Rascal's v's The East India Company

144 never seemed enough, and funnily enough, it wasn't. There was a moment in their innings when they were on 76 for 7, that your Rascal's hopes were up. But it was not to be. Hey ho, 3 played and not a victory in sight. There is always the Kicking Donkey in a couple of weeks?

Mayfield v's The Rascals

Having posted 253 you would have thought we had a chance. But it was not to be. With rather a lot of ease (and 2 South Africans who I suspect were playing slightly outside their pay grade) they sailed serenely past. Damn!

Rascal's v's Grannies

First game of the season and the Grannies set a near impossible task (thanks to a Gardiner-Hill century) of 238. But the Rapscallions salvaged some honour with their reply of 206. The ground won me thinks?

It never rains at Stonegate (Rascals v's Moose part 2)

For the last match of the season we gathered under stormy skies on Sunday to play the Moose. The key issue for the day, apart from working out how to buy a drink at the Bull later, was deciding what format of game was to be played. It is worth bearing in mind that there was universal agreement amongst the weather forecasting community that it would start to piss down from 4ish and not stop.

 

Ed "Michael Fish" Skills was the dissenting voice. It never rains at Stonegate he entoned, like a slightly deranged member of the flat earth society, and we could easily get in a proper game. 50 overs a side easily. Weather websites are shit, the BBC hasn't got a clue and the fact that the sky was already heavy, grey and leaden with moisture was simply a figment of everyone elses imagination. It was a bit like being in the crowd at the appearance of Our Lady at Fatima in 1917 and saying "that's just a peasant bird trying to get home". " No, it was Our Lady", replied thirty thousand faithful people.

 

Anyway, as players gathered at Oneish, already adorned by at least two sweaters and a Kagool, it was decided to go for a twenty twenty match to try and slip one in before it really starts to rain.

 

Ed "Bill Giles" Skills went along with this startling piece of collective logic, lost the toss, and we were in the field. John Kettley took the gloves, as jamie m was taken ill, and apart from a dropped catch, a huge six and a wicket, nothing much happened in the first over. The Moose batted in a manner more fitting of a 5 over slog and wickets fell, without huge amounts of runs being scored. Felix K, Fred K, Paul K (so many bloody Keelings), Dave Ansell and Seb Phillips all strived magnificently but it was the arrival of Toby Clifton which swung the innings our way. Remarkable stats of 4 overs, 4 wickets for 8 runs, including a six, and two hattrick balls, ensued. Not bad for a young lad, just starting out on his cricketing career. Good luck Tobes with the winter training programme too.

 

The Moose ended up on 111 from their twenty overs and I would add my hearty congrats to Fred Talbot behind the stumps for both his keeping and captaincy. Its just such a shame he is so crap at his day job, namely forecasting the weather.

 

Tea was to be taken at the end of the game, such was the intensity of the grey clouds by this stage, but our captain, Peter Cockcroft, was still of the view that we should have batted on for another 30 overs. Oh well. Too late now. We gotta bat,

 

Ross opened with Ansell and was soon ducking and diving out of the way of some hostile opening bowling from Ogden Jr and a very tall, strong muscley guy with black hair. Ansell went early, but Ross and PK added 40 odd. They both went around the 50 mark and it was left to Seb Phillips and Felix K to steer us home with about 4 overs to spare.

 

A fine victory over a very useful, young Moose team. A fine tea followed, thanks to Carole and Mark, and all was well.

 

By this stage the widely forecast rain had now arrived and one would have expected our skipper, Ian McCaskill, to now accept that the decision to play a short format was an inspired piece of visionary thinking. But no. Penny Tranter wanted to wait for the shower to pass and then play the other half!! But by this stage, Fish's weather forecasting skills had been so widely discounted, that everyone just left and went straight to the pub...... Where we stayed for a while, watching the driving rain lash down and the puddles become biblical rivers of life giving fluid.

 

As we swam to our cars to attempt the highly risky journey home across the flooded plains of south east england, Teddy could be heard telling May that it never rains at Stonegate and why the hell did we have to mess around with the long accepted format of cricket we all know and love.

 

Thank you to everyone who has made this such a good and enjoyable season and a particularly honourable mention to Toby Mynott who played 4 times and didn't bat or bowl once. Sorry Tobes.

 

Yours, from behind sandbags, Paul Rx

Rascal's v's Moose

Decision taken to shorten overs due to threat of rain (not a happy skipper), Moose win toss and reach 111 for their 20 overs. Rascals romp home to a stunning victory with overs to spare. Full report to follow shortly (Ross?). 

 

(PK's pitchside report)

 

Rascals vs Moose. 15th Sept 2013. Chairman's Match Report

 

Well who'd of Adam and Eved it.  We actually got a game in, on what was probably, for most of the Country, one of the most inclement days in months.

 

It started early, with Skipper Teddy and myself getting to grips with the foibles of my latest purchase, the Ransomes strip mower.  More levers, switches and adjustment screws haven't been seen on a contraption since the days of Heath Robinson. Still, it looks a peach and shall be tamed by next season.

 

In view of the forecast Armageddon at 4.35pm, we started early (eventually 1.30pm), meaning that for the first time in recent memory, the Chairman had to forgo his pre-contest imbibition. Now there are conflicting repercussions with this scenario. Whilst it made a bizarre and welcome change not to have to disrupt the game on numerous occasions with boundary urinations, it did mean the The Chairman had to nurse his hangover all throughout the afternoon, until Guinness relief after the game. Pays yer money…….

 

The earliest conundrum of the day was proffered by the dilemma of what format of game to be played. Despite the best advice of the Met Office, Teddy was convinced that it wasn't going to rain until 7.00pm and that undertaking his nemesis, a 20/20 game, was simply out of the question. However, in the face of considerable opposition, he agreed that the shorter format was perhaps acceptable, as long as it didn't become a habit. He promptly went out and lost the toss. We were to take to the field.

 

With the first six of the game splatted off Felix Keeling in the first over, we were a feared that a young fit looking Moose (surely there's a word for that) were going gallop away and post a scorcher. However, when The Rascals are good, they are very, very good (then they go down on Alice - I digress. Not only that, but I am renown for confusing my children's literature. Was it Christopher Robin who went down on Alice at the teddy bears' picnic or Noddy. So little time, so much to know!). Any road, OMG we were so like well tight in the field. Felix hoisted his hosiery and took three wickets in his four designated overs. Debutantes Dave Ansell and Seb Phillips, and PK bowled tightly. Then Clifton Major was thrown the ball. He dismissed a brace of Hinchliffes with his first two balls and a couple of overs later just missed out on a second hat trick. Three overs, 18 runs and four wickets. Huzzah for suspension bridges all over the world. Fred Keeling completed the bowling line up, despite cracking his knee after a most impressive scamper and tumble on the boundary. We were celestial and theophoric in the field and nearly skittled them all. Moose: Nelson after 20.

 

'Quick turn around, the rain's coming'

 

Teddy, 'Of course it's not'

 

In the meantime Moose had lost one player, J. Burke, whose Father in Law was about to die! In the absence of impending new life, the best reason I have encountered for match abandonment. Our condolences......

 

Dave Ansell, who lives so close of the ground that a lusty blow could shatter his windows, opened up with Rossco. A zippy young Ogden was twice ‘no balled’ by eagle-eyed umpire Skilbeck in the opening over. However, Dave, facing the fourth ball of the innings, cut the ball to the tallest man on the pitch at point, who plucked the ball from about 15 foot in the air. 2 for I...... Oh dear. Ships, however, are made to be steadied, and was it ever thus. Rossco and PK put on a healthy 45 before Ross was bowled going for the heave-ho. Seb Phillips (oh what a pretty bat!) took his stead but lost his partner PK four runs later. In comes Felix Keeling. With the rain clouds looming, a 65 run partnership and some corking batting saw us home to a fine victory. Huzzah for The Rascals and for Keelings (even if some of them have small heads).

 

As if my magic, the heavens opened (Teddy, ' No they didn't) almost immediately after the players left the field for a monumental tea.  We heartily thank and praise Mrs Chairman and May! Tea eaten and cleared up, washing up done and pavilion tidied, we retired to The Bull to make us burly cheer.

 

Last match fellas. Well done all for a lovely season, played in great spirit, with a healthy tally of good results.

 

Man of the match : Toby Clifton for his belting three overs.

Welcome : Dave Ansell and Seb Phillips (sprog due in two weeks - huzzah!)

Pariah of the Match : Paul Keeling (normal sized head), for being caught - at 3.30pm – half-inching a flap jack.

 

What fun we have. Let's carry the enthusiasm though till next season.

 

Rascals golf day anyone?

Rascals v Northiam aka The Skilbeck Memorial Match

A typical day with the Rascals full of the usual casual, quirky vignettes. But where to start? Well the pub of course where half the Rascals side played the usual game of how late can we be without the opposition packing the teas up and heading home. So it was the usual frantic moment of being asked to bat that had us searching for an opener (bat and tin), kit, chaffing cream, foot powder, whites, lighter, cigarettes etc.

An echo reverberated round the musty changing room. Where's Ed? Paul Ross blushed like a virgin schoolgirl. Intrigue mounted as he limply reported that like a good catholic boy he had taken a vow of silence on the subject. It was decided that it was only fair if we were given three guesses. Was he re-cataloging his collection of pre war bus tickets? No. Had he (again) got waylaid in the Croydon and Orpington Gay Pride March? Er no. Then came a real left field question. Was he playing cricket for another team? Ross cracked faster than a peanut. His tortured face said it all. There was a turncoat at the very top of the organisation. Tinker Tailor Soldier Skilbeck. Ed's brazen ambition had been turned by a better wicket. For once in a Rascals changing room was silent....nay mournful.

So our gallant openers of Drew and PK took to the field on a fine breezy day to face Northiam's finest. Their young opening bowlers directional ability had clearly been re-calibrated by Bomber Command. Their early spell had everyone nervous - first slip, gully, the umpire at point. No one was safe except the batsmen who desperately lunged and swatted as best they could until rather surprisingly the little one offered a simple catch to a surprised yet delighted fielder. Enter Desoutter who expended vast quantities of energy swotting at air. However new bowlers meant better lines and improved scoring opportunities and both started to tuck in and began to look settled and assured. There were some lusty blows including one from Desoutter which NASA would have been proud of. As one fielder quipped " if my Sky dish doesn't work tonight I'm sending you the bill".

And so the two of us took the tally to 135 when, having given Northiam plenty of opportunity, Will finally overstretched and was stumped. Recognising we had wickets to spare and 20 minutes to go the batsmen came in with intention. Firstly Georgies squeeze James, whose first shot was an admirable attempt at a Dilshan. Phillip Richardson faced five balls for an explosive 9. Then came Lund and boy did he hit the ball hard and far. When he fell the the Chairman stepped in took over with a quick contribution before falling foul of the thorny issue of time. As we debated as to how rude it would be to bat on (timed game) after tea, we rightly declared on 215. It felt enough. How wrong we were.

(The Guinness Scandal involved Paul Ross and no one else. A rough precis would be as follows: people are invited to invest in a drinks fund. Money is proffered by thirsty investors. the fund manager goes and buys refreshments. Surplus funds disappear and the fund manager drinks the assets. They never learn do they! Note to all - keep your money and your Guinness under the bed.)

With Georgie Beattie having turning her hand to scoring, we took to the field with Fred and James opening. Both struggled to find line and length and within a few over Northiam had close to 50 runs on the board. But no matter we were taking wickets. First James surprised an opening bat who spooned the ball well above his head. Unclear as to where the ball was he advanced towards the other end only to see James grab the ball on the bounce and run him out.

However bats two and three stood firm and savaged any bowling an inch long or short. In fact they gave little to no chances to bowlers or fielders. In the end they made our score of 215 look embarrassingly light as they polished off the total with 8 overs to spare.

It was certainly one of those games where you don't quite know how you lost. In essence we were mugged and left dazed and disorientated. But any game that produces 430 odd runs at 6 per over cannot be bad or devoid of amusement.

We drowned our sorrows at the Rose and Crown: pleased be warned there is a new bitter called Hastings Handmaid, which I fear they left the maid in for too long.

And so as the Courts Marshall is assembled to hear the trials of Ed Philby and the Guinness One, presided over by Judge "Hang 'em High  Beattie" our thoughts turned to what Neilo would have made of it all, then again we might still have been playing at midnight! 

Notable performances :

Rascals -T. Desoutter  69, W. Drew 60
Northiam - J. Mackenzie 102 n/o, F. Thompson 57 n/o

Faithfully submitted, T. Desoutter

The Return of the Tuna Sandwich or How we whipped the Bashers.

Good morning from a sunny London. I have failed in my duty to provide a match report for the Canbashers match earlier in July. So very late and with pretty much everyone on holiday and miles away from cricket, here it is:

The art of a good tuna sandwich is the subtle mix of salad cream, mayonnaise, pepper and lemon juice as well as crisp cucumber to add some bite to the experience. However, our beloved chairman, who seems to make all the teas nowadays, loathes tuna with extreme prejudice. He can't stand the stuff and would no more make tuna sandwiches than burn the pavilion down for a massive insurance payout. In fact, that's a bloody good idea but I guess, not very sensible to discuss criminal insurance fraud on email to hundreds of cricketers.

 

The absolutely splendid teas we are treated to have no tuna sandwiches, ever. Tuna is a fish never to be seen dead on the tea tables.

 

For a reason I can't remember, Marko couldn't make the bashers match so it was down to me to prepare the ground, make tea and sweep the floor of the pavilion with a broom up my arse, all at the same time. Brilliantly, it did give me the opportunity to re-introduce tuna on to the menu, knowing that it could be served alongside other sandwiches without offending anyone.

 

And when tea came, there they were. Some brown, some white but definitely full of tuna. They were fucking delicious.

 

The match was a clear victory to us. We batted first, got 200 and bowled out the Bashers for about 170. I have no individual stats to hand, but I do recall a lovely innings of 70 odd from Jamie mackwood.

 

See you in September to continue the longest run of unbeaten games since we last did it.

 

Happy hols - Rosco