Open stance

I was passing time in the new UCLES Cafe the other morning, nursing a piping tea and an unshakable sense of under-achievement when I noticed a familiar young man swerving elegantly through the crowds.

It was the beard that caught my eye first, curling nonchalantly across his stout chin like a care-free weasel reclining on a warm rock. My first thoughts were conspicously Elizabethan until I recognised the sharp yet gregarious shoes.

"My word", I exclaimed, "It's Mr Wylie". And so t'was.

Having returned from an ambitious attempt to be somewhere else, rather like an 16th Century explorer sailing round the Isle of Wight for six months before returning to court with a collection of odd-shaped vegetables and a sun tan, Wylie was once more on UCLES turf, brimming with possiblities of a new season.

I cornered him for a long and elegant conversation about cover drives only for him to curtail me with suggestions that he was 'in a meeting'. Confused somewhat, I withdrew.

In recognition of the return of the golden boy of UCLES* cricket I bring before you arguably his finest hour. Although it's not a particularly good argument...

UCLES* v Sanger Centre (12/07/05)

UCLES dismal season experienced a new and thrilling dip Tuesday night with a 3 run defeat against Sanger. Having reduced the visitors to a meagre 93, UCLES contrived to bat the full 20 overs yet still fall short.

When I was at Infant School, failure to bring the appropriate kit meant doing PE in matching Y-front and vest sets - usually in white or blue. When I say PE of course, I actually mean running around a school hall whilst some old lady plays the piano. Sometimes with bean bags, sometimes hoops.

Fortunately for Wylie, no such rule exists in the UCLES cricket club or the blonde bombshell would have contributed to this most recent fixture against Sanger in his gruds - having decided that half the club kit was better off in his parents garage than at St Catz. The UCLES team responded however to this quandary with typical British spirit and warmed-up by tossing a small red Frisbee around like actors in a clothed version of the 1970's sex education film. Further negotiation and resourcefulness eventually brought together sufficient implements to prevent UCLES from having to bat with argos catalogues, car jacks and pavilion benches.

Winning the toss (we at least had a coin), Skipper James chose once more to bowl first on a strip that was so close to the top of the field that Live8 could have been staged between the pitch and the tennis courts at the bottom. The Danny Boys of Spittle and Danson began proceedings beneath and azure sky and an ambient temperature as hot as the inside of a microwaved lasagne. Spittle's erratic radar was once more to the fore, providing more width than the seats at Disneyland McDonalds, but at the other end Danson was miserly and uncompromising, striking first with a light tickle to West behind the stumps. And as Danson tightened the screw so Spittle tightened his line to deliver his best three overs of the season. With Danson collecting a second wicket with what a fast bowler would have called his slower ball, Sanger had bumbled their way to 60 from the first 10, despite having barely hit the ball.

With the game nicely balanced the change bowlers would be key and Siyambalapitiya and Ordish didn't disappoint. With Siyambalapitiya's waving, wobbly balls from one end and Ordish's hard balls from the other, the Sanger batting line-up began to implode. Siyambalapitiya was the main beneficiary, producing a stunning display of accuracy to take 5 for 16, helped by a couple of decent catches from West and Skipper James. Indeed, Siyambalapitiya may have been the first man in recent memory to take 6 wickets in an innings for UCLES had Visage not played ‘fingerless juggler’ beneath a late skier. At the other end Ordish was simply too quick and accurate for Sanger, twice hitting the stumps. When the final wicket was delivered through a Robinson-Linsdell run-out combination the visitors had reached just 93, many runs short of par. Or so it seemed at the time.

Linsdell and Skipper James began the leisurely chase reasonably well with the latter twice finding the boundary in the opening overs. But when Skipper James fell for 15 and then Linsdell the following over for a pad-based 4 UCLES were left with some repair work to do.

Robinson and Wylie went about this process with great control, ensuring the required rate never looked threatening and with wickets in hand victory was looking something of a formality. Sanger's bowlers were however not willing to give the game up and when Wylie fell for 15 they began to scent a possible change of fortune.

With dot balls becoming the order of the day the door began to creak shut on a seemingly unavoidable UCLES triumph. By the time Robinson was run-out for a valuable 27, UCLES required 8 runs from the final over. Despite a couple of wides the final over was largely accurate and a boundary was required from the final ball to see UCLES home. Rather than seeing the ball race to the ropes, a disconsolate Visage saw his willow rattled and the home side had slumped like a holed bouncy castle to 90 for 5, three runs short.

This was the second time this season, and the third time in less than a year that UCLES have lost by less than 5 runs. In truth, the batting display was very disappointing but much can be taken from an excellent display in the field. The batting will be a blip, but the impressive bowling shows every sign of being here to stay.

As this drama unfolded, a middle-aged man in socks and sandals wandered over with a suicidal looking dog. "It's often harder to chase a small total than a big total" he quipped to no-one in particular. I looked around for something to throw at him but to no avail. Maybe Wylie was right to forget the kit after all...

Switch-hit

The last time I tickled the dark cubes of my Dell keyboard cricket was a simple enough game played in-between meals. Suddenly, it is a global commodity, being tossed from hand-to-hand by the sort of people that are usually found trying to eat the Billy Goat Gruff.

It is fortunate therefore that my battered, leather notebook still unfurls itself by natural causes amidst a sea of UCLES* cricketing nonsense. Today, the yellowing pages yawn open in July 2006 when the sweet smell of returning Ashes still hung in the air like the memory of a happy barbecue.

This is one of my personal favourites, if I can be so vain. Close your ears to the insanity of the wailing world and enjoy.

UCLES* v Sanger Centre (11/07/06)

Halfway between Cambridge and Saffron Walden is a little place where the very future of mankind in being shaped and determined. Whilst us mere mortals pass the time clerically enhancing the banality of our existence so those within the confines of the Sanger Institute go about re-defining what it means to exist at all. There is a sign on the front door that says, ‘You don’t have to code DNA to work here, but it helps’. Where God giveth brains, so he nicketh the sense of humour.

Set within the confines of this substantial campus is a small patch of grassland, a recreational area for the staff, like a wheel in the cage of gifted hamster. It is, itself, a nice enough area – but for the train line that scratches nosily behind a dense row of trees – and a large pond dominates one side like an alcoholic's liver. As a cricket venue however it is not the best, speckled with animal faeces like a turkey farm on Christmas Eve, run scoring is harder than origami with wet lettuce.

With no pavilion facilities available the UCLES* stars had to take turns to change in toilets, like something out of a George Michael video. Wylie stood for a moment by the side of the pond looking for three-eyed fish – once more confusing real-life with The Simpsons – as the sun provided another burst of bland and inelegant heat.

Skipper Steve’s luck with tosses is now so poor that he has long since stopped bothering to call. Instead, he just shrugs enigmatically and submits to whatever the opposition captain chooses. In this instance, UCLES* were asked to field.

The Sanger pitch was, as always, a herby minefield and with accurate early bowling from Danson and Wood UCLES* were restricting the scoring. Having drawn the edge more often than Rolf Harris on a U2 tour, Wood eventually took matters into his own hand by hitting the stumps. At the other end Danson’s deliveries were tighter than a fish’s skin.

With just a handful of runs scored in the opening eight overs, the game was dramatically brought to a halt by an attempted pull of Ordish that struck the Sanger opening batsman firmly above the eye. Had he been Marco Materazzi he would probably have rolled all the way into the pond. As it was, he dropped to the floor and had to be tended by West as he bled onto the pitch – fortunately not on a length.

After a few minutes he was escorted off the field to be tended further by an arriving paramedic. A nasty incident that was handled well by West, who perhaps ruined his hero status by wondering out loud whether the opposition had time to clone a replacement.

Just moments after the game restarted another injury was suffered as a Canada goose (Branta canadensis) fielding just behind square on the leg side boundary suffered a glancing blow to the shoulder. Do geese have shoulders? Anyway, despite protestations from Wylie, the paramedic was not keen to tend to the injured bird.

Ordish recovered his composure to collect a wicket in what was now officially the longest over in UCLES* cricket history, some 15 seconds longer than the 76-ball over Spittle bowled during his 2005 ‘erratic’ period.

With Siyambalapitiya bowling a tight and effective spell from one end and Ordish mixing the unplayable with the unreachable, Sanger limped their way to 90-8 in their overs. Having made nearly 200 the previous week, UCLES* had given themselves a great chance of back-to-back victories.

Linsdell and Gill began the chase reasonably well but when Linsdell was bowled trying an extravagant shot the hosts had the early wicket they needed. Wylie’s stay at the wicket was over before Linsdell had re-sheathed his bat, the pop-star fending a rising delivery away from his face and straight back to the bowler. Facing the reality that this was not going to be a quick chase, Gill and Skipper Steve steadied the innings reasonably well but when they both fell in quick succession the double-figure target suddenly seemed a whole lot more daunting.

As the game reached the business end so runs began to come as White, Wood, Siyambalapitiya and, most impressively, Ordish, found the boundary with some powerful blows. But just as the UCLES* appeared to have the game in their grasp, another wicket would pull Sanger back into the game.

When West fell at the end of the penultimate over UCLES* had slumped to 85-9 and the burden of victory fell to two masters of the game – Danson and Ladds. For a moment, just a moment, it was 1970. A pint of milk was a guinea, cars were driven behind a man with a flag and everyone smoked a pipe. Such a heady and intoxicating dream was however crushed moments later as Danson fell trying to smash the winning runs.

Playing cricket at Sanger has always been like playing the banjo with a slice of quiche and once more a low-scoring contest went against UCLES*. If I had a pound for every time an UCLES* side had lost a game by less than 12 runs in the last 5 years then I would probably have a fair fistful of cash – certainly enough to be able to afford a decent selection of vegetables to go with a delicious plump breasted Branta canadensis.