Ah yes, the "Art of Captaincy"

 With a few players missing, it was left to me to organise and captain a side to travel out to play Cropwell, a very very village team in the pretty village of Cropwell Butler, home both of stilton cheese and legendary Notts and England player Derek Randall.

"Rags", as he was always known, does occasionally trundle down to the ground to watch the odd game, but he didn't on Sunday. I don't think he would have been very impressed if he had done.

The ground itself was in a lovely rural setting with sheep bleating around the ground and various country byways criss crossed the site, which had an admittedly rather algae filled pond and was also designated as a nature reserve. The fantastic little scorebox would you make you think cricket had been played here for hundreds of years, but in fact they used to play at a colliery ground and have only been here for about 12 years. 

Seeing as we had arrived early for the game, and apparently looked like first team players - yes, me included - we were invited to bat first, at last, and so our somewhat makeshift side ranging in age from 12 to mid 70s had to suffer me inflicting a batting order on it. 

So, our 75 year old give or take first team umpire went out to bat with our 17 year old first team opening batter, with strict instructions about running between the wickets. The fact it was a 30 over game meant we would be retiring batters at 50, which doesn't go down well in all quarters apparently, but we do want to try and get everyone into the game.

The bowling was a lot friendlier than I was expecting it to be, making re slightly regret changing my mind about opening the batting myself. But it was reasonably accurate and not that easy to get away, although our young opener made a good first of it. Our umpire was stumped after 8 overs and 4 runs, raising his eyebrows a little at the decision, which I felt to be slightly ironic, and then our young keeper joined in, and runs began to come very quickly. 

We were 65 for 1 at drinks, and I gave the instruction to push on a bit as I knew Cropwell batted better than they bowled, and I wanted at least 160 on the scoreboard.

This they proceeded to do, until the keeper got out for 29, heavily annoyed as he was hoping for a 50 himself. The opener retired on 50, but we had some more young middle order firepower, helped by our star second team bowler, fresh off 9 wickets in two matches, who also knows how to wield the willow. 

Things went smoothly until about two overs to go, where my organisational ability fell aprt somewhat. I retired our number 5 on 35 to get a new bat in, but alas he fell first ball meaning I had to go out there with about ten balls left. 

I somehow managed to hack a run, but then the other batsman was bowled, and no-one was ready to come in, the chairman who had arrived late seemingly had no intention of putting any cricket kit at this moment in time, so we had to wait until we could get the 12 year old ready. In the meantime, our number 5 was unretired; he played an outrageous reverse ramp for 4 then got out.

I was trying some desperate hacks to try and get the young lad on strike for the last two balls, which I manaaged. He missed the first, but hit the second straight to the bowler.

I told him to run anyway, hping the bowler wouldn't run him ut, and he chose not to, for which I thanked him.

A bit chaotic, but we had indeed got to exactly 160. 

Now for the real test of captaincy. The fielding. 

I'd removed one difficulty, i.e. when to bowl myself, because I had hurt my already injured back the first time I had tried to wave the bat. The opening bowlers were easy, firstly it was the two players who hadn't batted, and secondly because the chairman would banish me from the club if I didn't let him bowl first.

It did not take long for me to realise that my hunch that Cropwell batted better than they bowled was entirely correct. They knew their wicket, they just put their hands through everything and smashed through extra cover. 

I was fielding at extra cover, and was fielding so badly I was banished to slip and replaced the the senior player we were hiding there. I just couldn't get near the ball, my co-ordination was hideous. Everything went straight through me while I got my legs in a tangle. 

Horrendous.

Without any actual idea of what to do out there to stem the runs, or even if there was anything anyone could do, I had to bring our gun bowler on but he went exactly the same way. The chairman was nearly getting wickets when he switched to his googly bowling but was still getting taken for boundaries. 

He insisted he was not to be taken off until he'd bowled out though. 

We did get the gun bats though, through superb outfield catching involving very loud shouting of names. And it turned out the other bats weren't as good, no sirree and we managed to drag ourselves back into the game after they had racked up 100 after just 12 overs. Our number 5 was bowing an excellent spell to go with his batting; wickets were falling, but the runs were creeping up. Our 12 year old got a good little bowl, and took a wicket too so that was a bonus. 

I wish I could say I knew what I was doing out there, but I didn't, not really. However with 6 wickets down, two overs to go and 4 runs needed, I did do something reasonably captain like, by bringing everyone in and trying to make the batsman hit over the top to win the game. And it worked too! Two batters got themsevles out trying to hit the winning boundary, and the next two were very nervous.

However it was not to be, Cropwell managed to pierce the infield and that was it.

However, it had been an excellent and very friendly game, entirely worthwhile to take part in and at 30 overs it hadn't taken an eternity like last week's match had. This meant we were able to retire to the pub around the corner, where the opposition players took part in strange rituals involving drinking pints with batting gloves on.

Hell's teeth, I'm clumsy enough as it is without doing that.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 23.08.22

Cricketers not Doing their Usual Things

 After a lot of scrambling around, we were very grateful to Wellow Cricket Club for agreeing to get a game on with us today, albeit a rather short handed one.

Wellow is a charming village, famous locally and perhaps further afield for its maypole, and the cricket ground was in a wonderfully bucolic setting, on a big slope below a field full of very noisy sheep who were probably used to being used as target practice by big hitters during games, and knew what was coming next. 

No-body wanted to play a full format game with only 8 and 9 players a side in brain frazzling 31C heat, so we agreed to play an odd sort of 20 20 format game where some lads could bat twice if required. The serious nature of the match was underlined by the fact that a couple of the Wellow players had cracked open the beers before the game had event started. 

At least we were all wearing our whites. 

I kept up our proud record on Sunday of losing every toss, and so ended up bowling first on a day where no-one sane wanted to be fielding. Hence we agreed on restful drinks breaks every five overs. 

So, for these twenty overs we have three wicket keepers who all bowled, two seam bowlers bowling spin, and me, the captain, who didn't bowl at all. Our own regular second team player, who plays for WEllow as a sideline, was busy scoring a 50, and I hobbled about the field - everyone fielding on the boundary - barely able to move after playing on the Saturday, of which more anon. 

The third team captain, bowling filthy spin, got a wicket and our third team wicket keeper who has never bowled in a match before, took two. The first team captain got bored of bowling filthy spin, and decided to try and bounce out the Wellow opener with limited success. But drinks - and cigarettes - every five overs was very welcome. 

Upton rattled up 135 for 8 off their twenty overs, I think, and then it was time for us to bat, or rather it would have been if we weren't missing a quarter of our players who'd buggered off to Macdonalds. 

Because I hadn't bowled, one of our senior players insisted that I should open the batting, and having initially thought the idea was crazy, decided "Sod it, I hardly ever get to bat, I always have to bat last so can't get changed early, and I alwas have to go and umpire. I'll open"

Picking to open with me another player, and having told the Wellow skipper I was opening, taking strike and was also rubbish, he kindly put their gun fast bowler on to bowl at me, who I scrambed to block out for three balls before putting a tentative single through md-wickets.

My opening partner meanwhile, was getting stuck into hitting fours, something I joined him in a couple of overs later, belting a couple down the hill and into the long grass. I then lost my timing after that, and decided to just knock the ball around for ones and twos while my partner started hitting sixes, and rather bizarrely, a four off the back of his bat. 

We made it to one drinks break, then a second. Just as well, becuase batting and runnin up and down the wicket is bloody hard work on a day like this. 

I was just thinking I could go on and make a fifty, but off the last ball of the fast bowlers spell, he castled me with one that kept a little low. 

I'd ended up making 29, my hughest ever score. We won't talk about the nature of the game though.

Whoops, I just did. 

My opening partner meanwhile did get his 50, and retired in tiumph to watch the rest of the game, which we went on to win by eight wickets (or seven? or six?) after the first tteam opening bat went out there and blasted 45 off about 20 balls. 

It had been a fun game for everyone apart from the third team captain, who was slightly put out by not getting to bat, which actually from my point of view gave him more time to eat his Macdonalds and doughnuts. We celebrated by going to the pub next to the maypole, and talking about more cricket stuff.

As if we hadn't been all afternoon. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 11.07.22

The Ball Never Came to Me but Bees did

 Cricket returned to my life today, as we headed out to Upton to take on our old friends from that club. It's a lovely little ground, which seems to have shrunk since I last played there with one of the boundaries only about 40 metres out. 

Being a generally young side, apart from my old ankle crippled self, we were a bit light in batting, so agreed to let Upton have first use of a very hard, but as it turned out, low bouncing wicket with a quick outfield. Seeing as we were going to have our first cricket tea in three years, this was a good tactical decision from the captain in my view, as it allows you to eat more at tea-time without having to run about afterwards. 

Having turned down the chance to open the bowling due to being no good anymore, I went to field at mid-off while the opening bats of Upton spanked the ball around with ease, including a very impressive young player who timed the ball as sweet as any nut. 

Much searching in hedges for the ball took place during this period. But not by me. Upton have a pro ball hunter in their ranks so we let him doing it, which meant we only lost one ball instead of the 8 or 9 we normally lose here. 

Upton rattled up abut 100 in the first ten overs, at which point our captain decided to scare them by bringing me on to bowl. Having netted well over the winter, I was under the impression that I had got a little of my old pace back - fat chance. I felt lumbering and slow, with no bounce. At least I was quite straight for a change, bowling no wides for once, and I did slow up the scoring somewhat, although I was still getting belted for four once an over. 

I even got the opening bat caught at mid on. But that was the only wicket I took. At least I didn't have to bowl to Upton's gun batter though, who seemed to have a bat so heavy that mis-hits went for six. 

All through this I fielded with great energy, even though somehow the ball only came to me once despite me fielding at mid on most of the time. Good work by the captain to do that. My ankle was hurting after bowling seven overs, so I was pretty grateful. 

Upton racked up 238-5 in the end, and knowing I wouldn't be needed to bat for a while and hopefully (from the teams point of view) not at all, so I went off exploring. 

Over the hedge at one end of the ground was an orchard full of trees still in blossom, and also some grazing and rather shy sheep. There was also a set of bee hives, that were very busy and buzzy. Unfortunately one bee took exception to me and chased me off, getting tangled up in my hair. I didn't get stung though, unlike one of the Upton lads. 

Probably the bee that I had pissed off. 

While I annoyed insects, our young opening bats were playing brilliantly, putting on over 120 in very quick time with the sheep in the next field being peppered by sixes. We even looked like we had a chance of winning, but when these two lads got out, the rest of our batting could only muster about another 60 runs between them, mainly due to the Upton fast bowler being brought on. Normally this chap takes two balls to get me out, this time I survived three, although the last one was  a near thing. 

I actually managed to score ten not out, which is 7 more runs than I scored in the whole of last season. This included a boundary, and also a run out of my batting partner when I turned him down for a second run. To be fair, it was never two. 

That's my opinion, and I'm standing by it!

So, we lost by about 60 runs in the end, but it was tremendously fun day we all enjoyed. Hopefully it's the first of many such Sundays this year.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 24.04.22

Yeah, About that Last Game Thing...

I had a late call up into our Sunday side today to play Oxton, which meant I had to be a bit brave and get a lift with the family of our opening bowler.

Masked up, and with the windows open, we looked like Dillinger and his chums off to raid a bank in 1930s Chicago, although he went around with violin cases with machine guns in, rather than cricket bags full of mouldering kit - I had to rescue mine from the laundry basket.

Oxton is one of the prettier grounds we play at; it's surrounded by fields full of sheep, has keening buzzards circling overhead and was periodically raided by low level high speed swallows. However, the wicket is like a strip of rolled plasticine and barely bounces more than ankle high.

They are a very good Sunday side to boot, and an unusual one in being much better than their Saturday outfit, with guest players from Gedling Colliery firsts and seconds up in divisions A and C.

I.E rather better than our motley little band, which had been made worse by me being substituted in for a decent all rounder. Not a fair swap.

We batted first, and after a very bright start we totally failed to come to terms with the slow, tacky pitch, lobbing up catch after catch to leave us 30 for 5.

However, thanks to a couple of our senior players who put on a partnership of about 60 against accurate bowling with a very high standard wicket keeper, we clawed our way back into the game. I got to bat, at 11 of course, and somehow managed to score 7 runs off this Division A bowler. No wonder he seemed pretty quick to me even on that moribund wicket.

We closed on 129 for 9 off 40 overs, so we were at least in the game.

I opened the bowling again, and frankly I reverted to being terrible, kicking off with three howlingly huge wides. I just don't know where they came from, I wasn't doing anything any different from yesterday. But my first legal delivery took the edge of the opener's bat, and he was caught behind.

Apparently that was the result of a cunning plan. I apologised to the batsman as he walked off.

I did get better after that, but not by much. I realised the only way to straighten up was to really put maximum effort into every delivery to make sure I was completing my action. This sort of worked, but it meant I banged the odd one in short.

One such delivery pitched halfway down, and travelled towards the batsman about 4 inches off the ground, at which point it went under his bat and hit the stumps.

Now, double bouncing deliveries are no-balls. However, there now followed a long argument about whether the rule means bouncing twice before the batsman, or twice before the stumps.

It was ruled, correctly, the former, but not until a lot of arguing between the square leg umpire who hadn't been looking, the main umpire who had, and the batsman who was, to say the least, very put out, shouting repeatedly that the ball had bounced twice. Eventually the umpire more or less sent him off, and off her stomped, mumbling loudly all the way.

"Here mate, don't forget your dummy!" called our slip fielder, possibly unhelpfully.

I did what I do best, stood there and looked bemused and incompetent.

Anyway, I was raken off when I dropped a couple short in my 5th over that got spanked by the Division C batsman, who was now joined by the Division A bat, at which point I should add that I've been asked to point out by the powers that be that sending in top division players to play against much lower division ones is not in the bally spirit of the game, what ho.

Spirit or not, they proceeded to thrash the ball everywhere in such a way as to make my bowling look like James Anderson. When I went off, they were 30 for 1 off 10 overs. They then proceeded to hit the 100 more they needed off about the next 12.

I dropped a fairly straightforward catch of the third team captain, who probably wished he hadn't asked me to play. That said, I had to umpire at square leg in the cold while he slept under a blanket. So my sympathy is tempered.

It occurs to me I've been going on about what a terrible and worthless bowler I am, but looking at the stats, I'm the club's second leading wicket taker with 9 at 18.89. So I must have done some good bowling somewhere along the line.

Maybe I forgot it.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 30.08.20

Christmas with the Animals

It was the annual Christmas party today, the one we organise for our staff's kids.

This year, on my suggestion, we decided to hold it at White Post Farm, the little sort of petting zoo long standing readers may recall me visiting a few years ago on a bright day in October. I thought it might be nice for the kids at Christmas, and so it proved, with 200 or so of them meeting the reindeer and baby goats, and going to Santa's grotto and attending Elf Academy.

Obviously, this being an event organised by me, the weather was cold and wet, with me and my manager having to stand outside for 90 minutes collecting tickets while freezing our asses off while the little ones had a good time.

However, they were the important ones and seemed to enjoy themselves a lot, so I was happy. And it is a cute place.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 21.12.19