Old Boys X1: match report from 01/07/2021

A royal visit, balls of steel and some cricket in the middle

Anyone who loves cricket must in someway love stats and figures. Unfortunately, this week I am disadvantaged by the lack of a scorecard to refer to. This however does mean that what I lack in accuracy will be exchanged for poetic licence. Grab yourself a coffee and make yourself comfortable, this match was better than an episode of love island.

Back on home soil… The triumphant road warriors trickled in on a rather clement evening. How things have changed from the days of CPA throwdowns and hurling tattered balls at each other up the store cupboard. This was serious cricketing territory now. Top quality nets, covers, and a coloured QM team kit, even the stumps were better dressed than us. One crucial detail however, in this unrecognisable home ground, would level the playing field. As we looked out over the undulating pasture, we struggled to identify a cut wicket. It soon became clear that we were playing on Wimbledon’s Centre court masquerading as a cricket strip. It was the dream front lawn. Evidence of past wars lay bare on the neighbouring wicket. So soft and green was the surface, a worm surfaced on the crease to distract Phil from shadowing any more lofted drives. And so, with us fearing the worst, we took up our blades and went to war against a mix of the school’s 1st and 2nd XI.

To avoid a repeat of last week’s titanium duck, Captain Hall decided to separate himself from his victim and let Phil open with Luke. Focused and determined to retain the orange cap, Luke stood poised to receive the first ball of the innings. Short and straight, the ball hurried Luke into a pull shot and ballooned up before descending comfortably into mid-wicket’s mitts. I can only assume Luke wanted to add to our growing list of rare sightings as this type of dismissal is known as a Royal Duck. I fear we are starting to attract the attention of Bill Oddie rather than casual cricket onlookers. The innings did not improve as the lush surface played havoc with our timing and judgement. Phil dug in, scoring useful runs before becoming snared in a leggy’s trap. Glenn, seeing an opportunity to don another orange cap, scored a vital 25 off fewer balls. Rather than targeting third man, Glenn opened his shoulders and slapped a series of fours through the leg side. Our innings looked to get back on track with power hitting cameos coming in the mid and lower order. The familiar chirp of a QM 1st XI became somewhat hushed as they were tasked more and more frequently with retrieving pink leather from across the boundary line. The sledging was losing its sting and we were looking to mount a final charge. This sadly was not to be. Inexplicable shots were the demise of our innings, resulting in a worryingly low score of 95 all out. We left a fair few balls out on the field and knew the next hour or so of play would be a Sisyphean task on this track.

Sub-three figure scores rarely get defended. Only teams harbouring the never-say-die attitude stand a chance. But as I wrote last week, some might say we resemble New Zealand and bear the same team spirit (minus the within-team ridicule). A team effort was needed, and early wickets would be the key to unlocking a victory here. Upon the skipper’s request, I took the new nut and measured out my taxing six-yard approach at the Watkins end. As you hit 30 gravity becomes your friend, and as I let physics carry me down the slope, I got the innings underway. The batsman, unsure and almost minutes late on his first shot, sent the ball mere yards from gully’s grasp. The game was on. The openers may have thought they struggled with my opening overs, but it was the reliable and familiar guile of our resident wristy that really took the wind out their sails. Indecision stalked their thoughts as Steve D continued to threaten their stumps. With the felling of timber and a restricted run rate, the match was tantalisingly poised. Rob rang in the changes, keeping batsmen guessing against the varying bowling styles. This was a rarely seen performance in the field by an Old Boys outfit. Accurate bowling, brave fielding and most of all a lack of byes. Deciding (or rather being coerced) to keep this match,

Luke revealed he was never really destined to bowl or perform a long barrier. His true cricketing calling was behind the stumps, where his usual staring down of the batsmen would be felt on the back of their heads. This, for a first attempt, was some of the finest keeping in recent memory for the QMOB. I’d invest in some inners Luke, you have a new job.

Reflecting our own innings, the teenagers mounted a rebuttal. A few flashy boundaries saw the low peak of our score once again in danger of being surmounted. However, wickets continued to fall and critical overs were bowled by Roger, Sanesh and Glenn, which once again inhibited the increasing aggression of the batting side. As in previous weeks, Roger demonstrated the sort of athleticism that we thought was the stuff of legend and bygone eras in the QMOB. As the game was reaching its conclusion, the ball was launched deep into cow corner by a settled batsman. The humid summer’s air held the ball in suspense fractionally longer than normal as Roger tore across the meadow. He threw himself into the predicted drop point with hands stretched out. Rather than landing in no man’s land, the ball, almost magnetised to Roger, dropped safely into his buckets. That yellow cap will be going nowhere in the foreseeable future.

So, with the evening light yielding to the altostratus (one for the cloud appreciation society there) formation above the library, the game reached its final act. The antagonists were ready to play their part, knowing the required runs were more than attainable. The protagonist however would have different ideas. Five runs required off the final six balls. The skip chucked the ball to a dependable figure. Satpal stood at the top of his mark holding the now faintly fluorescent pink ball. Off a few precise steps he sent a perfect delivery through to the keeper. Short of a good length, the batsman looked to hit 12 off the first ball. The ball held in the surface and evaded the swish of willow. A couple of anticlimactic singles followed. 3 off 3. Another perfect delivery. Another wild heave from the batsman. Satpal did not blink. He may have been holding a bright pink ball, but he was housing two larger steel ones and they were the ones that mattered here. 3 off 2. 3 off 1. “Everyone out lads”. This time the batsman had no choice. The path they chose was now their only salvation. And as with all the deliveries in that over, Satpal gave nothing and delivered the killer blow. With a single coming off the last ball, the QMGS team were downed. The Old Boys had their long awaited revenge. For this over of skill, nerve and control, Satpal earned the MOTM.

Unfortunately this week, I could not muse on the hapless adventures of an alumni cricket team chancing their arm’s on a Thursday evening. Rather, I found myself waxing lyrical about the rugged batting, determined fielding and skilled bowling. Defending such a low total is no easy feat and it shall be one to remember, not least for the individual efforts that led to a true team victory. Next week we take on the staff to renew old rivalries. You won’t want to miss this one…