HWRCC 2xi vs Cranleigh 2xi
HWRCC 214 all out. Wright 97*
Cranleigh 48 for 0
Abandoned
Wrong Result for Wright
Not often you get a match report for an abandoned game. We bat. We have tea. They bat a bit. It rains. We mope around in the dressing room. They want to play on because they think they can get a winning draw. We don’t want to because the ball is wetter than a spider crab’s speedos. Everyone gets a bit annoyed. We have a few beers. Er… that’s it.
This abandoned game is worth a few words if only to recognise Wrighty’s one man Wick rescue mission – which – had he not completed it – might have seen us bowled out early enough for us to have leaked an embarrassing win to the team just below us. We aren’t completely out of the woods yet this season and it was important not to concede a silly loss.
The day was always likely to end in rain. The BBC said 5pm was a good indicator of when the heavens would open. Wrighty was patiently explaining that an unbroken front was coming in from the West and that once it started, that would be it for the day. AJ too was well informed about atmospheric conditions and gave a long lecture on the difference between rain and showers. In the event losing the toss was always going to result in us batting as the only chance to create a result would have been to skittle and then to knock ‘em off.
Cranleigh though had not brought the most threatening attack with them. A young team – Wickman thinks 3 over the age of majority, the rest teens – they bowled well with the new ball but there was no real threat to life and limb, only nagging lines. These did for most of the top order though. Sort of tied down by the good ones, Nathan, Clarky, Del and Fudgey all perished going after loose ones and full tosses. Very odd batting performance all in all. AJ, his thoughts on warm fronts coming in from the East, looked imperious but fell for the lobbed up sucker ball from their offspinner. We didn’t have very many by drinks and we didn’t have much more batting to come.
Up the other end, quite serenely, Wrigthy was scoring runs. No big shots, just working it around, looking unflustered and picking the gaps. Del and Paddy kept him company – Paddy hitting the sweetest of sixes back over the offy’s head. With perhaps the main danger averted, Tommy D and Wrighty went into all out attack mode and Wrighty discovered that some of the younger Cranliegh fielders couldn’t catch swine flu at a pig farm. He benefitted from at least two drops and a couple of youngsters running away from catchable chances. When Tommy and Powelly perished in relatively quick succession Wrighty was left with Junaid as partner and three runs needed for his ton.
Sadly Clarky then triggered Junaid to leaver Wrighty stranded. Well, when Wickman says triggered, what he means is Clarky gave Junaid out LBW. He’d just had a reassuring conversation with Wrighty saying that his digit of death was going to say in his pocket. But the best of the Cranliegh youngsters bowled a fast, straight, Yorker that hit Junaid on the foot bang in front of middle. Clarky tells me the following things went through his head. “Oh shit no, that’s out! Hell’s teeth. Are there any reasons not to give it? Wasn’t no ball. Can see off stump and leg stump but not middle. Damn. Bat behind pad. Damn. Full toss. Going straight on. Will hit middle stump. More chance of going under the stumps than over them. Damn. Junaid looking as guilty as a puppy next to a pile of poo and still standing there plumb in front. Damn. Can’t bring self to cheat. Gotta give it.” And so ended the innings with Wrighty marooned.
Tea was stupendous. No, seriously. All of Dave’s best bits on display at the same time. Mustard too. And pickle – the thick black treacley kind. Niiiice. Clarky filled his boots and when his boots were filled he filled his gloves too. 8.5.
One of their openers (the one that wasn’t the size of an oompa loompa) decided to get after the bowling as the weather was not going to get any better. He threw the bat a bit and scored a number of runs through third man, mostly off the unlucky Fudge who treated us to an opening spell of some hostility and skill. The rains then came and we were off.
It’s interesting what people talk about in rain breaks. Mostly in our dressing room attempts were made to wind up Clarky for robbing Wrighty of his well deserved ton and thoughts turned to club day. On the opposition bench the youngsters discussed getting drunk and getting into the knickers of loosely moralled young ladies of their acquaintance. Which it was pretty clear none of them had done. They all jumped on top of each other and ruffled each other’s hair in a matey way. Nice.
We had another go at getting the game on but it rained again. While it did eventually stop raining, It was clear that our bowlers would be unable to stand up or grip the ball until the ground had dried out - so after a while, when it became clear that it would not become clear, everyone shook hands and there was no result.
MOM Wrighty.
