postscript to the incident: the club wish Kit best of luck with his A-levels.

Amongst all the drama Ben had been batting with elegance and style. Punishing almost every ball, he’d moved on to his 50 off 44 balls. At Don’s departure the VCC were left 70 odd to win and the game was back on. Next in was Rick who took a liking to some of the slower bowling. The score rocketed on and the VCC closed in on the target. Within 7 overs the once competitive total was overhauled. Ben finished on 68 of 59 balls and Rick finished on 49 not out.

It was an excellent batting performance from Don and Ben – and in hindsight perhaps the VCC should have mixed up the batting a little more – but with the inaugural Cobra Cup at stake, and a seemingly challenging total, that was the way it was…

After the game there was a brief presentation ceremony. Simon of H & C CC presented VCC Captain Ben with the precious cup and history was made.

Man of the match must go to Don for a sublime innings, littered with moments of genuine skill and hefty physicality – just ask Kit.

Scorecard:

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X1 Un-Shackled Melodies
Eleven VCC journeys to victory, May 31st, 2009

Cap’n Mad
Eggs Benedict, comme d’habitude
And soixante-neuf runs on the horizon over the hills

Lord Oz
Vice, in all but appointment
Glowering, like a flickering seventies John Player Special super- king

El Horno da Crema
Twinkling, with mischievous relish
Strutting the boulevards of Belsize to brunch, al fresco in navy shorts

The Colonel
Brooding – and brilliantly breakfasting alone:
A heart of quiet tropical thunder prepares

Aussie Steve
Bearded, returns from the Red Centre
Pink wicket and Grey victim awaiting his new pace

And dearest Adelaide-y
Rocks up like a jewel with Riviera hair and shades
Failing to disguise the sporting self-doubt we have all felt, so many times

Hurdo International
Russian lover, Brazilian Tee and emanating Oriental guile
Eccentrically, all over his French toast and Canadian maple syrup

Maxim
A true man today
Caught in a private life crisis and coping stoically

Salmon
Leaping ever closer to manhood: Vampiretta-scarred but
Propelled toward victory with the effervescent wizardry of youth

Rob
A muscled, futuristic machine in burnished Currymen Grey
Powers him down grim, uncertain corridors of tarmac to his secret destiny

And I -
Lost and idiotically wondering ahead
To this day of giggling heroics, easy friendship and un-shackled fun.

The Saint – Bard No 2

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Chez Nous, 10.45, Currymen consuming Eggs Benedict and French Toast with maple syrup. Sun shining. Lethal had finished the Marathon marginally ahead of the legless ex-Para. Maxim was sporting a purple and brown blouson. We paid up, loaded the cars and headed for West Sussex. Wine country. And a new fixture, Lurgashall.

A mouth-watering fixture with a name like a mouthwash.Less than a hour and a half later we pulled up at a pocket handkerchief pitch bordered by picture-book cottages. Location from central casting. Quintessential. And what a line-up. Bristling with talent. And yet, on the back of six defeats, Madness badly needed a win. Walrus and Cobra had been spotted at Lords two days earlier, deep in conversation with VCC legend and Xiles skipper D. Hooper. Talk of a coup. We had to do it for our bi-curious environmentalist.

Lurgashall won the toss and inserted. The Horn and the Don strode out. The bowling not unfriendly, the boundaries short, the two pals put on 83 at 7 an over. A good start. Stocko reached 50 then was snaffled by a sharp catch at silly mid-off. The Don followed soon, caught sweeping for an engaging 34. The graceful Arthur, three weeks away from fatherhood, waved his wand to further potent effect. Has there been a more elegant wielder of willow in VCC history? Not for this fragrant correspondent. His Goweresque pulls to the leg, and effortless drives will linger long in the memory. Rob (26) and he (56) added another 80 or so, keeping up the swift run-rate, before being bowled and run-out respectively.

By now a wiry quick had joined the attack and The Beast and Madness began to gorge on the pie-chucker. The scoreboard continued to rattle. The skipper was run out for 18. Atif to the crease, his Paddington Bear gait belying a rich vein of form. The sponsor clubbed confidently through mid-wicket, his trademark giggle a joy to all. Max and Aamer couldn’t quite get going but young Oscar showed green shoots of class in his cameo innings as tea beckoned. The fact that VCC had surpassed the previous batting record of 288 in reaching the total of 299 was not lost on Madness. But who could blame the Oxford man’s wish to re-write the record books? Yes, “Lurgy” (as the home team describe themselves,) were peopled by mostly overweight men of a certain age, with their freckle-face children, but some of them had had trials with Sussex 40 years ago.

After a pleasant tea, with outstanding scones, cream and blackcurrant jam, the Currymen took to the field bristling with intent. The Tiger took the new ball in tandem with Oscar “Spunky” Ewing. The left-armed Young O was swinging the ball in devilishly to the Lurgy openers and soon took a plum LBW. Not long after Aamer got the other opener, Cameron, to edge into gully where Arturo took a low sharp catch.

Lurgashall were well behind the run-rate but Bristow, the No 3, began to compile a confident 76 against the Currymen attack. Aamer took out another by castling the South African number 4. Oscar completed a sublime spell of swing and guile, and one feels he could grow into a true VCC great in a few years.

Now Lethal came on first change with his disappointingly heterosexual run up yet still managed to get some turn out of the green early season strip, and Atif duly pouched a nick at first slip. With Bristow driving Hurdo and Hindo to all corners Madness’ thoughts turned to The Beast. As no doubt it had many times in the dorm at Radley. But then they were lonely, confused. Now there was less excuse. The ball before Ricko “The Beast” Barker was due to come on was a drifter from Nelson. Stockaldo spotted the dangerous Bristow out of the crease and took off the bails. Stumped. Suddenly Lurgashall had two teenagers at the crease. And The Beast charging in. It felt wrong. Madness’s normal sportsmanship appeared compromised by a crazed desire to force a victory, even if it meant unleashing the scary Barker at helmeted youngsters. Elders voiced disapproval. Rick came in off 3 paces but still bowled by far the quickest delivery of the game. In truth he is incapable of bowling slowly! The over ended.

Ben came to his senses and removed our feared strike bowler from the attack. As a touring team we must always put sportsmanship ahead of competitiveness. With Bristow gone it was now a matter of winkling out the last four batsmen in the 15 overs remaining. Angered by the Barker furore Ben arrowed in a superb throw from the pub boundary and the stumper took out the furniture with Thilston a yard short. 7 down with 14 overs left.

Nelson got one to turn and bowled the dangerous Wilson. Then Ben caught one off the recalled Hurdo. Now the Currymen encircled the Lurgy tail. Don leapt high to take a good catch at deep square leg. 10 overs left. Tick tick tick. 9 overs. 8 overs. In walked Hurdo again, a bit of grip and turn, the gnarled old sea-captain Sharp pulled, top edged, Stocko rolled over and clung on. All out for around 150. A terrific game in a blissful setting. Bravo Ben, Viva VCC……

The Bard of Belsize

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Onto the season proper after our various trials in the Barnes Badlands and on the Spanish coast. It was a sunny day and we were all assembled in the pub over looking the Leyhill green and remembering what village cricket is all about. We had 16 people up for this game and right up to the last minute people were clamouring to get in, with Tim’s nephew Samson making a last minute bid for the team…

We won the toss and elected to field, mindful of last season’s frustration at not being able to bowl out a stubborn set of Leyhill kids and old-timers. We opened with Aamer (Tigger) and the captain (due to lack of other bowlers). Aamer was off to a tight line straight away and frustration soon led to a wicket at the other end, the opener playing on off leg, bat, leg and then stumps. Their other opener continued at a measured pace, despite a number of VERY close LBW calls and was joined by a big hitting number 3.

They reached 40 from 10 overs and we introduced the marathon-man Hurdo. The breakthrough was immediate. Their number 3 was snaffled by a good catch by Jools at mid-wicket. The very next ball, a death ball from Hurdo got through the gate and bowled the number 4.

At the other end, Jools came on, replacing Aamer after an excellent 8 over spell of tight bowling. Jools struck twice, once with a sharp one-handed caught and bowled to dimiss a dangerous batsman and then a classic caught behind, well held by Andy (Dwarf Hammer). Hurdo claimed another caught at long off by Chris, with a catch in the hands, into the crotch and then trapped between the knees (80ish for 6).

The wickets were falling quickly now Max in his new role as all-rounder took his first ever VCC wicket LBW, after overcoming the Yips. In the next over our finest fielders, Worboys and Hurdo combined for a well taken run-out an they were 110 for 8. It was looking good for VCC when a youngster walked to the crease, however we still hadn’t dismissed the wily opener.

The Cobra and Nicole came on and despite tight lines couldn’t dislodge this pair. Runs didn’t come fast but there was gradual accumulation. We brought Hurdo and the Captain back for a few more overs and eventually Hurdo struck, bowling the youngster round his legs 160 for 9. Their captain walked in (last season’s tormentor) and the score reached 183 before Maxis wrapped up the innings bowling their opening batsmen for 93.

A great bowling effort, in good humour. Great bowling from Aamer, Jools Hurdo and Maxis and some fine fielding, specially from our debutant Samson.

A nice tea in the sunshine and we went about the chase. Jonty and Chris, hoping to continue his fine batting form from Manga. Ley Hill had a great pair of opening bowlers, both pacy and one swinging the ball a long way. Our openers coped valiantly, Jonty displaying some excellent flipper work and flicking a number of boundaries to leg, Chris pushing for well placed singles.

We reached 30 after 8 overs before they struck. An amazing inswinger which swung a mile before beating Jonty’s outstretched bat. Then at the other end two overs later, dismissing Chris with a fast bouncy one which didn’t bounce. 40 for 2 off 10. We then suffered two more losses in one over. The captain and Hurdo both departed LBW then bowled. 40 for 4 and struggling. This was made worse when Atif went for a big heave from the young child frustrator of their first innings and was caught.

Enter Maxis to joint Andy Dwarf Hammer, with our innings in some trouble. They started slowly and sensibly, ticking the run rate over with well judged shots and then slowly at first, but then in a crescendo of runs Maxis started to explode, passing, twenty, thirty and eventually his maiden fifty with a series of lusty blows.

Great batting and congratulations on joining the band of VCC fifty makers. 112 for 5 with plenty of time to bat – it started to look on. It was a drinks break which was our undoing. Dwarf Hammer, distracted, wafted at the first ball after drinks and his stumps were up-rooted. At the other end, Maxis also fell to the spinner with whom he’d been battling throughout his innings, going for one six too many, also bowled.

Enter Aamer and Jools, under instruction to play very sensibly. Jools heeded this advice for three balls then mis-hit a lofted off-drive into the hands of a gleeful mid-off. Enter young Samson, fresh from an impromptu net-session of training with the Cobra. 10 overs to go and a draw seemed a tricky prospect. Samson defended valiantly, he has a good eye, ticking the overs down, 7,6,5 until eventually (as his uncle has been known to) he took a dart at a bad ball and paddled to mid-wicket.

5 overs to go. Nicole the saviour? A crisp four and some lofted drives, 4,3,2 overs negotiated with Aamer batting valiantly at the other end, patiently taming the spinner. The final over fell to Nicole and was bowled by the quick bowler from the top of the innings. Two leaves and a sturdy defence, then a prod, an edge and a well taken catch at short gully. We avoided the draw by three balls. Leyhill win by 60 runs.

So, a really nice game. We could’ve won, it would’ve been nice to have got them out for less runs, but the win was on when Max was rampaging. Maxis is the clear man of the match for his first 50 and two wickets, but credit also to Samson for great fielding and valiant batting and to Hurdo for his top bowling. Onto the new fixture at Lurgershall.

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Be warned the following report is from memory only. The Gatting rebels took the score book with them on holiday!

On a glorious sunny day a new look VCC side took to Barnes common determined to show Barnes CC that the ‘real VCC’ (as Saint quickly dubbed us) could cause one of the upsets of the season. The stand in skipper, ably backed up by the experienced Cobra as vice, took to the field to toss in what proved to be the first of many defeats. “I think we’ll have a bat.” said the Barnes captain. “Bollocks!” quickly came my reply.

We had already lost a man late on Saturday, after Asif had to withdraw due to injury, and despite frantic recruitment on several fronts, we were about to take to the field in the midday sun with 10 men. “Still, at least it’s a small boundary.” I said to myself as I strapped on the keeping pads. This same small outfield would soon prove to be less than helpful.

The VCC made a bright start with the ‘beast like’ Atko bowling in tandem with the very impressive Ibrahim. In fact we made the first breakthrough as early as the forth over when Ibrahim caught a delicate edge from the Barnes opener with some delightful away swing, the catch taken comfortably by the captain. 15 for 1 off 4 overs. Was this the start of a remarkable VCC victory?

The answer unfortunately is no. Having kept Barnes at bay for the first 10 overs, with Atko keeping things tight at his end the number 3 batsmen began to let loose, hitting repeated boundaries including a number of sixes. We had chances on several occasions, with several catches going down, but by the time we made our second breakthrough things had already started to run away from us. With the other opening batsmen being caught at the boundary by Dan off Barney.

By the time drinks came at 20 overs the score was already pushing 200 with both batsmen scoring freely. With the troops seeking some inspiration I suggested that we started holding a few catches. To further aid this cause Barney’s flatmate Woody took the gloves.

Immediately we made two quick breakthroughs, with wickets from Aamer and Barney’s other flatmate Beechy both caught by the ever-impressive Atko.

And despite getting their centurion number 3 batsmen out, their second centurion was into his stride by then and he went on to get more than 120. The sixes and fours continued to flow (the short boundary proving less useful now) and by the time we had bowled our 35 overs, they had reached 354 off 35 overs. A colossal target.

Dan and Woody were sent in to get things going, and in the early stages we looked good, Dan striking a succession of fours. But when Dan missed the straight one, the wheels began to come off. Woody soon followed him and then Oliver was caught out having just played one of the nicest looking shots of the game.

Atko and Beechy steadied the ship and each put on scores in the mid twenties and it briefly looked as though we could make a game of it. But their dismissals soon after one another seemed to put an end to our slim chances, and though Saint Ibrahim and Aamer all stuck around for a while each playing some nice shots, the final few wickets fell or just a few runs. The last over saw us creep over the 100 runs mark before the captain let the straight one through and it was all over. 107 all out.

A big thanks to all that played, especially Barney, his three flatmates, Oliver and Dan who all stepped in to replace the absent VCC members. I’m sure you’ll agree that there was fun had by all, despite the largest crushing loss in VCC’s history.

Max Hind Captain
(Self appointed Captian for the day due to the absence of Ben Madden and many other VCC players touring with The VCC in La Manga, Spain)

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Taking to the field with what in the opinion of those present was possibly VCC’s strongest batting line up for may a year, we faced a weakened Churt side. However not always has this heralded a positive result.

With toss won we decided to bat. Stocko and Don opened up and VCC were on their way. Stocko’s form clearly arriving on schedule and Don finding some lost form pushed and then accelerated the score into the 40’s until Don was trapped in front for a well constructed 19. Enter “head of the Exiles” Mr Hooper in perhaps an estranged No3 position. The Exile soon found boundaries with regularity and with Stocko (Spitroast a distant past) VCC climbed quickly into the 80’s before “The Toot” was tooted attempting to push the score on for an excellent opening 31.

The Vice, a man on a mission and surprisingly out of touch, joined Dave in what was to be a punishing partnership against Churt, who had turned to mainly spin on a hard but true wicket.

Ric raced into the 40’s and with Dave showing a keenness to keep pace both past 50 for the second time this season before “The Exile” was trapped leg before, departing the field to his customary “ thought it was going down leg” viewpoint . An excellent 52 however to his name.

Ric moved swiftly to 68 before skying one and being very well caught by Churt for an admirable 68. VCC now past 180 – 4! Enter the return of Tom Mayhew and with Ben “Madness” at the crease the score continued to speed on. Past 200 and more….boundaries, until Ben’s stumps were rattled for a swift 24. The skipper joined Tom and Tom clearly unaware of my running skills, first sent a six back over my head, and then next ball was dropped, ran…..I couldn’t ….much to Tom’s surprise, so a welcome return to VCC ended for Tom on 23 with VCC now on 240 – 6 and with three overs remaining Saint came to the crease with strict orders not to play himself in. With cry’s of “on my call” creating much hilarity both on and off the field, I at last taught Saint the art of running in “Stocko” style, despite being met with resistance ! Not withstanding we managed in 3 overs to add another 29 runs, before Saint was polished off with three balls to go for a “ well run 9”.

Enter “the Charmer” who enjoyed his brief stay of 3 balls ending with a flourishing 4.

Record books were checked over and the final score of 270 – 7 may or may not be VCC’s highest score… To be confirmed

Tea was taken in an exquisite Village Hall,

With 270 on the board and a 40 overs match agreed we opened with Chris Hurd and Shah.

Churt from the start found difficulty in hitting off the square and Chris soon broke the partnership with a blinding catch by Ben in the covers. Shah then broke through when Ben again held on to a smart catch and at 23 – 2 Churt were “hurting”. Shah again broke through and when Churt”s Aussie batsman had his middle stump knocked over by a beauty from Shah second ball, cries from Stocko behind the stumps of “ So this is the death of Australian cricket” echoed around Surrey. 41 – 4 and Churt nowhere to go!

Tom Mayhew took over from an excellent spell by Chris H, and picked a wicket in his second over when Ben again took a quite stunning catch at cover holding on eventually to a full blooded strike. His 3rd catch!

Shah with his haul of 3 wickets, was replaced by Saint and with customary guile and flight mesmerised the Churt batsman. Stocko waiting still for one to “Straighten”. Saint went though 7 well executed overs with eventually the classic “Stocko – saint” stumping plan coming to the fore.

Churt were now in a hopless position and with Ben entering the attack matters got worse for them with yet another catch by Ben off his own bowling. T wo more wicket later and a final flourish by Fareed showing his full range of talents with a variety of spin not seen in Surrey before, the Churt innings closed on 125.

Records fell!

A massive win by 145 runs... VCC’s highest winning margin.

Ben joining a band of celebrities with 4 outfield catches!

Great all round fielding display again.

A major thank you to Tom Mayhew for his all-round contribution and to Shah, Chris H, Saint, Ben ( again !) for producing quality bowling. Fareed for his last gasp bowling school!

On the batting front…it proved that when all are in form VCC are formidable opposition. A thank you to Churt who play the game in great spirit. ...To quote the Bard of Toot, “This may be the death of Australian cricket!”

Extras: 26

Total: 270 – 7

Mo M... Tough call but Ben for his well struck and unselfish 24, 4 brilliant catches and 3 wickets….He is becoming super human!

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