Rascals v's Chelsea Arts Club

 

The day seemed not to be starting all that well; the forecast was for weather of biblical proportions from 1 pm.  Arriving at the Bell to find that a full rehearsal for the trooping of the colours was underway and the shocking yellow orb was burning in the sky in a way that we Brits have become entirely unaccustomed to, rather raised my spirits!  This was dampened again by the news that Dale Steyn was playing for the opposition and, due to a total lapse of basic bodily functions, the Rascals Executive Committee (Ed) had offered the Farts a timed game with no limit on the bowlers.  What had got into them?  Mr Raikes, a late addition to our team, who had started the day professing a level of expertise at bowling that had never before been seen by the Rascals, began to retract all prior statements and claim that he was, in fact, actually of the female persuasion and was only having us on.  A true Rascal then? 

A 2.30 start seemed unlikely as 70% of the opposition were stuck in a London car park aka the M25 and looked unlikely to join us until the evening pub session.  This put the fully formed Rascal team into a dilemma; should we a) drink more beer or b) force the Farts to play with 4 people.  After much discussion a brilliant and cunning plan was set upon.  We would turn the match into an overs game, drink more beer AND get them to play with a diminished team.  We did though allow that they could bat first even without a traditional tossing of some legal tender in the middle of the square.

Around about 3.00 we do find ourselves at the pitch, looking out at the square, wondering if Noah has kindly left a boat for us to board.  Mike & Russell though look kindly down on the rag tag bunch that call themselves Rascals, parted the clouds and pushed the extraordinary yellow ball (any suggestions as to what it was, gratefully received) back into pole position in the sky.

3.30 and the game is underway.  The Farts set about their inning with gusto.  Early doors there were some pretty poor displays of fielding (nuff said), but it has to be conceded that their team contained some pretty natural hitters.  A bright spark at the end was provided by Mr Raikes who proved himself a more than useful bowler who we might hope to get more than 2 overs out of sometime in the future?  Raikes 2 wickets, PK 2 and Hamish 1 saw the Farts close their 30 overs out at 233 runs for 5 wickets.  Mere bagatelle the Rascals cried (ho, ho)!

 

 

A simply awesome tea was provided by the Chair's wife, ably helped by Van, a rare a wondrous sight at the pitch these days.  Thankfully the truly excellent tea was prolonged by another monsoon being unleashed by the heavens.  Much ‘told you so’ from Ross aka Cassandra, but play did resume shortly although mutterings about the light had already started.  Ross and Drew took the field.  Amazingly, shockingly and against all predictions Dale Steyn did not open the bowling, instead we had to take on the aggressive and accurate pace bowling of Diago the Dreadful.  As it turns out they were saving Dale for the 2^nd over.  Even more extraordinary, all the videos we had been watching in the build up to the game proved false, he is clearly injured!  Ross and Drew went on to knock up 75 odd runs before Ross finally succumbed to an Andersonesque ball (and seriously problematic light conditions) on 28.  By the time we had reach 83 the light had become so bad that we might as well have been playing a charity blind match.  Added to this the rain was beginning to fall pretty hard again and it was decided that the delights of the smoking room at the Bull were more enticing than the game.  It was duly abandoned.

Who out there understands the Gordian knot that is Duckworth Lewis?  They reached 233 for 5 after 30 overs, we were on 83 for 1 after 13.3, surely we won?  Whatever the weather, we repaired to the aforementioned smoking room and debated this and other deeply philosophical matters, like is the service better at the Bull or the Bell and how to avoid the M25 when returning to London.

Anyway a great day.  Well captained Captain, well chaired Chair, great strip Stripper and well done Ross for beating extras to be top run scorer for us!  Oh, and we miss you Nielo, come back soon.

PK

Rascals v's Canbashers

We won again! This is turning into a bit of 'roll' thingy! Huzzar!!

Skills Commented:

Great innings from Jamie M (12th man!), Super bowling from Kit, with a very cool catch from Hamish M off his bowling, and some sharp fielding from Harry T. The younger Rascals had a great day. Just need to get Fred K on the pitch, just not umpiring when a bit overly relaxed, so to speak.

Great win, one and all.

 

The Rascals vs The Valley of Love July 6th 2013

Sadly this Saturday was yet another clash with various sports days/prize-givings etc.  As a result there were only 4 Sussex/Kent Rascals, with the addition, of course, of The Treasurer.  Jim had to rope in a few locals as well as his eldest Tom.  However, we were blessed with a belter of day from start to finish.

Whatever was to transpire later, The Rascals won the pub entrenchment cup, being the first to arrange in any numbers.  Philip Richardson, who had sneezed earlier in the week and put his back out, nobly made his way down from London by train to attend to the score book and with Fred and Felix Keeling present it felt very much like a regular turnout at the Bell/Bull.

Amazingly we all managed to get to the delightful Linkenholt pitch by 2.30pm and were under way by a tad after 3.00pm.  With no Neilo (in Croatia filming Feast of Boobs) or Teddy (three line whip family ‘do’) it fell upon a somewhat baffled Chairman to guide the Rascals.  This entailed swatting up on, not only the names of the all the fielding positions, but also the names of those whom Jim had kindly sourced to fill the side.  I now understand the headaches that are associated with captaincy, which appear to induced by a great deal of maths and memory.  The toss was at least one decision I did not have to make, as it was deemed appropriate, due to some late VoL members (sports days/prizegivings), that we fielded first.  Despite the two Keeling’s enthusiasm as opening bowlers, and the loss of the VoL opener with the total on 12, it soon became clear that the taking of further wickets and stemming the run rate was going to prove hard (some dropped catches not assisting). Batsmen numbers 2, 3 and 4 duly retired having reached 50 (18 fours and 6 sixes) and by the time the innings had been reduced to 28 overs from the original 30 (playing havoc with my bowling strategy and increasing my mathematical angst) The Valley had posted a total of 225! Bugger was it hot too………

A jolly good tea (splendid cakes) was washed down with very welcome cold beers (and tea) and it wasn’t long before Jamie Carter and Alec Cramsie took to the crease.  Unfortunately, after six overs we were three down with only 20 on the board.  Despite everyone scoring a few runs (except Ant…..sorry Ant!) and a dogged stand by Felix Keeling, the ‘hill to climb’ was overwhelming and we found ourselves all out for 146 with three overs to spare.  Not the most auspicious skippering debut…….

There is no doubt that The Valley have some very good cricketers, so, Rascals, next year, we need to step up to the mark. Caaan you Dig it?

Huge thanks must go to the supremely generous Ruherfords for putting on yet another super evening where we all wanted for naught

Your Chairman

The 16TH Mike Martin Memorial Match

After the gloom and mizzle of Friday, we were blessed with a glorious day for this most splendid of annual shambles.  Clashes with Glastonbury and various school sports/prize days meant we were perhaps not the overflowing cornucopia of Rascals of yore but, nevertheless, there was a fine showing of both old faces and new.  The day was made extra special by the presence of Jennet, all the way from Edinburgh, Andy Hobsbawm mit kids and Katie Berger, sporting latest fella.

Any plans that the foolish chairman/groundsman/secretary/bankroller/chef might have had about eating at 1.15pm, were firmly quashed, as, by 12.30, the ground still resembled Death Valley, with only the two Beattie’s sheltering from the cruel sun in their canvas-sided wagon, en route to a new life in California. But, as ever, in dribs and drabs, players and guests arrived, and by 1.30 I felt it safe to slam in the lamb.  By this time Mr. Grigson already had had to return home once after leaving a bag full of valuables in his driveway (…it never rains…).  This was not only most grievous for him, but also deprived us all of the annual carnival that is the Grigson Gazebo Erection Spectacular.  Tim’s rather anodyne (in comparison) ‘pop-up’ jobbie – for which we thank him – took it’s stead.

It should be noted that the we received word, at about midday, that Teddy, skipper of the side that bears his name, was on the Edgware Road, stuck behind a Gay Pride march.  The jury is out as to whether it is considered more fortuitous to be stuck behind or in front of a Gay Pride march.  By 1.30pm he had made it to Clapham Common where he was able to put into practice all that was learnt in the previous hour and a half. Sadly he was inevitably destined to miss out on his grub (I did save some for him).

Lunch, including Clifton salad (a bit like Caesar but with more suspension – arrgghh!) and Eton Mess, was considered a succes by all, and by 3.30 there was runour afoot of imminent cricket.  With still no Teddy it was decided by Club Captain Neilo that I should skipper the Skilbeck XI until such time as he arrived.  I happily accepted, not knowing the tsumani of decisions that was only five minutes away.  Neilo and I tossed on the square (pre-match traditional display put on for the ladies) which I won and decided to chase.  Once back at the pavilion I had already forgotten what ‘to chase’ meant, and had to be reminded on a number of occasions whether the Skilbecks were batting or in the field.

A twenty five over match duly got underway by about 4.00pm, with Ross and Richardson opeing for the Grigsons. Luckily, Teddy turned up after only a couple of overs (and a 4½ hour drive), thus lifting the miasma of flux that beleagered the Chairman’s decision making processes. R & R moved along nicely until Paul smacked hard a ball which was very well caught by Mick Coyle at extra cover.  A brace of Cliftons were fairly hastily dispatched (a fine stumping by Will Drew off Will Lund, and an excellent ‘bowled’ by the 12 year old spinner Angus Balfour – get the contract signed!).

 

This brought in Kit Ross to join Phillip who, all the while, had been steadily piling on the runs (and spectacularly missing fielders with Angel-raping hooks and shanks) and soon had to retire with a splendid 26.  Kit, sometime later, followed suit with an admirable 28, having been aided by Neilo and Neil McIndoe, who achieved 23 and 18 respectively. Denning at No 8 scored a career-defining 9 before being caught out.  Tim Prrke and Freddie McIndoe then ran out of time without losing their wickets, with the score on 137.  It should be noted at this stage that, with score book infront of me, the Grigson XI appear to have been allowed 26 overs. To whom we allot blame shall for ever remain a mystery.

Stand out performances with the ball being Will Lund, 2 for 12, and young (12y/o) Angus, 2 for 16.

Oondles of lovely cakes were then devoured (remember no sarnies at the MMMM) and a quick turn around saw The Chairman (!!!) and Will Drew opeining the batting for the Skilbecks. My skipper had issued me with strict instructions to score 30 (the maximum possible with a 25 run retirement quota) but not too long later I was apologising to him having retired at 28.  Will, however, was not to be undercooked and, having held back runs whilst on 24, smacked a fine six and retired on 30.  This opening partnership set up a really good base for the rest of the side and, despite Tarqs, Angus Balfour and Robin going fairly cheaply, Nick Cox and Teddy dug in and scored freely; Nick retiring  on 26 (two sixes) and Teddy, supported by Mick Coyle, seeing us through to vitcory with his own 24 n/o and with 7 overs in hand.

 

 

Performance in the field was championed, emphatically, by Kit Ross who was not only the only bowler to achieve a maiden (two of the them) but two two wickets and conceded only two runs.  Together with his batting performance of 28 retired, this would have ensured Man of the Match status, should such a thing have existed. Very well done that man!

A thoroughly excellent session in the Bell ensued, where there was not one moan about bar staff, and we all shared Toby’s Scotch egg, after hiding it.  Jen presented the cup to Teddy and we all toasted everything and everyone.

 

Huzzah foir The Rascals. A thoroughly lovely day………….

 

 

The Chairman

Treatise on the Current Predicament of the Cricketing Athletic Support

Now I wouldn't deign to boast of besporting above average volume of tackle – although it does appear that the summer months do have a pronounced effect on the elasticity of a certain pouch – but I must express my recent despair, discomfort and annoyance at the lack of containment afforded The Chairman in the last three matches, whilst employing two brand new versions of what was once, and only described as a jock strap.  It is most distracting when after every and/or any step one 'spills' out.  Even a reverie on tunnels Tom, Dick and Harry and 'The Great Escape' does little to mollify the whole-hearted inconvenience of the experience.

 

The mystery of how my dear old jock became misplaced is sadly of scant relevance, though it should be noted that I miss it dearly, and apologise for any dissent that I might have voiced to it over the age-induced rucking of the elasticated belt assembly.

 

The first attempt at replacement is described by Gray Nicolls as Cover Point Trunks.  I mean what the fuck is that all about?  Don't tell me the each wretched fielding position has its own jock.  If one has to chose a nomenclature based on fielders then at least chose something comprehensible like Stupid Fucking Leg Trunk.  The 'trunk' is, I suppose, a way of describing the style of the contraption; much akin to the stretchy 'Calvins' that I have utilised for a number of years and that have rarely been a source such errant excursion.  Not only was flagrant escapism an almost consistent worry but, in the event of deploying the box (known now in some circles as an abdo guard  *@$**ƒ√'·‡fi› !!!!!!!!!!) for batting purposes, I found (actually whilst diving to save a run out) that the only anatomical item covered was my tummy button (umbilicus).

 

So, next step; try a different sports shop.  No 'mediums' being in stock and with the complete futility of trying to impress the shop girl, I declined the 'large' jock and asked that an order might be placed.  Two weeks later (TWO WEEKS –fucking Country…) I take delivery – wrong word as I had to pick it up myself – of what appeared in the shop to be a standard jockstrap of the type that Dennis Compton and certainly David Gower might have relied upon to ensure successful procreation.  It also comes with its own abdo guard (the last time I shall call one such) which is a vicious looking thing resembling a pelota 'bat' complete with perineum (or anal depending on physiology) tickler  - no, prodder.  It is put to the test yesterday at Pear Tree Pudding.  Complete travesty of a thing.  Its 'pouch' is so narrow that the only thing it might cover would be a perfectly vertical erection – of which mine is not.  Besides nothing about cricket has that effect on me, bar possibly the showers, by which time jockstraps are superfluous. The first step I take after donning the strap (rather shadily manufactured my someone called 'Mr. David' – Goodale?) results in total 100% 'spillage'. Nothing improves and, after 15 or so overs, I forfeit my glass of cordial in order to return to the changing closet and put back on the Calvins, in which my cluster nestles quite happily for the rest of the game despite sprints and diving stops.                Thank the Lord that I didn't have to bat, although the perineum prodder might have been the only ounce joy to come from my 'Mr. Davids'.

 

During the match I brought my plight to the attention of Teddy Skils; an avid cricketer who plays at least twice a week through the season and therefore ought to have an opinion.  He dropped his strides to reveal an impressive undergarment, which a short Google, has revealed itself as an Aero Groin Protector Short.  This might well be the way to go, although it turns out that the number of options is legion (the above, Batting Shorts [built in box and thigh pad], Aero Protector Briefs, Athletic Briefs, Men Cup Protector Strap, Supporter & Cup etc., etc…..)

 

I hope to have the matter resolved by the time of The Mike Martin Memorial Match in two weeks time, in which case I propose to incinerate The Trunk and Mr. David upon the BBQ, to great fanfare!

 

The Chairman, Rascals C.C. 17/6/2013

 

 

The Donkey's dangling Impediment vs The Rascals (Match Report)

Match Report Version 1.1 (Paul Ross)

 

Nosebleeds and the Chairman's Jock Strap

When I got a call from Skills on Friday evening, informing me that the forecast for sunday was shit, I had a feeling that it was going to be a game played in bright sunshine, and for the most part my hunch proved to be correct. We gathered to play the annual Andy Goodale memorial match on Nigel's former pudding on Sunday in drizzle but soon it was fine, and bright and dry.

It was clear the skipper was in determined mood for his last appearance of the season; Billy not allowed a packet of crisps to go with his lemonade was an early sign of him not standing for any nonsense. Nigel had promised a barrel of Harveys at the ground so Billy had to sacrifice those crisps so the the old man could chuck back a couple of free pints before winning the toss and inserting the Donkeys dangling impediment into a spongy pudding. We were all happy with that but not nearly as happy as the donkey, who didn't want to withdraw at all.

The imps got off to a flying start as we all worked out where we were, what game we were playing and where we were supposed to be standing. After about ten overs we had resolved all of the above, but not before a Collier had hit a quick fifty and a bowling change was needed. Kit on full debut, and Toby proved masterful at stemming the runs and wickets started to fall. One correction. It wasn't Kit's first match but in the spirit of Teddy's batting average calculation (where he eliminates all innings below 10 to calculate the number) let's forget about last year and say this was his full debut.

The top order of the Imps was packed with former and current first X1 players, mostly called Collier, and we bowled expertly at them. Getting Alex Collier stumped early saved a lot of time looking for lost balls and then the innings hit the buffers in a major way. Fred Keeling, Toby, Kit, PK, Neilo and Teddy all bowled very well and Ant Lund, who took three for none in the last game, was not even required.(He didn't bat either!) The side fielded well, but this was all about getting Colliers out early and bowling well. Imps all out for 153 having been 100 for none. Good work

Tea (beer) was served and my only memory was putting out a general warning that Eddy was eyeing up the sandwiches and clearly calculating how many could be feasibly made to fit on one plate without appearing greedy or forward. All was polished off and battle resumed.

In the second over of our innings an incident happened which has two different scripts, so for the sake of full disclosure, here they both are. Script one, Skills is hit on his left heel by a fast yorker and is plumb lbw. Script 2 is that tobes (umpiring) should have given the other batsman out (me) the ball before and took out his guilt and angst on the other poor batsmen (skills) when it hit his foot a couple of balls later. No prizes for guessing which one Skills subscribes to but it was a brave piece of umpiring in anyones language. This never bloody happens in league cricket!!

Our score moved along sedately, losing PK and Ross in the process but when the skipper joined Jamie Mackwood with 95 to win, who would have thought they would take us all the way home. Both batted very well in the face of a declining attack and by the end, the only danger was being hit by one of the towels that were being thrown in from all quarters. Well done to both for a calm and supremely well executed run chase.

Every batsmen who was out did a valiant and difficult stint of umpiring (except Skills who hid in his car, refusing to reappear to put on a white coat).

An excellent victory and a great all round team performance by all concerned. That's now 2 victories in a row so its nosebleed time as we just get higher and higher. On a roll.

We retired to a pub called the Bull for a presentation of the Trophy and a bloody long wait for a drink. I think pub is somewhat of a misnoma for the Bull. "Shithole run by a total wanker" is nearer the mark and my vote would be to go anywhere else in the Weald of Kent and Sussex rather than put a couple of hundred quid into such an undeserving pocket. It is so bad, we had to stay until gone midnight.

The chairman promised anyone that would listen that a long rant on the modern state of jockstraps is on the way, so we all look forward to that keenly. Perhaps it could be delivered verbally at the Mike Martin game, when we all meet again in a couple of weeks time.

A tres bientot mes amis

 

Match Report Version 1.2 (The Chair)

 

Threatening clouds and steady spitting rain abated in time for us to get underway by 3.00pm, after enjoying Nigel Bowie’s liquid hospitality at his new and impressive pavilion at Pear Tree Hill.  The commodious nature of the modern young gentleman’s cricket bag did prove ergonomically challenging in the small changing room and many Rascals found themselves ogling with envy the tracts of space provided by the largest unisex bog in East Sussex.

Although not as stuffed with youth as Collier United, our team boasted the delightful inclusion of Kit Ross (with much expectation on his shoulders after his performance against us two games back), Jamie Mackwood (once more with the gloves), Fred Keeling and his old chum Will Dunn (playing for the first since the operation on his finger last year – Rascals induced , of course). Had the game been at home I might have insisted on the Rubber Bat Handle Applicator Shower Inititaion Ceremony for this lot.

Winning the toss for the third match in a row the Skip reverted to the procedure of yore and we took to the field.  Pear Tree Hill has traditionally been a tough wicket to bat on (and bowl on for that matter…) and this was no exception, with the ball holding up and not coming on.  However Will Collier and Landsdowne made very fine opening progress and reached the ton.  Much as with the last match, it seemd like matters were about to run away with themsleves.  However, yet again, a good strong turnout in the field started to reap rewards.  Fred bowled well and both he, an on-the-money ‘That’s plum…’ Toby Clifton and  Kit Ross started to pick up wickets.  Catches were once again the order of the day, six being taken by Rascals.  The other wickets were accounted for by two LBWs, a run out and a marvellous stumping, engineered by an attentive Kit Ross who saw the batsman come forward out of his crease, and snappily taken by Jamie M behind the stumps – ah, youth!  Figures of the day go to Tobes with 19 for 3 off 7.  The Oppo were skittled for 153 with two overs in hand.

Susan Bowie executed a corking tea.  The beef, rocket and horseraddish sarnie being the pick of the day and something that I feel we ought to adopt (despite Teddy’s reticence at any form of greenery within ten miles of a sandwich!).  It should be noted at this juncture that both two previous home teas had lived up to the regaultion unassailable standard.

Our stalward openers of Paulo and Teddy then hauled their bread and cake laden stomachs out to face Nigel’s assorted embrios.  Things did not start well with Teddy being given LBW by umpire Clifton in the second over – not a happy bunny.  However, Rossco and his new partner PK consolidated and put on 42 before PR spooned one up to a receptive Scott Collier at mid off.  Only two overs and 3 runs later PK was also caught, leaving Jamie M at the crease on 4 runs and bringing on The Skipper; the total reading 51.  Then ensued a very fine, mature partnership and, by the time Jamie right royally blew the maturity by attempting a reverse sweep and being caught at slip for 35, the scoreboard displayed 142. Mackwood was beaten about the head by umpire PK on his march back to pavilion, with brief respite to proffer advice to oncoming bat Will Dunn.  He and Neilo made light work of the remaining 12 runs needed for victory.  Despite hitting a fine 4 to win the game The Skip remained 1 shy of his first 50 with THE NEW BAT (which plainly is not as shit as it was deemed to be last year…….).  It can’t be said that The Imps (please excuse abridged moniker) helped themselves with 25 extras (20 wides!!), but one must think, that with 5 overs to spare and plenty of batting to come, we would have triumphed without them.

The Andy Goodale Memorial Bat was handed by David Goodale to Neilo at the Bull afterwards; the presentation having been delayed by the collectively extraordinarily tedious process of trying to purchase beverages.  However, no inconvenience was up to besmirching another fine Rascals outing.  Huzzah!!!

The Donkey's dangling Impediment vs The Rascals

Another fine victory, are the glory days returned? Captain Neilo carries us to the close in his last match of the season. Perfect!