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. |