2018 Cricket Season in Review

Sorry nature lovers, this is a piece aimed at my cricketing colleagues, who all love reading about themselves when my cricket blogs come out on Saturday and Sunday evenings, hoping I've said something nice about them.

This year I've played 9 times for the 3rd Team, 7 times for the 2nds, once for the 1sts, and then 10 times for the Sunday 1sts. I took 27 wickets at 19.26, including 16 at 13.00 for the 3rd Team which got me an award which I've very proud of.

The less said about my bowling for the 2nd Team the better...

Nicest Ground

Both the Manor Ground at Thurgarton, and Norwood Park are beautiful and incredibly photogenic. We had stunning weather as well when I played at those grounds. Newstead Abby has stunning surroundings, but the cricket ground itself is bobbins and surrounded by holly so fetching a ball hit for 4 or 6 resulted in laceration on a major scale

Worst Ground

The City Hospital ground where we played Basford Mill was a sunburnt horror with a terror wicket and "smoking" opponents. The tea could have walked out of there on its own, with a special mention to the whole melons we were provided with no means of cutting.

Best Away Tea

Toss up between Keyworth 3rds and Calverton 2nds. One does not expect to find pulled pork at a cricket tea.

Best Innings

I was privileged to play with 3 century makers, but the best innings was Sean G. scoring 82 against Basford Mill against fast bowling on a wicket where the ball could have taken your head off at any moment. He smacked it everywhere, and when they brought on the fast bowlers to bowl at 13 year old Jacob P., he smashed them as well.

Best Catch

George took a deflected blinder off my bowling at Keyworth 2nds. Leapt like a salmon. A salmon with hands.

Best Bowling

Modesty Si, modesty... but probably Jack E's second spell against Bingham 2. We let him down losing that game.

Biggest choke

Me batting against Bingham 2 in a tight game. I lost my head completely, I just didn't know what to do. I felt utterly rubbish

Best Meat Raffle

Against Walesby at their ground, after the Country and Western Singer...

Here's to the 2019 season!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 31.12.2018

Cricket in the Land of the Sterile

Today I found myself in the lofty company of the Sunday 1st team, a team where rubbishy mortals on cricket's 3rd team compost heap get to meet with the Olympian heroes of the 1st team, cricketers who are all the things I wish I was; young, talented, and possessing the ability not to panic when the bowling goes over ten miles per hour in pace.

We had a few such players today, and they were left with the job of, you know, scoring runs, while I took myself off to explore the ground.

It was the Goosedale Ground at Hucknall, where we were playing Notts and Arnold Amateurs, a title which creates charming images of WG Grace smoking a pipe while batting while Robert Peel warmed up for bowling by knocking back a few more G and Ts. However, the ground itself was a big municipal sports multiplex; great for playing cricket, terrible for nature spotting for the bottom of the order of the batsmen like me.

So after I had a look round and found absolutely nothing alive at all apart from a few flowers, I wondered if a hearty diet of pesticide for the greenery had made the ground sterile; inimical to the insect life that sits at the base of micro ecosystems like a cricket ground.

Even with the sun out, I only saw one bee fly past, and a kestrel hovering over the edge of the complex was the only bird I saw, apart from a carrion crow on the lookout for leftover teas from the pavilion.

Very good tea by the way, well done Notts and Arnold Amateurs! Perfectly timed to coincide with Andy Murray's victory.

My batting was not required, a mercy for all concerned although I do try hard, and instead I spent 20 overs umpiring with a team-mate in a beard and flat cap who had chosen to disguise himself as DH Lawrence for some reason. I had to adjudicate on a run out, which I gave not out in an assertive manner - "Errrrr, na-eerrrr-aaaa" while shaking my head while wishing there was a replay facility somewhere.

HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW??? IT HAPPENS TOO BLOODY FAST!!!

We made 151 for 3 in our 40 overs thanks to our first team stars - the highest score I've ever been involved in - and we still lost in a little over 20 overs as our opponents turned out to be pretty hefty smiters of a cricket ball, despite my hitherto unexplored ability to bowl head high full tosses by accident. For once, I wasn't the worst bowler and even took a wicket, when I had their biggest hitter caught at long on.

Wish I was quicker though, when a keeper stands up to my bowling, it makes my heart sink. Oh well, a 43 year old coming back to the game after 20 years out was never going to be Wasim Akram.

It was actually a fun day, despite the loss. When a skipper lets you bowl, always makes you feel better about things.

And the sun came out too!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 10.07.16

The Hovering Kestrel Watched our Demise

A cricket day for me today, broken foot or no. Normally I'm a third team player, and in these days where we have unearthed some youngsters of great talent, if not height, the thirds are above my level these days. I was certainly looking forward to playing at our main ground, with its sweet little pavilion

So how I found myself playing for the second eleven today against Thurgarton is anybody's guess. As events went on to prove, it certainly isn't for batting or bowling...and it meant getting changed in a shipping container so dark and dingy it was probably once used for people trafficking.

But first, as I'm making vague attempts to be a renaissance man and Joe Root never mentions the butterflies he sees at Lords, I shall describe the natural aspects of the setting of the ground, which is surrounded by the old RHP bearing factory sports facilities - bowling greens, tennis courts and the like - which have been allowed to grow wild as those various clubs met their demise.

Consequently, starlings flocked in the long grass, and above, a kestrel hovered virtually throughout the whole match, looking for prey on the boundary edge. We fielded first, and as I prowled at mid wicket, a pair of house martins twittered about, low down, even setting down in the grass cuttings for a second or two before flying off; I noticed them doing the same in Coddington yesterday.

In truth I don't field so badly, and luckily the others field even better, so we kept the opposition under great pressure until I came on to bowl at the death, and was hit onto the aforementioned bowling green by the Thurgarton version of Viv Richards. I don't know what happens; I bowl with pace (walking) and swing in the nets and then as soon as I get into the middle in a live game, my shoulders tense up like ratchets and adrenaline just sends my muscle memory all over the place. I bowled three overs, and after every ball I cursed my mother for giving birth to such an uncoordinated sack.

Alas, our batting didn't exactly go to plan, unless that plan was involved getting skittled out without scoring any runs. I'd barely finished explaining to a team-mate that the passing butterfly out to enjoy the evening sun was an orange tip before the scoreboard told us we were 4 for 6, and it was time to pad up to bat under the kestrel's critical gaze...

I was the only player batting in toe capped work boots. I needed them too, as I got thwacked on that same foot again, until I was given out lbw AGAIN for two and the kestrel laughed.

My dream of getting a double figure score this year, or indeed a wicket, seem a long way off being realised.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 04.06.16

Netting Like a Stranded Fish

Tonight was my first proper outdoor nets at the big Kelham Road ground, after an interesting sort of day at work where they told me they wanted me to write a lot of things for them. My mood was thus good, but the weather was ominous, with clouds like tarnished brass heading in from the north, with great veils of rain peppering the ground beneath.

As I entered the ground, I remembered the great tit nesting in the fence post, and decided not to pay my respects lest I get spat at again. Chaffinches were singing along the narrow avenue that leads to the pavilion, and a couple of swallows were out hoovering up insects over the ground.

No butterflies tonight, although I have seen plenty fielding along the long grass by the boundary. The approaching rain drove them off.

The rain! Just as I had found a decent sort of bowling rhythm, the skies dropped their dirt upon us and I was reduced to running in wearing flip flops filled with broken glass. The ball became slippier than a salmon, and my hands went so red it looked like I'd been ripping the heads off moles for sport.

My batting, never great, but improving, also suffered as a result and much flapping around on the grass occurred as I made bowlers bowling off a one pace run with their eyes closed look like James Anderson.

Any swifts overhead would have plummeted to the ground laughing, so it was just as well for them there weren't any. Damn! I am trying to work on this batting thing, and feel I can get a few runs, but my feet just refused to move tonight until the last few minutes, where I felt like I was getting into the groove again.

It is a pretty ground however, and I just love bowling, so it was still good!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 23.05.16