Match Report - HWRCC 2xi vs Lingfield (a) - by Wickman

HWRCC 176-9 (50 overs), Lingfield 140-9 (45 overs)
HWRCC winning draw

Singh, GordonbrownsoldoffourGold, Fudge, Wright, Clark, Soppitt, Kennedy, Iqbal, Powell, Hill, Lown

Wick blows chance to top the League

Finally a game of cricket after the disappointment last week of the bore draw at Ripley. Lingfield put up an excellent scrap in a game that seesawed like… two children on a seesaw… until even after the game when it was discovered that Hampton Wick, not Lingfield, had achieved the winning draw owing to some dodgy maths from a Lingfield scholar. That the Wick were none the wiser until someone thought about it afterwards says a great deal for the slightly hair-brained approach on offer from both sides on the day.

In fact it’s becoming brutally clear that if HWRCC 2xi is not to finish the season outside the promotion spots then the team is going to have to wake up, smell the coffee, drink it, have a bowl of bran, a glass of orange juice, scoff a banana and then head to the mind gym. This performance was not good enough for a team that fancies itself amongst the title contenders and despite the added bonus of the 2 points for the winning draw this was ultimately a disappointing trot out by the boys.

Which is not to say that the game wasn’t a good one. You can say many things about many teams but you cannot accuse Lingfield of not playing the game the way it’s supposed to be played. Those lads fielded the hell out of the game and are the first side not to concede 230 to us having asked us to bat. Wrighty will have nightmares about the catch that did for him – a spectacular one handed diving down and backwards at mid on to a shot that if it wasn’t middled would certainly have reached the boundary. Del was snared by the keeper one handed diving to his right. Clarky doesn’t like calling kettles black but let me tell you that this keeper did not have the sleek athletic lines of Derby winner and moved like a greased rat up a drainpipe. Only two Wick bats found ways to get bowled – the other seven perished in the ring.

Which is not to say that the batting performance was poor. It was just not up to the standards of the previous weeks. Fudgey lost the toss again of course. There was a team meeting while he tossed where the vote was unanimous that he would come back making the sign of the cocked wrist and come back making the sign of the cocked wrist he did. The Lingfield deck was only marginally drier than the absolute sponge we played on last year and the going was tough. This was never going to a freeflowing run fest despite the shortest boundary square that this correspondent has seen since he was playing under 10s. Nate and Gold opened up and unlike every other game this season put on thirty something at about four an over. Not being 1 for 1 was a novel experience and quite discombobulated Fudgey. Having to wait half an hour to get to the wicket seemed to throw him off his mojo and he made a very human 26 rather than the Harrison Ford style riches of previous weeks before offering a catch to point.

Gold ground his way to a creditable if not dashing 36 before playing a smear which smeared thin air leaving his stumps exposed to the red, round thing. The middle order then largely got in and got itself out, all to uncommitted and purposeless shots to leave us in a heap of trouble at 140ish for 6. Lingfield’s squeeze was answered by a Wick surge. Importantly everyone then chipped in in one way or another including even the surprised Lown who managed to slog / sweep / flick a six off his legs and cross bat another 2 runs to take him to the massive aggregate of 12 runs in two innings in 20 or so starts. With 50 overs gone, Fudgey declared the innings so as not to look greedy going beyond 50. Berry, Daw and Mitchell for Lingfield all took three wickets apiece and made the most of the conditions.

Tea was, while not cordon bleu, certainly one of the more edible repasts. Early on it looked like an 8 but it was decided that the own brand nature of one the condiments (a leading supermarket brand rather than Branston’s) was close to unforgiveable. Also Clarky tells Wickman that rightly or wrongly he was anticipating pickled onions and only sliced onion materialised. Which left him with reverberative digestive problems and rebarbative breath. There were though, doughnots (mmmmmmm doughnuts) and pork pies (mmmmmmm *wipes saliva off keyboard* pork pies). With mustard. Which is good. A lack of real ale in the bar after the game – while not technically part of tea – also coloured the scribe’s view. Of course comparisons are odious. Last week’s tea at Ripley was a notch above condemning this to a very good seven. Enough to get an A at A level but no A star…

Lingfield came out of the gates like a greyhound that has been threatened with castration using the old “two bricks” method by a disgruntled owner. Before very long happy Lingfield mathematicians would have been using their mobile phones to divide the total runs by the number of overs and smiles would have lit up their cherubic faces (if we thought we were a young side bar Clark and Soppitt then blimey O’Mahoney these guys were mere babes in arms in comparison). Our total looked shabby and our early bowling was despatched with the ease that senior people send packages by putting them on their secretary’s desk and saying “can you FedHL this to Kuala Lumpur” before swanning off to Pret to pick up a Crayfish sandwich and the meat soup of the day.

Again The Wick responded – this time to Lingfield’s surge – with a squeeze of our own. Two wickets bowled from the slide rule straight Powell and an LBW for Hill (wot???) and tight, tight, tight bowling from Kennedy and Iqbal strangled the game. The rotund ‘keeper of earlier could not get either away and suddenly Lingfield were bogged, bogged, bogged. Three quick dismissals from the admirable Kennedy then turned the game firmly towards The Wick. Kennedy bowled a very impressive line starting nearly everything three inches outside leg stump and pitching it in line going straight on. Two plumb LBWs resulted and his swing was enough to lure a youngster down the track far enough to allow Clark time to uncharacteristically neatly remove the bails and begin a war dance cum celebration that would have had the Masai of Kenya nodding in recognition.

There was time for Juniad to bowl the ball of the day before we could contemplate the finale. Having bowled 4.5 exemplary overs of inswing without conceding a boundary and having removed the gritty Grant who had top scored opening and survived far longer than many of his contemporaries, Iqqers ran up and bowled a peach of a slower ball. In fact it was not just a simple peach it was the peach from James and the Giant Peach. Those familiar with the Roald Dahl tale will know that that particular peach not only serves as a boat for James and some giant insects it also becomes a flying machine too, floating them above New York. It’s the sine qua non of peaches. The fella he bowled it to was a reasonably well organised type of batsman but it was simply too good and bowled him all ends up after he had played forward defensive, on drive, reverse sweep, Chinese Cut and wild yahoo all at the same delivery. Class.

There was more time for the Wick to get its collective hopes up as the No 10 donated his wicket to the Duncan Kennedy wickets fund (all donations gratefully received) caught Soppitt at mid off trying to take the aerial route off the square and failing. With one wicket to take and 11 overs to bowl at the final pair and with only 80 or so on the board, the Wick could think itself in the box seats. But the chaps in the cheap seats, skipper Daw and the impressive Berry, proceeded to chase a winning draw looking more comfortable than the wife of a FTSE 100 managing director who has just been massaged by someone called Gustave at a Swiss mountain spa and frankly embarrassed those present with one of the more positive stands of the day.

Informing us that 138 would do for a winning draw they neatly assembled 140 and then shut up shop for two overs leaving the Wick 2s thoroughly demoralised and facing its first losing anything since the last game of the 2006 season. Sixty or so balls to a final pair really should be enough to shut the game out but actually only one very tough chance was offered and largely both batsmen did themselves and Lingfield much credit. Fudge and Clark mused afterwards that in fact if they hadn’t miscalculated the winning draw total it wouldn’t have been unbelievable had they assembled the 18 runs they subsequently needed.

If the Wick bowlers had performed during those last overs and taken the requisite wicket it’s a hammer blow to realise that we would have gone top. Those are the margins. As it is we are now in the cheap seats. This season will be a marathon not a sprint, but even in a marathon from time to time you have to pick up the pace and respond to pressure. Right now this side is not delivering the coup de grace with the ball.

What ifs are dull. But Wickman salutes Lingfield for a great game of cricket. Obviously if the thicko that worked out the winning draw total had calculated it properly perhaps Lingfield would have shut up shop earlier than they did. But somehow Wickman doubts it because they are a great team and a good bunch of lads. That approach will serve them well and will mean they will enjoy their cricket. Certainly despite the own brand pickle Wickman would put Lingfield up near the top of his list about where to go to get a good game of cricket. Which, despite the league table, is why we turn out every week. This was certainly more fun that spending 20 years in an Austrian basement and Siralun, if called upon, would have no hesitation in firing the numerically challenged Lingfield bod. Which is a cheap way to get in two seasonal gags at the death.

MOM this week to Duncs. Absolutely bossed the important middle overs and, in partnership with Iqqers, ripped open the soft underbelly of Lingfield. Which is not another joke at the expense of their keeper.