Well, really this match can be summed up in a couple of sentences………..but I won’t spoil the plot.

Eynsham assemble a strongish team, with Skipper Harris “resting” and Sam J deputizing. The wily WMP win the toss; we bat. Murray bribes Sam to let him open, promising to outscore Els………and he does. After 6 overs, we reach the giddy heights of 1 for 0, and the sheep in the nearby field are barracking loudly. The pitch looks a bit sticky, and the odd ball rises or cuts in. One such deceives Els in the 8th over. It’s not strictly accurate to say that he does not trouble the scorers; indeed our scorer is visibly troubled (thinks: if Els can’t get this stuff away, what hope for the rest of us?). He - our scorer, that is - distracts himself by discussing mutual Black Country ancestors with the WMP scorer. Personally I don’t see the resemblance, but there you are.

Els returns muttering something libellous about the pitch but soon perks up when a game of cricket ball petanque is proposed. Meanwhile John, too is struggling against pinpoint-accurate bowling. Hardly a ball passes the bat but neither can the batsmen get the ball off the square. A first boundary from Murray is greeted with wild acclaim and toots of Bernie’s horn – which, the way things are going, isn’t going to see much action today, I fear. Suddenly John edges low, the keeper fumbles but manages to tip the ball to first slip, thence to second, who jubilantly hangs on. I am reminded that John does not do ordinary dismissals…………

Frank bats gamely, hoping to see off the opening attack – though, if he only knew it, the WMP support bowlers are generally as b****y annoying and hard to get away as the openers. Inevitably he is undone by the first change bowler, though, like John, he has reason to feel a bit unlucky. One of the fielders who has no business throwing himself around dives full-length and clutches the ball off a firmly-hit drive. We are treated upon Frank’s return to some most un-Christian language (luckily, son Christian does not make an appearance until his Dad has cooled off a bit).

Of the innings and outings of Adam & Macca I shall be brief: both swat their first attacking stroke close enough to cover that the fielder does not have to dive. 45 for 5, deep trouble; enter Sam Jones. For a while he and Murray stabilize the innings. Murray swats the rare bad ball; Sam pulls for four. Murray asks for a drink, but probably regrets it as he is almost immediately out. There must be a moral there………..

Burnie meanwhile is expounding his theory of How To Play The Pie (the WMP bowlers getting slower & twirlier by the over): “First ball”, he declaims, “Block”. “Second ball”, he continues to his spell-bound audience, “Block. Third ball”, he concludes, as one who is about to recite the punch-line of a seriously good joke, “SMASH!!!” It is at this point that Muzza trudges mournfully back, and Burnie is all set to put his theory to the test. The spectators count nervously but he is evidently working to a different plan and does not attempt a real swipe for at least a dozen deliveries. When he does, though, women and children scatter as he hits high over square leg for what he claims later is his first-ever 6 for the club. With Sam thriving, a decent stand is posted, and, much to our surprise, the 100 is reached. Burnie is finally dislodged after what I’m sure the press call a “mature” innings – ratio of blocks to smashes about 30 to 1 – and Sam follows soon after in a desperate attempt to get a few more runs before the tail is blown away. The final total of 122 is more than we expect but there is a glummish feeling at tea, despite the enormous variety of offerings from the Gully household.

The tale of the WMP innings has little in the way of heroics. Gully, plainly exhausted by the effort of tea-making, bowls a rather wayward spell, though Micky is miserly and even makes a breakthrough: Burnie, having twice dived like an Olympic triallist in vain attempts to latch on to lofted drives, stands still for a change - to the astonishment of all - & smartly pockets a third loft. 44 for 1. Then Sam, knowing the no. 3 is partial to the late cut, cleverly teases him into a soft sort of dab straight to Gully in the gully – 53 for 2 and a faint ray of hope!

Hope? Huh. Sam, evidently realizing the inevitable, brings on Hughes and proceeds to post 3 men behind square leg. The team is incensed by this needless conceding of a no-ball, and mass cap-throwing follows. WMP proceed rather too easily after this, though Burnie produces a brief hostile spell. By the time Macca and Adam are called up – a tad late, perhaps – there are only a dozen needed to win. It is all over. The WMP trounce us, for possibly the 12th time in a row, possibly the 13th. (Surprisingly, some of them do recall being beaten once, but only the very ancient ones……………….)

 

Martin Hughes