For many years, May has been the crossroads of English sport.
To the left would turn the armies of footballers, buoyed by the tangy zest of glory or doused in the Muscovite tears of failure. Years ago, their departure would have been dignified and glorious - the last march of a brave regiment - toasted with brandy, cigars and hearty song. But this year they finished with a drunken hen party – noisy, attention seeking and full of recrimination, bewildered tears and vague memories of faces slapped and honour questioned. At this point, to our relief, come the cricketers from the right - clean, sharp, thoughtful and intelligent, refreshing the palate like a citrus sorbet to follow an unnecessarily heavy first course.
This is May - blossom and buttercups, sunshine and showers, cup finals and cricket. Oh, how we love it so.
Having departed the over-rated cup competition the previous week, UCLES’* concentration on the league shone through last Thursday evening with a victory so comfortable it should have come with a fleece-lining and padded collar.
Skipper Steve lost the toss beneath a smashing late spring sky and the opposition took the first use of a pitch cast in the John Terry mould - hard enough on the surface but more than a little soft underneath; clear signs that cracking could occur later on with unpredictable shooting and possibly spitting. Satire, my friends, satire.
Ordish and Parikh took the new ball and quickly made progress against a side that had decided to allow some of their non-cricketers first go with the bat. It was, predictably enough, folly. Three batsmen spent longer on the journey from the pavilion than they did at the crease as stumps were tickled, clattered and uprooted.
The other opening batsman had however clearly played before and he kept the run rate flowing despite being generally bamboozled by the unpredictable hooping of an increasingly muscular Parikh. When Ordish had finished battering the batsman and bruising Linsdell (who was, in all fairness, keeping wicket like a man with espresso cups for hands) he was replaced by Danson (rtd).
Despite being well into his seventies, Danson continues to defy medical logic with his general levels of health and alertness. Last Thursday’s game was clearly a big day out for a man that, just a couple of hours earlier, had been yelling “DEAL WOMAN, DEAL!” at his television.
Another bewilderingly good spell of bowling followed and Molecular Biology’s single batting threat was bowled by a ball that left him scratching his head like a mulleted teacher in a classroom of nit-ridded 5 year-olds.
With Siyambalapitiya and Lane tying up the other end, UCLES* were picking their way through a side that had a tail longer than a Chinese dragon at New Year. In truth the opposition, a good-natured jumble sale of the unwanted, broken or ill fitting never looked like making their 20 overs and finally expired in the 17th - having amassed a relatively paltry 85.
Gill and Linsdell began the UCLES* reply with a dipping sun leaning softly against their backs. Gill fell as early as possible, bowled by a ball that threatened to misbehave and then didn’t. The wicket brought Brock to the crease and, taking one look at his stance and attire, the opposition clearly felt another scalp was just moments away. Little did they know that by the time Brock returned to the pavilion, the game would be lost.
Much more at home on the tennis court than cricket pitch, Brock soon re-opened the slightly dull sport science debate about the transferability of skills. After a short time to settle, he began to produce some stunning shots – wristy, powerful and timed so sweetly that the sound of bat on ball was barely audible. At the other end, in a slightly more orthodox but doubtlessly less attractive style, Linsdell peppered the leg-side boundary three times in as many balls and UCLES* were well on their way.
The pair added 50 in 8 overs before Linsdell was perhaps a shade unlucky to be adjudged LBW to a ball that didn’t hit either of his legs, deflecting instead off the outside edge through third-man for four. In falling in such a fashion, Linsdell became the first UCLES* batsman to fall LBW without the ball hitting the pad since Godfrey Hatching-Mule was giving out playing against Chemistry in 1969 after the ball had slapped against his famously low-slung left buttock.
Skipper Steve joined Brock at the wicket and the game was soon over. Skipper Steve produced a stream of trademark cuts (unusual only in that on this occasion there wasn’t 25-30 minutes of cricket between each one) and Brock continued to irritate the opposition with ungainly fluidity.
Events came to a close a fraction after 8pm. The early finished allowed the core of the team to adjourn to the pub, Linsdell to race home to relieve his mother-in-law and Danson to pop home, fill the watering can, pop the dog on a lead and put the kettle on in preparation for a Friday spent watering the garden, walking the dog and having a nice up of tea.
