White Hunter CC at Brockwood Park. 35 overs. Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5299868/scorecard Such is the organisational prowess of the Bodleian CC bureaucracy, it was carefully arranged for the writers of this report to travel down to Hampshire in the same car. Having been collected by literary agent Stu, we set off on yet another Bodleian cricket journey wondering what fortunes would be left us to describe. Early on in the journey, Stu advertised the vacant position for match report writer, and how could his two passengers turn down this lucrative, once-in-a-lifetime deal? The journey took us into the South Downs National Park and en route Stu, now re-imaged as a tour guide, pointed out the real Watership Down which inspired the eponymous novel. Was this a portent of our fortunes on the cricket field? Would the day reveal a new Hazel-rah for the Bodleian Buck Rabbits? Pondering these thoughts, we continued on our journey to Brockwood Park, the latter day Efrafra, resolute that our anthem today would not be, “Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run: don’t give the farmer his fun, fun, fun” but rather “Run, Bodley, run Bodley, run, run, run: don’t give the Hunters their fun, fun, fun.” Brockwood Park cricket ground sits atop the South Downs National Park. On arrival, one is taken into a generously-proportioned courtyard, along one side of which stands a line of seven green garage doors. At the farthest end of the drive sits the clubhouse, noteworthy for the domestic civility of its facilities. In the dressing room was a long dining room table, and adjoining this a kitchen, lounge, and flat-screen television. The ablution facilities were clean, had toilet paper, and hot and cold running water. In the toilet could also be found a leaf from the Winchester Bible (the back of frame revealed this was a facsimile) and autograph versions of poems. On the wall of one of the rooms of the dressing-cum-dining room are mounted the heads of an impala, hartebeest, and a third anonymous antelope which was not a G-nu. Clearly designed to invoke the g-nashing of teeth (those readers of the riper years will, we hope, appreciate the Flanders and Swann reference here), these trophies did not dismay before we boldly strode out onto the field. It transpired that this was someone’s house, which doubles as a cricket pavilion, for beyond this lap of luxury lay further delight: the back garden which is a full-sized cricket pitch, used only five times a year. For this day, it would be our field of dreams. If you build it, they will come, and on this day, as those who read on will find out, come they did. But first we needed to get through the first innings. The pitch was unusually pristine for a Bodley fixture and ideal for batting and the posting of a large total, and so upon winning the toss skipper Neely’s eyes lit up and decided we would bowl. Of course, every great field marshal knows his troops. One of the rules for this contest was that no one would be out first ball. For the bowlers, this opened up a jurisprudential conundrum, yet to be tested in the law courts on the grounds of equality: was it possible for the first ball to be a wide? Not that this needed testing for today Bodley conceded not a single wide or no-ball. In fact the only extras to be recorded were 5 byes when the ball hit the helmet behind the ‘keeper. Despite this triumph of extratudinal parsimoniousness, the 35 overs in the field were spent in attrition. White Hunters came out with intent, both barrels at the ready to face the charge of the Bodleian Buffaloes. Opening pair Ackland and Burnett bowled line and length, but the WH openers were finding the middle of their bats and with frustrating consistency sending the fielders scampering to collect the ball from beyond the boundary. The breakthrough was wrought by Hewett, who came on as first change having mastermind a plan to bowl as one should to a heaving, across-the-line opener: on the stumps. A mistimed hoik saw the ball sail through to remove the bails. The WH strategy, however, continued to unfold according to plan, as volley after volley was fired to the boundary rope. Bodley were unlucky: shots in the air fell into empty space where our absent 11th player would most definitely have been. Despite the heavy artillery of the WH batting, Bodley persevered. In addition to assisting four WH batters to retirement, two further wickets were taken: a fine catch by Busby off the bowling of Robinson (flattening Philipson in the process in the season’s first though unlikely last comedy collision); then a clean bowled by skipper Neely. And so to lunch, which was a satisfying mix of the semi-healthy and diabetic-coma inducing fare that is so satisfyingly popular with the cricketing fraternity, all washed down with tea that looks like it’s been brewing in a bucket for at least an hour. As always much thought was given to the state of the game and whether there was enough in the pitch to perhaps wrap it up with a few overs to spare, and once all had been victualled like a freshly coaled Dreadnought it was time to make plans to deliver the inevitable victory. Bodley have been somewhat experimental this year with opening partnerships and the trend continued with the experience of Robinson paired with the impish guile of Hewett. In the fevered excitement of the anticipated run-fest to come, however, no one had noticed that Ackland had once again donned the white coat and scampered out to the middle like General Woundwort and taken up position ominously behind the stumps. Pre-match the Hunters had been pretty clear that the LBW rule was to be interpreted in a somewhat ‘forgiving’ manner so perhaps the general sense of unease at the sight of Ackland in a white coat was somewhat uncharitable. Such doubts had to be set aside however and the gaggle of Bodley troops back on the boundary held their collective breath as the innings commenced. Perhaps the inability of Bodley to capitalise on the initial ‘free hit’ – an ominous trend that would sustain throughout the entire innings – was a portent of things to come but the ball seemed to deftly defy all combative swats and before long the initial early-innings optimism was dealt a cruel blow as Robinson fell victim to a ball that seemed to defy Newton’s Laws of Motion, and no doubt left Ackland pondering the possibilities of bowling even slower balls. Determined to steady the ship, Burnett strode out like a man on a mission and the new partnership promised much in the line of opportunistic nurdling and classic stroke play, and the early signs didn’t disappoint with Burnett finding the boundary with aplomb. Just as things started to look a little more positive however an ancient curse decided to once again wreak havoc on Bodley’s fortunes as Ackland stepped up like a particularly malevolent Jacob Marley, raising the finger of doom yet again this season to dismiss Hewett. Mutterings that Ackland must be playing some form of Bodley LBW Bingo had to be cast aside however as Neely shouldered the responsibility and made for the middle. With Burnett and Neely both at the crease this was starting to look a little more like an orthodox Bodley opening partnership – resilient against the danger ball and spanking anything wide to the boundary. Neely has been quietly accumulating a healthy stack of runs this season and today was no exception as the elusive middle began to be found with cheering regularity and the gentle crack of leather on willow a thrilling soundtrack to events. All too soon, however, the Cricketing Gods decreed that enough was enough, and this time without the assistance of Ackland they dealt Bodley yet another blow as Burnett, in full Joe Root mode, mistimed a good ball down the wicket which was duly pouched by the bowler. With three wickets down and only seventeen runs on the board all thoughts of a sedate canter to victory were being recalibrated as it looked like Bodley may just have to take the match to the end after all. The signs were indeed promising as next out was Jones who was hoping to add to his own recent haul of runs, and if the mantra ‘start as you mean to go on’ meant anything things looked very good indeed as the boundary was immediately found. Jones seems to have discovered new gears this season, and so it was that the partnership finally settled the innings and runs began to accumulate, with Neely in particularly expansive mood and scoring freely, backed up by dogged running between the stumps and resolute and effective stroke-play by Jones. With the good ship Bodley now finally settled on an even keel it was somewhat inevitable that she would yet again be holed beneath the waterline, and so it came to pass that the risk-reward of expansive cricket saw the premature demise of Neely for an aggressive and impressive 23, as a well struck volley was equally well taken and held in the deep by Giles, leaving Bodley 49 for 4. The traditional scramble to pad up now fell to Philipson who ambled out to the familiar inner-monologue and occasional muttering about the importance of batting sensibly with no wild heaves across the line. Of course such good intentions were immediately undone by the promise of an almost risk-free first hit which, true to form, failed to add even a single run to the total. If Ackland was assuming the role of General Woundwort then Jones was most definitely Blackberry, who had once uttered the seeming prescient analysis that ‘if we don’t change our natural ways then we shan’t be able to stay here very long’. With the instruction to bat sensibly and see out the overs until tea, Jones and Philipson continued to add to the total with some purposeful running and occasional boundaries. Some hold that the key to success in cricket is to keep the opposition – and especially their batters – guessing. The Hunters were obviously keen adherents to this approach to bowling and served up a veritable smorgasbord of bowling styles, often within the same over which, we would like to think, is something they have learned from the Bodley attack in past encounters. Such variation does not sit easily with the more ‘agricultural’ batter, however, and so it was with a degree of inevitability that the sudden transition from slow loopy lobs to full-pitched probing deliveries undid Philipson as the traditional heave across the line made its return and the bails danced a merry quadrille in the air. Returning to the Pavilion with rather more choice words being muttered and a disappointing 19 added to the score Philipson passed the baton to veteran Milner. Resplendent in his colour-coordinated cricketing attire, and resembling from some angles a young David Essex, Milner seemed eager to join the fray, bringing literally decades of cricketing guile, nous and prowess to the crease, as well as his now legendary Nietzschean ‘Will to Win’ philosophy. As so often during the innings alas, early promise proved transient as Milner fell victim to a genuinely unplayable ball that jagged viciously in off the seam and hit off-stump. Readers may well be wondering how Jones had been progressing while the Bodley attack faltered all around him? Put simply he was really rather enjoying himself and building on the fine form he had bought from his previous knock against the Authors, with his new expansive and aggressive play proving the equal of the bowling attack, with a combination of well-worked singles and boundaries seeing his total inexorably grow to something that could just elevate him to the exalted ranks of the Bodleian immortals. Now partnered by Riley, Jones continued to harvest the strike and add to his tally while Riley doggedly defended the good and punished the bad ball. And then the Miracle of Brockwood Park came to pass. Aware that he was somewhere ‘close’ to his first half-century – but determined not to know how close – Jones survived a few more sticky deliveries before smiting yet another boundary to finally cross the line, and retired from the field of play with an exceptional 53 to his name and well-deserved congratulations from both teams. Those who have been associated with and endured Bodley Cricket for any length of time know well that the ranks of centurions and half-centurions are exalted indeed and to admit any new member is a very special moment, so well done that man! Jones’s retirement meant that the innings would be rounded off with yet more excitement as Busby now took to the field with a steely determination to blood his new batting gloves and ease Bodley over the 150 mark. Although clearly a legend in his own time – and indeed possibly others – the somewhat singular approach Busby brings to the game never fails to deliver, and true to form he was soon engaged in a curious and entirely characteristic melange of stoical defence, whirly-gig bat-swinging and frenzied running that added to the score and general bemusement of onlookers. Typical was the wild slash at a ball so far down the leg-side that it was practically in a different postcode – cue huge cloud of dust as bat gouges the ground and comedic collapse as he somehow contrives to fall over his own feet ending flat on his back – though mercifully behind the line. Whilst this unconventional display was somehow inching Bodley ever closer to the 150 mark Ackland was limbering up on the boundary like a young Olga Korbut, eager to do as much damage with the bat as he manages with his finger. Alas – and with a general sense of disappointment – it proved not to be as the Riley/Busby partnership clung on like grim death until Busby spooned a catch to Hobbs on the final ball, leaving the field with a gallant and hard fought 6 runs, Riley undefeated on 6 and Bodley just over the line on 151. And so ended the third game in what is proving to be yet another exciting season. As always there was much discussion and reflection on what had gone wrong, what had gone right, and back to what had gone wrong again as per Bodley tradition. The history books will of course record it as yet another fairly hefty loss, but as with most Bodley games there are special ‘moments’ that transcend mere stats, and to witness a Jones half-century must surely rank as one such moment. The journey to Brockwood Park may have been more Waterloo than Watership Down but these things are ultimately peripheral in the ceaseless quest that is Bodley cricket. And unlike the French post-Waterloo, our next encounter will be against old favourites Peasemore rather than the Prussian First XI so “Play up! play up! and play the game!" PTB, TP
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Authors XI at Great Tew. 35 overs.
Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5245012/scorecard Bodley haven't played the Authors for a number of years, a combination of dates not aligning and then the covid shitstorm that threw everything out of sync for a while. For a while it looked like this, the second game of the season, wouldn't go ahead either as the weather hadn't been good leading up to the fixture and with copious rain on the journey to Tew. Luckily the ground is quick draining and the Tew peeps are keen for us to use their excellent pitch. Still, constant drizzle meant the start was delayed and as the weather wasn't exactly warm welcoming a nice cup of tea and delicious cake from Judit was enthusiastically passed round. Matthew is skippering for the Bod, with Tom Holland to skipper for the Authors, who have brought along a typically strong side. Bod bat first and do well against some accurate bowling. David, in his last game for the team before jetting off to California for two months gets 58 before being bowled, Matthew a quick 28. James falls LBW to the oppo skipper before Gareth knocks a rapid 32, evidence that recent netting with Matthew and Phil is paying off. Knocks from the rest of the team give us 146, not much but with a good bowling attack something to aim for at least. Weather hasn't got much better. Tea, usual amount of sandwiches but, if I say so myself, an excellent apple cake which gets plenty of comments. Considering I didn't bat, faffed about in the field and then bowled with an economy of 5.5 it's good do contribute something to the team. Authors get past our total comfortably, but mention here to an excellent spell of bowling from Dave, Busby not Shackleton. First bat stumped, beguiled by a ball of such flight that he had too much time to decide what to do, then two quick wickets, an LBW and a cleaned bowled. Dave ends up with 3 wickets off 2 overs, excellent, and his figures are matched by another original, with Andrew picking up another 3 wickets with a miserly economy rate of 3.7. Second game and second loss but the team play well against good oppo, hopefully we can take this on to the next game. Now, is there any cake left? SA, GJ. Strollers CC at Exeter College ground. 35 overs.
Scorecard - www.pitchero.com/clubs/bodleiancc/teams/255079/match-centre/0-5310474/scorecard As all Physicists, Philosophers and Brian Cox types acknowledge, there exist some primordial Universal Constants. Halley's Comet making its brief, spectacular appearance every 75 years; Charles I failing to retain his ‘Hat Wearer of the Year’ title in 1649; yet another ‘Never to be Repeated’ sale at World of Leather. To these must be added the sight of the Mighty Bodleian taking to the Field of Dreams as they embark on yet another ambitious and expectant cricket season. The first match of 2022 presented challenges aplenty. The opposition – Strollers CC – were new and therefore something of an unknown quantity. Although the ‘Venn Diagram of Equivalent Competence’ had decreed that mutual connections with Great Haseley supposedly guaranteed a suitable match, such initial encounters are to be treated with utmost caution – harsh experience has taught Bodley that cricket has the unnerving tendency to compel teams to understate actual ability with often unedifying consequences. Such considerations were however for another time and place – this was the first game of the new season and a Positive Mental Attitude was all that was required to see us through to winning ways. Such positive thoughts somewhat evaporated when we discovered that the much vaunted Hertford College venue had in fact been switched to the adjacent sports ground, which wouldn’t have been such a problem if the access gate hadn’t been chained shut, Pavillion locked and trivial crickteting trinkets such as stumps nowhere to be seen. The former problem was solved by Gareth’s inspired suggestion to merely lift the gate off its hinges (best not to ask how he is aware of this technique) and after a slight delay stumps and bails were also acquired and so it was that the first game of Bodleys season was set to begin. The weather was the usual mid-spring mix of warming sunshine offset by a bracing breeze that demanded layers and with the pitch inspection revealing a potentially tricky batting wicket Gareth, having won the toss, elected to field first and chase down whatever total the Strollers could scratch. Bodley’s speed demon and Youth Policy flag-bearer Dan Shaw opened the bowling with Silver Phil Burnett helping restrict scoring from the other end, and this guileful combination soon brought results with the swift dismissal of both Beechcroft and Maurice with only 9 runs on the board. At such moments experience has taught the sheer folly of daring to dream and so it was that the Strollers reset, settled into the groove and began to claw their way back into the game with an ever-expanding repertoire of shots. Bowlers and tight fielding nevertheless contained the flow of runs and with the score on 56 Shackleton removed Weir for a well earned 23, soon followed by James Shaw trapping Allen LBW for 22 leaving the Strollers on 56 for four. The arrival of the middle order at the crease saw a cat and mouse game of attrition as Bodley again mixed up the bowling and brought on the mercurial Andrew Milner and diffident yet deceptive Dom Hewitt and it wasn’t long before the latter had McQuirk bamboozled and chalked up a well-deserved wicked. Spin-meister Milner helped restrict the run rate still further and with 30 overs gone the Strollers were looking a little unsteady on their feet with 8 wickets down and only 113 runs on the board. The temptation to again contemplate such glorious possibilities alas came crashing down as the Strollers tail began to wag most ominously. A mix of clever and expansive risk-reward batting by Young in particular saw the run-rate accelerate as the overs ticked on, despite excellent wicket keeping by Matthew Neely, a live-wire performance in the slips by Milner and tidy fielding throughout The Strollers timed their dash for the line to perfection and finished on the useful – though not insurmountable – total of 168 at the close of their innings, with Young recording an impressive 56 not out. Lunch was a curious throwback to pre-pandemic times with Sandwiches, snacks and cake provided for one-and-all, served on a random collection of wooden logs that didn’t appear to have come from Ikea. Although exceedingly convivial this did mean the sad absence of Milners picnic ensemble which had proved such a hit for the last two seasons. Bodley’s very own Dorian Gray Dave Busby took full advantage of the glut of cake on offer and would remain shrouded in crumbs well into our innings. In a clever ruse to keep the opposition guessing skipper Gareth had cleverly omitted to commit any batting order to either paper or mind, and so it came to pass that Bodley engaged in the run chase with an unusual opening partnership. As followers of the team are no doubt aware the Bodleian comprises an eclectic bunch of individuals, not least poacher turned gamekeeper David Shackleton who has exchanged the indolent life of the Undergraduate for the indolent life of the Academic. Due to the imminent threat of nuclear war reigniting the inexplicably dormant interest in North American Hummingbirds, Shackleton has managed to bag himself a piece of the research action and will soon desert these shores for sunnier climes, leaving a much coveted vacancy for opening batsman. A decision to hold ‘open auditions’ for said role was won by Judge and Jury Stuart Ackland and as such our very own Sorcerer and his Apprentice purposefully strode out to the middle to chase down the Strollers. Slow and Steady. Plenty of time. Thus are the eternal watchwords for any Bodleian innings and today these proved to be the order of the day and then some. With a required run rate of a little under five per over Bodley made a confident initial response to the task in hand – give or take four runs an over – but the key was not to lose early wickets. ‘Platforms’ (and runs, obviously) win matches afterall, and so it was with a sense of nervous anticipation that we watched the action unfold on the field of play. Shackleton played like he had never been away from the game (which he probably hasn’t, being an inveterate ‘netter’) and there is always something reassuring when you catch a glimpse of that high elbow pushing through the line of the ball. With his new shiny bat Stuart looked every inch the batsman he believed himself to be and all held their collective breath when he appeared to track the ball with laser-like focus and eye the distant boundary. It came as a bit of a shock therefore when the ball turned out to be on an entirely different track and the bails went flying, earning Stuart the first duck of the season. It was clear that runs were proving to be just as difficult for Bodley to scrape as had been the case for the Strollers early doors, although the key difference seemed to be the steady loss of wickets that would increasingly take the game away from us. This was not helped when Stuart re-entered the field of play as Umpire, and with the inevitability of death it was not long before Shackleton was sent on his way by the dreaded finger, having added 10 elegantly crafted runs to the total. Although James continued the chase with his customary lithe batting, Stroller Weir soon added to his tally with a fine delivery removing Matthew for a rare duck which led to the customary mad scramble to pad up – a race duly won by Phil who purposefully strode out to enter the fray. After compiling a well batted 16 James too fell foul of the dreaded Ackland finger leaving the scorer scrambling for a pencil sharpener to try and keep pace with developments. It was now the turn of Skipper Jones to steady the ship in the way he knows best and so began a fine demonstration of Boycottian obduracy at the crease. Phil was next to succumb to the steady line and length of Weir, given LBW by you know who for a well-worked sixteen – Ackland was truly excelling himself today with LBW’s exceeding his run tally by a factor of infinity. With Dan now at the crease spectators settled back to enjoy the clash of batting philosophies now being played out in the middle. The much anticipated comedy run-out did not alas transpire as the spirit of Boycott momentarily slipped anchor and Gareth indulged in an expansive shot that saw his bails cartwheeling. The batting order – if not the score – was motoring along by this point and Tim was next in line, determined to reign in his more suicidal heaves across the line. Any chance of a settled partnership was soon put to the sword however as McQuirk demonstrated how a slower ball ought to be bowled with Dan removed for not many. The revolving door next delivered Dom to the middle who started to nurdle runs like a young Mike Webb before, predictably, an entirely characteristic heave down leg saw Tim top edge a dolly which was uncharitably held. After yet more furious sharpening of the scorers pencil it duly recorded Milner striding out to join the action. James’ assurance that the high-pitched squeaks were from the swarms of Green Parakeets circling the ground and not Andrew’s new hand-carved ivory knees – yet another impulsive home-working purchase – provided reassurance, and clearly the investment had been wise as he soon got in his eye in, with a fabulous four casually bludgeoned back over the bowlers head a particular highlight. As was increasingly evident nothing stands still for long during a Bodleian innings and so it was that Dom was next to fall from a tidy bit of Stroller bowling. The long storied history of Bodleian CC has seen memorable players and partnerships aplenty and so it was that Dave Busby now joined Andrew at the crease to roll back the years and try and prevent an ‘all out’ for our first match of the campaign. That famous lateral Busby movement complemented the languid flair of Milner perfectly and so it was that these stalwarts finally saw out the innings, Milner scoring an impressive 15 and Busby contributing with a well stuck boundary. And so Bodley retired from the field of dreams on 89/9 and the opening day laurels went to the Strollers. The bowling had been tight with Dan taking an impressive four wickets, with James, Stu, Shackleton and Hewitt all adding to the bag, and the fielding generally sharp and catches taken despite the constructive ‘your shit’ verdict from the Marston locals. The weak link had been the batting, with settled scoring partnerships proving elusive, but the positives outweighed the negative in what, after all, is only a game. A post-match beer and debrief in the pub followed where fine ales were consumed and agreement reached, yet again, that under no circumstances should Stuart be allowed to umpire. And so ended the first match of what must surely be another epic season. To be sure, Bodley fell a little short of the required total but victories can be measured in many different ways, and for the Bodleian to be taking to the field of play once again in 2022, fired up as ever for a competitive yet convivial campaign is itself a victory in these uncertain times. Hold onto your hats – the season has just begun… TP. |
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
September 2022
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