Aldworth CC at Aldworth, 35 overs Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5159101/scorecard It barely seems like a few weeks have passed since Bodley took to the field for their first match of the season against The Strollers, on a breezy April day. As always however, the cricketing season seems to imperceptibly accelerate the passage of time, and in what appeared little more than a blink of the studied fielders eye, we find ourselves once again in the “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”[1], and Bodley assembling one final time for the traditional season finale against Aldworth CC. As any seasoned player knows all too well, Aldworth presents its own delights and challenges. The magnificent, other-worldly, Bell Inn, with its tiny nook of a bar and excellent ales is most definitely a delight. The adjourning pitch however is generally judged to be anything but. With a sloping, uneven outfield with a significant ‘bite’ out of one corner that makes the more ‘diminutive’ player almost invisible to those on the Pavilion boundary, and an uncovered wicket that presents a fascinating challenge to the unwary cricketer, the ground has what tradition dictates be called ‘character’. On arrival, the blaze of buttercups on the outfield suggested that, as usual, the pitch had foregone any attempt at pampering, and if this presented challenges, they were as nothing compared to the delights of the wicket itself. Over the years, Bodley have played Aldworth in both horizontal rain and autumnal warmth, but irrespective of the vagaries of weather, this 22 yard strip of West Berkshire pasture has always proved to be defiantly ‘singular’, generating bounce as unpredictable as a toddler gorging on Sunny Delight. This year would prove to be no exception, with the wicket clearly indicating that this little corner of England had endured a recent monsoon of biblical proportions, resembling little more than a gargantuan Peperami trodden into the ground, and left to soak. Still, both teams would have to play on it, so what difference could it possibly make? Well quite a lot as it happens, but we shall come to that in due course. For this final assault on glory, Bodley fielded a side that covered all possible requirements – with the young and not so mingling with the fit and less so, the graceful with the agricultural, the guileful with the reckless, and Shackleton making up the numbers. Now back from his recent Grand Tour of his ancestral lands up North, Andrew Milner made a welcome return to the fold, plugging the gap left by Stuart Ackland, who had absented himself on account of a prior commitment to ‘Show and Tell’. [Don’t ask…] Leading by example, Gareth Jones and Matthew Neeley had arrived early, and taken sustenance at The Bell, though whether they too had become the latest converts to Bodley’s former ‘Director of Fitness’ Stephen Arnold – in particular his new International Bestseller[2] ‘The ABV of PPC’, which clearly establishes the positive relationship between strong ale and ‘Peak Performance Cricket’ – was a moot point. With James Shaw dashing up from a fully-immersive pagan ritual in deepest darkest Kent, and the entirely predictable non-arrival of David Shackleton and Phil Burnett – both equipped with the navigation skills of Mark Thatcher and the punctuality of an Undergraduate – having won the toss, Aldworth put Bodley in to bat. At the time this seemed to be a somewhat auspicious start to proceedings, but as the match wore on it became apparent that there may have been more than a smattering of local knowledge and unbridled cunning that informed this decision. Before play commenced, a minutes silence to mark the passing of Elizabeth II was observed by all. With respects honourably paid, it was time to re-focus on the task in hand, and as warm dappled sunlight reflected off the sodden strip, Shackleton and Neeley strode out to the middle with a purposeful air to begin Bodley’s final attempt to ascend to those fabled cricketing Elysian Fields. It wasn’t long, however, before Bodley realised that it was going to prove somewhat of a challenge to even get beyond base camp, yet alone scale the summit of victory, as Aldworth openers Ford and Ankar set about their task with a quiet efficiency that not only blunted the attack, but led to more ‘ooohing and ahhhing’ on the boundary than at an Ackland ‘Show and Tell’. Quite simply the Aldworth bowlers appeared to ‘know’ their wicket. Now much is spoken in cricketing circles, by those who invariably have too much time on their hands, that the wicket is always the twelfth player on the pitch, and although it is always painful to admit even a modicum of veracity to the thoughts of such individuals, for once this proved to be the case. Of course it wasn’t the first time that the wicket had proved to be somewhat ‘testing’ at Aldworth – it certainly has form in this respect – but today it just seemed to have levels of ‘extra-added-bounce’ that is usually only found in Shackletons’s Hair Spray. Never ones to shirk a challenge, and with Shackleton in particular determined to prove his relevance to a team that had clearly moved on during his ‘scholastic’ galivanting, both openers dutifully persevered against the onslaught, but despite their best endeavours, conditions were more than a little ‘sub-optimal’ in University parlance, and it wasn’t until the 15th over that Bodley chalked up the half-century. Despite these initial difficulties, things were beginning to look a little more positive however, as both Neeley and Shackleton began to get the measure of the pitch and inject a bit more swagger into their shots. It wasn’t long before Neeley was finding the boundary, and even the languid Shackleton loosened his arms to punt a towering six onto the pavilion roof, to the delight of the Bodley contingent on the boundary, safely shielding behind Milner at the scorer’s table. Now it is somewhat of a Bodley cricketing cliché to describe the fall of Shackleton’s wicket in terms little removed from those reserved for the loss of the Titanic, and although we have endeavoured to doggedly defy this convention all season, it did come as something as a shock when ‘He of the Magnificent Hair’ [The ‘Mane Man’?] snicked a veering ball whilst chasing a shot and was duly caught in the slips by Newing. It was, as Shackleton would no doubt agree, a quite ‘Amazing’ catch, and as he sloped back to the Pavilion in his familiar louche way after a hard-fought 26, newly promoted Milner stepped out to join Neeley at the crease, with the brooding menace of Gripper Stebson. Alas, although promising much and starting well, the partnership came to a premature end when Neeley was undone by the pitch, as yet another ball dug into the spongy morass and jagged viciously skyward taking yet another top-edge which was perfunctorily pouched by Moore. With both openers now back in the Pavillion ruminating on the vicissitudes of village cricket, Jones was next in line for a crash-course in splat the bat, whilst all on the boundary pondered whether lightening could indeed strike thrice. What followed could best be described as a somewhat ‘sticky’ passage of play, in more ways than one. All notions of ‘getting your eye’ in were completely nullified by a wicket that was quite literally refusing to play ball, and without much ado, or troubling the scoreboard, Jones succumbed to yet another ball that seemed to defy the laws of gravity and motion, as it once again pitched and veered, taking yet another top edge, which was in turn taken by Moore. Having witnessed the rather troubling turn of events from the safety of the boundary, Philipson had rather sensibly padded-up in readiness, though he presented a rather curious sight as he ambled out to the crease due to his decision that, all things considered, discretion really was the better part of a vainglorious trip to A&E, and as such sported a Helmet rather than the traditional cap. With the quiet resignation of condemned men, and bearing more than a passing resemblance to Hinge and Bracket, Milner and Philipson now resolved to stamp some authority on the innings and accelerate the scoring which, as a plan, worked extremely well, bar the actual execution. The fly in the ointment was Newing, who was now steaming in to bowl with the genuine pace of youth, and when combined with the vagaries of the wicket it was inevitable that he would claim a scalp sooner or later; it was Milner’s misfortune that he found himself on the receiving end one such venomous delivery that beat the bat and almost removed his middle stump from the ground. As Milner beat the retreat he was replaced by the ever sprightly Shaw, batting lower down the order today but still out in the middle somewhat sooner than expected. Although his breezy optimism seemed somewhat misplaced, all things considered, it was clear that he was intent on kick-starting the now flagging innings – and there was certainly still sufficient tail to wag along with him should the need arise – but the key, as ever, would be partnerships that endured and scored. Given this, it was probably somewhat inauspicious that he found himself now partnered with Tim Philipson. With his absence of technique, Philipson doesn’t look like a great batter (and in his case appearances are not deceptive), and all hopes that his new cranial gyroscopic counterbalance would offset at least some of the glaring technical deficiencies alas proved fleeting, as he too was undone in an almost carbon copy of the Jones dismissal, although this time the top-edge was claimed by Richardson. Once again the vagaries of the Aldworth wicket had allowed a solid, though unspectacular, bowling attack to rip through the Bodley batting order like a dose of salts, and with the score on 64 for 5 after 21 overs, the game, to paraphrase Hirohito, had developed not necessarily to Bodley’s advantage. Despite such travails, the game must go on however, and as all agreed on the boundary, it would soon be Aldworth’s turn to face the delights of the vegetable patch that was wreaking such havoc to the Bodley innings. What was needed at this moment was some impetus to post a competitive score, and who better to answer the call than Silver-Phil Burnett. Although new familial commitments have sadly curtailed his pursuit of brass rubbings in quite country churchyards, it is reassuring that he is still inclined to don the flannels for Bodley, and all too fittingly a hushed, reverent silence descended as he purposefully took guard. Once again initial signs were positive – Shaw had yet again found his mojo and the boundary and Burnett looked to have settled before, yet again, a ball just dug in, veered up, and took yet another top edge that was snaffled by bowler Richardson. As Burnett retired to the boundary rueing his misfortune, his place out in the middle was taken by Gavin Robinson, and if ever a situation demanded a no-nonsense presence at the crease this was surely it. And for one, brief, shining moment the stars did indeed align, as a veering ball was, for once, dismissively biffed to the boundary. But the light of hope was, alas, all too fleeting, for despite Bodley finally seeming to get the measure of the veering ball, Aldworth had young-gun Newing as a perennial ace up their sleeve. And once again he delivered the goods, with yet another searing ball finally breaching Robinsons defence, and yet again almost uprooting middle stump in the process. Although all thoughts of posting a new record-low score had long since passed, with 7 wickets down for only 81 runs it remained a moot point if Bodley would manage to drag themselves into three-figure territory, which had to be the bare minimum that could possibly be defended. If anyone was going to get Bodley over this totemic rubicon, it was surely talismanic everyman Dave Busby, whose Slazenger windmills gave the appearance of Pete Townsend preparing to do battle. Although possessed of a somewhat idiosyncratic technique that borrows heavily from the lateral movement of the Spider Crab, it is, nonetheless, effective, and has seen his career outlast that of countless ‘orthodox’ players. Today was no exception, with a masterful demonstration of singular strokeplay garnering a couple of heartily cheered boundaries which got Bodley within sniffing distance of a hundred-up. Before Bodley had a chance to cross the line however, Shaw was finally undone by the pitch, as yet another freakish bounce sent yet another top edged ball back down the wicket where it was duly taken by bowler Richardson. As Shaw departed for a well struck and hard fought 21, next out was James Riley, determined to add to his run tally and impressive string of not-outs for the season. Clearly the freedom to biff released some of the tail-end-tension as the Busby-Riley partnership started to swing. Riley soon found the boundary as Bodley finally broke the hundred mark, and entertaining progress was being made before this cameo was finally cut short in the now all too familiar way, as Busby top edged yet another veering ball that was unceremoniously pouched by the well-drilled Aldworth field. Bodley’s final roll of the dice now rested with Dom ‘Bristol’ Hewett, equipped with the unassuming efficiency of a Japanese Jesus Robot. Alas, by this stage the Cricketing Gods had decided to shut up shop early, and as such posterity would record that Bristol Hewett would be the only player to be dismissed LBW during the entire match, which was a victory of sorts on this Aldworth wicket. And so, as Bodley departed the field of play, they had managed to post an under-par 111 runs on the board. Only time would tell if it was enough of course, but at least we had the psychological reassurance that it would soon be Aldworth’s turn to face the dubious charms of this ‘characterful’ wicket. [1] Keith Chegwin [2] Pitcairn Revenge may well be a dish best served cold, but before that there was hot tea to be had, and all retreated to the Pavilion to enjoy a quite splendid spread that had been provided by our generous hosts. With all sweet and savoury bases well covered, and some truly excellent cake to add to the joy, it was a welcome, momentary release from the rather painful sequence of events that had recently unfolded out on the field of play. And with sugar levels finally restored, an air of restrained confidence may even have been evident in the Bodley camp, as plates were cleared and mugs were drained, though Shackleton’s rather coquettish strawberry ‘routine’ suggested he may have slightly overdone the sugar hit. But still, a warm late-summer sun was now bathing the ground in soft pastel light as Bodley once again took to the field, though now with a target to defend.
The return of Burnett from his romantic indulgences meant that Bodley could resort to a tried and tested opening attack when play resumed, with the high ball release of Shaw in particular promising much on a wicket that had sprinkled angel dust on hard-pitched deliveries. And the opening Bodley salvos didn’t disappoint, straddling the Aldworth openers and restricting the run rate to a mere trickle. The first breakthrough came in Shaw’s opening over with Ollie bowled without troubling the score, which was followed by the now familiar passage of attrition bowling which saw Aldworth restricted to only 30 runs after 10 overs. Despite initially containing the run-rate, the arrival of Wood at the crease had injected real impetus to the Aldworth innings however, and as the 20 over mark was reached they had established a marginal lead which they looked unlikely to relinquish unless they succumbed to the same sort of collapse and piecemeal partnerships that had afflicted Bodley. It was during this period that something decidedly odd had become increasingly apparent; the sodden mud-strip that had delivered such variable bounce during the Bodley innings – and which had directly led to 7 top-edges that had been gratefully snaffled by the Aldworth field – had become an almost benign flat batting strip that was starting to deliver runs. The increasingly expansive innings of Wood was a perfect illustration of the bind that Bodley now found themselves in, with the runs coming ever faster as the wicket dried in that self-same soft summer sun that seemed so comforting and reassuring not so very long ago. To add to the apparent unjustness of the whole situation, the early promise of Robinson’s spell, which looked likely to take an edge sooner rather than later, was cut short due to injury. Even the flighted deliveries of Bristol Hewett appeared to be checked by a wicket that now seemed to dissipate even the potential of unorthodox bounce, allowing Wood in particular to get his eye in, find the range, and the boundary. With Aldworth starting to canter it was time to change tack, and with Robinson now withdrawn from the attack Milner was introduced to try and make the most of what life remained in the wicket. Now Milner is a real veteran of the game in every sense – Burnett in particular is often spellbound by his yarn about bowling Lord Kitchener for a Duck in the 1901 Cape Town Invitational – but despite a solid, parsimonious start, even he could not contain an Aldworth attack that was starting to feast on the free runs that the lifeless wicket was increasingly serving up for them. The introduction of Neeley into the attack had immediately brought the wicket of Gardiner, with a catch well held by Shaw, and much to the surprise of everyone the languid shimmy of Shackleton also bore results. Now Shackleton had clearly become something of a cult-like figure during his recent Californian ‘Research Study’ of ‘Utopian Naturist Pygmies’, with tales, so we hear, of disciples adopting Donna Summers’ 1977 Disco classic as their anthem, only substituting the word ‘Love’ for ‘Shacks’. Now safely back in the mother country, it was time to eschew such indulgencies and concentrate on the matter in hand, which today meant skittling out the opposition for a mere handful of runs. To his credit he did give it his best shot, finally taking the crucial wicket of Woods after he had amassed what would prove to be a match winning 74 runs, and also claiming Warren, who was well caught in the deep by Busby in an unorthodox backwards roll. The arrival of Basoya at the crease merely confirmed the inevitable however, with three successive boundaries sealing the victory for Aldworth in the 24th over. As traditional handshakes concluded the match, it was clear that history would record the 7 wicket loss as one of the more convincing defeats of the season. However, as initial disappointment receded, and reflection kicked in, it was clear that Bodley had largely been undone, yet again, by the infamous Aldworth wicket. Hindsight, and the experience of trying to evade wildly veering and rearing balls, would made the decision to put Bodley into bat on a sodden but drying pitch proof positive of the old truism ‘cricketer know thy pitch – and keep a watchful eye on the weather forecast while you’re at it too’. Any lessons learnt would be for another time and another season however, as it was time to retire to the comforts of a convivial pint at the Bell Inn to discuss everything, and nothing, as is the Bodley way, and reflect, as always on the golden season that awaits, forever, just around the corner. Weather permitting, Bodley will take to the field one last time this year for the traditional end-of season Whippersnappers, and it goes without saying that this final outing will bookend what has been yet another exciting chapter in the storied history of Bodley CC. Aldworth would be the final ‘competitive’ match of the season however, so it is perhaps appropriate to end this report with a few concluding observations. Although ‘statistically’ speaking the season has not been one of our more successful campaigns, there have been many real highlights that merit brief mention. Personal high scores have seemingly proliferated this year, with several new half-centurions added to the hallowed Hall of Fame. The runs have flowed – even gushed on occasion – especially when Bodley once again took to the road and provided the inhabitants of Exeter and its environs with near exhibition cricket that will surely become local legend. Should you ever find yourself down that way however, and the opposition remark that you don’t appear to merit ‘gloving up’, as James will testify, you should be afraid…very afraid. On the bowling front there have also been fine displays of metronomic attrition interspersed with occasional spells of devastating, and indeed record breaking, wicket-fests. The fielding has been above average in athleticism, and trousers have been stained, and indeed shredded in the cause. There have even been some fabulous catches taken, and more importantly held, which is always a rewarding sight. Of course we have also been on the receiving end of some seriously destructive batting and guileful bowling that has, on occasion, tipped the balance away from Bodley, but there will always be fine margins in any season – they are what make the whole adventure that little bit more exciting and keeps pulling us back like a moth to the cricketing flame. When the idea of taking mediocre social cricket to the villages of Oxfordshire and other assorted non First-Class Counties was first mooted, we like to think that Bodley’s esteemed founding fathers would reflect, with a degree of pride, that this ceaseless endeavour doggedly lives on nearly 30 years later. That Bodley CC continues to thrive is due to the dedication of the mysterious ‘Committee’ who put in all the hard work behind the scenes – your largely thankless toil is much appreciated by all who sail in the good ship Bodley. Thanks are due, as always, to all those regulars who continue to turn out for Bodley CC – you could never be accused of being glory hunters and for that we applaud you. To all those debutants this year, heartfelt thanks – the rewards of ‘social cricket’ are generally of the more ‘intangible’ variety so welcome to the club and we hope to see you again as regulars next year. To that small but select group of supporters and fellow travellers, another huge thank you for your company and commitment to what may appear, on occasion, to be little more than an eternal lost cause. We like to think that we always give value for money however! And on a personal note, eternal thanks to all those drivers who have selflessly chauffeured a motley crew of unpunctual, whining and kit-heavy team mates to matches up and down the county and beyond – your contribution will be acknowledged and rewarded in the next life, if not in this. At heart Bodley CC always was, and will remain, greater than the sum of its constituent parts, which is what makes it so very special. And as yet another season draws to a close we can reflect on yet another triumph of convivial cricket, and look forward to many more campaigns yet to come. TP.
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Note from the Ed.Generally written on the night of the match after a valedictory pint. Any sparkling prose or accuracy is entirely accidental. Archives
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