Scorecards can be found here -
www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5527530/scorecard Ahhhh, ‘Autumn days when the grass is jewelled. And the silk inside a chestnut shell. Jetplanes meeting in the air to be refuelled. All these things I love so well’. No – not a clue about refuelling Jetplanes either! But as this timeless autumnal refrain loops round the brain – and it will to those of a certain vintage – and minds are cast back to languid schooldays and various ‘unpleasantness’, we now enter the fag-end of yet another Bodley cricketing season. Alas, in what has come to be a grim routine of late, the approach of Bodley’s final competitive match was again shrouded in uncertainty due to the capricious weather Gods. Yet again a brief window of weekday warming sunshine had now scudded well beyond the boundary, packed its bags and jetted off somewhere warm for the winter, leaving the now familiar gunmetal grey skies and associated ‘thundery showers’, as the weather people seem to euphemistically term biblical deluges these days. Indeed, there were more than one or two Bodley players of a more fatalistic disposition who had convinced themselves that at any moment a cancellation would come winging its way to the ‘App’ or ‘Inbox’ or some-such – or, in the case of Dave Busby, via Telegram, just like it always had done and always will. For those holding out a smidgeon of hope there was always the venue to be factored in, for today the mighty Bodley would be taking on the now oh-so-familiar Holton & Wheatley at Great Tew. Now, with its particular demographics and local aerodrome, this bucolic corner of the Cotswolds can sometimes give the impression that it is just the sort of place that Rudolph Hess may well choose to drop in on if he were to undertake his ‘Mission of Mediation’ today. What is undeniable however, is that Tew seems to be blessed with its own micro-climate that sees weather fronts deciding to steer well clear, and has thus enabled play to proceed on many an occasion when spirits, and much else besides, should otherwise have been most assuredly damp. So, despite the apocalyptic predictions of the various forecasting tools being scrutinised by those who had moved beyond Nokia handsets and dial-up, the question that exercised all minds was would Bodley manage to actually compete and complete their final game of the season? On arrival things were somewhat in the balance, though not necessarily due to the ominous looking sea of grey cloud that stretched to the horizon. A call from Dave Busby enquiring about a curious absence of players at Stanton St John, which signalled he had gone to the wrong ground in yet another of his Pevsner-esque tours of Oxfordshire, threatened to be the first of many ill-winds that would engulf Bodley today, though it was clear that Holton & Wheatley were somewhat thin on the ground too. With Tew now basking in a brief window of dry weather however, there was no sense in delaying the start, and with Bodley winning the toss and electing to bat the final game of the season would now get underway. Taking the reins today would be Matthew Neely, who was keen to maintain the glorious, and somewhat unlikely, run of victories that had been secured by none other than Stuart Ackland. He alas couldn’t be with us today as he is busy preparing for the Florence Park amateur version of Strictly Come Dancing called, somewhat cryptically, ‘Get a Wriggle On’. Apparently, he will be performing his own unique take on the Paso Doble, wearing just his cricket flannels. We hear the organisers have politely asked if he wouldn’t mind wearing some slightly larger towels, but as anyone familiar with the great man knows, he is never one to compromise his art, so it sounds like everyone has much to look forward to there. As a gesture of support, we understand that Ackland did offer his ‘Lucky Greggs Pants’ to Bodley’s incumbent captain today, but had to withdraw the offer later due to the fact that he had mislaid his WD40 and wallpaper scraper, so couldn’t actually take them off. Although the absence of such a talismanic cricketing behemoth was clearly quite a blow, Bodley were once again fortunate to be able to draw upon the services of Andrew Milner, who had just returned from his annual holiday in the Highlands with his old pal from Charterhouse Iffy Jinks. He says that although they had not managed to explore quite as much of Glen Hoddell as they’d hoped, Iffy in particular had had enormous fun camping on Ben Fogell for a couple of nights. There certainly seemed to be a gleam in the old-stager’s eyes, so the break had clearly done him good. And looking equally up for the task in hand were the redoubtable pairing of James and Dan Shaw, along with fellow regulars Gavin Robinson and Dave Busby (eventually), with Mike Webb and Tim Philipson also along for the ride, though erring rather more on the side of cautious optimism. Also joining the fun today were occasionals Tuppy Morrissey and Archie Lewins, with a welcome return of old favourite Asad to complete the intrepid Bodley band of Brothers that sought to rescue a modicum of hope and respect from what has proved to be a somewhat ‘challenging’ season. The opposition today were Holton & Wheatley, though to the casual observer they may well have been Cheney School, Oxfam, or even the Richard Denner XI, given the interchangeability of several of their players. A quick check of the fixture list did however confirm that it was indeed Holton & Wheatley today, and further glances round the assembled players confirmed the presence of several of the usual faces, though the ever destructive Thakore was in fact absent today, giving a slight glimmer of hope amidst the autumnal gloom that swathed the ground. Despite this, the match still promised to be a real challenge, and as such there was a palpable sense of relief when Neely won the toss and elected to bat. And so, under a brooding sky, the final game of the season would commence with the orthodox pairing of Neeley and Dan taking the honours. From the boundary it was hard to gauge conditions out in the middle, but it was clear that despite the bowlers appearing to take some time to find consistent line and length, it was still proving very hard for batters to get the ball away, particularly against Jay, whose opening Maiden was clear intent of how he intended to carry on. Despite the paucity of runs from Jay, there were, thankfully for Bodley, relative riches to be had from Talha at the other end, with both Shaw and Neely quick between the stumps and helping the occasional loose ball to the boundary. By the end of the forth over, both batters appeared to have settled into a pleasing and productive routine, and with a useful, hard-won, twenty runs on the board, the strike-rate was equally impressive, all things considered. Just as the Bodley contingent on the boundary were starting to settle themselves, and banish all thoughts of urgent calls to pad-up, the calm was shattered by that man Jay, whose pace finally found an inside-edge, resulting in Neely’s stumps being grotesquely splayed like an arthritic crone’s gnarly fingers. And so, despite a hard-grafted six runs, Neeley had to depart, to be replaced by Lewins, who brought an abundance of much needed technique to the crease, given the clear intent and skill of the Holton bowling attack. However, before there was any time to re-assess the situation, or even update the scoreboard, Jay struck again, breaching the Lewins defence with yet another probing delivery that clipped the top of off-stump, to the apparent surprise of Lewins, and utter dismay to the rest of Bodley. With the quick loss of two key wickets, it was beginning to look like the much sought-after ‘platform’ had decided to do an unceremonious bunk, with Bodley now twenty for two off five overs, and Jay chalking up a respectable two-wicket maiden over into the bargain. From the ashes of despair and all that however, for now striding languidly out to the middle was James. Now one of the real treats that has become a staple of Bodley cricket over the past few seasons has been the sight of a Shaw-Shaw partnership out in the middle – more often than not besting the bowling attack, and making a clear statement of intent that you do not mess with the ‘Florence Park Massif’. Of course, the partnership has many pleasing components, with the evolving, guileful technique of Dan proving to be a useful foil to the rather more direct approach of James, but there is always a keen eye for runs at the fore, and ample reserves of brute force to deliver them when required. Not wishing to ration the ‘excitement’, there was a rather testy start to the partnership today, with James surviving a dropped diving-catch attempt on the first ball of the eleventh over, but by now there was almost constant drizzle in the air so the ball was proving to be a bit slippery. And despite such occasional blips, it was clear that Dan and James had finally set about consolidating the innings in what were proving to be very tricky conditions – judiciously defending probing bowling but punishing anything that strayed into the hitting zone, and it wasn’t long before the boundary started to be found with pleasing regularity. Even though a ‘du Maurier-esque’ flock of birds was now ominously taking flight, and the rain continued to threaten to engulf the ground, for once both the weather and luck seemed to be holding for Bodley, as James was dropped yet again at mid-wicket in the fifteenth over – again those slippery conditions coming to the aid of Bodley who were now cantering along despite the best efforts of change bowlers Taha and Birren. And as if to cement the brief window of good fortune that seemed to have opened up for Bodley, in the seventeenth over Dan proved that there is much wisdom in the adage that if you are going to flash, flash hard, as a lusty heave across the line skied a top edge high into deep which fortunately trisected three fielders, who muttered dark thoughts as they set about repairing the cavernous pitch mark left in the turf. At drinks therefore, Bodley had staged a much- needed recovery after a somewhat scratchy start, and when play resumed it appeared that more of the same was in order, with an increasingly expansive Dan heaving yet another top edge almost to the Third Man boundary, just like what you see proper players do. And so just as Busby was busy beavering away in the Pavilion trying to turn the Big Urn on (whatever that meant), and things out on the pitch seemed to have settled into a reassuring pattern, Bodley decided to pull an old favourite out of the locker to end the season with, as an LBW shout against James led to enquiring glances at the Umpire. Meanwhile, Dan had decided that there was a run to be had in all the confusion, and set off to the strikers-end like Alan Wells, where James – having now recovered from the sight of the fruit of his loins bearing down on him with a hefty wooden bat – had decided that, all things considered, it was probably best if he set off for the other end. Alas, the initial hesitation was to cost him dear, and it was with a sense of despair, matched by the rest of team Bodley on the boundary, that he just failed to make his ground, and was run out. As James departed for a well struck and timely twenty-two, Bodley seemed to have rebuilt, and with ninety runs on the board and fifteen overs remaining, a degree of optimism had returned to a team which is, by constitution, naturally fatalistic. For sure, the bowling had proved to be challenging, but as the last seventy-run partnership had demonstrated, there were scoring opportunities to be had if you could just defend against the danger balls. The key seemed to be hanging around long enough to get the measure of the pitch and the bowlers, and it was this critical initial hurdle that would prove to be the stumbling block for the remainder of the innings. Morrissey was next in, and with ample technique at his disposal, expectations were once again high. But yet again it was clearly proving hard to adapt to the conditions, with some balls keeping low, whilst others stuck in the pitch and veered up at an alarming pace, and so after a few tentative edges had evaded the fielders, Kashif adopted a more direct approach and duly sent Morrissey’s stumps clattering, causing ripples of alarm that washed over the remaining Bodley batters, who were now frantically rummaging for pads and gloves in that old familiar way. Before any sense of despondency had a chance to become entrenched however, the drizzle had finally decided that it was about time it grew up and became a fully mature downpour, and so as the first ball of the twenty-forth over was concluded, a dash for cover took place by those not tasked to trundle out the covers in what appeared to be a forlorn hope of protecting the wicket for the resumption of play after an early tea had been taken. Today the honour of providing the now legendary ‘Bodley Cricket Tea’ fell to Busby and James, who provided a rich repast of all the usual high calorific favourites – some even replete with hand-grated cheese no less – all washed down with tea reassuringly brewed to the consistency and colour of Ronseal Dark Oak Wood varnish. And with Bodley just shy of the hundred-up and four wickets down, there were more than one or two concerned glances at the remaining batting order, which had the potential to either pile on the runs or the misery, and quite frankly it was anyone’s guess which would win out today if the rain did finally abate and the game resumed. Now whether out of pity or malice, the cricketing Gods had decided that an hour of solid rain was quite enough, and that play should resume, much to the annoyance of Milner, now making yet more frantic calls to his Far Eastern Spot-Betting Syndicate, and obvious displeasure of Webb, who dutifully padded up anyway and walked out to the middle like a condemned man. To Bodley veterans, Webb’s ambivalence about the resumption of play was somewhat curious, for these were conditions not unlike those under which he had heroically batted himself into Bodley cricketing immortality with an unbeaten 107 against OUP a mere six years previously. Surely the odds were on for a quick half-century given the circumstances? But it seems that Bodley’s very own original nurdler-extraordinaire had been seduced of late by Bazball, and was soon reaching for balls so wide of the crease that they would have ruptured even a Whale-boned Milner Corset. With a grim inevitability therefore, it wasn’t long – well eight balls in fact – before his attempts to clear the County-Line proved to be his undoing, when a full-stretch toe-ended shot was really rather well taken, and alas held, by Brown lurking at Mid-On. And so, as Webb departed with a degree of fatalism etched on his face, he in turn was replaced by Asad, who looked to be eager to make up for lost time and get the runs ticking over once again. And after a few testy opening deliveries, the omens were again looking positive, with bat starting to find ball, and the ever-reliable Dan at the other end always ready to chivvy things along if it started to look like Bodley were beginning to get bogged-down. What was becoming apparent however, was that runs were becoming harder to find as the Bodley tail came up against the relentless assault of the Holton bowlers, and the situation became even more grave when Kashif pierced Asad’s defence, sending the bails into yet another celebratory aerial jig. With Philipson now compelled to occupy the crease with six wickets down and not many overs remaining, the situation demanded a certain cricketing literacy and execution. Now of course the essence of sporting prowess is not that the talented are conscious of their talent, but that the mediocre are aware of their mediocrity, and Philipson was not one to defy such convention (in his habitual mediocre way…). Indeed, as he sauntered out to the middle he had determined to occupy the rich run territory that is to be found in that creative fusion between inspiration and aptitude. Alas, as Milner hero Helmuth von Moltke once remarked, “No battle plan ever survives the first encounter with the enemy”, and under the relentless pacey assault of Kashif and Chetten, Philipson instead settled upon – as indeed always seems to be the case – the well-trodden path of ineptitude instead. And so, as yet another ball clattered into some by now pretty battered stumps, it was now the turn of Bodley’s very own Angel of the North Robinson to finally add some much needed steel to a Bodley innings that was falling apart as fast as a RAAC built School. And for a while the ship did indeed steady, though this proved to be a mere lull in the storm, as the initial steadfast blocks from Robinson spurred Chetten into ever more destructive mode, and those self-same stumps took yet another battering. The now ceaseless turnaround of Bodley batters was beginning to take on a rather grim fascination over what could possibly happen next. Now since the days when Compton and Eldrich opened for England, and the sun never went down on the British without asking permission first, there has been one constant in the cricketing universe, and that is Bodley’s very own Andrew Milner, now revelling in his newly appointed role of Brand Ambassador for Buckfast Tonic Wine. Above all others he seemed rather unperturbed about the situation he now faced, with runs proving to be as elusive as Liz Truss remorse, and wickets falling faster than shares in chocolate fireguards. Some put this down to his natural sangfroid, others down to the fact that he had just finished reading Bodley’s former ‘Director of Fitness’ Stephen Arnold’s latest international Bestseller ‘It’s Raining Men, Alleluia’: How to Turn Certain Defeat into a Draw’. Either way, the outlook was as bleak as the sky as he released the handbrake on his new titanium hip and gave the bowler that steely gaze that has proved so psychologically devastating throughout his stellar cricketing career. It was Milner’s misfortune that Holton chose this moment to bring opening bowler Jay back into the attack, and after a few stoical blocks to steady the nerves, the defences of a Bodley batter were once again breached in dramatic fashion as Milner’s middle stump started cartwheeling towards the boundary, giving Jay impressive – though somewhat sombre for Bodley – figures of three wickets for a single run off four overs. Still, Milner looked his usual assured self as he sloped off the pitch, quietly content with his brace of runs which, with the help of his handy Brexit-Ready-Reckoner, he calculated was easily worth a half-century in proper pre-decimalisation scoring. And then there were two. With the skittling of wickets down the other end it was easy to forget that Dan was still at the crease, and continued to score when he got the increasingly rare opportunity to get on strike. But with the optimism of youth on his side he carried on regardless, despite having more partners than an unfussy Summertown Swinger. In the absence of Ackland, the denouement of the Bodley innings would rest with Dan and Busby, a rare combination indeed, even to those hardened by caprice over the years at the strange combinations that can emerge from a Bodley batting order when the wheels start to fall off an innings. Of course, to the uninitiated, the sight of Busby approaching the crease and then brutally assaulting the pitch with his hefty Slazenger whilst marking his guard may give the impression that he is about to unleash hell, but this would be misleading, for not everything is as obvious as it may appear on first sight. For example, some people persist in the belief that Picasso was an ‘Abstract Artist’, whereas in reality he was a master of figurative art – he just knocked around with some odd-looking people. Likewise Mr Busby, for behind that ‘End-of-Pier Ricky Ponting’ impression lies the beating heart of a Lion, and it wasn’t long before the heavy percussive sound of pacey balls thumping into brutalised pads was rolling to the boundary and beyond. All good things must, alas, come to an end, and those expecting to witness a replay of his heroics at Aldworth would be sadly disappointed, as Birren finally pierced the flailing defence of bat and pads to bring to a premature end both Busby’s time at the crease and the Bodley innings, which in the end totalled a rather thin 115 runs.
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Sunday 10th September, Aldworth CC at Aldworth, 35 overs.
Scorecards can be found here - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5462706/scorecard Mention of Aldworth will bring to mind a number of things for a Bodleian cricketer. The Bell Inn for a start, a gloriously old-fashioned pub with decent beer right next door to the pitch. Then the pitch, crikey, where to start? Sloping, a bowl-shaped depression at the top end which can hide a player if you’re fielding down the slope, an uncovered green strip which is a dream to bowl on and often a nightmare to bat and then an out-field which is more savannah than lawn, with grass tall enough to stop most well-struck balls. Aldworth themselves are decent oppo as well, a nice bunch who play good cricket, have a laugh and provide a very good tea. As we always play them in early to mid- September there’s also a sense of the season coming to an end, both ours and the summer, with the trees lining the pitch losing their leaves and the chance to get warmth and rain in the space of an afternoon. It’s always worth the drive despite the run of recent results not going our way. The key is winning the toss and batting second as following a spell of ridiculously warm weather rain started to fall as we sit in the Bell garden nursing a pint, cloudy skies and a dodgy wicket would mean whoever bowled first would more than likely get the best of the conditions. So it proved, losing the toss meant the rain and drizzle lasted most of our innings. The Aldworth bowlers used the conditions well, especially their young opening left-hander, who had Matthew clean bowled with a perfect swinging yorker, which he then repeated with Roy’s wicket. The other opener was the polar opposite, older and slower, moving the ball off the pitch and picking up Dan’s wicket caught behind. With more wickets lost and runs hard to come by Bodley, not for the first time this season were seriously concerned about setting a new lowest score. But James saves our blushes. Starting slowly and having to watch wickets fall at the other end suddenly a switch is thrown and runs start to flow. Mike, Tim and Andrew try and keep him company but all fall and then Dave comes in, nu 10, and manages through a mix of leaving balls, blocking balls and running between the wicket gives James the strike as much a possible. At the end of our 35 overs James is 68 not out, a magnificent knock which included a towering 6 to cow, Dave is 3 not out, soaking up 3 overs of blocks, leaves and occasional running to keep James company, Bodley have got to a respectable 132 and the number 11 is relieved he didn’t have to bat. Tea, always a treat, good sarnies and lovely cake. Labradors walking around looking for crumbs. Aldworth openers are soon sent back, a bowled for Dan and an LBW for Phil, both going for not many. Your writer and James take over and mostly keep things tight but the Aldworth batters start to hit out, helped by an ill-chosen Ackland slower ball going for 6. Then a break- through when Roy takes a good catch off James, seeing off the left-hander but Aldworth have more than enough in the tank, seemingly batting down with hardly a tail, one of their middle order players hits a monster six off a good ball from James so no surprise that Aldworth reach, and then pass our score after 26 overs, winning by 6 wickets. Aldworth yet again prove too much for us but as the season comes to a close and the amount of games cancelled this year any game, regardless of the result (well, almost always regardless of the result) is a good game. There’s always next year. SA. Rainmen CC at Great Haseley. 35 overs. Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5500217/scorecard With the recent return of the ‘Typical English Summer’, it was with a sense of the usual trepidation that the Bodley cricketing collective awoke across this fair County, drew back the curtains and, despite all assurances to the contrary, expected to see yet again that habitual deluge that has come to characterise so many cricketing weekends this year. That persistent, flesh drenching and bone chilling rain that would require a significant investment in assorted rubberwear by all concerned if there was to be any prospect of play – Ackland excepted of course, who inexplicably already possessed quite a substantial and impressive collection of ‘pre-talced’ attire due to his many and varied ‘other interests’. To the astonishment of all, however, those clever people at the Met office had called it right this time, and it was sun, sun, glorious sun that spilled into the rooms, hearts and minds this auspicious Sunday, and warmed the cockles of all who sailed on the good ship Bodley CC, for today, at last, the season could get back underway. And not a moment too soon, for as Pam Ayres had observed, ‘The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ was now upon us, and todays opposition were the Rainmen – a quite recent fixture to be sure, but one which always offers an enjoyable match played in the true spirit of social cricket. And so with a warm sun beating down from an azure sky, all assembled at Great Haseley for what promised to be a feast of sport. Whether due to some diktat from the mysterious ‘Committee’ that runs Bodley cricket, or some Palace Coup driven by the belief in his ‘inspirational leadership’, today Bodley would take to the field under the charge of a certain Stuart Ackland who, with his recent run of inexplicable success, was fast becoming the Nick Clegg of Bodley Cricket. And although not wishing to suggest that all this success had gone to his head, his style of captaincy was now beginning to make Sting appear humble and unpretentious by comparison. Fortunately for Ackland, the runes appeared to have fallen rather auspiciously yet again, for although Bodley were missing a few stalwarts due to injury and the demands of Community Service, today would see one of those joyous mixes of youth, experience, technique and crashing ineptitude that are so much a hallmark of Bodley cricket. Tasked to deliver victory unto Ackland today were fellow regulars Matthew Neely, Andrew Milner, Gavin Robinson, Dave Busby, Phil Burnett, Dan Shaw and Tim Philipson, with vital support provided by Bodley occasionals Archie Lewins, Arthur Contero-Olsen and Ash Shaw. Rainmen by contrast were clearly resorting to a tried and tested formula, with decades of cricketing experience clearly on show in their selected eleven, and so as always with this fixture, it was no given which way this would fall. What was undeniable however was that there were bound to be a few thrills and spills along the way before the contest was decided, so, without further ado, let us cut to the action as it unfolds on the field of dreams. Having won the toss, and electing to open with the experienced Brook and Trimingham, Rainmen were clearly intent on securing that much sought after ‘platform’ from which many an innings has sprung forth to secure victory. And with his laudable belief in the essential verities of ‘social cricket’ Ackland had, to all intents and purposes, decided to help them on their way with his choice of Bodley’s opening attack. Now the choice of silver-streak Burnett as first-up was sound enough, but there we leave the world of rational thought entirely, and enter the rather murkier waters of the Ackland cricketing brain. Now it is a common belief that the definition of madness is to do the same thing again and yet expect a different outcome, and having conceded what to many would be an indisputable, career-ending thirty-nine from his opening two overs in the previous match against Alpine, some may have considered Ackland to have finally tipped into some metal abyss when he nominated Philipson to partner Burnett from the other end. Now to the casual, and admittedly generous observer, it may be remarked that by bowling consistent dross, Philipson lures opposition batters into a kind of ‘run-frenzy muscle-memory’ that so often proves their undoing when facing a half-decent bowler from the other end. And although always somewhat of a spurious rationalisation, this belief was sufficiently robust to provide that required glimmer of hope to all sporting mediocrities when there was little else to draw upon other than a fathomless well of despair. And so it came to pass that as the Rainmen batters delighted in their good fortune at the run-buffet on offer from Philipson, they soon found that any attempt to make hay from the other end was fraught with danger. As such there was a certain inevitability when Trimingham attempted to help himself to a ball from Burnett that was disarmingly, and resolutely orthodox, and duly clattered into the stumps to the delight of Bodley, who are by constitution wary of any team who look like they may average more than a run a ball. Having selflessly removed himself from the attack after a salutary two overs to lick his wounds in the field, Philipson was replaced by the rather austere figure of Neely, who clearly didn’t subscribe to the ‘temp-the-batter’ theory of cricket that seems to be all the rage these days, and duly pulled down the shutters and determined that if the Rainmen were going to score runs then they should jolly well earn them. And with Burnett replaced by the equally resolute Robinson at the other end the match entered a passage of play that was pure attrition, with the Rainmen finding it difficult to get classic line and length bowling away on what was proving to be a surprisingly slow outfield. Indeed, the rewards for Robinson were almost immediate, with Middleton finding the slightest edge, which was assuredly pouched by Bodley’s very own Man from Del Monte Andrew Milner at slip, to the delight of all in the field. The decision to place Milner in the slips has provided rich rewards over the last few seasons, and there is clear delight on his face as he gambols over to take his position. Now some have suggested that his preference for this particular position is due to the proximity of the Wicketkeeper and Batter creating a micro-climate of elevated relative humidity, which is wicked-up through pores engorged by decades of Riviera Sun, thus lubricating his current set of finest English-Oak kneecaps, and providing him with the athletic spring of Zebedee on Pro-Plus. Whatever the exact reason, it seems to work, and as Middleton departed for a disappointing seven, his place at the crease was taken by Pool, who had clearly decided to play himself in. And although Brook continued to accumulate with some hard running and occasional boundaries from the other end, the Robinson-Neely attack effectively constrained any attempt to accelerate the rate. And as Pool finally succumbed to a flighted special from Robinson that was adroitly taken by Shaw behind the stumps, the Rainmen had seemingly stalled, with three wickets down by the end of the nineteenth over, and a rather modest seventy-one runs in the bag. Of course, experience has taught Bodley all too well over the years that opponents often have an uncanny, and entirely unreasonable ability to put their foot down when closing out an innings, compiling literally scores of unwelcome runs. And so with Milner now brought into the attack, collective breath was held as Bodley looked on in anticipation of a renewed assault on the bowling, as the Rainmen sought to post a competitive total. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry however, and for once it wouldn’t be Bodley that would be beset by much wailing and gnashing of teeth, for Milner was about to announce his presence in the most dramatic fashion. Now retired from the physical and mental torpor of Bodleian Accessions, Milner has more time to devote to his love of cricket and Amateur Dramatics. Indeed, he is even thinking of auditioning for the Park Town Players production of Samuel Beckett’s ‘Happy Days’, where he says he hopes to get the role of ‘The Fonz’. Now Milner has long sought the starring role, and of course famously used to play the mouthorgan in Black Lace, which, to this day, is still regarded as one of the very worst novelty Drag Acts. But today, thankfully, it would be the cricket field where he would take star billing. Now Milner may not walk on water, but he certainly runs on Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and some believe that his much-rumoured bespoke ‘silk cricket girdle’ allows him to glide up to the crease in an almost seamless movement that disorientates the batters’ sense of perspective as he looms into view. Irrespective of the precise spatial-audio-visual reason, there was certainly something mercurial about his bowling today, as he opened his account with a double-wicket maiden-over, with the potentially destructive Brook bamboozled by a ball that jagged back into his stumps off the seam, and Fenton failing to get off the mark two balls later, with Ash taking the first catch of what we hope will be many for a now jubilant team Bodley. With wickets falling as fast as Grant Shapps’s credibility, the Rainmen sought to hunker down, consolidate and then hopefully end with a flourish of runs, but clearly the Bodley attack had been reading from a different script and continued to contain and then strangle the innings. And with the Rainmen struggling to get any momentum, it was inevitable that as the innings entered its final ten overs, and the need for runs became ever more apparent, that they would have to attempt to force the pace. And like the Tally-man when the rent is due, spin-meister Milner came knocking once again, forcing an edge from Peckham that was spectacularly taken behind the stumps by Shaw, who altered direction mid-dive to take a sprawling catch, like a salmon cresting a weir. And so as Nourmand stepped out to the middle with six wickets down, only seventy-nine runs on the board, and only ten overs remaining, things were looking more than a little bleak for the Rainmen. But as Bodley know only too well, an awful lot can happen in a mere ten overs. With Ash and Busby now entering the attack, it would certainly be interesting to see how this would play out, though a brace of opening maidens did much to ease the nerves of the Bodley contingent, and despite Wall offering some resistance, the metronomic line and length from Ash in particular offered few morsels to the increasingly expansive batters to feast on, and saw an impressive return of a paltry three-run average over a five over spell. Busby was always going to be somewhat harder to predict of course, and with a delivery style not unlike a juggler having a seizure mid-routine, there is always something in it for the batter if they are prepared to commit to the shot, and disregard any resultant neck strain. Clearly the Rainmen had decided that, all things considered, it was probably too late for any discretion, and so a bit of valour was now the order of the day, and as such the much anticipated acceleration finally kicked-in, with Wall in particular endeavouring to push the score along without having to resort to too much running between shots. For once however the margins seemed to still be with Bodley, and when Robinson returned for the final over, the flurry of boundaries finally ceased when Wall attempted to clear the ropes, only for Ackland to take a rather splendid running-scoop of a catch in the deep, which was not unlike a certain infamous attempt on Tour, though with a rather happier ending this time. The dismissal of Wall for a well struck forty-two effectively rounded off the innings, and as the Rainmen departed the field of play they had done well in the end to post a modest, though defendable 137 for seven wickets from their thirty-five overs. It would remain to be seen if Bodley would be up to the challenge, but before that there was just time for tea. Today the honour had fallen to Milner and Philipson to victual the troops, and so tea would prove to be a somewhat modest affair which seemed to cover most of the five food groups in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours, to a greater or lesser degree, and as we have yet to hear of any significant digestive tumult as a direct consequence of the repast, we can probably chalk that one up as a success. Just before the indigestion had a chance to take hold however, there was the small matter of the Bodley response to the challenge posted by the Rainmen. In between bites of something that appeared to qualify as animal, vegetable and indeed mineral, Ackland had been finalising the batting order, and opted for a mix of youth and experience at the top, ‘throw your bat around’ exuberance for the middle order, and himself bringing up the rear in the coveted number eleven spot. Now this may come as something of a surprise to all those who have witnessed the beguiling repertoire of shots at Ackland’s disposal – some of them on occasion even intentional – but today there was an obvious sense of unease whenever he found himself in the vicinity of a cricket bat, gloves and abdominal guard. Some put it down to his recent run of bad luck when out in the middle. Others put it down to the fact that he had just finished reading Bodley’s former ‘Director of Fitness’ Stephen Arnold’s latest foray into the exciting new genre of Erotic Crick-Lit, ‘Fifty Shades of Play’, and had yet to fully recover from the experience.
When he had finally snapped out of his reverie, and the decision had been indelibly committed to the scorebook, it was with an air of expectation that Neely and Lewins stepped out to the middle to start the chase. Now today the refrain of ‘plenty of time’ was more true than ever, and like the consummate professionals they were, the opening pair refrained from any heroic stupidity, and kept their wickets and the score ticking along in a steady and unspectacular manner. Indeed, the display of orthodox technique at the crease was something to behold – for care-worn veterans of previous Bodley campaigns in particular – and affirmed that old axiom from Milner’s great hero Erwin Rommel, that ‘education is easier than re-education’. It wasn’t until the fifth over that Neely decided that the arms were finally ready for a bit of a stretch and started to carve the ball to the fine leg boundary, which saw the Bodley score start to accelerate in a most pleasing manner. And until the tenth over the game continued very much in this vein, with periodic boundaries scooting the score along, and solid technique seemingly nullifying the threat from opening bowlers Jacques and Middleton. With Brook and Pool now stepping up, it became clear that Brook in particular posed a real threat with the ball, with mid-pace deliveries constantly challenging the stumps, and it was Lewins misfortune that a solid defensive stroke carried just enough to be taken by a rather spectacular diving catch just off the strip, leaving him to depart after a textbook nine runs had been added to the tally. This brought Shaw, and a substantial increase in height to the crease, and it wasn’t long before a clear defined ‘run-drought-feast’ sine wave pattern had started to emerge, and that the bowling of Brook was proving to be the ace up the Rainmen’s sleeve. And when Neeley was finally bowled by the self-same Brook in the twentieth over after accumulating an impressive half-century, the platform seemed to be well and truly set. Moreover, with Shaw now indulging in a seemingly endless repertoire of elegant strokes that resembled an erotic dream by Leni Riefenstahl, Bodley seemed to be increasingly confident that the Rainmen total could and would be chased down. And as Contero-Olsen replaced Neely at the crease, it wasn’t long before the chase resumed, with the hundred-up passed in the twenty-second over, and the Bodley contingent on the boundary increasingly confident that it was merely a question of when, rather than if the victory would finally be secured. Perhaps it was the air of anticipation that was the undoing of Contero-Olsen, or perhaps the wily spin of that man Brook again, but as the ball turned-off the pitch and found the stumps it was clear that, like so many Bodley players before him, he had been swiftly disabused of any notion that life is fair. This brought Philipson to the crease, whose approach to batting was striking for both its unsuitability and its brevity, and it wasn’t long before the usual casual disregard for the situation at hand kicked in with the inevitability of death, though by the time that that man Brook had pierced his piecemeal defence, he had at least struck a couple of useful boundaries which brought the finishing line that little bit closer. As Philipson trudged off with the usual muttered profanities, he was replaced by the rather more orthodox Burnett who, after a few singles to settle the nerves, must have thought he was there for the duration. In true Bodley fashion alas this turned out to be mere hubris, for he wasn’t accounting for the rather idiosyncratic umpiring approach adopted by Busby, for when Brook guided a ball onto Burnett’s pads, turned and appealed quite volubly, point-blank into Busby’s face, it seemed as if time stood still. Indeed, such was the passage of time that elapsed that Burnett must have thought he was safe and sound before, inexplicably, the Busby finger was finally raised and Burnett sent on his way, muttering very dark deeds indeed, which seemed to chime uncannily with the sentiments being expressed on the boundary. With the score now on 131 after the twenty-sixth over, and wickets in hand, it was time for one of those legendary cameo performances for which Bodley is renowned, and this time the honours would fall to cricketing legend Milner. Now as any Bodley aficionado is all too aware, a Milner innings is the sort of thing Proust would have written about if he had drunk Blue Nun, and it was clear from the violent willow windmills he performed on his way out to the middle that he was itching to do battle, but I suppose that is what comes of reading too much Bertrand Russell. And it wasn’t long before the years were rolling back as Milner carved a ball to the deep, though the running was a little less sprightly than before due to the recent advent of twenty-four hour opening which had, alas, put paid to those late-night dashes to the off-licence. And so as Shaw clubbed a final four off Fenton to secure the victory for Bodley in the twenty-eighth over, with an impressive unbeaten sixty-five to his name, Bodley could at last breath a collective sigh of relief at a job well done. The five-wicket margin may have suggested an easy win, but as any veteran of the game knows all too well, there are few givens in the storied world of Bodley cricket. And there had been much to cheer in the performance, with both Robinson and Milner bagging three wickets apiece, sterling parsimonious support from Neely, Burnett and Ash, and the usual fireworks from Busby. With the bat, standout half-centuries from Neely and Shaw had clearly tipped the balance, with dogged support from Lewins, and in the field there were excellent catches by Ash and Ackland, and a slinky-like performance behind the stumps from Shaw. Special mention must also go to Brook from the Rainmen, who managed to bag all five Bodley wickets in a gruelling nine-over spell of relentless on-the-stumps bowling that proved to be as challenging as it was effective. All-in-all it had been an almost complete performance against an opposition who, like Bodley, were true adherents to the spirit of social cricket played in a competitive yet convivial manner. Remarkably this was also the third consecutive victory under Ackland’s leadership. He was a little reticent about whether he was still wearing his ‘lucky Gregg’s pants’, and although the somewhat ‘musky’ scent suggested he was, most thought it best not to pursue that particular line of enquiry. What was beyond question however was that with a win-rate like this the mysterious ‘Committee’ would be hard-pressed not to confer some honorific title on him at the close of the season, as per the Bodley constitution set out by Viscount Milner. And so, as all concerned kicked off their time-served studs, and basked in the early evening sun that bathed this picturesque corner of Oxfordshire, all seemed very much right with the world, as indeed it always should of course, until the next time that is… TP. Alpine F1 CC at Great Tew, 20 overs.
Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5537418/scorecard With a recent spell of typically English summer weather that meant only ducks of the quacking variety were likely to be seen on any cricket pitch, it was with some trepidation that Bodley eyed-up a panoply of weather forecasts and ‘Apps’, and Busby consulted his trusty lichen, hoping for that longed-for ‘break’ in the weather that would finally get the season back on track after a frustrating soggy spell that had seen potentially enjoyable and profitable games cancelled. And so rather like Eisenhower in June ‘44, it came as a great relief when Bodley’s man on the ground Dave Freeman confirmed that despite yet more rain, the pitch at Great Tew was looking as good as the warming blue skies above, and that the traditional, tightly fought contest between Bodley and Alpine F1 would be on after-all. As this was a mid-week Twenty20 it did mean the first challenge was to actually get up to Tew by the designated start time, which this year saw a seemingly endless series of roadworks replacing the once traditional Range Rover gridlock – otherwise known as Countryfile Live – all sent to try the patience of what can, on occasion, prove to be a somewhat irascible collection of Librarians and associated fellow travellers. Despite such challenges however, team Bodley had valiantly managed to assemble pretty much on time, and as seems to be the case these days, would be fielding an eclectic mix of old-hands and youthful endeavour. Stuart Ackland, Dave Busby, James Shaw and Tim Philipson were joined by Andy Milner, who had recently returned from some vigorous manoeuvres in the Mumbles, and arrived today bedecked in what appeared to be nautical casuals, giving the impression that he had just stepped off the set of Howard’s Way. Occasionals Richard Hadfield, Archie Lewins, Arthur Contero-Olsen, Jack Perkin, and recent recruit ‘Tuppy’ Morrissey were also along for the ride, as well as Pete West, who would be graciously loaned to Bodley by Alpine when fielding. Facing us were a few familiar faces from past encounters, but as is the way with all things Formula 1 there seemed to be a few tweaks and changes to the line-up this year, which they hoped would get them to the chequered-flag ahead of the opposition. So, all-in-all there was, well, all to play for. Ackland was clearly still on a high following his recent Brearley-esque captaincy masterclass against Saxlingham Gents, and sought to demonstrate his art yet again. He was well and truly in ‘the zone’, and had been mugging up on Bodley’s former ‘Director of Fitness’ Stephen Arnold’s latest bestseller on the art of leadership: “There is no ‘F’ in Prophet”, which seemed fairly apt, all things considered. Despite this, the omens were somewhat inauspicious when it transpired that Ackland had in fact forgotten to bring his kit, and so had to borrow some rather fetching sportswear from young-gun Morrissey. Still, perhaps a smidgen of genuine sporting prowess might be wicked-up into the Ackland pores in some sort of textile-osmosis, and Bodley would triumphantly enact their very own cricketing Agincourt this glorious summer’s evening? Only time would tell of course, and that time was now well and truly upon us. Opening the batting would be yet another new partnership of Hadfield and Morrissey, who looked every inch the consummate cricketing ‘professionals’ they in fact were. This was perhaps fortuitous, as it was equally clear that Alpine had brought some very useful bowling to the field, and scoring would prove to be hard won today, with few boundaries to ease the pressure on batters to keep the total ticking over. To make matters worse the ball seemed determined to find the edge of the Bodley bat, and it was perhaps unfortunate for Morrissey that it was only his edge to slip that was held, forcing his departure for not many, and Bodley wondering if the ghost of Jacob Marlingford had once again reared its beastly head to thwart Bodley’s ambitions. Although forsaking the once traditional white hat for a blue helmet, succour was thankfully forthcoming in the form of Lewins, who had demonstrated the art of assured batting on previous occasions, and once again stepped up to the task before him, providing a useful foil for Hadfield at the other end as they opportunistically chased down all potential runs to keep the Bodley innings on track. Having doggedly clawed his way to the twenty-five retirement, Hadfield was replaced at the crease by Shaw, who added his usual sense of urgency to proceedings and was soon scampering between the stumps like a moggy in pursuit of catnip. Before long Lewins had himself reached his well-deserved retirement, and was replaced in turn by Bodley’s very own ‘Nigel Havers’, Andrew Milner, whose assured athletic swagger clearly indicated that his rumoured Gold Membership of ‘Park Town Flex & Stretch’ had been money well spent. Appearances can be deceptive however, for behind Milner’s rather ‘colonial’ pacific exterior lies a dogged, steely resolve to succeed – like Nureyev giving it large in a pub car park – and it wasn’t long before he was quite literally in his stride, charging down the wicket like a Blackpool Hen-Party trying to catch the Off-License before closing. Before the Bodley contingent had a chance to settle down and watch this most arresting spectacle unfold however – and an ambitious attempt at a leg-side paddle shot had promised much – he was alas undone by a good ball from Sergeant which pressed-flesh with the stumps, and saw him depart with only a couple of hard-earned runs to his name. The premature demise of Milner brought Contero-Olsen to the crease, providing much needed stability and well-taken runs, until Shaw too reached his retirement with his customary impressive strike-rate, making way for Philipson in the nineteenth over. With wickets and retirements in hand there was licence to hit-out or get-out, and Philipson lasted about as long as most expected, though this time managing to pick up a rather unusual Diamond Duck in the process when he was run out at the non-strikers end without facing a ball. On current form, his cricketing epitaph would surely run along the lines of “none the bloody wiser…” This brought Bodley legend Busby out to the middle for an entertaining final cameo to see out the innings, which saw Contero-Olsen retire undefeated after picking up a determined and potentially crucial thirteen runs, which pushed Bodley’s total to a defendable, if rather slight 117 runs. A quick turnaround was the order of the day and Bodley took to the field with West now in tow, somewhat trepidatious about the task in hand but determined to give it their best shot. Afterall, what could possibly go wrong? Now as all lovers of the game will know all too well, cricket is a veritable ‘stat’ machine, producing endless highs, lows and every shade of average in between, and these provide both the individual and the collective endless benchmarks against which performance can be gauged. The humble number ‘forty-two’ for example haunts the psyche of team Bodley, being the lowest recorded innings total – a record that is usually threatened at least once a season. Beyond this are the personal-high run tally’s, the clutch of crucial wickets, and the athletic catches in the field that tip the balance of play. Conversely, there are the passages of play, or moments of madness, that players and teams may wish to forget. Now Ackland’s mercurial cricketing brain had determined to ‘mix up’ the bowling order – a decision that saw Bodley open with Philipson and West, truly a pedal and race car pairing if ever there was one. Upon such decisions do reputations flourish or flounder. Of course, given his lamentable batting ‘performance’ earlier in the game this could have been an opportunity for Philipson to rebuild his hard-won reputation as only a semi-incompetent cricketer, but alas today fate would be taking no prisoners. Never more than an ‘occasional bowler’ in all senses of the word, today saw him pitted against opening batsmen who seemed determined to break any last vestige of human spirit he may have possessed, with Stirrup, and especially Warwick, subjecting him to a merciless pummelling. The free-run cafeteria was well and truly open as he was smashed for a grisly thirty-six runs off a mere two overs, leaving Alpine cantering towards the required total, and Philipson making a mental note that the demands of dignity and duty meant he would have to dig out Bodley’s trusty Service Revolver at the end of the match. Thankfully at the other end West was doing rather better, dismissing Martin with his first ball, and ending his two overs of challenging bowling with yet another wicket, as Sharna was somewhat controversially judged to have been run-out by Alpine’s umpire after some sharp work by Bodley in the field, and Hadfield behind the stumps. Now what follows is going to be a somewhat cursory overview of the passage of play that now ensued. Partly because it was so badly recorded for posterity in the Alpine scorebook, and partly because it was, quite frankly, all a little difficult – even for those taking part – to keep pace with developments as they played out on the pitch. To pick up where we left off however, the end of the first four over spell saw Alpine now galloping away on thirty-nine runs, and it would take the rather more conventional pairing of Ackland and Shaw to try and slam the brakes on the Alpine innings. Compared to what had passed all so recently before, the following four-over spell must be judged as a nothing less than a triumph, and although the scorebook would suggest that a further thirty-nine runs had been conceded, at least the pain was fairly evenly shared, and with the added bonus of Shaw bamboozling Halls with a genuine slower ball to curtail his destructive spell of twenty-two runs that had been acquired in very short-order. It was around this point in the game when things went more than a little peculiar, for with only eight overs gone and almost eighty runs already on the board, even Milner’s Far-Eastern Spot-Betting Syndicate was refusing to take any more wagers on an Alpine win. With Bodley backs well and truly to the wall, what was required was an injection of spin, and right on cue up stepped Morrissey and Milner to try and salvage something, anything, from this confounded game of cricket that seemed to have already spiralled out of control and beyond the desperate grasp of team Bodley. What followed must surely therefore go down as one of the most remarkable passages of play in Bodley’s history, for after an initial two-overs of relative ‘containment’, Morrissey’s leg-spin found the sweet-spot on the wicket and skittled Wallace and Sergeant in successive balls. Unlike his teammates, Hutchinson at least managed to get his bat on the hat-trick ball, but merely carved it in a spooning arc to West at point, who pouched the ball with confident assurance to the delight of team Bodley, who generally find themselves on the receiving end of all thinks hat-trick related. Before anyone could catch their breath, the wicket bonanza continued, when Taylor’s desperate attempt to defend against the turning ball resulted in a dramatic pirouette that took him back into his own stumps. With a rapidly diminishing batting order, and pads going on and off faster than at an ECT Trade Fair, the Alpine Captain looked rather like a superannuated Greek God in receipt of bad news. And things were not about to get any better either, with Milner bagging another couple of wickets from the other end in his second over, with a top-edge taken by Shaw, and a sublime deceived-by-the-flight stumping by Hadfield, who was certainly earning his corn behind the stumps today. And then, without fanfare, it was suddenly over, as Morrissey took the final wicket and Alpine departed the field, all out for 96. Due to the rapid rate of dismissal, it had proved somewhat difficult to keep track of just how many wickets had actually fallen, so it was all a little unexpected when the end finally did come. And given the enormity of the turnaround in fortunes, there were more than a few signs of utter astonishment on the faces of the Bodley contingent. Ackland in particular had an expression that bore more than a passing resemblance to Peggy Ollerenshaw when she had finally secured the sacred Yellowcoat, and even Bodley’s most hardened fan on the boundary was struggling to take in the enormity of what she had just witnessed unfold before her very eyes. And so as congratulations and thanks were offered all around, Bodley retired from the field, each mentally pinching themselves to make sure that they were not in fact dreaming, and that Bodley had indeed managed to secure a most unlikely victory. So, what to make of it all? Frankly it was all a little hard to take in. After a below-par performance with the bat, and a super-charged initial run-chase by Alpine, Bodley had looked well and truly beaten. But once the defensive dam had been initially breached, the wicket trickle soon became a flood, with the spin-spell of Milner and Morrissey in particular delivering a genuine knockout blow to the Alpine innings. Morrissey’s figures of five wickets for only two runs in 3.2 overs – including a hat-trick no less – almost defy rational explanation, and were key to delivering the win. There was also solid support in the field, with vital catches being held, and even if Bodley had eventually fallen short of the line there would have been much to cheer about the overall performance. Special mention must also of course go to Pete West, who gallantly fielded for both sides, though only picking up wickets when bowling against his own Alpine colleagues. As always however, the bones of the match would be picked over by posterity, into whose hands it now assuredly passed. Meanwhile, in the present, there was that peculiar yet comforting sense of exhilaration to bask in that is always the close-companion of success – though in a modest and magnanimous fashion of course. On a more general note, having chalked up yet another victory, perhaps there really was a pattern emerging, with an indiscernible genius somehow underpinning Ackland’s style of captaincy? On the other hand, it was probably best not to ascribe too much talent to a man who couldn’t even remember to bring his own trousers, so, on the balance of probabilities, I think it is safe to say that the jury is still well and truly out on that point. What was beyond dispute however was that yet again the fixture had lived up to its billing as one of the seasons ‘crunch matches’, provided much high-octane drama and excitement, and on this occasion at least, delivered an almost wholly implausible Bodley victory. And so, over a burger and sausage feast provided by our always generous hosts, we could perhaps sit back and reflect on what had just happened. Some Bodley veterans may well recall a game against OUP way back in 2017 when, in similar fashion, a seemingly unlikely victory was snatched out of the jaws of almost certain defeat. The much-lamented Andy MacKinnon penned the report that day, and remarked that is was ‘one of the most memorable and in many ways one of the most unlikely of Bodleian wins in the team’s long and storied history’. I suspect that today’s epic encounter against Alpine will likewise be seared into the collective memory of all those fortunate to bear witness to these remarkable events, and merit its own chapter in the history of Bodley CC when it finally comes to be written. And so, as the sun slowly sank beneath the North Oxfordshire horizon, and the sharp report of the trusty Service Revolver was drowned out by the sound of Busby attempting to squeeze the last of the ketchup onto his sausage bap, all seemed very much right with the world. TP. Holton & Wheatley CC at Great Haseley, 35 overs
Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5527505/scorecard Talk about all seasons in one day, the only weather we didn’t get playing Holton and Wheatly at Great Haseley this Sunday just gone was snow, and considering the cold it wouldn’t have been a surprise to see flakes falling. Thought cricket was meant to be a summer game? At one point towards the end of the game the sun did appear, briefly, and with the warmth came some drying out of wet tops and the discarding of jumpers but soon the clouds came over and it started to rain again. With the Haseley pitch higher than most of the surrounding area a good part of the game was either played in drizzle, watching the rain about to come in or running off to get covers on, take covers off, or just stand around waiting for the rain to stop. On to the match. A week on from the bad defeat at Marlingford quite a few were hoping to put in a good performance, and after winning the toss and choosing to bat the openning pair of Matthew and Dan did just that. Tricky bowling at one end meant digging in and taking advantage of the loose stuff from the other, Dan in particular playing well, following on from a fifty in windy conditions for Oxford the day before. Matthew dug in and supported Dan and the running between the wickets was good. The score ticked over nicely, extras and boundaries on a fast outfield meant that soon Dan got to fifty and an opening partnership of 100 was notched up. Wiseish heads were scratched as we tried to remember when, if ever, we’d got to 100 without losing a wicket before. Matthew goes after a well-crafted knock of 24, Gareth in at number 3 and soon he and Dan are up and running, Gareth hits a lovely driven 4 but then Dan is out, clean bowled going for a big shot when, with good batting still to come, we can start to hit out. An excellent 70. Phil comes in and with licence to swing gets his eye in then starts to swing with a couple of fours and a lovely six. James swings and Tuppy runs a few and at the end of our 35 overs we get a respectable 162. Opposition look like they have plenty of batting so even though we’re pleased with this we’re going to have to bowl well to keep them down. A rain break around 30 overs into our innings means we’ve already had tea, so a quick change round and we’re ready to defend our total. It’s a god job Dan is young and fit. Not only has he batted for a good part of our innings we’d now like him to steam in and bowl at pace plus putting in a decent shift in the field. He and Phil open, though Phil, after bowling a wicket maiden in his 3rd over manages to find a muscle in his leg fielding, which he then pings, so finishes the game grimacing in the slips. Dan bowls a seven over spell, figures spoilt by a big-hitting batsman taking him on towards the end. James replaces and does excellently well. Cricket has to be one of the only times you can call someone miserly as a compliment. His first four overs go for 21, figures spoilt after a maiden is followed by some big hitting as Holton go big. Brought back on towards the end to slow down the run-rate he does, along with Tuppy (7 overs for 22) an amazing job. His first over goes for a disappointing (in the context of what was to come) 7, his next goes for 1 with 3 wickets! Another wicket in his last over gives wonderful figures of 41 for 4 off 7. Catches for Tim, Tuppy and Dan and a clean bowled gives hope that there might be a comeback on the cards but Holton have enough to see them home with quite a few overs to spare. All in all a creditable performance by the Bod, though at what cost? Phil’s ham-string tweak and a bad finger injury for Gareth going for a catch could see both out for a while. The team welcome back Josh, who despite not playing for 2 years looked good with ball in hand and took a decent catch in the deep (as one old-hand stated after he was worried for a bit but felt ok once he realised it wasn’t a regular player underneath it). SA. **This report is dedicated to the memory of Andy MacKinnon, one of the founding fathers of Bodley CC who has sadly passed away. Others will undoubtedly commemorate his loss far more eloquently, but it is no understatement to say that as both a work colleague and fellow cricketer he was one of the genuine good guys. Throughout his long and illustrious Bodley career he turned his ample skillset to most things, batting, bowling, steadfast fielding and, of course, on occasion, injecting perfectly pitched erudition to match reports that us lesser mortals still aspire to emulate. Experience had taught him well that a Bodley contest is sometimes serious, frequently funny, and often seriously funny – a perfect manifestation of bathos and pathos that always kept things interesting and provided endless good copy that was worth recording for posterity. It seems fitting that his final starring role was against original rivals Cambridge University Library to commemorate Bodley’s 25th Anniversary back in August 2019. Needless to say, he ended his career with a handsome victory, but Bodley were always the winners in having a person such as Andy MacKinnon grace our ranks for so many years. Thanks for the memories.** West Bladon CC at Cassington, 35 overs Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5462699/scorecard Disclaimer: Due to further rises in the cost of closed-toe footwear and unforeseen expenditure on South American camelids, Bodley CC were yet again unable to commission this week’s match report via Lord Milner’s extensive and influential ‘inner circle’ at the Athenaeum Club. Instead, Bodley were fortuitous in chancing upon former North Riding cricketing ‘legend in his own lifetime’ Freddie Boycott, who had just been ejected from the clubhouse on account of causing what the Magistrate would later refer to as ‘an ugly and ill-tempered fracas’ due to ‘insufficient head’ on his pint of Tetley’s. So, in return for a few quarts of frothy beer and as many mini pork pies he could reasonably stuff into his pockets, he agreed to pen a few words to record for posterity this exciting new fixture on the Bodley cricketing calendar. Needless to say, once again Bodley CC cannot be held responsible for any of the views that may be expressed in the following report… Welcome one-and-all to this afternoons match between Bodley and West Bladon at Cassington. Now I’m informed that this is a new fixture so we all look forward to some entertaining cricket this afternoon. It’s a glorious Sunday over here in Cassington, though it’s pretty toasty with a stiff old breeze out in the middle. Of course, back in the days of flannelette and fags we’d not be too fussed about such things but times have clearly changed, so whilst the players are lathering themselves with sun-cream and goodness knows what else let’s have a quick rundown of the teams. Bodley are fielding a mix of veterans and young ‘uns today, with James Shaw, Matthew Neely, Gareth Jones, Gavin Robinson, Dave Busby, Phil Burnett, Richard Hadfield and Tim Philipson joined by the rather more youthful Dan Shaw, Francis Bertschinger and Jack Perkin – who I believe has missed quite a few games of late but is eager to resume his Bodley career. West Blaydon look to be quite a useful outfit on first appearances, with more than a smattering of club badges on show, and although I suspect some of the taller lads would have struggled down a pit they look to be a tough bunch to beat on a cricket pitch. Bodley get an early win with the toss and elect to bat, so let’s cut to the action as Neely is joined by Hadfield at the crease, with Edwards and Walker opening the bowling attack for West Blaydon. Now the lad Walker in particular has got quite a bit of pace – nowhere near the pace that I used to have obviously, but pretty darn quick nonetheless. Of course, being so tall also makes it a bit of a challenge for the Bodley openers to get him away, with the occasional ball digging in and popping up. Still, like all library folk they seem to have patience in abundance, so they hold their nerve and bide their time, scoring off the occasional bad ball which sees the tally move along, steadily but surely. If Walker is Rod Laver, then Edwards is rather more Monica Seles, with deliveries punctuated by the kind of guttural grunt you’d hear from a Barnsley Bingo caller. And it may be that this sonic assault unnerved Neely as he failed to get quite enough bat on a slightly wider ball and was caught at midwicket. With a wicket down after six overs and a modest fifteen runs on the board, it was proving difficult for Bodley to get out of the blocks and find the gaps in what looked to be a fast outfield. But still Walker was wind-milling in those pacey deliveries that were asking so many questions of the batters. Now, when facing such bowlers, you’ve just got to use your nouse. You’ve got to set yourself a goal and work out how you’re going to get there – like plotting your route through a ginnel full of dog muck at chucking out time. There is always going to be a degree of peril in cricket – that’s what makes it interesting afterall, though peril can come in many different guises of course. And with Neely replaced at the middle by Bertschinger the sense of peril was certainly enhanced by the fact that he had forgotten to bring his ‘Abdominal Guard’. So, if there was ever an incentive to play orthodox defence then this was it. And for a while he seemed to be defending the stumps – and much else besides – quite effectively, until trying to chase a tempting ball down the leg-side which evaded the bat but not, alas, the stumps, which saw Bodley creeping up to twenty for the loss of two key wickets after eight overs. When faced with such a situation the temptation is to try and chase the game, as seems to be the fashion these days. Back in the day you wouldn’t have seen me old pal Geoff Trueman trying to score runs just because they were actually required – and I can tell you that for a fact – and it was reassuring therefore that Bodley looked determined to avoid any rushes of blood to the head. That is, of course, until young Shaw strode out and took strike. Now to be honest, I expected rather more from the lad. I mean, although he’s at one of them there Universities, at least it’s up North, so he must have some judgement; and he started well with solid defence which showcased genuine technique and impressive high elbows. Of course we couldn’t afford high elbows in my day, and we didn’t have the benefit of all the coaching available on the ‘You Space’ and the ‘My Tube’ either. That’s not to say we didn’t have to cope with change back in my day too of course. I mean, I can recall just how much our lives changed when the telly arrived in Halifax. Back then we’d sit looking at the strange wooden box in the corner of the room, peering at a fuzzy grey face by way of an entire evening’s entertainment. But then TV arrived, so we put the lid back on Granny Boycotts coffin and took her down to the cemetery. So I suppose, when you look at it like that, there ain’t really nothing new under the sun is there. Anyway, back to the action, and in less time than it takes to steal a crafty swig of Mild and demand a top-up from the Landlord, Shaw starts hitting out and beating the field. Moreover, the expansive approach was clearly infectious as Hadfield started getting in on the act too, though just as he seemed to be getting the measure of the pitch he was finally undone by a good length ball that dug in and took a faint edge on its way to the keeper. And so as he gallantly walked with a dogged and solid twelve to his name, I must admit I was a bit discombobulated when Burnett came out to bat, as I could have sworn it was me old mate David Steele – really quite uncanny! Anyway, there was clearly quite a lot of anticipation on the boundary for the new partnership, for despite appearances it was quite a youthful pairing. All things considered therefore, it came as a bit of a shock when a quick single was called and Burnett found himself short of the crease with an expression as doomed as Little Nell. Now its not for me to be critical, but frankly I’ve seen continents shift faster than that, and as Burnett retired from the field of play the gauntlet was dutifully taken up by Jones, who looked like he could do with a hearty meal inside him. Now I believe that Jones has become somewhat of an apostate these days, having renounced the true-path of the forward defensive for the false idol that is the lusty blow. Such frantic willow-wafting all seemed a bit unnecessarily vulgar at this moment in time however, given that young Shaw was now firmly in the groove and scoring freely. Even so, Jones seemed determined to join in the fun and loosen the shoulders, and so it was quite fortuitous that the bowler couldn’t quite hang onto the ball that was subsequently biffed back to him in true baseball fashion. Of course, keeping pace with the rangy strides of young Shaw is a challenge at the best of times, and dashing about in what feels like a hairdryer on maximum heat merely adds to the endeavour, and it was soon clear that Jones was struggling just a tad as a result of a recent gippy episode, and it may be this that contributed, in some small way, to his downfall as Hambridge finally breached his defences and struck stumps. The departure of Jones brought one of those rare but welcome sights, namely a Shaw-Shaw partnership, and for lovers of the modern game what followed was an entertaining spell of cricket, which saw Bodley creeping ever closer to the psychologically important hundred run mark, and young Shaw rapidly approaching an impressive first Bodley half-century. Both seemed to be racing certainties, with a towering six crashed onto the pavilion roof seemingly proving the point. This being Bodley however, there is invariably a twist in the plot, and it may be that the traditional pre-watershed wall of silence on the boundary may have prevented just that scintilla of caution that was perhaps required. For almost inevitably the glorious six was followed by the shot that didn’t quite connect, which was duly pouched by Haywood, leaving Shaw having to depart after a magnificent though frustrating forty-nine. And so we effortlessly now move, in true Bodley tradition, from the sublime to the ridiculous, as next out to the middle was Philipson, a batter with the natural gloomy countenance of an Amish Schoolteacher trapped in a Las Vegas Brothel. And although West Blaydon were clearly starting to look like firm favourites as the Bodley tail began to make its appearance, they were clearly determined to not ease up and allow Bodley any possibility of escape like a Whippet up a snicket. The opening spell of Haywood indicated the intent, with yet more pacey line and length being the order of the day, and it wasn’t long before Shaw senior fell to a rising ball which carried an edge to the keeper, forcing his departure after a promising ten runs had been added to a score, which was now just shy of the hundred. This brought Perkin to the crease, and after such a spell away from the team he can count himself somewhat unfortunate on his return to face a tall lad banging the ball in short, which will always create problems for the less statuesque batter. In fact I was recently reading a book by Bodley’s former ‘Director of Fitness’ Stephen Arnold which made exactly the same point, so I would recommend you all have a gander at ‘We Need a Bigger Pope: Diminutive English Batters and the Counter Reformation: Historical Parallels’. And I’m told that you can use your staff card to get a bit of discount in the shop too, so everyone’s a winner there. Anyway, back to the cricket, where Perkins seemed to be acquitting himself pretty well despite the relentless onslaught by Haywood, and was showing far more discipline than Philipson, who had already survived a ball gloved to the slips. And when change bowler Dale came on, true to form he just couldn’t resist going for a ball purely on the basis that it appeared vaguely tonkable. Now, if I’m honest, both the shot selection and the execution weren’t just poor, they were arse-clenchingly piss-poor, with the ball flaccidly gloved to Mid-wicket and snaffled by a fielder who frankly couldn’t believe his luck. And so as Philipson departed with an expression as filthy as a miner’s face, he was duly replaced by Robinson, who looks like a proper old-school no-nonsense cricketer. And true to form his approach was as refreshing as a pint of Tetley’s, with the loose ball unceremoniously clubbed to the boundary, and a glimmer of hope rekindled in Bodley that there were a few more overs and runs to be had but yet. Like the knock of the Tally-Man however, all hopes appeared to be almost immediately dashed when Perkin eventually succumbed to the raw pace of Haywood and top-edged a ball that was gratefully pouched, leaving Bodley journeyman Busby to try and keep the Huns from the gate just that little bit longer. Alas the end was not delayed for long, as Robinson was finally undone trying to carve out much needed runs, giving Dale his second wicket of the match, and Bodley a rather unlikely score of 103 to defend. But all that could wait until after tea, and so with spikes kicked off both teams retired to the Pavilion where they were treated to a rather splendid repast that ticked all the essential culinary boxes of sweet, savoury, stodge and spice, with ice-cold mini éclairs to cleanse the palate and thick brooding tea for essential hydration. And so with batteries recharged a little, Bodley took to the field feverishly praying to the cricketing Gods that West Blaydon would prove to be rather more of a bowling than a batting side, and to deliver unto Bodley swift and decisive wickets. There was also the question of the breeze, which was actually so fierce that it could have led to a pitched-up Busby delivery actually travelling backwards. So perhaps these really were perfect conditions for bowling, and Bodley really would slice through the West Blaydon top order with beguiling ease, and all would be home in time for an early supper… Only time would tell of course, and time was a luxury that Bodley didn’t have an awful lot of as Burnett started the fightback, galloping into the face of the gale, silver locks flailing, and delivering the metronomic pacey line and length that is his benchmark. With young Shaw charging downwind from the other end the Bodley attack was quite an arresting sight, though the West Blaydon defence proved, alas, to be more impregnable than the Maginot Line. And with pace on the ball and a fast outfield there were always going to be runs for the taking so, despite the best endeavours of the bowlers, West Blaydon were soon comfortably ticking along at five runs an over. Now social cricket is most certainly not about grudges or settling scores, but there are little battles that are nevertheless discretely waged during most matches, with certain wickets eagerly and earnestly sought for one reason or another. Having dealt the Bodley tail-end a ruthless blow, and now threatening to open up with the bat, Haywood ticked several of those boxes that placed a premium on his wicket, but removing any of the openers was proving to be quite a challenge. Burnett had almost knocked the stumps over several times, and you could see the frustration coming off him like steam off a curry-house flannel. When Haywood finally misjudged the bounce and edged to the safe hands of Robinson therefore, a collective cheer of relief erupted, and the habitual mental assessment of new batter Dogget was almost palpable as he made his way to the middle. The game now settled into a somewhat predictable pattern, with remaining opener N. Hambridge retaining the strike and principal scoring duties, with runs almost all coming from boundaries and the score climbing, always climbing, towards that increasingly fragile looking target. Now as you know I’m not one to mince my words, and some of the Bodley fielding was pretty poor at times. A particular highlight was Jones and Busby charging for the same ball which was then rather deftly kicked by Busby, narrowly missing Jones’s head on its way to the boundary twenty yards distant. There were also one or two catches that perhaps could and should have been taken. You know, I really believe that it’s down to not enough lard in the cricketers diet these days. I mean we’ve got hundreds of bloody squirrels back home gorging themselves on the fat balls I put out for the birds, and you never see a squirrel out of breath or drop a nut do you? Now then, can that be a coincidence? I think not! Anyway, back to the match, and despite West Blaydon’s seemingly inevitable canter to the finish line there were still some highlights to take away. The dismissal of Dogget by Shaw, with a fine catch held by Perkin in the slips was just reward for a characteristic shift of effective line and length, and likewise the genuine spin of Bertschinger – which had confounded and defeated the batters on so many occasions – was also finally rewarded when Debono edged to the safe hands of Burnett. Robinson also joined the party late in the day, claiming S. Hambridge, caught Bertschinger, with only his second ball. Alas it was all too little too late, as N Hambridge sealed the win with consecutive boundaries in the twenty-second over, bringing to an end an enjoyable contest that had threatened, on occasion, to be almost competitive. Now Bodley have been out of action for almost a month, and they certainly appeared a little ring-rusty today. They may not always pile on the runs early-doors, but they usually manage to retain wickets and build partnerships, and its then that the runs almost always start to accumulate. That just didn’t happen today alas, and if I’m being honest, the last time I saw something go so wrong so quickly was when I saw the Yorkshire Tourette’s Choir give a rendition of ‘A You’re Adorable’. Despite the innings falling apart in places there were nonetheless real highlights, with special mention going to young Dan Shaw in particular for a swashbuckling forty-nine that helped Bodley claw their way back into the match and post a credible, it not entirely creditable target for West Blaydon to chase down. Of course everyone loves a Disney Fairy-Tale ending, but this being Bodley it was only ever going to be the authentic, grim, chaotic and ultimately tragic Scandinavian version. And with that realisation Bodley must reconcile themselves to the defeat, dust themselves down and return fighting-fit for their next encounter. On a lighter note, special thanks must of course go to West Blaydon for being such generous hosts – including a most welcome chicken and chips feast in the Red Lion after stumps. I’m sure this is a fixture that Bodley will want to retain in coming seasons. And finally, a welcome return to Jack Perkin, who has bucked the trend and actually returned to the good-ship Bodley, safe in the knowledge that so long as Mr Ackland plays you will never bat at number eleven. Anyway, that’s quite enough of all that stuff and nonsense. So where exactly are these mini pork pies then? As told to TP Cheney School Staff CC at Great Haseley, 20 overs
Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5502080/scorecard Disclaimer: Due to astronomical rises in the cost of PVA Glue and wider inflationary trends in passive aggression Bodley CC were unable to commission this weeks match report via one of Lord Milner’s contacts at the Athenaeum Club as per standard procedure. Instead, Bodley were compelled to resort to a rather shambolic Radio 4 Continuity Announcer who claimed to know Milner from an amateur production of Charley’s Aunt at the Groucho, and had heard that there was a cheap bar. He also wanted to have a discrete word about returning certain items that may, or may not, have hypothetically ended up on his bookcase at his Mayfair Mews. As such, Bodley CC cannot be held responsible for any of the views that may be expressed in the following report. And a warm welcome to all our listeners across the UK and around the world. You find us this glorious summer evening at Great Haseley, in the rolling hills of South Oxfordshire, where Bodley CC take on Cheney School staff in what promises to be a most enjoyable evenings sport. Now, I am informed that this is the inaugural match between these two sides so there really is very much to play for. Bodley come into the match off the back of what I have been told to call a ‘resounding win’ against the Richard Denner XI, and hope to make it a brace of victories tonight. Bodley are fielding a scratch team this evening, with stalwarts Jones, Shaw, Robinson, Busby, Hadfield and Philipson buttressed by the fruits of their famous youth policy, with occasionals Ash Shaw and Archie Lewins joined by Arthur Contero-Olsen to complete what looks to be a splendid, well-balanced team. Cheney School on the other hand appear to be comprised of thoroughly seasoned players, which I suppose makes sense, as teachers, unlike policemen, are not getting that young, even these days. Quite a few familiar faces are evident in the Cheney ranks and Bodley will be facing one or two of these journeymen cricketers several times this year, so tonight’s match offers much to those wanting to plot the likely trajectory of these teams over the course of the season. And talking of familiar school faces, there is a real treat in store for fans of ‘Grange Hill’ on the iPlayer tonight, where Roland Browning is once again on the receiving end of a ‘bog washing’ from “Gripper" Stebson! And so as a warm evening sun bathes the lush green outfield, a batting order is committed to paper, Neeley and Hadfield make their way out to the middle and Cheney marshal their forces in the field, the curtain rises on this eagerly anticipated fixture. Cheney open with very tight, pacey bowling from both Rugg and Rathod, and Neeley and Hadfield do well to keep them out, but in spite of an opening-over four from Neeley, runs prove hard to come by, and Bodley instead resort to dashing between stumps with all the urgency of Anika Rice. Which reminds me, for our younger viewers, there is a ‘Celebrity Dumpster Diving Special’ tonight, so please make sure you don’t miss ‘Scavenge Anika’ on BBC3 at 9pm. Despite an unrelenting attack from Cheney, Bodley manage to hold out until the sixth over when Hadfield, now starting to find the boundary, is finally beaten by a ball from Rathod that moves away off the seam, evades the bat and clips the off stump. And as Hadfield departs for a resolute and hard-won thirteen to his name, Shaw strides out to pick up the gauntlet and is soon in that languid groove so beloved by the Bodley contingent on the boundary, as gaps are found and runs abound. Before nerves settle alas, Neeley is himself finally undone by Hawkins and caught for a dogged twelve runs, with Lewins now joining Shaw in the middle. Cheney clearly have strength in depth and runs remain hard to come by, and when Shaw falls to yet another questioning ball from Hawkins after a rapid-fire eleven, Jones strides out to settle the good ship Bodley. This was all beginning to feel a little desperate and unfunny, and for those partial to such things you are in for a real treat as ‘Quote Unquote’ returns for a new series next week. Any hope that the combination of youthful technique and studied experience would prevail proved short-lived however, as Jones succumbed to yet another danger ball from Aggarwal in the fifteenth over which clattered into the stumps and left Bodley reeling somewhat with four down and less than seventy runs on the board. It was now the turn of Philipson to join Lewins out in the middle, and it would be most curious indeed to see if an injection of reckless abandon would make any positive impact on the innings. The swinging and scampering that ensued must have played havoc with optical perspective on the boundary, as the compact nimble youngster and his sluggish and rather thuggish compatriot attempted to make the most of the remaining overs and ease Bodley towards the psychologically re-assuring hundred-up. Alas, when you start to chase the game there is always the danger of being metaphorically, and literally caught, and so it was that Lewins fell to a fine caught and bowled by Toner after adding an impressive and vital twenty-two runs to the Bodley tally. The departure of Lewins brought Robinson to the crease, and brandishing his bat like a Saxon Battleaxe he swatted the first delivery to the boundary for much needed runs. Before yet another Philipson-Robinson partnership could develop however, an entirely characteristic heave across the line by Philipson created such centrifugal momentum that he pirouetted beyond the safely of his crease and was duly stumped by Jacobs. It has often been remarked that a Bodley innings is many things, but never dull, and as Philipson trudged off with a face that suggested he wanted to break even the good plates, listeners are reminded that they are in for a real treat with this weeks Book at Bedtime, a serialisation of Stephen Arnold’s critically acclaimed: ‘Don’t Open the Box, Jenni Murray: A Feminist Cricketing Miscellany’. And whilst you are all enjoying that, let us return to the cricket, where Contero-Olsen now steps into the fray, and after a few settlers starts to loosen the shoulders and connect, the highlight being a lofted drive that clears both the bowler and the field. Expansive play must always be a high risk-reward endeavour however, and Contero-Olsen’s promising innings comes to a premature end when Mohammed finds the gap and the stumps. This brought Bodley legend Busby to the crease, a batsman as unpredictable as the Shipping Forecast, and equally partial to a German Bight. Alas, today would add no new glorious chapters to the burgeoning Busby Biography, as todays favoured approach of wielding the bat akin to a rolled-up newspaper when swatting a fly proved surprisingly ineffective, and found Mohammed on a hat-trick. And so, as Ash defiantly defended the remaining balls and returned with Robinson undefeated to the pavilion, there was the usual air of uncertainty pervading the Bodley contingent on the boundary. With an under-par ninety-four runs on the board it seemed unlikely that Cheney would be contained but, as I believe Hardy once said, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’! With the sun now starting to slide lazily to the horizon a quick change was in order, with only a brief discussion between captains as to the use of one ball or two. Talking of which, listeners will be pleased to hear that tomorrows Afternoon Play on Radio Four is a quite marvellous dramatization of the Hitler Diaries! Now back to the cricket, and on strike for Cheney was Thakore, one of the seemingly endless journeymen cricketers in which Cheney seemed to abound, and moreover one whom Bodley had faced only three days previous under the colours of the Richard Denner XI. Then he had fallen for less than a score, but today he seemed on a mission to atone for past sins and indulged in batting that was brutal, and like Farming Today, thoroughly agricultural. With little in the pitch, good line and length from Shaw and Robinson was mercilessly dispatched both to and over the boundary, and when the fifty came up after only six overs, this was beginning to resemble something of an uphill struggle. And for those interested in such things, you may want to tune into Thursdays episode of Ramblings, where Clare Balding goes rollerblading in the Cheviots. The retirement of Thakore after a brutal, bullied, forty-two, closely followed by a timely caught and bowled by Robinson which saw fellow traveller Desmond out for a drawn-out seven, presented a faint glimpse of optimism in the Bodley ranks. But as the cliché goes, there was ‘plenty of time’, and Cheney now had Switala and Kitchin at the crease, and neither seemed susceptible to the inexplicable ‘moment of madness’ that has made Bodley innings such a treasure trove of triumph and tragedy over the years. Even fine, probing bowling from Ash, fierce pace from Contero-Olsen and guileful spin from Lewins went unrewarded as the runs stacked up and the margins ever-narrowed. In such situations the Bodley ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card has often been the beguiling Busby, a bowler who has only slightly more understanding of any given delivery than the batter on the receiving end. Alas, with margins so tight and the lure of a cheap bar, Cheney were not to be caught in the no-mans land between technique and temptation that had proved the undoing of oh-so-many batters over the past thirty years, and for once Busby would remain un-scalped. This was all rather a shame, for as any Bodley veteran will attest, there are few things to equal the palpable sense of disbelief and injustice that exudes from a batter that has just fallen victim to the ‘Stuka’. And as Kitchin dispatched a final four to secure victory for Cheney in the fourteenth over, one felt there was more than a grain of truth in last weeks ‘Poetry Please’, when Roger McGough’s special guest Pam Ayres gave a special reading of her poem “If you can’t beat them, what’s the point of teaching?” And so as Cheney departed from the field of dreams victorious, there was just enough time for some philosophical musing and projection as Bodley attempted to re-erect a fiendishly complicated rabbit-proof fence. As always one must take positives from each game, and despite the loss both batting and bowling had been pretty good, albeit against a well-drilled opponent who clearly knew how to win. And if you think this all sounds a little disappointing for Bodley, just remember that there are some pretty glum faces over at Brookfield Farm too! There will always be times during any season when the odds are stacked just that bit beyond your ability to tip the balance, but you just have to put it all down to experience, dust yourself off, and ready yourself for the next challenge, for that is where glory lies. Anyway, I’m off to make the most of the cheap bar and settle down to listen to this evenings edition of Front Row where, in an exclusive interview, Mr Bodleian talks frankly of his desire to use the library’s collections to engage with a broader section of the community, and responds to accusations of ‘dumbing down’ levelled at his latest major exhibition entitled “Ere cock, where’d you keep the filthy stuff?”. Now, who do I see about my fee? As told to TP Richard Denner XI at Stanton St. John, 35 overs With the Central Heating now finally, definitely, absolutely turned off, the Tory Party on yet another leader and riven by ceaseless regicidal plotting, the middle aisle of Lidl stacked to the gunnels with rubberwear to temp the impulse purchase, and Bodley chalking up the traditional opening defeat, it can only mean that the cricket season is now firmly back into its stride. Eager to turn the mighty ship Bodley around and get the season back on track, as well as sowing the seeds of a veritable feast of mixed-metaphors, match two of the season therefore promised much. With the skies showing unfamiliar hints of azure blue and an occasional warm sun beating down Bodley, made their way to the familiar stamping ground of Stanton St John to do battle with new opposition the Richard Denner XI. The fixture had emerged from the fabled social cricketing ‘he-knows-she-knows’ fraternity; namely the eponymous Richard Denner, having bested Bodley playing for Holton & Wheatley last season, offering Bodley Committee Man Stuart Ackland a match against his own side. With assurances that the contest would be an even match the offer was gladly accepted, put into the fixture diary and today, on this glorious late spring day, it would finally come to pass. Arriving at the ground was something of a shock however, for Bodley seem to only play at Stanton St John when the pitch resembles either a well baked biscuit, or Passchendaele after (and even during) a particularly violent deluge. Today the pitch appeared lush and the strip un-cratered so the omens were good as Bodley decanted from the convoy and made that all important initial assessment of this new and ‘unknown’ opposition. With a healthy mix of veterans and youthful endeavour they certainly gave the impression of posing a real challenge to deny Bodley that always much anticipated first win of the season. Indeed, Bodley were themselves ringing the changes this afternoon, with the welcome return of James Riley (eager to put his running skills to good use), the legendary Dave ‘Stuka’ Busby, and occasionals Asad Bhaktiar and Ollie Pascoe. Also joining the ranks was debutant ‘Tuppy’ Morrissey who looked every inch the consummate cricketing everyman, whilst being fiercely modest to boot. So, despite the absence of a few seasoned players, Bodley fielded a promising team, though, as always, how this would all turn out in the end was, frankly, anyone’s guess. As is customary, our captain today Gareth Jones lost the toss, and with Bodley put into the field, collective breath was held as Phil Burnett charged in like a Peregrine in pursuit of a Vole and commenced the assault on fortress Denner. Now as anyone familiar with Bodley cricket will be well aware, it is very difficult to characterise many games due to the vast array of variables that a rag-tag bunch of Librarians and fellow travellers manage to bring to any one match. Needless to say, today would not prove to be the exception to this rule, and the match proceeded to play out in a most singular manner, with tight bowling from Burnett and Ackland setting the early tone, preventing any rhythm developing at the crease, and nearly all runs being amassed from periodic boundaries. When Ackland held a fiercely driven shot from Thakore in the seventh over for example, only four of his fourteen runs had required a dash down the wicket. Likewise, when Tuppy’s genuine spin defeated Lowe and struck stumps, a solitary six accounted for his entire tally. With Robinson’s flighted specials causing uncertainty from one end, Tuppy was cashing in at the other, with Horgan undone by yet another beguiling ball, confidently pouched by Busby. When this was swiftly followed by Goodridge falling LBW first ball to yet another Tuppy special, the RDXI appeared to be reeling somewhat with four wickets down and less than 40 runs on the board. Bodley veterans in the field were wracking collective memories to try and remember when last such a promising start had been made, but the new pairing of Tariq and Akhtar soon put an end to such indulgencies, as the partnership started to develop and the runs accumulate – needless to say, mostly in boundaries… And so for a while that perennial gloom started to descend yet again in the minds of those who had been here oh so many times before, and seen one too many potential nascent victories come crashing down to earth with an undignified bang. It brought to mind the latest Best Seller from Bodley’s former Director of Fitness Stephen Arnold: ‘We Need a Bigger Rope: How to Contain Big-Hitting Opposition’. In such situations you require ‘a sign’ – some visual indication that things may not, perhaps, turn out to be so unremittingly bleak as you might possibly imagine – and believe me that is one hell of a deep well of despair to paddle in for most Bodley veterans. But lo such a sign did indeed come to pass! Now some may remember a match against OUP at Stanton way back in 2018 when Dom took a fabulous catch on the boundary in the last over to secure a famous win for Bodley. Now what gave added significance to this moment in time was that it coincided with what proved to be an auspicious fly-past by a Spitfire, and as if some cosmic synchronicity had once again kicked in the reappearance of the elliptical legend overhead resulted in an immediate wicket for Asad, as Atkhtar’s defences were finally breached after a well struck 31. Pascoe was soon reaping just reward for his spell of pacey line and length too, with Tariq’s off-stump violently knocked to a recumbent pose and the bails dancing a merry quadrille. It was all rather splendid stuff, and it wasn’t long before the once-glimpsed pit of despondency was beginning to look more like glorious sunlit uplands as the RDXI recovery began to stall, and with committed fielding from Riley and the usual trouser shredding gymnastics from Jones further restricting the run tally, Bodley were seemingly on course to work through the tail before the regulation 35 overs. Now there are several different, and often conflicting approaches to such situations that have been adopted during Bodley’s studied past. Facing an opponent seemingly on the metaphorical ropes has, on occasion, elicited sympathy and accommodation from captains of a certain stripe. Other tend to a more ‘Nietzschean’ will-to-win approach and, given the rather unpredictable nature of any Bodley performance, this is not entirely inexplicable, and so to the rather Milner-esque strains of ‘no mercy’ the Bodley juggernaut rolled on. Now it is a well-known fact to those who know it well that one of the true signs of summer is the first Busby over bowled in anger, and so as the ball was casually lobbed to the ‘Stuka’ eyes looked eagerly on to bear witness to what was about to unfold. To any debutant, the sight of Busby ambling up to the crease and releasing the ball like a contortionist having a seizure can be both unsettling and a little confusing. A Busby over is, after all, rather like a cricketing ‘finger-buffet’ if you will, containing a few very juicy morsels that get dispatched with gusto. Like any buffet however there will always be the ‘dodgy prawn’ hiding in open view and it is this that Busby so ruthlessly exploits, and almost as soon as you hear the muttered “What the…” from the batters lips the ball is edged into the welcome hands of Pascoe at square leg. And so the legend that is Busby most assuredly lives on! With Burnett claiming Lowe with a piercing ball to the stumps, and Asad likewise securing his brace with L. Wyatt undone trying to chase the game, the innings was finally brought to a close with Ackland claiming a well-deserved wicket with a ball that evaded M. Wyatt’s mighty swing but not the stumps. And so with more than a little self-pinching Bodley decamped from the field of play having managed to restrict the RDXI to what seemed a definitely attainable total of 121. Only time would tell if this would prove to be the case however. Meanwhile, there was the small matter of lunch to be considered, and with the sun gently warming the cockles, much cake and sarnies – with pickle no less – were devoured, all washed down with tea served in plastic beakers, giving the entire episode the air of an outing for those not quite trusted not to do ghastly things to themselves or each other. Suitably refreshed, it was time to see if Bodley could follow up their performance in the field with some similarly impressive batting. And so an air of anticipation pervaded the Bodley camp as Neely and Asad strode out to the middle to start the chase, and as Neely calmly stroked the first ball to the boundary there was a palpable sigh of relief as the promised victory edged just that little bit closer. With Asad now at the crease expectation rose to fever pitch, as his much-promised swashbuckling approach was now about to makes its presence felt. Unfortunately, the RDXI opening bowlers had not read the script and instead unleashed an unrelenting assault of probing deliveries, with Wyatt well and truly buckling Asad’s swash, and a portentous silence duly descending on the boundary. It was not just the ceaseless attack on the pitch that Bodley had to contend with, with Ackland omitting an entire overs’ worth of runs from the scoreboard tally it seemed that fate may, afterall, contrive to deprive Bodley of a victory, one way or another. And as if any reminder was necessary, it wasn’t long before Neely had himself succumbed to the dangerous opening spell of Akhtar, departing for a well struck though disappointing 11. One of the joys of the vagaries of a Bodley innings is that they often bring together batters of contrasting approaches in entirely uncontrived circumstances. Today would prove to be no exception to this rule as the hard-hitting Pascoe now shared the strip with Boycottian apostate Jones, eager to add to last seasons rich run of form. Although promising much, the new partnership was alas undone by yet more sharp bowling with Jones getting a fine snick that was pouched behind. And with three wickets down and only 33 runs on the board it was beginning to look like a classic Bodley wobble, so all eyes turned to Burnett as he ambled out to the middle in a cloud of silver hair and good intensions. And just as the red glow of a twilight sky foretells of better times to come, so it was that a change of bowlers and resolute and purposeful batting by Pascoe and Burnett began to tip the advantage once again back to Bodley, and with overs to spare it began to look very much like a done deal until Ackland somehow managed to suddenly appear out in the middle in the dreaded white coat, which seemed about as auspicious as Dr Crippen appearing at your hospital bedside with a large selection of pills. Needless to say it wasn’t long before the inevitable shout erupted from the middle and all eyes on the boundary turned to this incorrigible dispenser of doom out in the middle. But then the second miracle of Stanton St John occurred, for it appeared that someone had presciently sewn the arms of the Umpires coat to the sides making it impossible for Ackland to raise the dreaded finger. As such it was a near flawless display of umpiring from Ackland with no LBW’s given which, as far as most could recall, was the first time such a thing had occurred since John Major had been in Number Ten. In fact the only blip was his belief that shouting “No Ball” a second time cancelled out the first erroneous call. But let us not get distracted from the events as they unfolded on the field. Having survived his near-death brush with the Ackland finger Burnett settled into a productive serenity, with deft scoring shots dispatched and purposeful running between the stumps all adding to the fast accumulating total. At the other end meanwhile, Pascoe was combining guileful tip-and-runs with languid dispatching of the loose ball, and it came as a bit of a shock therefore when he only half-connected with a drive which was well taken by Akhtar, having added a vital 36 runs to the score. And so the final act of the performance would see ‘Tuppy’ make his Bodley batting debut, and it wasn’t long before genuine technique started to make its presence felt, with unflustered defence mixing it with sensible hard running and more expansive scoring shots, which saw the target of 123 rapidly hove into view as the twentieth over approached, and Robinson performing sterling work keeping the notoriously fiendish scoreboard updated ball by ball. And as Burnett stroked a final boundary to secure the victory he could depart the field of dreams with an assured and undefeated 43 to his name, with Tuppy sharing the spoils with an impressive undefeated 24 run debut. Of course no Bodley win can ever be glibly dismissed as a foregone conclusion (with defeat wrenched from the jaws of victory all too often over the years), but despite the almost inevitable mid-innings wobble this was, objectively, a really most assured victory and one, moreover, secured with 14 overs in hand. And so as congratulations and commiserations were duly exchanged and spikes kicked off, Bodley could reflect on what had all the appearances of an almost complete performance. Tight bowling, combined with athleticism in the field, had contained the RDXI attack and restricted the run chase to something eminently attainable. Moreover, Bodley had bowled out the opposition with overs to spare, which has always been an Achilles heel in the past – not today would Bodley be undone by the immovable batter or wagging tail! Special mention must also go to a fine performance by Neely who proved to be a bulwark behind the stumps, preventing those all too precious extras that can make all the difference between victory and defeat. And without whom, of course, hearty thanks go to the Richard Denner XI for being such good opposition in a game that swung more ways than Dave Busby in a nightclub cage. Social cricket is notoriously difficult to gauge and handicap so it is always welcome to come across like-minded teams that present a friendly challenge, and it is hoped that this will become an established fixture over the coming years. And so with a win chalked up only two games into the season it was with an air of optimism that Bodley departed what is proving to be the rich hunting ground of Stanton St John, most in search of well-deserved ale, and Ackland to fulfil a pressing engagement with certain items he had recently purchased from Lidl. TP. Authors XI at Great Tew, 35 overs.
As the start of a new season approaches and whites are pulled from the back of drawers, kit retrieved from garages and sheds, new purchases proudly squeezed in and modest but still lofty targets for the year set, those of us addicted to the rhythms and nuances of the cricket field excitedly check the weather and count down the days like a child anticipating Santa Claus. Social cricket is a niche for idealists, for mavericks and lost souls who seek a homely setting in which to understand and express their own peculiar sporting mojo. It is this that brings together such different skill sets and abilities, and this that makes a game which on paper is so utterly repetitive a gently rollicking crash of styles and duels. A team game played by individuals, as someone once astutely observed. So, on a sunny (just about) Sunday morning in mid-May eleven Bodleian cricketers made the short drive to bucolic Great Tew to take on the Authors XI and get the season going with a win. Ideally. Bodley put out a good team, Matthew Neely skippering this one, whilst the Authors had a few familiar faces mixed with a few new ones. Authors called correctly at the toss and very cannily put Bodley in to bat – overnight fog and a damp few days had left the pitch a tad low – but a chance to put up a big score was ours to waste. Bodley’s answer to Hobbs and Sutcliffe – Neely and Shackleton – strode out to get things going, and thankfully lived up to that introduction by settling in nicely. Shackleton unfurled some delicious drives and an especially fine lofted variety over the infield, pure poetry flowing from the willow. Neely was likewise busy accumulating the runs at the other end, picking up where he left off after last seasons epic run-scoring. After ten overs the score was 47-0 and the change bowlers were on, whilst the expectant spectators breathed easier. Unfortunately, after eleven overs, calamity, and a wicket – Neely was unceremoniously run out after Shackleton suffered what can only be described as a total and utter brain fart. Next in was James Shaw, joining a slightly subdued Shackleton and calling very loudly. James was in splendid form and the scoring rate continued to build, with David looking ever more elegant despite his faux-pas. Despite this apparent momentum David was out caught and bowled in the twenty second over for a sprightly 63 from 70 balls, bringing Bodley’s young leg-spinning all-rounder Francis to the crease. Sadly, and ominously, James was out a few overs later for a quickfire 31 from 39 balls, leaving the score at 120-3 and Bodley wobbling when you remembered the great Shane Warne’s rule of adding two wickets to the score and then seeing how it looked. Jones was in at Shaw’s departure, and with Francis quickly set about blocking absolutely everything as the Authors found a straight line and the pitch continued to befuddle. After quite enough of this it was decided that swinging might be better, and Jones was out clean bowled almost immediately to demonstrate the foolishness of that plan. Burnett followed, swung much more productively, but was also out (a lifter, tough luck that one), then Philipson, and Webb, before Francis himself was out to give one especially productive Author a four-fer after a hard fought 12. The slip fielders union of Milner and Robinson saw out the remaining couple of overs without further loss and Bodley ended the innings on a perhaps below par 152-8. Never mind, tea was served and the sun was out. Tea was enthusiastically taken – a myriad of sandwiches, cakey bites and rather filling doughnuts – and tactics talked. As the second innings began and the greatest cricketing minds in the Bodleian Libraries concluded that we’d need to bowl them out (unlikely), field beyond our abilities (very unlikely), or set the fire alarm off in the clubhouse (possible), we nevertheless formed up into a circle, clapped loudly and yelled motivational passages from books about cricket. Burnett opened the bowling and was immediately into a groove, conceding just one off the first over. Shaw was on at the other end and was equally economical. This fine form continued as the bowling changes were rung in the ninth, Ackland and Robinson taking over the ball-wanging duties. The only slight blip was Ackland’s very first ball of the season, always a highly anticipated event as the dust cloud is kicked up by the shuffling assassin. For reasons only known to himself, the first ball of the spell was an Ackland mystery ball – it was neither full, nor short, neither wide, nor straight, neither floaty, nor darted in – to even the greatest batter the ball was completely unplayable, emerging from the hand somewhere around the thigh area and thudding straight into the ground below Stuart’s feet as he continued to run past it in follow-through. Unplayable. Sadly, also a no-ball. Happily, in the fifteenth over the first wicket fell, with just 51 runs having been scored, a now sublime Ackland getting a stumping as Neely pulled off a blinder to catch the batter well out of his crease. Wickets in hand, yes, but run rate pressure all the same. A bowling change later found Francis twirling away and after a classic leg-spinners first over the second wicket was taken to leave the Authors on 79-2 after nineteen. This being a thirty-five over game, that was well within the run rate, Authors having accelerated after that first wicket. The short boundary on one side was reaping rich reward for the batters and before long Bodley had three boundary riders out there, all watching the ball sail over the head and between their positions. Shackleton, fresh from his invaluable 63 was now on at the other end and bowling very well indeed, particularly given the more aggressive batting present in the Authors middle order. A clean bowled top of off stump from a perfect length was just reward for a probing spell of seam bowling. With the runs coming the skipper brought Burnet back, and with his second ball of his second spell Phil found a good length, which found the edge of the bat, proceeded to rocket up and over an expectant Milner at slip but just as it looked destined for the boundary many yards behind, the king of picnics leapt high into the air, arcing backwards in a Stokesian leap, and plucked the ball from the air well behind his own head. Bloody good catch Andrew, wonderful. Much whooping was had and Bodley settled back into the task with renewed energy. Shackleton continued with the next over, field a bit more up now, and sure enough, with one, comes two. A ball tossed in outside off stump was middled to point, chest height, going for four in everyone’s book. Until it almost broke Robinson in two that is, stinging into those bucket hands at deep point, bouncing straight back out, and then being caught again in a bit of expert pouching. Bloody marvellous catch Gav, really marvellous. With their tails up and momentum on their side Bodley again settled into positions to force another wicket. Sadly, and as this author has written so many, many times, there was another twist in the tale, and as sure as trying to hit a second six in the over brings your fall, our hopes of a collapse were ended by a far more punishing batter coming in at eight, and making it look all too easy. Burnett continued to bowl brilliantly amongst the relative carnage, bagging another wicket with an edge well taken by Neely, and slowing the rate a little in the process. As the final over approached, and some heroic ground fielding helped haul the rate back up to at least a run a ball, Authors needed six from the last over. Ackland was duly entrusted with this sacred task and began with a priceless dot. Next up a single, a well-struck ball hauled back within the ring but the dangerous batter back on strike. Next ball was a wide, then a leg bye, so three needed from two balls. Tense stuff, the boundary getting animated and the village defibrillator on standby. Stu runs in, delivers, and …spank! Very well played that batter – a well struck four to finish the game and win it, just, for the visitors. A close game played in great spirits in a beautiful setting, and a lovely way (aside from the loss!) to start the season. Well played all, everyone contributing and some outstanding performances throughout – those two catches being special highlights. Next match is Sunday 21st at nearby Stanton St. John against local side The RIchard Denner XI, all welcome. GJ. |