**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
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