Ten men went to mow…

Net Practice at Egham



Egham 4xi vs HWRCC 4xi

HWRCC won the toss and inserted the opposition
Egham 65 all out (Bartlett 22*, Bala 20, E. X. Tras 15) (Linter 5 for some, Bendall 2 for more, Hoppe 2 for very few, Collier 1 for)
HWRCC 66 for 3 (Clark 37*, Selves 12, E. X. Tras 12)

HWRCC wins by 7 wickets

Selves*, Nicholls, Clark, Bendall, Linter, Laight, Collier, Hoppe, Sohail, Edmonds, Lloyd+

Back in the 1970s on a chilly but sunny late Spring day like Saturday your father would pack you into the back of the family Capri, Datsun or Leyland Princess and you’d “go for a drive”. I think we were subject to this as our parents wished to escape the badly constructed post-war semi-detacheds we lived in, the white dog sh*t littered pavements and the power cuts and poverty.

This was almost always on a Saturday because nothing in this country was open on a Sunday. The shops used to shut at Wednesday lunch time in those days too. So Sunday was for gardening. On a Saturday afternoon, if your Dad was not into sport, as Wickman Sr was not, you’d be packed into the car with a flask of tea and a couple of rounds of sandwiches and you’d be off to “explore”.

Wickman is not nostalgic for it. If you left before lunch you missed the Saturday wrestling on World of Sport, and Grandstand, and the only American cartoons which were on all week. And he was that small he could barely see out of the windows in the back. It was before booster seats and the like so you spent your Saturday staring at a headrest.

Perhaps the greatest torture of it all was the accompanying songs. Perhaps cars didn’t have radios then. Wickman cannot recall. But folk used to sing songs in cars to pass the time. Perhaps it was just the Wickmans who did. But songs were sang. There was one which concerned the Lillywhite Boys – not the sports emporium in London so of no use to me – another about a large number of green bottles – but the one which really took the biscuit was Ten Men Went to Mow A Meadow.

If you are not familiar with it, it’s one of those songs which is essentially a big bloody time waster. Ten blokes go out to mow the meadow. Ten men, nine men, eight men, seven men (please fill in here), two men, one man AND HIS DOG wwwwwwwweeeeent to mow a meadow. The next round starts with nine men and then eight. Dear God. Occasionally Wickman hears versions of this song emanating from the terraces. And they make his blood run cold.

And yesterday’s cricket was summed up by that terrible, time-wasting tune. Many men on the oppo team went to mow in a meadow. And they mostly missed those mows and donated their wickets to the Phil Linter / Dave Bendall / James Hoppe benevolent fund.

There’s not a great deal of cricket to report on from this game. By the time the little hand had gone past two and the big hand was pointing South, Egham’s innings was in ruins for the above miserable score. Two batsmen contributed 42 between them. Extras there were 15. So the rest of the Egham team – 9 batsmen – contributed an execrable 8 runs. There were six ducks, no batsman from No 6 onwards managing a run. Collapse? You betcha! Charles was asking whether or not we should be taking tea. Too soon, Charles, too soon.

The opposition skipper for the day was a wily old bird, gelled silver hair, who clearly knew his cricket. He was unfortunate to lose the toss and be inserted by Selvesy who had decided that at this point in the season, with our batsman short of netting and middle time, it would be useful to have a look at things and chase.

Quite so. The ground was okay. Verdant following all the rain. It was bounded on one side by a bunch of functional looking sports buildings – perhaps squash courts and a gym. And not much else. You could almost be in the country. There were covers - University money ensuring that this was a cut above the usual 3s/4s facilities. But despite the covers the deck was pretty stodgy. Clarky’s car key eased into the track up to the hilt like Jimmy C into a well lubricated Saturday conquest from Barcadia. Footprints were visible on the deck as people walked across it. It was flatter than Renee Zellweger.

Don’t get me wrong. This was a good track given the weather we’ve been having and we’ll brook non complaint. But it was slowwwwww. When Steve Plinter and Rozzer Bendall opened up anything short sat up and was despatched, with LOTS of bottom hand, like Christmas parcels to Australia in September. Opener Bala smashed Bendall repeatedly through mid on whether the skipper placed someone there or not. Early on the Winter’s rust was evident in both our lads and there was spraying, full bunging and half trackers to amuse us. The oppo openers got away to a bit of a flier (although the outfield grass was long and there was no value for shots along the floor). But our boys both soon worked out that pitching it up was most likely to gain rewards.

Up until now, due to the aforementioned short pitched bowling, the oppo’s approach, while excessively bottom handed and agricultural, was excusable on the basis of the results achieved. 30-0 or similar. However the oppo bats didn’t work out that you needed to play straight if the ball was pitched up and continued to try to hoick everything to leg. Both were bowled attempting one mow too many.

The skipper came out and frankly the youngsters on Egham’s side should have paid attention to how he played. Immediately diagnosing that there was nothing to be gained by trying to shovel straight balls into the leg side he played straight as an arrow, defended the straight stuff, and picked off anything off his legs to nurdle and nudge his way along.

But oh, oh, oh at the other end his callow charges perished and perished and perished playing across the line, saying “pah” to his example. In all there were 4 bowleds for Splinter and 2 for Bendall as a procession of bats simply missed straight ones trying to mow the ball through midwicket. The skipper leaned on his bat at the non-strikers end when he wasn’t imploring them to play straight, and watched as a position of 30-0 turned into 50 for 7 in no time at all. Wickman tells me Clarky was hearing the meadow mowing tune in his head but just didn’t have the heart to hum it out loud.

Collier was employed to do what Collier does (does it turn?) and was delighted when any fightback was snuffed out by a good one handed, sort of diving (bit more of a collapse really), reaction catch held at cover by a sprawling Clarky. Bendall was changed out to make way for debutant James Hoppe (U 15) who impressed everyone by bowling economical wobbly medium pacers and mopping up the tail. In the end 65 runs were amassed and the skipper was not out.

Edmonds and Lloyd were sent out to begin the reply. Lloyd was unimpressed to be sent back in the first over LBW to The Chairman. Edmonds was similarly removed at the other end. The Wick were 4-2 and for a moment or two 65 seemed a long way away. Egham had a very useful colt who was pitching it up and seaming it off the pitch and Clarky and Selvesy were wondering whether defeat could be snatched from victory’s gaping maw.

It really wasn’t a great track to bat on because due to the damp. But C and S had observed from the oppo skipper that if one played straight, blocked out the good stuff and waited for something to nurdle, a living could be made.

And so they did. It can’t have been particularly enervating for the spectators, but together they wore down the opening bowlers, looking solid in defence and squirted singles around to take the pressure off. As they settled down (although it didn’t get much easier) the ones turned into twos (although never threes, Clarky is less mobile these days and back on the Players Navy Cut).

Mostly when they tried to hit anything hard, timing was awry and instead of glorious square cuts or late dabs they ended up playing horrible cross batted swots up the track. But we carp and quibble. They stayed out there and got the job done in a way that the oppo hadn’t managed. Towards the end Clarky attacked a bit more as the openers (and he) tired and even flicked a satisfying four over square in between smashing one into his own goolies and another into his left calf. But this was not an IPL smash and grab. More a county game from the 1970s on a sticky dog.

With the scores level (the pair put on 61 together in 20 overs of attrition) and Clarky trying to give Selvesy the opportunity to win it, the skipper selflessly feathered one behind so that Kirky could come in and smite the winning runs to third man.

In the end this was a game about experience. Egham, batting first and having no idea what a decent score looked like, were simply not patient enough and went after good balls like dogs at broth when circumspection was the order of the day as evidenced by their skipper. The Wick bowlers put it on the spot from time to time and profited. In reply the Wick were careful and measured, eschewing risk and seeking reward through victory rather than flashy boundaries and slogs.

Tea was awful. A new low. The brew itself was served in the same plastic cups as the game time squash. The sandwiches were standard at best. And not standard in the way that the youth use the word standard at the moment. They were simply ordinary. While there was sliced fruit and some supermarket biscuits, we were made to endure the eating of the tea in an unused changing room. It was like eating a picnic in a motorway layby in the 1970s mentioned above with songs being sung by your mother. An abomination and not what Clarky had told Wickman he was coming out of retirement for. With a name like Egham, he was expecting… more. A four is goo generous for this tea. So three. Things can only get better.

So there we have it. Hopefully Egham’s youngsters will think about their skipper’s valiant scrapping innings and play a bit straighter next week. Our bowlers will see that the reward they gained came from bowling a good length. And those poor folk who were fielding on the off side – Sohail and the Chairman – who must share TFC this week – will be in the game at some point.

MOM Phil Linter, 5 for 17 – you can’t ask much more of your opening bowler at this point in the season