EYNSHAM V EAST & WEST HENDRED, July 2nd 2006

They say that brevity is the soul of something-or-other - well, this match certainly deserves, and will get, the briefest of reports…..

It should not be like this – we field an average-to-good Sunday side – Micky, Gully, Drurys father and son, plus seniors Gary, Gerry & Whitters. Youth is represented by Dom & Christian. It is the first proper Sunday game on the new ground. And “stand-in” Skipper John W, presiding once more while Junior rests his thumb, wins the toss again! On a warmish day, he elects to bat and sends in Gully & Whitters.

Here the trouble begins. Whether Gully is sent in as a pinch-hitter or in his new “responsible” mode, neither opener can hit the ball off the square. There is nothing wrong with the wicket, though recent rain maybe dampens its bounce a tad, and the two Hendreds can muster only 10 players - so it must be the bowlers. Six of the first 11 overs are maidens – we are becalmed for 30 successive balls at one point – and what do we have to show for this caution? Whitters manages to get himself stumped, would you believe, and sets off back, more in confusion than anger, I suspect. Gully, meanwhile, is taking self-denial to such extremes that his bat fails to register so much as a single before he is caught off opening bowler no.1 (figures at end of spell: 5-4-5-2). John counter-attacks boldly with a fluent straight drive and a vicious thrash through cover, but the change bowlers do for both him and Gibbo, and we are pretty becalmed at 39 for 4. Frank is in dour mode, especially when the Hendreds’ eleventh player finally locates the ground – “So they’ve brought in South Hendred as well” he mutters from under his luxuriant ‘tache; but he and young Coe put up a decent resistance and at least take us through to the drinks break, at which point we are just past 50.

Sadly, there is nothing in the refreshment to stimulate our batsmen, and the grim struggle continues. Dom hits a rare boundary, and Frank starts to middle it – he hits 6 in 1 over, forsooth – but a rather above-average catch finishes him off and brings in our President. Now begins the largest stand of the innings – a towering thirty, no less, with Gerry showing more than a glimpse of his class, and Dom supporting him stoutly (and running somewhat swifter too – on occasion a few words are exchanged as the youngster and veteran discuss the finer points of calling). But when Dom finally goes, that is pretty much it. “Sting” Ray hits a defiant four, Gerry another, but only Christian of the last 3 troubles the scorers as the Hendreds, a little surprisingly, bring back their openers to dispose of our tail with the score on the dreaded “Nelson”.

N.B. Micky, I should mention, currently in the form of his life, makes heartfelt pleas at the start of the innings for promotion from the bottom slot; but JW is not for turning. “You’re the best no. 11 in the world”, he asserts, trying to mollify Micky – I think he knows this is pure flannel. Consequently, Micky’s failure to score could be some form of protest. Or it could just be an unplayable ball…..

Tea, as it so often does, softens the blow of being dismissed so cheaply. Our debut tea on the new ground is provided by la famille Drury and is notable, amongst many goodies, for the novelty of real China tea and the most monumental triangular sarnies – just the thing to boost the energy levels……………(and slow up the Hendred batsmen, we speculate).

And so it would seem: Christian bowls 2 maidens, and Solly is steadiness itself, barring the occasional wide. Progress is slow but we do not break through. When Gully bowls a slightly fuller ball, he is driven to the boundary, and, by the time Gerry is called upon, the openers’ tea is well digested, and they begin to treat him with a good deal less respect than his experience and guile deserve. Whitters has a go at intimidating them with a varied selection of yorkers and rather, shall we say, fuller deliveries, but the batsmen steadily – and chancelessly – approach our measly total, until the Skipper bestows on Nigel G the dubious privilege of bowling the last over - which he does with grace but with no more success than any of his team-mates.

Bother, as they say.

M Hughes