Wallop Ball

This thing in Bangladesh is actually quite enjoyable. But lets be clear - a game of cricket that lasts 20 overs per side is not a game of cricket. Its fun, sure, but its not ‘cricket’. It should be called Wallop Ball. Basically you need to be a big bloke who can slug it over the boundary, or a wee fella who is capable of bowling little dibbles. Ive exaggerated slightly, but Im essentially right. ‘Rotating the strike’ is only good batting if your partner is more likely to hit it higher and further than you are. Otherwise you have scored either 5 or 3 runs less than you could have done.

But what Wallop Ball has done is speed up the innovation of the game: Switch Hit (formally called taking the p1ss), slower ball bouncer (formally a slower ball gone wrong), slog sweep (slog), yorker outside off stump (misguided yorker), low full toss (crap ball), Suresh Raina as a bowler (batsman taking the p1ss), etc. But what may be the next things we see? Here’s a few thoughts:

• Mystery Quickie – A quick bowler who bowls doosras or leggies. Someone like Afridi comes quite to close it. Malinga is a bit of a mystery quickie because his action so weird and he bowls so fast, it’s a mystery as to where, and when, the ball is going to land. But what if there was someone who could bowl upwards of 80mph and the stock ball is an off-break.
• Backstop - I spent a season maybe 17 years ago playing exclusively as a back stop for Andy Moore who was keeping wicket to Ali Gohar, a Wick Overseas opening bowler who played regularly with Wasim Akram. He was stupid quick and you can understand why I was positioned where I was. But in Wallop Ball someone directly behind the keeper may become an important fielding position as Dilshan scoops become more the norm, and the frequency of fine edges through or even over the keeper increases. Or…what if the keeper stood on the boundary? If there is no value in taking a wicket, but all you need to do is stop the ball, then there may be occasions when the keeper will be on the ropes.
• Standing at the crease – Normally you stand on the crease. You can charge the bowler (Matty Hayden in his pomp), step back in the crease to give you more time (Flintoff did this quite a lot). You can also back away (MattyD in the nets) or step to the off side and play it on the leg side (Immo in the nets). What about standing behind the stumps, or even alongside them? If you know the ball isn’t going to hit the stumps, then why not give yourself even more time? Don’t ask me how – just take the blue pill and open your mind.
• Two 10 over innings per side. But you only have one chance to bat – so if you’re out in innings one you don’t get a go second time around. I’ve noticed quite a few games recently when teams simply aren’t losing enough wickets, meaning that after 15 overs both teams are doing equally well. You could be 150-1, or 150-5 after 15 and in effect you are in the same position because the team 5 down still have loads of betting to come.
• Fielding rules. One bowler, 10 fielders - half allowed on the boundary, half have to be in close – for all 20 overs. End of. I have to be honest I don’t even know what the rules currently are for Powerplays as they change all the time.

I also wonder where amateur cricket will be in 5 years time. Will kids still have the patience to bat for 2 hours? And bowlers have the desire to bowl more than 3 overs on the trot? Harder, faster, quicker. That’s not what cricket was founded on, but it has become that. But it is fun to watch and has created more buzz than an ODI series v Sri Lanka in May will do.

Return of Za Mack

Anyone who has played at the Wick for any length of time will know what's its like to be embarrassed by Zammak ripper. Despite bowling slower than Keith, you somehow get beaten for pace, the bounce comes from nowhere, it bites in the pitch like a snake in the grass, and out of the corner of your eye you see a wee fella with the smuggest grin on his face. You weren't even close and you were laughing at the ball before it passed the stumps.

Zumba was part of the Wick Invincibles of 2006. And a vital part too. A quick scan of Play Cricket will tell you that he took 34@13, going for only 3.2 an over that year. His next great year came in 2008 when he took 29@18. In fact even in his poorer seasons he performed better than most of us would care dream about....and all this bowling leg spin. Bloody good leg spin too. As Nomi said a few weeks back, great cricket teams are made up of great individual talents - and in Tuggles we have one more to add to our list. Welcome back Tuggzy.

Speaking of individual talents, did anyone see that spell by Dale Steyn on Sunday? True cricket fans should appreciate the sight of a genuine fast bowler flying in at pace and controlling ball like a yoyo. Fair play to Mitchell Johnson, he has bowled some great balls in the past 18 months, but Mr Steyn has been at the top of the world game for 5 years and seems as hungry as ever for wickets - ideally Australian ones. Epic stuff.

Back to Zambezi - his challenge now is whether he can be as good as his brother, who has matured into one of the most feared hitters of the circuit. One Tughral is scary enough, but two gives me the giggles.

There were other people a nets on Sunday too - 17 others in fact (a low turn out by 2014 standards), each with a point to prove. MattyD's batting aside, the standard was as high as ever, so if if anyone who hasn't rocked up yet do get involved. Tiffin Boys School, Sundays, 11-1.

KP back with England*

The MCC today announced that the rules of cricket are to change as of yesterday. Cricket will no longer be a team sport. It will be played still by 22 players, but each will be competing for themselves. Players will wear their own kit and each will get five overs to bat. Bowlers will be decided by lottery, fielding positions by phone vote and non-strikers by fines committee from the previous week.

The move is believed to be is response to KP's sacking from England. A spokesman for the ECB tomorrow said 'We're delighted to welcome KP back to the England setup. He's been our best individual player for the past decade, long may this continue.'

In a re-vamped County Championship 250 players will all play against each other every day for 6 months starting next week at Worcester. The one day stuff will be take on a Royal Rumble feel with players entering the field every over with batsmen and bowlers rotating until everyone is out.

T20 will not change.

*this is not true.

First indoor net review - Marrrvelous

Gooood morning everyone and welcome to the review of the Hampton Wick Royal first netsh shession for 2014, and what a marrrvelous shession it was.

Tiffin Schoool was the venue and **** me what a dingy place that can be. But not on Shunday as the Wick boys turned up in their droves for the first crack at practice and shed some light on what has been a pretty p*ss poor summer for the pommies. What better way to burn off the frustration of an Ashes bashing than to bash a few balls of your own. Marrrvelous.

Noman was on fine form as usual, hitting marrrrvelous straight drives past anyone who deared bowl in his half of the pitch. Shaycey also looked like his old-self, shtanding tall and shnicking off. Mr Collier also showed his face…although we’d rather he’d hidden it, shporting as it did a beard Mr Gatting would have been proud of. Mr Laight turned up late and then didn’t contribute for an hour, before bowling QUICKERBALLS slower than everyone else’s SLOWERBALLS. Marrrrvelous.

Quote of the day came from Mr Highh when discussing the value of Lidl over competing Shupermarket eshtablishments. ‘You can get a lobster for £4.99’. He looked composed at the crease though and will provide a headache for the shelectors later in the Summer. Iain Tong, the taller of the twooo Tongs, again displayed a dress sense like no other. Chedward were there in full gear, both having worked at the Wick the night before, as always full of shtories.

A few newww faces tooooooo. Shum tasty looking ones as well – all showing abilities with bat and ball. Old timer Davieshhh getting a few on the toes and looking a little worshe for wear afterwardsh. Zohaak was there toooo….hitting the ball as hard as anyone. Mr Shmith, reliable as ever found some good length, and the Prawn dibbled his way to a firsht run out of the year. Gayan showed us all his famous gate (ball going through it), and Mr Shimcox wasn’t afraid of getting involved, but only in net number twoooo.

Next week we will have more of the shame, do stay tuuuuned of get involved yourself. Remember, its Tiffin Boys’ Schoool, 11-1pm. If they numbersh stay like this, and the quality this high, the Wick will be in for another great sheason. Marrrrvelous.

Nets

Its that time again in early Feb,

Find your kit, dust off the webs.

Locate your box you thought you'd lost

Sniff the pads – that smell you’ve missed the most.

Test the gloves that fit so snug

Hardened by the winter fug.

Whose sock is this? It reeks of piss.

This towel OH GOD why did I miss

This item when I cleared the bag,

Last year I could have sworn I had.

Its Tiffin School, the indoor bit,

Around the back lets have a hit

And test our eyes and reflexes clear

Imagine caressing the ball dear

Through the covers for two.

Hold the shot,

Let the skippers see what you’ve got

What it takes to make the grade

And do a job. You’re not afraid

Of Nomi bearing down on you at 80 percent

But quick enough to make you think.

Off stump. IT’S THERE!

It’s through the gate. Bowled. Despair.

Worse still its on film, and laughter from the rest

Hidden away at the back of the net.

But no matter. Im here. Im having a go.

I’ll find it again and then I’ll show

My skills, my talent, my commitment to the team

After all its only nets, so-ones really seen.

Some Great Wick Innings

If January is good for one thing, its reading books. And you don’t even have to buy them yourself. It could be crime fiction (violent Scandinavian crime investigated by edgy loner policeman, they’re intimately linked with it somehow, drink and fags, some light meaningless sex, more crime, a chase of some sort, the odd text, ends with suicide), sports biographies (stay away from anything hardback), photo compilations (wow – look how blue that water is!) or a quirky something else which someone thought that’ll do. For me, this included a brilliant run down of, statistically, the 100 greatest Test centuries of all time. Pure indulgence.

I won’t spoil the fun, but the list was put together using a suitably geeky matrix of factors, including total runs, speed, influence on match chances (not result), quality of bowling attack, pitch conditions and % team total. There were a few other factors but I forget – not important. What was important however was the book’s increasingly eulogistic enthusiasm for each innings – reading it you felt you were climbing a mountain of cricket history to reach the peak of leather on willow perfection. Of equal excitement was the combination of innings/stories/games/names from years gone by, sitting alongside contemporary innings that I can remember seeing on TV or reading about online whilst dodging work. Read it – you’ll feel ready for the season once you’re done. Masterly Batting: 100 Greatest Test Centuries, by Patrick Ferriday and Dave Wilson.

But it got me thinking – what makes a great Wick innings? There are less centuries scored so we shouldn’t restrict it to the big innings, but there must be a hidden subconscious criteria that defines what is Great and what isn’t. You could make a book out of this, but for now, let’s include the following:

• An individual over achieving. Not just doing well, but breaking a personal barrier such that they enter a new imaginary part of their cricketing career where their ambitions are at a new level and expectations (of themselves and of them by others) are a step change over and above what they were before.

• Something to do with the zone. Everyone has their zone, and when its found there is a buzz on the sidelines because you know something special is about to happen. The zone could last for only a few balls, but its about the moment, and if this coincides with a match situation, a story, or a personal achievement it makes for greatness.

• Mental images. Great Wick innings are generally accompanied in my head with visuals implanted on my brain, or quotes from fielders or supporters that add to the story. It doesn’t need to be pretty, it doesn’t even need to be particularly special or clever, just something to asscoiate the innings with the moment.

• Generally these innings are part of special games – usually close, well earned, or important victories.

Ok – so here are three that immediately spring to mind, in no particular order. And also there are many more one could talk about – and in fact I probably will in the coming year – but these three are a good start:

1. Finbar Murray c.60 v Oxted & Limpsfield. 2012

Against a team who would eventually get promoted (justifiably so), Finbar came of age for the 1xi in a dramatic way. Having started the season as a keeper and #11 (in a team of 11 batsmen), he showed early on that he was willing to fight for his role. Anyone who was at Stoke D’Ab that day will testify to this. Slowly Finbar moved up the order and against Oxted he was in fine form as an opener.

Chasing around 200 to win, we started brightly enough with no alarms until Fin popped his shoulder. Having informed the skipper as to his predicament, the inevitable response of ‘Can you still bat?’ led to 30 minutes of the most ferocious hitting you could see. Having only one arm working properly prevented working the ball, but playing straight was still possible. It started to rain 6s over long-on – all top hand power. The innings of c.60 was the foundation of a special gloomy victory, whose story has its own match report.

2. Chares Edmonds 25 v Unknown a Sunday a few years back

Charles Edmonds’ Bajan displays are well documented – see here – but for me it all began a few years previously when on a bright Sunday afternoon at the age of maybe 15 he scored which at the time was surely his highest ever score (c.25), but definitely his longest ever innings (30 overs?). It came within a century partnership with of over 100 with myself (ahem), but I found far more joy in watching a young player make his first meaningful contribution to a senior game of cricket in a winning cause.

3. Tom Crowther X v Sinjuns, 2013

Sinjuns’ relegation last season was not unexpected, but to look in detail at results they can justifiably point to at least being competitive in most, and very competitive in many. Clearly there was something in their DNA which meant they struggled to get over the line – but until that point was reached games were often quite close.

In alien conditions (dead track, old ball, in at #3), Tom showed admirable constraint and patience to battle his natural instincts in what proved to be a not-quite-match-winning innings, topped off by a last over victory hit by Maingot over the bowlers head. There is actually very little I can remember about Crowther’s knock, other than to say I remember him going for a walk and getting stumped just shy of 50. It was tedium personified – but full of character and led to a vital victory in what was a potential banana skin.

Imagine writing a book on great Wick innings’ (hint hint). 

Fixtures Announced for 2014 Season

The first fixtures of the 2014 season have been announced on playcricket.com.

The 1xi will begin their Division 4 campaign away at Old Emmanuel, the 2xi will open up at The Wick against Cranleigh, also in Division 4. The 3xi, newly demoted and with points to prove, will travel to Sanderstead in Division 2 and the 4xi will open up the Wick's first ever Premier Division fixture at home to Sinjun Grammarians. Welcome to Kingsfield, your home of Premier Division cricket.

In other news, play cricket has been re-skinned and the Wick page currently looks like a pile of poo. Head of Comms Matt Davies would probably appreciate a hand sorting it out if anyone has basic web design skills...

Wick 151*

The Collapse

Wickman has tried to write this post before. May even have. There have been plenty of prompts down the years from England... and from Wick sides. What causes a collapse? Why, when you know you are in the middle of one, are you suddenly powerless to do anything about it? Is it top bowling? Is it collective feebleness of mind? Does the fielding side exert such pressure that you disintegrate? Wickman searches for answers…

So what’s a collapse? We are speaking here not of three quick wickets in the middle of an innings. We are talking of a side that gets completely and utterly humiliated – from either the top of the innings losing four quick wickets and not recovering, or going from seemingly impregnable strength and losing six for 40… a collapse must have an element of humiliation in it for it to count.

It also needs to be quick. A side failing to score at more than 2 an over for 30 overs but preserving wickets is not collapsing. It’s playing hard cricket. No. Speed of fall of wickets is highly relevant. It’s also got to happen after a period of stability. When the oppo have batted like Gods and your bowlers have pronounced the track suitable for landing 747s on and then the cream of our batting is removed hastily, each bat returning bemused and searching for answers, that’s a collapse all right. If your openers have got to 50 with few alarms and those on the side lines are rolling up the shirt sleeves for a bit of tanning, lighting a leisurely gasper and then all of a sudden 7 wickets fall in six overs, that’s a collapse.

At club level the collapse is something that is easily explainable. Club cricketers can go for weeks at a time with few useful nets, a couple of poor innings in between, work, drinking, women… and then all of sudden you are out in the middle with a decent bowler, a bit of pressure… it’s hard to dig in and find the necessary reserves when you need them. The batsman is faced with the certain knowledge that last month’s cover drive is today’s nick off to slip, last week’s safe nurdle to fine leg a leading edge to cover.

Club cricket has its defined statuses. In most xis we know our colleagues. If the chief run-getter of the side is dismissed cheaply, or by pace or by the wickedly turning ball it can send a negative vibe around the dressing room quicker than a noxious curry-caused evacuation in the one cracked loo. Throw in the quick wickets of the mercurial number four and the muscular number five who only comes off once in six innings and all of a sudden the lower middle are gnawing their bat handles, reviewing their last ten innings looking for comfort and no one is talking to anyone else.

No one is coached in this at club level. There’s no sage to offer advice about simplifying technique, or visualising the oppo bowler broken in the bar afterwards. Batsmen have two modes. Block for your life or smash your way out of it when something different is called for.

Out in the middle of course it is bedlam. The same oppo that half an hour ago were anxiously eyeing the scoreboard at 50-0 and contemplating a larruping are now jumping around like fat little nursery children just before lunch on pizza and chips day.

The sheer, unadulterated relief of knowing they aren’t going to get caned and the bowlers they suspected were weak of heart, infirm of limb and had the brain power of potted shrimp now bestride the game like giants sends them into delirium and lends them special powers. The slips become as erudite as Stephen Fry. Cover turns into Billy Connolly. Mid off appears like a ravening wolf in the fold. Even fine leg, AJ like, is sledging. A bat can middle it for four and for all the world the fielding side will give the impression he played and missed.

But it’s back on the sidelines that the damage is done. Speed of padding up causes consternation. Boxes will not fit. Pisses cannot be had. No time for a Gauloise and a flirt with someone’s sister. Someone has gone for fags and comes back - and seeing the scoreboard runs around the boundary knowing he is next in adding to the feeling that the batting side is incompetent, village. The batsmen out are solitary. They mutter darkly of a ball that kept low, a rotten umpire, a shooter, uncommon lift, a bicyclist behind the arm. The batsmen next in are trying to focus while quietly condemning those that have gone before.

Friendly supporters arrive and look up hopefully at the box before shaking their heads mournfully. Some offer scorn. Others look at the condemned men and shake their heads theatrically. Others still bemoan the lack of entertainment to come. Vitriol is stored up in those facing the long walk to the middle.

And then out there? What is it that goes through the mind? Innocuous bowling seems seldom to hit the middle of the bat. Anything that does come out of the middle screams straight to a fielder. The fielders themselves are moved to feats of derring do. An obvious run is spurned. The pressure to get away from the bowling mounts. The mouth is dry. The bat handle feels fat. Tension wracks the arms and wrists.

What’s in the mind is everything. It’s impossible to focus. The most innocuous sledge cuts deep. Fielders exhorting the bowler cannot be blocked out. Every calculation is racing through the mind. The score. The number of wickets. The fact that you are on three and the overwhelming knowledge that you need 50 minimum to dig the game out. That your colleagues are even now criticising you for being too timid, too attacking, too fat, too mentally frail… The bowler turns and runs in and for the life of you, you can’t focus on the ball, just the man. You are already selecting shots. Back over his head? Block it? Push for a single… no back over his head! The feet… just… won’t… move… and you connect with fresh air. The howls of anguish. The heads in hands on the sidelines. The catcalls… and so it starts again. 

The Ball that Changed a Test

So that was a bit of a shocker then, the first Test.

Not only was Wickman confident that England would rediscover form with the bat, Wickman also believed that our bowlers would have too much for a fragile Australian batting line up.

There’s absolutely no doubt in Wickman’s mind that Ryan Harris is an excellent Test bowler in the mould of Terry Alderman and in more recent times Stuart Clarke. Nathan Lyon is a decent offie. But Johnson, despite showing some one day form was hardly the threat he once was... he bowls to the left, he bowls to the right, that Mithchell Johnson, he bowls a load of shite.

The first day and most of the second morning were to plan. The Aussies were dismissed without much fight except from the redoubtable Brad Haddin. Johnson looked agricultural but more than justified his selection as a bowling all rounder. But we blew away the tail and then Carbs and Cheffy settled down to bat through to lunch.

On Twitter there was a carnival atmosphere. Scribes, bloggers, fans and Wickman’s milieu were all pronouncing that the pitch was a road. All the indications pointed towards parity for England by the end of the day with perhaps five wickets down. Johnson came on and hurled the ball down but was about as likely to take a wicket as Wickman’s dobbers. To say that Brad Haddin did well to get a glove on some of it was an understatement.

As with so many things in cricket it was something innocuous that kicked things off. Harris bowled one across a static Cook who slightly hung his bat out. Australia were in business when only a moment earlier they were beginning to look desperate.

A with hindsight scrambled Trotty came to the wicket. None of those watching could have seen any indication that the man was in turmoil… although the fact he was almost slogging in a warm-up game might have indicated… no. We didn’t know. Johnson then bowled the ball that set Trott up, set Johnson up and set the game up.

Who knows if he meant it? He was spraying it like a club bowler trying too hard up until that point but right on cue he lasered one in at Trotty’s heart. It was close to unplayable. Brutish. Lifting. A heavy ball amongst heavy balls. Trotty couldn’t get out of the way and at the same time wasn’t in line. It looked ugly. It was destabilising. It was pure Bodyline. There. Wickman's said it. Invoked the worst of all Ashes words.

From that moment on there was only one strategy. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Eventually Trotty succumbed and feathered a ball that was a foot outside the leg stump to a jubilant Haddin. Johnson had taken a wicket with a superb ball. That that ball had come perhaps two or three overs earlier than the rank half tracker that actually claimed the wicket did not matter.

The rest was misery.

Ashes Eve - Thank God for Aussie Journos!

The night before an Ashes series is one of the most exciting dates in the sporting calendar. Especially when it's an Australian series. There's something super cool about knowing that for six weeks you'll be one of perhaps millions of people wishing the day away so that you can park yourself in front of the television at close to midnight while the rest of the house is quiet.

Many a long winter has been punctuated by a glowing rectangle of green in the corner of the room beating out heat while the outside temperature drops to minus numbers. There's the balance to be struck between drinking the right amount of booze to rightly celebrate this quadrennial pleasure. Too little is not right. Too much and you could well be waking up parched in the middle of the lunch break. And then, for the waged, the knowledge that a hangover at work on a Thursday morning is one of the worst feelings in life - the knowledge that the day will be a trial - and Friday will be too...

What will the series hold? For many years - 20 in fact - it heralded a drubbing. We tuned in with hope only to see Australia bat all day two down or the Barmy Harmy fire the first ball into Flintoff's hands at second slip. Even in 2009 we were under the cosh on Day One and didn't recover until Day Four.

This time round it has arrived a mere 65 days after perhaps one of the least interesting Ashes series ever. Sounds harsh but there was very little to recommend the Summer series in England. Trent Bridge was a massacre made to look close by one of the most ridiculous debuts (Agar) in the history of the Ashes. Lords was as embarrassing for Aussies as... you name your most embarrassing England performance in those 20 years. The series was pretty much over after two games and no one was surprised when the calamitous Aussie batting capitulated in Durham.

So thank goodness for the Aussie press in the run up to this first Test. Baiting KP, giving us the redemption of Johnson, talking up the Aussie bowlers, rubbishing Cook's captaincy, reminding us of the pissing incident at Lords, trashing our change bowlers... Sowing discord and rancour everywhere... Talking up the home side... Reminding us that the arena is called the "Gabbatoir"... It's all good. Wickman is up for it. Wickman wants to watch again. Wickman is prepared to put up with the withering glares as Mrs W goes to bed alone and has no sympathy in the morning... It's the Ashes. the Aussies really care. And if they care, that makes it a contest again after the surrender of the Summer when the same journalists were handing us the urn gift wrapped before the team had left India, never mind started smacking around our schoolboys in bars.

Game on.

2-1 England by the way...

150 Not Out (red ink)

On Saturday the club held a dinner to recognise the 150^th Anniversary of HWRCC at Hampton Court House. 130 guests dined and wined in the company of Gladstone Small and host of former presidents including Michael McMahon, Nevil Tideswell and Graham Mansfield.

The evening kicked off with a drinks reception, followed by a three course supper before Gladstone spoke eloquently and with a host of amusing anecdotes about his time in cricket.

He was modest about his playing career. In his test alone he removed some of the era’s finest batsmen including Border, Greenidge, Haynes, Richardson, Dean Jones, Steven Waugh, Carl Hooper and Gus Logie. He also neglected to mention destroying the Aussies at Melbourne on Boxing Day 1986 which Matthew Engel summarises on Cricinfo:

“Gladstone Small had his moment of glory to help England retain the Ashes in 1986-87. Small, a last-minute replacement, stunned a Boxing Day crowd of 58,000 at the MCG by splitting Australia's first innings wickets with Ian Botham. Small took 5 for 48 and Australia were rolled over for 141. When England won, Small was named Man of the Match, Gladstone Small had his moment of glory to help England retain the Ashes in 1986-87. Small, a last-minute replacement, stunned a Boxing Day crowd of 58,000 at the MCG by splitting Australia's first innings wickets with Ian Botham. Small took 5 for 48 and Australia were rolled over for 141. When England won, Small was named Man of the Match.”

The winners of the awards for cricket in 2013 received their trophies (well – the ones we could lay our hands on) from Gladstone.

Phil Linter picked up fielder of the year for his extraordinary work in the 4s picking up 14 outfield catches and contributing to a run out beating off stiff competition from Ben Stephens (18 catches and a stumping), Alex Dare and Robbie Oliver.

Iain Tong was named bowler of the year for a fine all round season mixing up his medium pacers and impressive leg spin to take 38 league wickets. Fahad Tanveer, with four five wicket hauls and 41 at 16 in the league, was unlucky only to be nominated as were Nomaan (45 wickets) and Phil Linter.

Nomaan strolled the batting prize despite stiff competition from Ian Collier who dominated the 3xi statistics with 442 runs at 42 in a side that seldom passed 200 all season. Zohaak was nominated for his often brutal batting in the 2xi. Mark Mackie was also mentioned in dispatches for his phenomenal 180 not out - currently the highest score in living memory at the Wick. But Normy scored 660 league runs at 55 this year and is probably the only bat in Wick history to have worse average when you take into account his contributions in friendly games. Saving it for the big occasion won him the trophy.

With such a fine all round performance from Nomaan, this year’s Player of the Year was going to have to done something spectacular to nudge him off the top spot. Phil Linter’s incredible all round year in the 4xi, twice inspiring his side to win with 9 men and topping the West Division was almost enough. Iain Tong’s contributions with bat and ball were spectacular too.

But the Player of the Year was Greame Tong. Graeme took on a team following a couple of major defections with the year before’s top bowler and arguably best bat departing and lost the quality of Adam O’Mahoney and Alex Day but moulded a new side that had resolve, grit and passion and took them straight up into Division 4… well done Tongy!

The Chairman’s Award had to be split this year. Two individuals made 2013 a year to remember. Adam Selves organised the first cricket week at the club since the Millennium – three successes against touring sides including The Gentlemen of Yorkshire contributed to confidence across the club and the 150^th Anniversary celebrations including the Victorian Cricket match were an indication of a club in rude health. The tour to Barbados is already becoming the stuff of club legend – for all sorts of reasons. The hard work and diplomacy of Tom Crowther ensured that we made new friends and for those who travelled, new friends and memories for life. Well done Adam and Tom.

Thank you to Keith, Dom, Adam and Jelly for organising the evening and to all the friends of the club who generously donated prizes for the auction – Mark Webster, Ian Geddes, David Fudge, Stephen Riley, Keith Nicholls, Nick Clark, Michael McMahon, Marc Holland and Hampton Court Palace Golf Club. Finally to our sponsors – Grass Roots, Paragon and Le Cloche at The Lion. We couldn’t do without you.

Happy 150^th birthday to The Wick. Let’s have another great season in 2014.

Sunday xi vs Graces CC - Match Report

                                         

“Until you realise, it’s just a story” Teardrop Explodes, Treason

11/08/13 Graces CC 190 all out   HWR Sunday xi 150 ish all out

They say that a deeply traumatic experience can mess with your mind. So I am still not sure whether  what I think happened on Sunday really did happen or if it was just a made up memory.

Did Charlton really hit 93 off a decent bowling attack that included a Sri Lankan former 1st class cricketer? Did he really make the transition fromclass clown to seriously talented cricketer in front of my own eyes?  I just don’t know, my brain is addled.

I should not really be compiling this match report as my memory cannot be relied on and the scorebook was burnt by the oppo who thought this would help expunge the experience from their minds too, if indeed it actually happened at all. But any thoughts of not writing a report were swiftly put aside because Wickman is currently holidaying in a place called “High Dudgeon”, his intense indignation due to an appalling shortage of match reports.

Not knowing who Wickman is, I am slightly scared  in case he turns out to be bigger than me so a match report just has to be written. But I warn you that there is a good chance that some of the report may be true and some may not be true, the boundaries are blurred – it is up to you to figure out fact  from fiction :

It was a pleasant mid August Sunday afternoon and the greenparrokeets squawked excitedly as Old Man Smith strode into the ground. Smith was skipper for the day after an extended leave of absence (during which, it has to be said, the Sunday team thrived ) and he wandered around the boundary, surveying his domain. Spotting Mo Farah cantering alongside the fence, Smith waved cheerily to the Olympic Champion.

“Can I have your autograph please?”  came the pleading cry

                                   

“No I’m sorry” came the reply, “I have to keep focused at the moment, we are down to 9 men and I have to do the boundary flags. Another  time perhaps Mo”

We were indeed down to 9 following the decimation of the Wick’s 2nd xi the previous day. Nav had dislocated his shoulder when firing the ball back in to the keeper so was automatically ruled out of Sunday  andCharles had badly barked his shin (in fact it was very nearly bleeding apparently) – so naturally Charles also had to step aside. note – Charles has played more games than anyone else this year – so I will not give him further stick.

Fortunately the other Mo came to the rescue and offered his services – his last ever game  for the club according to Mr Bal, definitely, full stop, end of story. So we were ten, but Smith was still hoping for Ian Tong to appear because the previous night he had said that he would play unless he managed to “get lucky” on Saturday night . Smith was surethat the combination of Tong’s shoddily stubbled chin and the side effects of  one too many DBW cheese and onion baps would be more than enough to deter  the most ardent of suitors.

However, Smith soon realised that his confidence was clearly misplaced because Tong failed to appear . Cricket or sex – that age old dilemma.

Rumour has it that Delboy was prepared to play but ruled himself out after he tried just that bit too hard to model himself on his hero, MontyPanesaar.

So , definitely down to ten men.

A tricky conundrum then faced Old Man Smith as Chairman Keith slithered into the clubhouse:  

“ I hear you are one short for today Smith, lucky I’m here really” oozed the Chairman

“No, no,  we’ve def got eleven, no worries, but thanks anyway Keith”shot back the quick thinking skipper.

                               

Nightmare diverted, Smith then quietly advised Joe Hirsch that we were only ten and enquired if he have any mates up for a game? Joe replied that he had no mates, obvs, but did know a bloke who fancied a game but who had never played before. So full quota achieved, we set about the game with gusto.

Having lost the toss, we found ourselves in the field, bowling on a good track that offered a wee bit to skilled bowlers early on. Fortunately we had two such skilled bowlers in Jack Smith and Jack Le Feuvre who plucked out the openers without fuss. Graces xi then sent in their two star players, both Sri Lankans, who played beautifully and built up a tidy partnership.

Mohit was then summoned with specific instructions to confuse the hell out of the batsmen, which he proceeded to do by issuing forth a wide array, ranging from head high beamers, pure filth and the odd snorterand it was one of the latter that proved too good for the star bat whose head was in a whirl by this stage.

Mention should be made at this stage of Joe’s mate, Jack Haldenby,who, in borrowed kit, looked the part in truly his 1st ever game of cricket. His left boot was his  preferred method of halting the ball’s progress, and what a boot it turned out to be, as he stopped almost everything that was smashed at him. In fact the only time he missed the ball was when he used his hands rather than his feet. Heroic stuff from the debutant.

Old Man Smith decided to trundle in and chuck a few down. Despite favouring leg side a tad, Smith managed to castle the Graces number 5 and promptly took himself off to protect his figures . So, with 4 down on a good track, the skipper decided it would be a good idea to send for spin in order to open up the game and allow the Graces to set a decent target. Charlton and Taylor supplied the spin and a steady mixture of boundaries and wickets ended in a total of 190 being posted.                                    

The skipper was quietly pleased with himself for allowing a reasonable target to be set so as to ensure a healthy contest.  The skipper wasperhaps not quite so pleased  with himself after tea as he strode in to bat at no 6 with only 9 runs on the board.

Had we really lost 4 out of our top 5 for just 9 runs? Did Madoc-Jones the very eldest really get beaned by a bouncer from the Sri Lankan opening bowler? Was our tail really so long that Old Man Smith came in at 6? Is Wickman really bigger than me?

Scene set for Charlton to make a name for himself, a time to mature, a time to emerge from the Chedward pupal stage,  a time to take himself seriously.

Damage repair began with Charlton and Old Man Smith building a solid but turgid partnership of 40,  and it has to be said helped by the Graces skipper reciprocating the opening up the game business. Old Man Smith’s demise, which in truth looked on the cards from ball one, saw Stan Kearney arrive and nurdle a few before politely departing to allow Smith junior to join in a 50 partnership with Charlton who had by now began to biff and wallop in all directions with gay abandon. The rest is still a blur, but indelibly etched on my brain are  the following batsmenscores, in order (no names no pack drill):

0

4

1

93

0

9

6

6

0

1 not out

2

Throughout this traumatic experience, the game was played in the perfect spirit. The Graces xi  lived up to their name ( no, they weren’t all bearded Victorians , they were full of grace) and both sides strove to perform whilst maintaining decorum. More than one batsmen walked before being given out which is how it must  be to ensure the survival of  friendly  Sunday cricket  (mind you I was clean bowled so s’pose I had to walk).

A loss was chalked up, but was it really a loss? Didn’t all who witnessed the events, or thought that they had witnessed the events, actually gain from the experience? I certainly benefitted from seeing  Charles,  who was watching events unfold from the balcony, his grazed shin still on the verge of bleeding,  cry into his beer as his bestest chum finally stumbled on his ascent to greatness, just 7 runs short of the summit.

Only 5 Sunday games lefts, lads.  Come on, you can’t keep missing these life enhancing dramas. Sign up, sign up and get in the game.

Ps Mohit – Hopefully we’ll see you next week for your next last evergame for the club.