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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