Green Shoots amidst the Showers
We gathered on Sunday for the 10th Andy Goodale memorial match, in a determined state of mind given that the Rascals hadn't laid hands on the trophy since 2008. Our chairman and the junior groundsman/tractor driver had spent the morning preparing the arena for play in light drizzle so it was always going to be a close run thing as to whether we even played but the gods were with us and all was well. In fact, the real Gods were playing at the Somme festival near Reading the day before and our skipper arrived full of the joys of using Boris Johnson's shiny olympic transport network to get there. That really sounded good fun. Anyway, gang mowing in light drizzle is a depressing task but I imagine nothing compared to playing to a handful of drenched fans in a muddy bog somewhere north of london. True dedication lads.
The Bell served us promptly and we also started right on time at 3.15. Neilo won the toss and inserted the opposition who were then clinically dismembered over the next hour and a half. And that clinical dismemberment included at least 3 dropped catches and several chances to first slip which just went past. Teddy was at first slip and I think we can safely blame the huge lunch of potted shrimps on toast washed down with industrial quantities of lager that had been consumed in haste over a couple of hours at the pub beforehand.
Ned G took 3 for very few, just pipping Teddy who took 3 for a few more than Ned. Interestingly, Eddy was sure Ned had only taken two wickets until proper due diligence was performed after the match. All bowled well in admittedly helpful conditions and we rolled them over for 65. Their only batsmen who stayed any length of time at all was Matthew Roberts who shouts a lot when he bats.
And Toby caught a blinder. And Ant was brilliantly tireless. And Jamie Mackwood sealed a very long term contract to be our wicketkeeper for the next 20 years or so. Very good hands young man.
Tea, of the sublime variety, was taken whilst Burwash, in sight and 4 miles away, received the mother of all soakings which we were lucky to miss. I love those coronation chicken sarnies but not as much as Skills sadly. Bet there were none left.
Neilo changed the usual batting order and took the first ball himself, whereupon he had to fend off two overs of complete dross from Nigel. Except for one ball that bowled him. Phil, his partner, continued the good work with Jamie Mackwood until his demise. As I walked out, Phil said it was like shooting fish in a barrel out there so I took him at his word and was out second ball for nought. Kit came and went too (Ross nos 4 and 5 for 1 run in total. Sorry about that). PK joined Jamie M and saw us home with about 75 overs to spare. And Skills' new "average preserving tactic" was to umpire from start to finish. Does that mean it stays the same I wonder??
All in all a thoroughly professional performance from the team to extend our unbeaten run to 3 games. Let's just cancel the rest of em shall we? On the sidelines, as we were chasing down this gargantuan total, we were entertained royally with particular mention of a dog fight, which the skipper ended with an immaculate left boot to the hind quarters. He's clearly done that before at home!!
After the game we retired to the Bull and I think most of the team are still there waiting for their first pint. The bat that serves as the trophy was returned to our tender care for the next year and our skipper gave a long and involved victory speech that was much appreciated by all who were present and lucky enough to witness.
Green shoots of youth and promise all over the pitch. A vision of the future as we all get older and continue to drink and smoke too much, both the night before and on the morning of the game. Bad habits never die.
Floreat Rasculium pro nobis nostram dominus aureleas. (Look it up, as it really sums us up)
P. Ross
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