Vs North Middlesex (with the bat)

The second part of the match report of the North Midds game.

Eventually we needed 204 for the winning draw (a stunning fuckradiction in terms) or 240 to win from what I assumed was 45 overs. The opening batting could best be described as comatose, and after 12 overs we were 23 runs. I know. But we did come back, and once our middle order got going we made quite a few runs in the middle section. Jamie, a classical batsman extraordinaire, made a tasty 70 odd. He is one of those guys who doesn’t hit the big shots, but just scores so effortlessly. His leg glance is like the one you played once, and could never do again. Just a clip off the legs and he seemed to beat fine leg with it every time.

There was some last minute changing of the order, as we were on target to win the draw (fuck I hate writing that) but not win the match. The guy who was to go in at 8, went in at 7 to pinch hit. And he did try, but he just couldn’t hit the ball.  After the pinch hitter went out, Jamie went out too, and I strode in at about 7/200 to bat with Mark, an injured opening bat from the 2s who I was assured could really bat.

Not understanding English club cricket rules, I had assumed we needed about 40 runs to win off 3.2 overs. I asked if we were still going for the win, as our captain, John, was out their umpiring, and I was told we were. I figured that if Mark was a proper batsman, he might as well keep up one end, while I set myself for some pyrotechnics at the over.

I started off with a length ball on off stump, and I smashed a back foot drive to point and took off.  I was so excited by the fact I timed it I told our captain it was the first ball I had timed in England, he took that a pessimistic way, “Don’t tell me that”. I meant it was a good sign.

Next over I found myself facing the left arm orthodox bowler (the guy I had got out earlier), after stealing a third run when the ball was already in the air off the second ball. I couldn’t help but wonder at the field. All day the fields had been set oddly, often their captain would stack one side of the field, and leave big gaps in other areas. But a left arm orthodox bowler from around the wicket with two men on the leg side seemed insane.

I figured that no matter where the ball was I had to get it behind square on the leg side that was basically an empty field. The ball was on a good length, about a foot outside off stump and I just went and flipped it to the legside. It was some sort of bastardisation of the dilscoop and the paddle sweep. Somehow I managed to get all of it.

I didn’t see it, but apparently John at square leg, his conservative captaincy instincts kicked in, and he almost had a heart attack when he saw what I was doing. Their captain said I was a genius, but you have to question someone who calls you a genius when he has two fielders on that side of the field. He plugged the gap, which was the right thing to do. The bowler came over the wicket.

I figured with the gap plugged, and the bowler over the wicket, it was time to hit one, so I eyed up the leg side, now with all of three fielders. I decided to pull out the slog sweep, one of my most dependable shots, and more importantly one that was going to the side where there were no fielders.

The next ball was fired in full on off stump, but I had already committed to the slog sweep, it was probably too full, but I went through with it anyway, and hit it straight over mid on’s head. It was probably only a couple of feet away from him, but I smacked it, and it would have been one hell of a catch.

The ball went a long long way, so I had a while to watch what the captain was doing and react to it. He moved the mid wicket around, straighter, kept the mid on 3/4ers of the way out, and moved the short fine leg to backward square leg.

I knew I had to paddle again, their captain was probably thinking that I wouldn’t paddle now the left armer was over the wicket, incorrect.  The next one was at least a foot and a half outside off, and I still got around and scooped it again.

Now the opposition were laughing, but it was a nervous laugh. I knew this was going to be the last over from the spinner; he had bowled about 20 overs already, so I was determined to end it with a bang. The legside field now had 4 players on it, a long on, a straight mid wicket, and backward square and a short fine leg.

I knew this was slog sweep time again, no matter where the ball was pitched; this could be my last chance to have a free swing from a spinner without men on the boundary. Generally I like to slog sweep from a ball outside off stump as it gives me more chance to swing my arms, but instead he fired it in at middle and leg. It didn’t seem to bother me that much as I smacked the red off it. I didn’t see where it landed, but the huge roar from my team mates made it pretty damn obvious it cleared the rope.

End of the over. I went up to Mark and said ok now we need 21 off 2. He smiled and said, “no, 21 off 4”. This is why I need to learn the rules of the league I am playing in. I checked with John (who as captain and umpire I assumed would know), and he assured me it was 4 overs as well. Whether I would have gone as nuts in the previous over with this information is an interesting question, chances are I would have not played the second big shot, but you never know with me. John also told me to settle down, no chance of that I grinned.

Mark got a single off the first one, and they had an open field on the legside for me, so when he angled in on my pads, I tried to dab it to short midwicket and steal two. I completely forgot I have a torn cartilage and Mark was injured as well. So there was only one, John told me to stop calling two before I knew how many runs were on offer, but I convinced him it was a masterly Australian ploy to put the fielders under pressure. He was too English to understand.

Perhaps we should have taken the two on, as for the next 4 balls Mark played and missed. You could tell he is a good batsman, but he was just trying to hit the ball too hard, and the opening bowler was bowling a good channel outside off stump.

We only got two off that over, but it didn’t bother me. I knew we had 3 overs to get 19, and I was pretty confident. The spinner was taken off, he was sick of me. They brought their young quick on, and I had eyed him up earlier in the day as the sort of pace I like to face, quick enough you don’t have much time to think, slow enough you can hit him hard in front of the wicket.

The first three balls of the over were singles. Twice I smashed the ball into the off side but picked out the field, and Mark got a single on the legside.

I knew this was the time to go, as I was seeing them well, and the guy at the other end could put in another tight over and the last one could be trouble. So I charged him, and whether by accident or by design I got a head high full toss. I was seeing them ridiculously well and even charging down the wicket getting a head high full toss I still managed to hook it (not off the middle) for a couple, the ball was called no ball the second I hit it, and I didn’t hear an apology, but I was breathing gasoline by that stage.

I figured my foot work was putting him off, so next ball I did the fake backing away step to fuck him up, it didn’t work. He bowled a sensational Yorker and all I could do was dig out a piece of pitch and hit it back to him.

My first dot ball, and I was sledged by their keeper captain, “Don’t worry about his dancing”. It probably wasn’t even a sledge, but it pissed me off (I bat better when I am pissed off)  and the breathing of the gasoline turned into a raging fire. The legside was fairly protected, and I knew I would have to really smash one to get through the four men back on the rope, on the offside there was three as well, but there was a mid off, and a deep cover and a third man, anything over point was going to be four.

So as he came in I backed away, he saw me back away and went wide, at short of a length, and slapped it over point for four. And to myself more than to anyone I said “dance with that bitch”.  Not one of my best sledging come backs, but it sounded good coming straight after the ball hit the bat.

I was now walking around in circles like a boxer with a grudge.  I was so fired up at that point. My breathing was very heavy, and I was looking for a fight. Next ball I got a full one on middle, I swatted it down to the gap between mid wicket and long on, but didn’t run as fast as I should have. Even though Mark was sore, he called me through as the fielder was picking up the ball, and I hadn’t even put my bat into the crease. I made it for two, Mark’s call was correct, even if I had to run between the fielder and the keeper to make sure. On the last ball I walked a single to square leg.

There was no great plan for the next over; we now needed 8 with two overs to go.  I noticed mid on was up, and that was where I decided to go, he put it on a length, and I tried to hit it through mid on, but I dragged it to mid wicket for one.  John was telling me to settle down, but I knew there was no chance of that, if I slowed down I would get stuck. Later on he said I told him to fuck off, I may have (it does sound like me) but I can’t remember it, I was super mega pumped. John is a top bloke, very intelligent in cricket matters, but he is proper English. He doesn’t always get the way us antipodes play the game, as will be explained in a future post.

Mark got a single on the off side with a sensational shot that was unlucky to find point and then I mauled another one on the off side for a single. The next one Mark missed, and I had visions of him missing them for the rest of the over and us scrambling for a victory in the last over. He didn’t though, he scored off the 4th or 5th ball, and I was back on strike.  We needed 4 or so to win/win, not just a win the draw. I thought I should try and get Mark on strike for the last over. His lady was watching him bat for the first time; I thought it would be nice for her to see him hit the winning runs. And perhaps nicer for him later in the evening.

It was about the only thought going through my head (not them having sex, but him looking like the hero) as they brought the all the field up. Then the bowler came steaming in, and dropped a short one in (on purpose from what I could tell) and without thinking I swatted a pull shot over wide long on for the classic one bounce four (© N Scarr).  And that was that.

The opposition felt a little blown away, 40ish runs off 5 overs with three wickets in hand was what was needed when I came in, I think they were pretty confident. As they should have been. One of the older guys commented that I probably shouldn’t have been batting at 9.  I almost told him I made a hundred batting at 9 once, but it didn’t seem the right time.

It was a magical innings, I really felt like I could hit the ball wherever I wanted to, and that doesn’t happen much. I timed pretty much everything I faced, scored off every ball bar one, hit my first six in London (their captain shook my hand when I told him that), played some scoop shots, and stole a game of cricket.

Not fucking bad.

My teammates were over the moon, none of them had seen me face more than a handful of balls before, and I don’t think any of them expected this. I certainly didn’t. Everyone was quite impressed by the Charlie French, especially the noise it makes when you really crack one (pure aural orgasmic delight). I might be moving onto a new bat shortly, so I am glad I really got to road test the Advance. It is one hell of a bat.

All the melancholy I had during my time in the field washed away some time around my second scoop. I might not be the cricketing athlete I once was, but I can still play a bit.

You’ve got to love this fucking game.