Cup Finals? Lancashire (“la-la-la!”), you might think; Somerset, with their cider and smocks, even. The West Indies, all rum punches and steel bands, of course. But Eynsham? No……but-no-but-yes!! Here we are, and here we jolly well deserve to be. A thrilling semi-final victory – “lowly Eynsham”, the Mail calls us – and into the Airey Cup Final for the first time ever. I have extreme difficulty keeping back the hordes who want to book a place on the Official Supporters’ Mini-bus (although space is limited owing to Burnie’s two dozen cases of warm Rosé – ignoring the “only 1 hand-luggage item” rule, naturally).

Nobby loses the toss and Eynsham are inserted, as they say. The word is that he will bat anyway, though, when I “interview” him after the game, he is, shall we say, non-committal about the matter. Butts and Sam open, the latter fresh from a ton in the previous day’s President’s Match. The bowlers, both youthful, have long run-ups, and the ‘keeper and slips seem to stand half-way back to the boundary. The legendary Charlbury “Hill” is already filled with the raucous ECC supporters, and the first horn-blast arrives with the fourth ball, which Butts confidently guides to the rope. At the other end, though, both openers struggle a bit, defending, leaving, playing and missing a succession of testing balls. Butts breaks free with another driven four; 3 maidens follow in a row, and the Charlbury Hill horn is quiet. 9 overs – out of the restricted-field 15 – already gone, and only 15 scored; this is more like a Roses match. But Junior now hits a brace of fours, and a bonus over of 12 extras – in a ten-ball over - gives some relief to all but the hapless bowler and gets our rate above 2…….the general pattern of tight bowling, pinpoint-accurate fielding and besieged batsmen is now set, though. Sam plays the shot of the day so far, a cover drive timed – and, more to the point, placed – to perfection, and the 50 is finally hoisted.

There is still a little movement for the bowlers. Butts aims 3 drives at balls pitched invitingly outside off, each one more extravagant than the last, but only one finds anything but air. Now the insistent pace attack – the first opener rested after eight overs for only 11 runs - is varied with some medium-slow spin. Butts frees his arms for a boundary, then Sam departs - in deep gloom, naturally, when one finally gets through his defence. 60 for 1 after 21 overs, almost halfway through. A good sound start, but does it leave too much to do for nos. 3 to 11? Ringo looks serene enough as he walks in; the niggling bowling continues, and the pair can only raise the score in singles. Then Ringo, aware of the fact that he is the man expected to push on, drives, but uppishly, and is well caught. Olly, fretting throughout the build-up and the first half of the innings, now swings his bat mightily as he approaches the crease and swings it again at the third ball he faces, connecting for a magisterial four. But another lordly shot doesn’t pierce the field. Perhaps frustrated, Olly now slices one over extra cover, as he thinks, but (as he suggests later) perhaps he should hit it flatter, as it flies into the deep fielder’s hands. More deep gloom…….Dave H gets a corker first ball from the returning opening bowler, and we are struggling: 84 for 4 and only 13 overs left.

All things considered, we do as best we can in the final part of the innings. Cookster seems unaffected by the slump and plays a pair of lovely timed clips to leg for four. Next over, though, a similar shot does for him, with the ball maybe deviating a bit, and maybe a bit of bat helping the ball onto the stumps. Enter Steve, with his wide-brimmed white hat giving off an air of swagger – just what we need, a bit of “we-aren’t-lying-down-yet” attitude. This clearly rubs off on Butts, still anchoring away stoutly, as if Sir Geoffrey is whispering in his ear. Out of nowhere comes the sweetest straight six you could wish for – against the niggardly opener, what’s more. A crashing four follows; Steve gives him the strike next over, and the ball is deposited well over the hedge and into the cornfields beyond. “They’ll be a while finding that”, suggests John W, camera in hand, “the corn is that high…..”

In four overs they add 22; there is Much Tooting on the Hill, even the Worcester express in support. With his second six, Butts gets to just one shy of an heroic 50. No-one can believe his next shot: a tired-looking delivery met by a gentle looped turn to square leg, a simple catch, and a crestfallen trudge back to the pav. to loud and sympathetic applause. A vital innings, seeing off the new ball, shoring up the middle order – and some climax! Umer runs in to try and keep up our late impetus. He and Steve run terrifically fast; he drives fiercely for four; Steve lashes another, and the Charlbury Hill comes to life again. But the stand is short & sweet: both are caught for 10, and skipper Nobby manages to get run out without facing a ball – could he be a candidate for a Certain Club Award, I wonder. 142 for 9, four overs left. To smite or to stick – the limited-over dilemma is upon us. Duds bravely slams 2 crashing boundaries, Hassan one silky one, and we manage to get to the last over before the inevitable sacrificial run-out………158 all out. “Not enough” says our Skipper morosely.

It is defendable, but we will need some heroes and a slice or two of luck. Hookey start tentatively – they can afford to, I guess. Dave opens with a probing maiden, and Hassan tears in faster than any of their bowlers. He beats the bat – once, twice, and a third time. Not an edge in sight. Hookey’s skipper takes 19 balls to get off the mark, but then Dave drops short, trying for the extra mph, and Hookey are away with a six and a four in one over. Dave steadies up again but his fourth over is dealt with severely. Hassan is still dangerous and records another maiden – 5 overs for only 14 before his brother replaces him. Now we strike – Umer catching the no. 2 off his second ball just before Hookey post their 50. Timing.

This is the tensest moment. Another brace of wickets and we can put some serious pressure on the Hookey side. Umer is short, though, and the skipper, who is well played-in by now, collects another six and a four off him: seemingly, we cannot apply the necessary pressure. Nobby comes on and is steady as you might expect but doesn’t tease or tempt, the batsmen setting for 2 an over off him. Adam replaces Umer and begs for an lbw, as much out of a sense of justice as anything, I suspect – there is in fact a shade of bat on ball: that slice of luck is Hookey’s, not ours. With the score 100, Nobby tries Sam, who keeps pretty tidily up to this point. Again he disturbs the batsmen with pace and a bit of movement. The slips are kept interested but the ball flies annoyingly between, short, over – anywhere but to hand. Duds experiences the same frustration. The batsmen now start to play more freely, perhaps giving us better hope, but, even with the return of speedsters Umer and Hassan, it is clear that the game is up. The no. 3 finishes, cruelly, with 4 boundaries in 5 balls. Thank you and goodnight!

Presentations are made; scorer Alan Hughes receives his medal to the loudest supporters’ chanting I hear since Butts’s two sixes. Our defeated heroes give the Official Supporters’ Bus a rousing send-off, and the scenes at the Queen’s later are a fine example of what should happen on the day a village club reaches a county Cup Final. Even the President gets to toot the horn!

“Hughesy”