How do you solve a problem like a broken finger?

The Student has learnt that The New Zealand all-rounder Mr Oram is considerring amputating his finger to allow him to participate in the World Cup. Surely this is too drastic a measure, even for a dedicated professional at the top of his trade? You never know when the pinky will come in handy in later life. Dinner with the Queen perhaps? The Student remembers a game he played a few years ago where he dislocated his little finger. He was in pain, he was unable to field properly and The Wick lost resoundingly. He still has the scars to prove it. But he wouldn't give his finger the snip for a game of cricket.... Or would he?

Dunlop Green Flash

Dunlop Green Flash. There’s a memory. A couple of years ago some young trendster was sashaying through Berwick Street Market in Soho wearing a pair of those little babies. Wickman couldn’t help but point and stare in amusement. When Wickman was at school it was a sure indication that your Mum knew nothing about trainers if you had to have a pair of those. You were quite frankly a div of the highest order. Or even worse – poor. Even the school shop didn’t stock Green Flash. They had some class.

Crazy actions

Wickman is looking forward to the World Cup because it’s been ages since he updated his repertoire of joke bowling actions for nets. Whilst still a youngster in the playground Wickman thought nothing of trying to bowl a Proctor (wrong foot), a Thomson (can you get your right hand into your left pocket round your back), a Dilley (drag the back toe so far you go through a couple of pairs of Dunlop Green Flash in a summer playing on the playground)… a Lillee (ball held out in front and pushed and pulled out in front like you were a bull pawing the ground trying to gore the entrails out of some flabby matador) or even the big lolloping run of a Botham, all last minute explosion of shoulder and massively golden arm.

One might have a Michael Holding (which essentially necessitated having a lung-bustingly long run-up before trying to knock a kid’s head off ) and you would need to have some spinner or other - because if you couldn’t get turn and bounce with a tennis ball you never would – perhaps Deadly Derek Underwood (there was, of course, in the 1990s Paul Adams, that glorious freak, but if you were caught practicing that by your mum in Bentalls on a Saturday morning while she tried on some dresses she’d have had you in A&E at Kingston in a jiffy thinking you had had a seizure).

In the interim, bar a bit of back garden cricket, Wickman has had few opportunities to study and perfect the art. It’s all very well having some classics up your sleeve, but what of the modern actions? Wickman is worried that so much work has been done by the likes of Troy Cooley and Kevin Shine that there’s nothing left but chest on merchants and one-day-dobbers.

Unless you’ve a double jointed arm / wrist combo of course so you could do a Murali. Or maybe you could practice sticking your tongue out and giving it large in front of the mirror and turn your Proctor into an Andre Nel. And then there is Makhaya Ntini although learning how to rule yourself out of ever winning an appeal for LBW might not be a brilliant idea… Wickman supposes that Brad Hogg does have that slightly mincey way of windmilling his arms and wrists… and there is old Malinga the Slinga… but who else? What fun is it to watch McGrath twinkle up the wicket? Or Flintoff? Or Taylor? Or…

Bring back Bob Willis. Frankly he’d be better that side of the camera. Stick him in the England squad, stick an Andrew Symonds wig on him and get him to hare in off that long run, alternately tucking the ball behind his back and showing it to the batsman before arriving at the crease and slinging in a massive bouncer… cor if that didn’t take you back to 1981 nothing would.

Old Mother Hubbard – 2

The scorebox cupboard did yield up more than the Wick’s own Ashes (Wickman did spend a nanosecond imagining a special moment – the handing over of a unique trophy at the end of Presidents vs Chairmans – the Frank Bean Memorial Urn). There’s a bat signed and presented to the club by none other than Tom Graveney – as a junior Graveney played for the Wick. There are photographs from down the ages. Scoresheets from forever ago. Fixture cards from during WWII. Plus a lifetime’s supply of ashtrays – get a degree level art student in and you can imagine them coming up with a stimulating statement about permanence and decay – or something. Wickman reminds members and volunteers that Natwest Cricket Force weekend is 31 March / 1 April. Block out diaries, 9am – 3pm on the 31st (there’s an event in the evening) and 1 April 10am – 4pm. The Saturday will be hard labour in the changing rooms and outside areas, the Sunday we’ll concentrate on turning the club from its winter guise of football club HQ back to cricket club.

Old Mother Hubbard - or - When You Need a Good Wingman

Recently Wickman decided that it was time the Wick started to look like a cricket club again. GAAR mentioned it in an earlier post. He called for paraphernalia. This evening Wickman and Matty D decided to delve into the club's unofficial archive - the Old Mother Hubbard behind the scorebox - to find out what might be used to brighten up the facilities.

Wickman reckons that there are times in your life when you need a good wingman. Cricket tours. Stag nights. Please supply other answers on a postcard. But Wickman is not talking about Matty D (although he thinks Matty - like all Wick members - would make an excellent wingman). Frank Henry Bean needed a good wingman sometime after February 1992.

Frank was an umpire. A bit of a character by all accounts. His mates held a wake for him down the Wick. Some of Frank's ashes (he was cremated 11 Feb 1992) were scattered on the square. If all his mates were umpires too, you would have thought they'd have put him down round about square leg, or perhaps just behind the stump holes at the Millennium Wood end so that he'd spend eternity gazing out towards Kingsfield.

It was probably a cracking afternoon. Perhaps it went on until the evening. Whatever time it all wound up, Frank's wingman let him down. Because the rest of Frank is in the scorebox cupboard.

Wickman supposes there are three choices. 1 - Leave the old boy where he is. He hasn't minded much for the best part of 15 years. 2 - Buy him a decent urn and get him back into the bar where he can be properly remembered every Saturday evening 3 - Finish the job and blend him with square leg for eternity with all due ceremony.

Definition number 2 here is about as apt as you can get...

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) par·a·pher·na·lia 1. (sometimes used with a singular verb) equipment, apparatus, or furnishing used in or necessary for a particular activity: a skier's paraphernalia. 2. (used with a plural verb) personal belongings. 3.(used with a singular verb) Law. the personal articles, apart from dower, reserved by law to a married woman.

Mr Cricket Writes Off Three

Poor old Mike "Mr Cricket" Hussey hasn't been right about a great deal in the last fortnight. And here he is tossing out India, West Indies and England from the World cup before the tourney has begun. Fair play. Wickman's been busy ridiculing all the facile goons who can't face actually giving an opinion beyond "Look mate, I'm hardly going to say my own team haven't got a hope, and I don't want to give anyone any ammo so I'm going to say it will be the top eight seeds in the Super Eight and then anyone can win it".

But that's all tosh isn't it? The Super Eights are no lottery. Everyone plays against everyone else bar the team they were in a group with. If you won that game you'll have a two point head start on the four teams that didn't. And that's it. To win the World Cup you'll have to play 11 games. You will probably need to win two group games to get to the Super Eight. It would be useful to win four of the six games you play in the Super Eights. And then two more games to win the final. So you probably need to win 8 out of 11 games. But they need to be the right 8.

Wickman wonders why Hussey has kissed off the WI and India? Frankly any English (or Welsh) man or woman with more than one eye can see that we might have nicked a couple of games at the end of the CB but we've been at best mercurial during the last few years. Hell's teeth, big Steve Harmison and Tresco have virtually both had nervous breakdowns in the last year and Wickman bets old Dunky Fletcher isn't getting much shut eye right now. But writing off India and West Indies? On what basis? The Kiwis have been a shambles for ages. Crikey they didn't get to the CB finals! They then outslogged Aus in their own back yard. Sorry -Wickman rates England winning the finals a better performance than that given the team Australia sent across the Tasman (which now Wickman comes to think of it is probably turning into their World Cup team). Which might have played them into a bit of form but they are as capable as England of chucking it down the sink at a moment's notice. And Pakistan's a funny choice, no? Consistency is hardly their watchword...

So no, Mr C, Wickman says think again. Just because Stevie F and the boys roughed you up a bit doesn't mean they're class. And the Pakistanis look weak with the ball in hand. Wickman is nailing his colours to the mast and predicting semis between Aus, the Jaapies, India and WI. If Wickman gets it right, he becomes the new Mr Cricket. If Mr Cricket gets it right he continues to be Australia's stand in captain with the 100 per cent losing record...

Impressive Stamina?

Wickman may have given the impression, in earlier posts, that Doddy was made of stern stuff in showing his face at nets, clobbering the ball around with some vigour and chucking down a few overs as well. This was based on a grudging admiration for anyone to have survived the club poker night (where a crack squad managed to put a surprising amount of money through the till) and then be still able to wield the willow and leather/cork combo. However, distressing reports reach Wickman of tactical slumber being undertaken as a means of surviving the carnage. Helpfully Jimmy C is here to add scale.

David Kelly Didn't Die Down the Wick

Wickman, following nets, (here attended by Cranesy, Gatesee, Kamran and an active Dom) idly tunes in to the Conspiracy Theories documentary on BBC 2. Wickman, credulous fool that he is, genuinely believes that David Kelly wandered off into the woods, swallowed an amount of drugs and had a good go at slitting his wrists. A weak heart, a good bleeder or an amount of co-Proximal sorted him out. Wickman is very glad he wasn't a Wick member. If you were a Wick member, what better place to end it all apart from propped up against a sightscreen, looking directly down the wicket, and remembering the time you lofted someone from Old Tiffsluts over the sightscreen at the other end to win a game for the Wick? Or, at a pinch, perhaps you'd retire to the Millennium Wood for a bit of privacy... But Wickman says why defecate in one's own vestibule? Why choose a true beauty spot like the Wick to bring it to such a tumultuous end? Surely you wouldn't want the Wick swarming with Her Maj's finest? Surely you'd want to preserve the Wick's silent majesty? Preserve the deers' tranquility? No Wickman thinks that most Wick members would wash linen like that at home and would make sure that they never gave the local constabulary a good reason to come down to the club house...

Nets Again

Wickman is back from nets. Doddy is there, limbering up. A relatively quiet one tonight with only 25 members on show. 25. 25. 25 was the total number of people that would net between Christmas and Easter a few years ago. Some notable absentees tonight miss the fireworks as Cranesy and Clarky in particular pepper the roof and back walls with ballistics. Kamran is back and saves the best 'til last as he, too, picks off the pitched up and dents the facilities. Wickman swears he sees a weapons inspector towards the end of the session. Gateseeee looks as if he has failed to duck a bouncer. Extraordinarily Kamran's preferred bat is 25 miles away in St Albans and he worries that he might be back seeing it properly in 2 or 3 nets' time. The boys are quietly impressed. Doddy has done well to make it down. Reports reach Wickman that the combination of Six Nations and Hibby's card night might have rendered a few long term Wick favourites unable to net. But not Doddy, he is made of sterner stuff.

The Evils of Garden Cricket

Wickman is worried about technique. After a sleepless night he has come to the conclusion that all his major flaws go back to his formative years of garden cricket. While Bradman caressed a golf ball around a Bowral back yard with a cricket stump a billion times a year, Wickman was playing in the back garden of a Kent home.

When I say formative years Wickman doesn't mean his tweens, or teens, he means his early twenties. That's when Wickman believes techniques are really forged. When a man is in his early prime, has achieved some strength and is no longer burdened by the words of the cricket coach (Wickman - just pad everything away and leave it to Tompkins to win the game and whatever you do, don't play that ugly hoick you call a pull shot) he begins to find his natural game.

Sadly Wickman believes that at this point his technique became constrained and hemmed in by garden cricket. Wickman and Wickman minor would, in their twenties, play a viscious form of cricket in a suburban back garden. The bat was armed with a blue plastic toy shop number that had been gaffer taped for greater strength. The bowler had a particular kind of ball. These were ex-boule balls. The ones from the plastic sets you could get from garages on the way to the beach in Devon. The water that gave them their main gravity defying properties was drained from them. The resulting piece of hard plastic was lethal, would swing like a middle-aged couple in Surbiton and could be propelled at phenomenal speed.

The pitch was approximately 18 yards long. It seldom played that long because the front foot rule was seldom applied with a version of the old back foot rule in operation. (Wickman is not sure he understands what it must have been like to play quick bowling when that rule was in place in international cricket). The pitch, by mid-Summer was dusty (much to the annoyance of the head groundsman), uneven and included tree roots along its length. The garden contained many mature trees a number of which were positioned close in on the off side - imagine three close fielders on the off - and there were a number of shrubs in a bed at 1st, 3rd and 4th slip. Other trees were randomly placed.

Any tree struck on the full - however tangentially - would lose the bat a wicket. Any boundary cleared on the full would acrue a six at the expense of a wicket. The batsman would, of course, have to retrieve the ball, on one side braving a derranged pint-sized-yappy-type-dog. All other rules apart from LBW applied, although a bat could not simply stand crabwise in front of his stumps to obscure them as this transgressed the spirit of the law. Games were played to strict test match rules - ten wickets per innings, two innings, no game could last more than 5 days. In effect this was two days at the weekend plus evenings after work minus whatever time was lost through alcoholic incapacity.

Batting was, to say the least, hazardous. The boule ball could, off a long run, be propelled at no small speed taking into account the length of the pitch. The wearing of shorts was unwise. Dug in, it could rear alarmingly and many was the time a good stinger was administered or received. If you could get a bat on it trying to keep it down and away from trees and shrubs was a dashed tricky business. And this is where technique went out of the window. There was no point trying to get your foot to the pitch. The bat was so short you would have been bent double trying to play a classical cover drive which - if an inch off the ground - would strike one of the trees resulting in a wicket down.

The only guaranteed profitable shots were a sqaure cut or drive along the floor to a ridiculously short boundary or some form of block or nudge in that direction OR a shovel to leg avoiding a tree stump square. If you could keep it below the top of the fence, turning it to leg allowed for all run twos or threes as it was difficult for the bowler to get to a particular area becuase of impeding shrubs. Even with the advantage of electric wickets, fielding was a chore because trying to throw down the stumps from any distance was almost impossible as the ball would not fly straight. Accuracy was a question of incredible phyical understanding and the use of parabolas.

Games were attritional. Long periods would be spent with the bowler experimenting with grips to bowl the perfect inswinging yorker. We hoped to pitch the ball on a root to change how it would behave off the pitch. As a bat, you needed to remain hunched to stop the ball going under your ridiculousy small bat and alert to the danger of one dug in. Your best strategy was to allow the opponent to bowl himself to a standstill so he had to bring on his "spinners" due to tiredness. At this point you could go on some form of run spree.

There were some marathon games. Wickman can recall a team called Dead England (including Hutton, Grace, Tyson etc) ammassing more than 750 for the loss of only 3 wickets (Hutton made a treble) against Famous Guitarists who included Hendrix and someone called Satriani (who had a particularly fluid bowling style). So exhausted were the guitarists at the middle of the second day that Dead England promptly declared and Larwood and Voce destroyed the guitarists twice in a session as Wickman minor could hardly stand straight.

Happy days - but it has taken years of senior cricket and corrective nets for Wickman to be able to drive the ball straight or hit the ball in the air to leg. There was simply no value and too much risk in those shots in the garden. Wickman wonders how many other young men's careers in club cricket have been similarly retarded...

That's Seven Teams... no it's eight... or is it?

Wickman has been busy but not too busy to keep an eye on the inane ramblings from cricket press conferences and interviews in the build up to the World Cup. Wickman doesn't know whether it is harrassed journalists struggling to do their quotas or fading stars desperately trying to keep their names visible in the hope someone renews their recording contract... btw how does Bob Willis keep on getting a contract with Sky? Look the guy was a great cricketer and Wickman will always have a manly place in his heart for that performance at Headingly, but listening to Bob commentate feels like someone is dragging a thousand fingernails across a thousand blackboards (see pics of blackboard + quite hideous nails). Or a loved one complaining about one's quite reasonable drinking. Life's too short. And whatever it is that makes you shiver when the blackboard thing happens is going to break if it happens much more and then Wickman's going to launch a lawsuit against someone, anyone and and and... *takes deep breaths*

Anyway Wickman's eye was drawn to a sensational headline on bbc.co.uk quoting Terry Alderman. Now apart from the fact that old Tezza is an Aussie (see previous posts) he did seem to be an all round hero when Wickman was still too small to use a grown up bat. (Captain 00 in case you were wondering). What that man could do with a cricket ball in English conditions and to G Gooch in particular, was mesmerising. Even sickening. It made you feel good, but terribly bad all at the same time. But now, in a desperate attempt to be talked about, he's become a doctor. And that's surprising. Because his wiki entry says he does a bit of radio commentary and hasn't studied medicine. But here he is worrying about the Brummie Turncoat and whether he'll ever be as good again based on what happened to someone else who played cricket for Australia when Wickman didn't even know what cricket was. Dr Alderman is worried. *Wickman drops into coma and hopes its not Dr Alderman attending as he hasn't a hope in Hades of coming out of it - hang on maybe playing Willis on loop will bring him out*

If that wasn't enough (thanks Tezza by the way - I'll wait for the team doctor's view on it if you don't mind) he's here telling us that NOT eight, but SEVEN teams can win the world cup this year! Crikey that's narrowed it down. Wickman's sitting up! Alderman said it was too early to write off Australia's [that's one] World Cup defence, but noted there were a number of other nations to fear. He said: "I'd be watching out for Sri Lanka [two], while Pakistan [three] on their day can beat anyone.

"New Zealand [four] have shown what they can do... West Indies [five] are on their home turf [the old home turf can't discount 'em argument - top punditry], England [six - shaaaaat sir] have just beaten Australia and South Africa [seven] are number one in the world rankings."

Now that's some top quality opinion making there. Let's face it you aren't going to get a Crimbo card from your old pal Greg Chappell for that and the next time you bump into Rahul, Sachin, Sourav and the lads, don't be surprised if they don't ask you to supper. But at least you've cut it down by that one top team for us. Wickman's earlier post on the World Cup fancying India was obviously just plain wrong. Wickman looks forward to welcoming you to Hampton Wick to discuss in great detail, with Bob W, scintillating topics such as these.

And just for good meaure, Brian Charles Lara has added some balance to the debate by telling us "Each major team has the game to do it - it is down to consistency and controlling your nerves". Hang on - what's his definition of major? Perhaps he's snubbing someone... does he think one of the big eight isn't that big? Doubt it... Wowsers... That Sir, is genius. Next you'll be telling us that on the day one big performance from someone that stands up to be counted could swing a semi-final. Wickman waits, his breath bated...

A view from the Wick

This is a view from the balcony of our Pavillion.

The Wick's unofficial motto is Perfect.

This picture says it all really

Wick summers & Club Day

Summer is a glorious time. Cricket, sunshine (most of the time), mates, and laughs.

It's difficult to pick out one day that is the highlight of this glorious time of year, but most Wickmen (and ladies) would probably pick Club Day as the day they look forward to most. Tour is when silly season hits fever pitch, but Club Day defines a season.

So what is Club Day I hear you cry?

Well, it's when the whole club come together to celebrate the Wick as one big family. There is a 6-a-side tournament, which although ultimately friendly is never lacking competitive edge. Every wannabe skipper secretly craves the accolades that comes with winning the prestigious Wick 6s. It's a chance to pit your skills against the whole club, and our sister club the Crossbats.

It's a time for the whole Wick family not just the seniors trying to smash each other out the ground. Colts, families, friends and absolute ringers all come together at the glorious Wick ground to share and enjoy their cricket club over a glass or two (lemonade for the colts).

Dave Fudge the club's resident DJ, gives the games a 20/20 feel with all the players walking into bat with their signature theme tune... My favourite is Bloomy's - The Adams Family.

Sir Jim Dowler (he is definitely a Lord of the Realm down at the Wick) does the BBQ, and there are never any empty stomachs.

And then of course there is the annual stunt. This might be someone getting stitched up, or something to amuse the crowd. My personal favourite was Joe Ewen, Matt Davies and Dom Lowns a few years ago.

Picture the season. The Wick ground is bathed in sunshine, and the crowd are basking in its golden glow, whilst watching a crucial semi-final. Then, from the Millennium Wood emerges a dark figure. He scampers on to the pitch and steals the stumps mid-game. What were we to do? Fear and bemusement set in as everyone feared the tournament may have been sabotaged.

But there was never any need to fear - as from out of the trees emerged Batman and Robin (Joey and Matt dressed in tights with bin bags for capes). They gave chase. People held their breath and chewed finger nails. Could our caped crusaders save Club Day? Well... of course they did, and unmasked the mystery stump uprooter... none other that Dom Lowns... worryingly he is now Club Treasurer...

Club Day was saved for another year and everyone keenly awaits 2007. What surprises are install for the people of The Wick this year... I wonder?

Sticking the boot in

Seeing as England and New Zealand are on the end of their fair share of verciforous Aussie lashings both on and off the pitch it never hurts to stick the boot in when we get the chance. The corners of my mouth were certainly raised when i came across this quote on the website of our club sponsor http://www.cricinfo.com

"Message to Aussie cricket coach John Buchanan: please take your team home as the Black Caps are missing out on valuable practice for the World Cup." A pithy letter to the editor in Christchurch's The Press

Purity or Parity

And so another West Indian great has decided to have a bit of a whinge. Michael Holding has claimed that the 'World Cup will be devalued by the number of non-Test playing nations taking part'.

The timing of this is poor to say the least plus it is a somewhat blinkered view which does a grave disservice to the 'minnows' who have fought hard to get to the elite ODI cricketing tournament.

Holding does make a good point that there are maybe too many teams but I thought the cricketing community was keen to share the beloved game with the rest of the world, and encourage growth. Not Michael Holding it would seem.

Holding claims 'it is counter-productive...(to have) a team playing in the World Cup and getting absolutely hammered'. What Mr Holding has failed to recognise though is that it is not just the immediate affect of playing but its further reaching consequences.

We are of course talking about money. Something anyone associated with West Indies cricket should know the benefits of. The affect of Stanford's millions is already being felt, and surely an extended World Cup can only be of benefit to the local economies of the West Indies.

These minnows can also provide the odd surprise or two. Ask Kenya last time around. Players learn from playing against the best.

Holding also claims that he can 'see nothing wrong with giving the smaller teams the odd tour and a few games against the bigger teams from time to time'. So what's the difference between them taking a thrashing in the World Cup or at any other time. The Champions Trophy is not taken with any real seriousness by the test playing nations, and how are they expected to develop as players or their national infrastructure without greater exposure.

I agree there are maybe a few too many teams, but it is after all a 'World' cup so let's involve as much of the World as possible. Everyone loves an underdog. Apart from Michael Holding apparently.

More Pies

Everyone is now on the Pies bandwagon. The Canaries (sadly without McGrath - Wickman does so like it when McGrath loses) have thrown in the bowling towel again, conceding another of the highest ever chases in the game's history - without Wickman's favourite Aussie Mick Lewis in the side. Wickman is pleased to note that Johnson and Watson both went at more than 8 an over in this game. How will John Buchanan be able to leave Watson out? And Bracken's not doing much better this year.

Wickman is wondering how Buchanan, the living embodiment of Sun Tzu, could have fallen for the cunning plans of Duncan Fletcher and John Bracewell. He bemoaned the fact in January that no-one could give his bowlers a game. They just weren't having to put their skills to the test he said. Why do you think John? Has it dawned on you yet? That's right. Fletch and Bracewell have fed your myth of invincibility by getting the boys to bat like U11s and bowl like Sunday vets. Then they collectively smear you all over various Antipodean ovals when it's too late to do anything about it. It doesn't matter how many you get - you'll just keep getting overhauled. You are going to have to hope that Punter's lucky with the coin against Holland in that World Cup warm up. You wouldn't want to have a big total chased down by Hertz van Rentyl and the lads...

Cricketing Paraphernalia

While Mr Cricket surely became Australia's most un-successful ODI captain of recent times (oh the irony), Wick members once again started scraping the sinews of our minds for ways to improve the club.

Todays challenge is the club house. Wickman in his infinite wisdom has suggested we improve our already fantastic club house with cricketing paraphernalia and Wick objets d'arts.

So it's time to dust off the thinking caps, rummage around the inner sanctums of the scorebox, and see what we can find.

If anyone has any ideas or objects they would like to donate let us know. Anything of cricketing interest at all....it's all Wick

Eight Teams Could Win It!

So it has started. The World Cup predictions industry. Wickman loves it. Apparently there are eight good teams in the tournament. And one of them could win it. Wow! First of all we get Sir Viv. Now Sir Viv has a ground opening to publicise. So first of all he wades into the England team. England, he says, are unlikely to win the World Cup. Well blow me down IVA. You are predicting that a team that has won a handful of games in the last year - and has been absolutely dicked on by Sri Lanka in its own back garden over the Summer - might struggle to win the World Cup? Well done. You haven't lost it. Then he says West Indies might win it! Wickman could be knocked over with a feather. And his justification? No one who has hosted the World Cup has won it so this is an opportunity - Wickman paraphrases... but you're catching what he is pitching. Some real PR brains have worked on that statement. And this wise old sage sums it up and tells us - no word of a lie - "Any one of eight teams could be competitive - there are eight good ones at the tournament." Stephen Fleming is more circumspect. He thinks Australia aren't playing quite as well as they were so the tournament may be a bit more open than we might have thought. Well goodness gracious... He goes on to tell us that South Africa might win because they have just beaten Pakistan. And... "We're going into a World Cup where on any given day there's up to eight teams that can win it". Wickman is off down the bookies with the equity in the Wick pavillion...

Dove, Black, Magenta & Blue

It's Monday morning. The weekend is over and nets is another 6 days away. The winter skies outside shadow the encroaching summer light. We know it's there somewhere. There are 81 days, 1 hour and 45 minutes (allowing for the clocks to change) until the first league game. 81 has never sounded like such a large number.

I've got work to do. It's piling up on my desk. Hang on - better just check if there have been any more posts on the wick members forum first. I'm struggling to type. My hands are black and blue from nets last night. I'm also tired because I couldn't sleep last night. The excitment, oozing dove, black, and magenta from every pore as I looked forward to the first game of the season, not to mention the bruise on the back of my ribs where Shaun's bouncer caught me flush. Forget leather on Willow - leather chipping bone was more apt for me last night.

How am I supposed to get any work done? All I can think about is cricket and the Wick. Dove, Black and Magenta fever... It's enough to make you feel blue

Nets - Quality

Wickman is back from nets at Tiffin School. They're at 7pm every Sunday night. They are the highlight of Wickman's week. Wickman's Monday morning work induced depression, only levened by thinking of Mick Lewis's quivering top lip in South Africa, is made worse by knowing that there are six days to wait until Wickman can net again. Tonight the standard is excellent. Last year's 1s new ball pairing, Joey and Barrell, are hairing in. It's that little bit too dark for comfort. A new guy, Kamran, turns up. He's very quick too. He pings one into Wickman's inner thigh off an inside edge. The edge is the only thing that stops it cannoning into Wickman's old boys. And off a couple of paces. And then there's Tid. Tid is Wick. And Shaun. And Dom. And Billy. Billy's back. It's challenging. Lively. The nets at Tiffin are quick at the best of times. Tonight they are lightening quick. Wickman is pleased to retire to the Kingston Tup without further injury. Here are some nice bright nets, outdoors. They are probably quick too.

Wick or Village?

It's important to know if you are 'Wick' or 'Village'. Wickman consults Club Captain Matty D for a definitive view. He's the one in the cricket shirt.

"'Wick' is an all embracing term that summarises a moment, action or event that can be considered special, unusual, original or typical. It is good. It is 'of the Wick'. Similarly 'Not Wick' recognises the opposite where the moment, action or event is not good, beneficial/enjoyable to the parties involved.

If something is Village, it is of a very poor standard indeed, almost to the point where it is so bad it is laughable. However describing something as Village embues it with a mystical power even though by all rational thinking it should not be."

Uses: "That's Nicholls. He's Wick" (Keith Nicholls is the club chairman - the other photo here - it would be difficult to find someone who was more Wick than Nicholls) or "See that bowler? He's Village. Which means he is very likely to trap me dead in front" (The bowler is deemed to be of Village standard - but he is likely to bowl an uplayable ball and have me LBW. Especially now I have called him 'Village').

Pie Mystery Solved...

Wickman has no idea who ate all the pies (although he suspects a couple of Wick players) but he thinks he knows who's serving them up. The Kiwis have handed the Aussies their fourth spanking in a row as they scored 91 off the last 10 overs to win in Auckland. You might argue that with Punter, Gilly and the Brummie turncoat sitting it out Australia aren't at their best - but runs didn't seem to be the problem. Hussey and Hodge would stroll into most international teams on current one-day form. No, it's the fact that the Aussie bowlers are serving up more pies than Four'N Twenty that's exciting Wickman. There's nothing like an Australian with a crick in his neck from craning to see the leather disappearing into the crowd to put a smile on Wickman's face. In fact the thought of Mick Lewis going for 10-0-113-0 against the Saffas is one of Wickman's guaranteed cures for Monday morning work inspired depression. Even the eternally gobby McGrath is going at 5+ an over at the moment. Looking to get Brett Lee fit has got to be Buchanan's top priority in the next couple of weeks. If the World Cup started tomorrow you'd have to fancy those Indians... Actually maybe Buchanan should take Lewis...

World Cup

Wickman is watching India dismantle Sri Lanka. The Lankans (Tony Greig has a lot to answer for - Wickman thinks "Lankans" is just plain wrong) are getting murdered. Admittedly Murali isn't playing. Neither is Vaas although he's not the threat he used to be. Yuvraj is astonishingly good. 95 from 83 balls. He's creamed the best Sri Lanka have to offer all over the oval. Maharoof bowls the last over of the match at 80mph + and he's taken him for 4,4,6,4,4 to win the match. Wickman reserves the right to change his mind, but on this form India have got to be a great bet for the World Cup finals. Wickman doesn't fancy any attack, including Australia's, against this batting line up. So who's going to get more runs than the Indian top six?

Champions

The Wick 1xi were worthy champions of the Fullers League 1st xi division two last year. The team finished the season top of the table and unbeaten. Left to right, starting from the back there's AJ (basil), Fordy (demon left armer), Gatesy (hero), Hibby (lost it), Barrell (all rounder), Coley (kit man), Fudgey (vice), Clarky (reserve keeper), Zam (boy wonder), Mackie (injured), Matty D (skipper), Garf (#1 keeper), Boney (future of the club) and Goldy (run machine). This year the boys are in the next league up and have to do it all again. Follow their progress here...

Welcome to the Wick

The Wick is an extraordinary thing. A beautiful cricket club in the brightest corner of a Royal Park, it's been home to thousands of cricketers since 1863. Officially its Hampton Wick Royal Cricket Club. Even if you don't care for cricket how you've found this blog will be a mystery), watching the sun go down over the park in mid Summer is genius. This is the blog of The Wick. Dip in and find out what we're about.