A Day of Days - not by me of Course

 Sunday saw us taking on a strong young Attenborough side, a rather stronger one in fact that the one we beat earlier in the season. We batted first under generally grey skies, with me umpiring, and within about ten minutes we were 1 for 3 on a pitch that our groundstaff had done brilliantly to get in any way playable at all after the weather we'd had, but was still rather tricky. 

Our first team opener was brilliantly yorked, our other opener  tried to pull a ball that bounced and stopped completely and hit the back of his bat, while our number four could only fend off a ball that was suddenly up by his shoulder. 

Enter our number three, who had usually opened this year and had struggled for runs. Our number 5 was also in good form, and somehow they managed to build a massive partnership of over 100, scoring runs when they could while avoiding the nasty balls brilliantly. 

I forgot to say, I was captain on the day, our regular skipper stepping down generously to allow a younger player a game on a weekend where all Saturday cricket was washed out. 

Eventually the partnership was broken with about 120 on the board, and the lower middle order struggled once again. But not our number 3, who had long since got past 50 and was into the 90s with 8 down. 

As number 11, frankly I was rather crapping myself hoping I didn't need to see him through to his 100. I knew I wasn't going to last any time at all on that wicket against decent bowling. 

Sadly, finally he got a ball with his name on it that stopped on him, and he could only chip it to mid wicket. He was on 94. I was gutted for him after a brilliant innings. 

So, now was the usual farce of me having to bat, and it lasted three balls. The first one spat from a length and jagged away, the second one spat and cut me in half, and the third bounced up and his the bat I was trying to get out of the way, and bobbed up to mid on.

Surprised it made it that far, actually. But as ever, it left me wondering what on earth I was doing out there. 

Closing on 172 all out, I then had the job of trying to win us the game, when tactically I don't really know what I'm doing as well as I'd like. But our opening bowler did the job for me early doors, taking two quick wickets before being confronted with a young batsman about the height of the stumps, who he didn't feel comfortable bowling at. 

So I turned to the chairman, knowing as ever he would bowl well, without ever having to go to nets. Meanwhile myself, who has come to nets every week and had been bowling well at senior batsmen. However, as against Cropwell, when I brought myself on I couldn't find a length and was battered absolutely senseless, going for 27 in my first over and feeling just utterly bereft. 

I had my revenge next over, when I actually got my tormentor caught with my quicker ball which I always land where I want for god knows what reason. 8 wickets for the Sunday season now. 

After these two overs I took myself off. 

We had them four down, then five down, but another young county player came on, and went on to score 50, with my captaincy unable to stop him. It was Attenborough's turn to put on a big stand and get ever nearer our total. At least I was managing our bowers ok, despite being hamstrung by my uselessness and, er, another bowler's hamstring. 

Things were getting tight, but our number 3 suddenly flung himself high to his left to make a one handed grab off our opening bowler to remove the lad on 54. I was astonished, and rather envious having fielded with hopeless clumsiness as ever. 

Game back on!

Another amazing catch by another of our young players then followed. 9 down, with about 10 needed! But a four was hit, then another. I was probably not being defensive enough to be honest, but as captain I'm always loath to have too many guys out on the boundary for some reason. I want to take wickets!

A couple of balls left. Scores level. But our tall bowler pulled off a low catch, and it was 172 all. Match tied!

A brilliant game of cricket, but I felt terrible afterwards. I've no idea what happens to my bowling, and it's left me feeling rather despondent. But I guess there is always the hope that something will click. 

Always that hope. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 11.08.23

Nearly Stuffing it up

 Sunday saw the visit of Attenborough to our ground - the Nottingham suburb rather than the naturalist - and they had got me in a quandary before the match had even started.

They had told me earlier in the week that they were bringing a side with four adults, and seven juniors. On paper, we had quite a strong side, and so I had been working out in my mind how I was going to approach this to ensure a decent contest.

Would I only be able to use slower bowlers?

Would I have to tell our bats to go easy on any very miniture bowlers? 

If we batted first, would I have to declare rather than let our batters go mad and post 300 plus?

When the opponents turned up, may of them barely taller than the stumps, these thoughts returned. As it turned out most of them were moot, as they won the toss and batted first on a blisteringly hot and humid day. 

I opened the bowling with what I would thing of as being medium intensity medium pacers, firstly to see how well the youngsters were going to handle the bowling, and also because our two quickest bowlers were late and we only had nine fielders to start with.

Stellar capataincy and organisation from me there. 

One our openers had a couple of early wickets caught at mid off and in the covers, and then ran a very young lad out off his fingertips, an appeal I immediately and generously withdrew, thinking myself a very sporing captain. "No little kid is getting run out like that in a Sunday game on my watch" I thought smugly. 

Of course, he turned out to be their best bat, and very competently spanked boundaries, leading me to realise I could turn the bowling up a bit, with some first and second team bowling that prised out a couple of wickets with some lovely left arm swing in the heavy air, pregnant with a thunderstorm that never happened. 

I even brought myself on, and found that remembering to really keep my left arm high and active meant that I could bowl accurately and beat the bat, even if I was barely turning the ball. Got a wicket with a short ball dollied to mid wicket, before castling a young'un in my 5th over.

Five overs one maiden, two for fifteen. I quit while the going was good.

Now, there was a different kind of problem. I had managed the game well, getting different and unusual bowlers on, trying to give everyone a go, but we were still taking too many wickets and they weren't scoring enough runs. In a friendly, you don't want to kill the game, you want the opponents to get a reasonable score so it gives your batters a chance to have a reasonable game. They were about 70 for 7 at this point.

So, I allowed the chairman and third team captain to swap the keepers gloves with the first team captain - hilariously, I was captaining captains - so he could bowl some sort of googly variant that he only "unleashes" on Sundays, and brought on a leggie at the other end just as a chunkily built Kiwi came out to bat for Attenborough.

He proceeded to wallop some big old sixes, but the leg spinner was taking wickets when he wasn't batting, and after they had got to 128, I decided enough was enough and decided to bring back the opening bowler, who promptly took one ball to shut down their innings. 

Now, with our batting line up, we ought to have chased that total down fairly easily against a young bowling attack, and indeed I wasn't too worried about our batting line up and even though we had the first team opener in the side who had taken a wicket earlier on, I sent out the first and second team opening bowlers, who both normally bat a number 10 in their league sides to give them a chance to score some runs.

Right decision too, as they made it to 60 without loss with some good strokeplay, as ever making me completely envious of anyone who has any kind of batting ability whatsoever. However, in the twelfth over right on the stroke of drinks, one of them looped a catch up.

I now took a stint at square leg, and watched as our team seemed marooned in the 60s for what seemed like ten overs while losing wickets. Number three lobbed up a caught and bowled, number four was lbw off the bottom of his bat and the third team captain looked purposeful before spooning up a caught and bowled. 

So, umpiring stint over, back into the shade of the pavilion but wickets continued to fall, however at least a few more boundaries were being hit. For our first team captain and chief ship steadier was still out there after a sticky start as the wicket, which had been a belter most of the match, began to slow up and misbehave a little bit after it had about 600 runs scored on it over the weekend. 

We crept nearer the total, wickets still fell. But thanks to the ship steadier, we just got over the line 8 wickets down, with the unwelcome sight of me padded up and waiting to bat on the pavilion steps. 

Still, both teams got a lot out the game, players got a chance to do things they don't normally do, and our Sunday side remains unbeaten.

Good day all round really!

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 12.06.23

Close but no Cigar at the Barracks

Today the second team played Attenborough 4ths at a ground that turned out to be Chetwynd Barracks in Chilwell on the other side of Notts. I travelled with our skipper, and we immediately found the rather foreboding barbed wire fence around the ground, but with no actual entrance.

After being directed, we still got it wrong, but we made it on the third go to find ourselves going through a proper military checkpoint, with a uniformed guard and presumably hidden missile batteries pointing at us if we out a foot wrong. Luckily, we didn't look too well dodge or anything like that, and were directed past various military things to the sports ground, which was immaculate apart from the wicket that looked like it had been rolled by a Chieftain tank whose driver had a grudge against grass.

We knew it would be hard to score on, despite the short boundaries, and so it proved. The ball either scuttled along the ground, or stopped and spat, and runs had to be worked hard for. Our opener made 27, and our young-ish middle order bat scored a fine 41, but it was tough for the others.

I managed to spank 10 without any clear idea of what I was doing, until I tried to heave a short ball that didn't bounce into the Chilwell de-militarised zone. It did help us to 117, which we hoped would be a competitive score.

It was too, although their bats used to their own wicket probably found it a bit easier. Our third team captain, having re-appeared after batting in about 6 greyish layers, bowled very well, taking a couple of wickets, and I bowled ok for a bit, getting their opener caught behind without him actually really hitting it I think, until their one confident bat walked across the stumps to my inswingers and flicked me to the boundary for a couple of boundaries resulting in me being taken off.

We still tries to keep it tight, and took them right to the 40th over, but we couldn't get their left hander out and that cost us.

Relegation is now almost certain alas, but not for want of trying.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 24.08.19