A Last Hurrah, and what a Hurrah it was

Our cricket season traditionally ends with a friendly against our friends at Upton CC, a beautiful if eccentrically laid out village ground about 6 miles away near Southwell.

In recent years, these games have always been cold, breezy and mizzly, which has generally led to a lower standard of play as the uncovered wicket has been tricky. However, it was a stunning afternoon in a picturesque location, and a good wicket led to some great cricket.

We batted first, and with most of the team late - including myself - an emergency batting order had to be put in place, which led to our usual number 11 opening up. It didn't seem to harm us though, as we rattled along at 5 an over thanks to some ball-losing big hitting by one of father and son combos who both got 50s. I spent a bug chunk of time searching for a lost ball in the overgrown orchard full of pears and apples on the bough, and low level thorns scratching my already battered legs to pieces.

The grass was so long no-one would have found the ball if it was the size of a space hopper.

I didn't think I would get a bat today, but as it happened I did, long after the friendlier bowlers had gone off and some speed merchant was ripping through our lower order. I lasted two balls, the first of which I edged for a single, the second of which cut back like a scimitar and cut me in half before knocking over off stump.

A disappointing end with the batting. I worked really hard over the winter and started well this year, but have barely batted in matches and it just hasn't happened for me. This guy was too quick though. Way too quick.

We scored either 217, 210 or 204, depending on whose maths you went with. We settled on 210 from our 40 overs, and went out to bowl. I opened up, and hand no bloody luck as usual, with the skipper dropping two chances off me at slip, and me beating that bat with deliveries that moved sharply off the seam. Indeed Upton had got about 80 on the board before a wicket fell, when the skipper held one back and beat a slogging batsman.

It's after that that things all got a bit mental.

First up, having moved to slip after one of fellow bowlers had laughed me out of sight when I had tried to field there before. I did what my skipper could not do and held a catch. But it was no dolly.

The worst fielder on the team held a fairly stunning catch, he says modestly, one-handed, over my head and also behind me. To the say our team were dumbstruck would be putting it lightly. I know I was, I couldn't believe I'd held it.

I then assaulted the offending doubting Thomas of a bowler, yelling "WHO CAN'T CATCH? WHO CAN'T CATCH?" in his face while jabbing him in the chest. The batsman, who was on 49, must been on the verge of vomiting.

There now followed a rapid swing of the pendulum the other way, as the Upton fast bowler began to repeat his feats with the ball with the bat, losing several balls over hedges into paddocks and orchards like they'd been fired from a cannon. He But on about 60 with about 50 runs required, he fell to a staggering catch at long on.

Our fielding then went mental. We produced two direct hit runouts - one by the skipper who gently rolled down the stumps like pipe smoking lawn bowler David Bryant - and another good catch, before our young mystery spinner produced two stumpings and bowled the last batsman 1st ball to seal victory by 20 runs.

It was the best game of cricket I've played all year, in terms of atmosphere and enjoyment by a long way.

God this is going to be a long off-season.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 08.09.19