Hyde Heath, Finland?

So while perusing potential cricket clubs in Finland for whom to ply my not especially desirable services, I came across the aptly named Espoo Cricket Club. According to their website, "ECC is one of the most respected cricket clubs in Finland because of its both on-field and off-field performances." (What does an off-field performance entail, out of interest?)

Fascinating stuff, you may say, but what does their ground look like? Well, this is where it gets interesting. Because, in the photograph on their website, their ground looks EXACTLY LIKE HYDE HEATH. Not vaguely similar, or even uncannily similar, but EXACTLY THE SAME. In short, they are using a photo of the mighty Heath to advertise their own club. What on earth is going on?

Also, it's worth noting that the club has some pretty hilarious Player Profiles. Something to consider for HHCC perhaps...?

HHCC vs Ivinghoe & Pitstone

And so, like that, Hyde Heath's 2014 season came to a close with a match almost completely sullied by some of the worst behaviour I have ever witnessed on a cricket field. You know that thing teachers always say – “It only takes the actions of a few to ruin it for everybody” – well, this was a case in point. We've played Ivinghoe & Pitstone for years, and they're a great side. They play the game like us: hard but fair, trying to win, but having a chat and a laugh at the same time. All, that is, except for a few. Unfortunately, one of those few was the opposition captain, and he behaved not like an adult, and certainly not like the captain of a respected club like I&P, but like a spoilt little infant who had lost his favourite rattle.

The irony is, as Charlie pointed out afterwards, that rather than take his rattle away, we had actually returned it to him. He took our largesse not with gratitude but with the kind of attitude that sees fixtures get dropped.

Anyway, enough rattle metaphors: to the tale itself...

It began, as so often, in farce, as by the scheduled starting time of 1pm Hyde Heath had barely half a team. By 1.15, we had nine, and got started. Soon, the oppo were in a pickle, with new boy Anees bowling beautifully (perfect line, decent pace, a bit of bounce and some movement either way). I made a very easy catch look very difficult (caught between my legs at mid-off) before, much to everyone's amusement, Jez pitched up and immediately snaffled a sharp chance at gulley off Anees. Only the ball before, Capper was querying Charlie's decision to persist with not only one gulley but two. Admittedly, it's the first catch I can recall there since the glory days of James Aird.

Soon they were 12 for 3. So far so good.

And then it happened.

Luke ran into bowl, delivered a knee-high full-toss, which their captain bunted back at him to be safely pouched. We all converged on the bowler to congratulate him. At that point, instead of walking back to the pavilion, the batsman (their captain) appealed against the umpire, crying in no uncertain terms that it ought to have been a no ball. The square leg umpire disagreed, but nonetheless, the fellow umpiring at the bowler's end decided, after concerted pressure from his captain, that it was indeed a no ball. In the most spineless display of umpiring you could wish to see, he held out his left arm. “No ball,” he whispered meekly.

Understandable, we were pretty irritated, but Charlie told us that if that was the umpire's decision then we would get on with it. Rattle duly returned.

But that was not the end of it, not by a long shot.

For the rest of the innings, every single time that a fielder made any kind of noise, the batsman, John-boy (as he seems to be known) decided to walk away to square leg and lean on his bat until absolute silence had descended. Ben counted that he did this no less than 43 times over the course of his innings (he eventually made 70 or 80). Assuming each delay used up around 30 seconds, that is 21½ minutes of their innings wasted. As you can imagine it was monumentally tedious for the fielding side, not to mention hypocritical: somehow, “John-boy” was only ever put off by Hyde Heath players (and the occasional plane or distant child). The sporadic din of garbled drivel coming from the his own side seemed not to affect him in the slightest.

It was also counter-productive: we only ended up bowling 32 overs, and that was despite the fact that they didn't bring us any drinks at the half-way stage of their innings. Not that it really mattered: Uzi and I were both expensive (although I finally removed “John-boy” well stumped down the leg side by Capper) and Anees returned to finish things off with a six-wicket haul (including a beauty of a slower ball nicked to Dom at 1^st slip). They were all out for 162.

And then the fun really started.

After an excellent tea, the Hyde Heath openers were ready for action. 10 minute early no less. Understandably, “John-boy” was not keen for us to have the extra batting time, but he even refused to allow us to move the clock forwards in order to get on with the game. Instead we all stood and waited for ten minutes, despite protestations from his own team.

Once things got under way, there was time for yet another moment of petulance from “John-boy”. I accidentally hit a drive from the nets onto the field of play. “Sorry!” I shouted. He walked towards the ball, picked it up, and chucked it into the trees.

Unsurprisingly, our batsmen received a relentless barracking from this “John-boy” stationed at 1^st slip, and several of his cronies, including the half-witted umpire who had caused the problem in the first place. (Amusingly, this chap fielded down at fine leg for a fair amount of their innings and we actually had a bit of a chat. Much to my surprise, Jez even brought him a glass of squash – thereby conclusively securing the moral high ground for the Heath. It was only when in proximity to his captain that he behaved like an oaf once more). Our umpires – Tim Barnsley, Richard Cousins, and Charlie – were also relentlessly heckled. So much so that Richard stepped in to tell their captain in no uncertain terms to keep his mouth shut and stop questioning our umpires. Cue some fantastic finger-waving antics, reminiscent of Shakoor Rana and Mike Gatting all those years ago.

What is funny about situations like this is watching fielding sides get their knickers in a twist. When I came out to bat, they appealed for everything – LBWS when I was halfway down the track and outside the line; caught, when even their own fielders (one of the sane ones) admitted I hadn't hit it – and then got increasingly outraged as none of these ludicrous appeals were given out. It's unfair, they cry! What I&P failed to realise is that Barnsley actually loves giving our players out...

That said, Richard's parting words at the drinks break were hardly likely to pacify matters. And then he got in his car and drove off, leaving us to deal with the aftermath. Thanks Richard!

Fortunately, by the time my batting was needed, we were nearly home. Dom and Henry had laid a solid platform against some high-class bowling and extremely tight fielding. Henry fell clipping to midwicket, but Dom and Shrimpie held firm amid the abuse and built a partnership to break the back of the opposition's total. Dom eventually fell for a well-composed 35, Uzi timed a few blows before getting himself out, and I came in to steal a bit of glory at the end.

All the while, Shrimpie was playing a blinder: impregnable in defence, decisive in attack – his cover drives both elegant and forceful. But it was the mental strength never to rise to the bait that marked this innings apart. Not once did he lose his cool and attempt to whack a few statement boundaries; he simply kept batting until the game was won – fairly comfortably in the end. It was probably the best innings, given the circumstances, that I can remember seeing at the Heath.

Afterwards, like adults, we shook hands with the opposition – all except one. The captain, “John-boy”, had already fled to the pavilion. Then, just as they were leaving the pub, he had the cheek to criticise our tea – despite admitting to having not eaten any of it. So not exactly a trustworthy witness then.

The worst/best thing is that the majority of his team were happy to have a drink and a chat in the pub afterwards: they knew he'd behaved disgracefully, and many apologised to us on his behalf.

If a Hyde Heath player ever behaved like that they would never play for us again. I'll be interested to see how Ivinghoe and Pitstone proceed.

HHCC vs Roxbourne

I awoke on Monday morning with a cricket-ball-shaped bruise on my shoulder and an ear covered in blood: the former evidence of my failure to evade a fiercely struck Capper on-drive while standing at the non-striker’s end; the latter the result of a collision with a tree of fearsome thorniness on the course of my night-lit stumble home from The Plough. But, oh!, such injuries were nowt compared to the terrible damage wrought upon my already battered bowling figures in the course of one final, fateful over. In need of the three wickets that would have secured a great victory, instead each delivery was crunched to the boundary with increasing inevitability. Was it 24 off the over? Or just the 20? I declined, understandably, to check.

Earlier, despite losing the toss, things had started well against a 10-man Roxbourne team. The oppo’s tight bowling and excellent ground fielding allied to a pitch that, while flat, was also a little slow, meant that scoring was tricky – or at least we made it look so. We built a solid enough opening stand, however, until I got bowled for 35. Capper continued on for an important 79 that held the innings together, and as the opposition’s fielding crumbled (hundreds of catches were dropped) a middle order of Jez, Luke and Nick gradually upped the run rate in the closing overs.

Fiddy strikes!

It was great, in particular, to see Nick back on the cricket field after a lengthy injury break and one huge six proved that class is indeed permanent. Even more impressive was an audacious upper-cut off their opening bowler which sailed away for a one-bounce four. On the back of Nick’s hitting, we closed on a solid 200(ish) and repaired to the pavilion for tea, which, in what is surely a first for village cricket, included, yes, CANAPES. True story. Smoked salmon mini-blinis. Take that John Paul Getty.

Perhaps unused to such luxury, neither of our opening bowlers – Ben and Sohail – were quite on-song. With Luke and I also struggling for consistency, Charlie was unable ever really to force the game. Spencer bowled extremely well for three wickets (including a beauty first ball) and Sohail bowled an excellent second spell to pick up another three, but with the pitch starting to slumber and Roxbourne losing interest in the chase, the match began to peter out. Until that final over – from which I feel I shall never recover.

HHCC vs Bank of England

Back in 2004, Andrew Flintoff gave a piece of friendly advice to West Indian all-rounder Dwayne Bravo: “This game's got a funny way of biting you on the arse,” he said, before continuing, worldly-wise: “I've seen it all mate. Let's see where you are in three years time.”

The irony is that in three years time, Bravo had cemented his place in an (admittedly ropey) West Indies team, while Flintoff, the big man, had just led England to a disastrous 5-0 whitewash against Australia, and been fined for drunken pedalo -bothering. When the teams met next, Bravo performed creditably while Flintoff was nowhere to be seen.

If only Flintoff had realised at the time that his words could also be applied to himself. If only Hyde Heath had realised that too, as we made the most straightforward of run chases somehow into the most nail-biting of farces. Although Bank of England bowled tidily enough, it was over-confidence that nearly did for us. Charlie was so confident that he had showered and changed; I batted like a was still not out from the week before – attempting to drill my first ball back over the bowler's head, missing comfortably, and pottering back to the pavilion.

That, it turned out, was the second dismissal in a hat-trick as Liam got himself LBW first ball; Dom – who had earlier continued his fine recent form with another half-century, and alongside Shrimpie, scored the bulk of the side's runs in another excellent partnership – was the first of the trio. It meant that within just two runs of our target we lost no less than four wickets. It may have been embarrassing cricket but it made for entertaining viewing. I've never seen a changing room laughing so much as the wickets tumbled. There's something hilarious sometimes about inevitability.

Thankfully we weren't chasing many, and it was Charlie's earlier canniness that was to thank for that – especially as several of his batsmen, brimming with (over?)confidence were requesting we “give 'em a few” to make a game of it.

We found ourself in such a position thanks to probably the tightest hour of cricket I've seen from the Heath. The pitch – the same as last week – was a little slow and low but played very true, and we were never going to blast through them. But Sohail was as full and straight as ever, Ben hit that perfect, miserly length, Fiddy found his rhythm, and even my first two overs were pretty tight (obviously the next five were total rubbish). We also fielded brilliantly: Dom made a very difficult chance (coming down over his left shoulder as he ran backwards from mid-off) look easy, while I, ambling forwards from mid-on, made a very straight-forward catch look exceptionally tricky. “I've never seen a thirty year-old look more like a seventy year-old,” said Shrimpie, encouragingly.

Perhaps all those teas are finally taking their toll. Devilled eggs, smoked salmon, chikken tikka wraps.... Mmmmm cricket.

Return of the Mack (HHCC vs Gamecox)

Ah it’s good to be back! I have to confess that, as much as I enjoyed reading the match reports while gallivanting around South America, it was not without the odd pang of sadness: to be unable not only to play cricket each week but also to write half-baked rubbish about it afterwards. I’m afraid this season’s residence in the realms of factually accurate reporting must take a brief soujourn back into vagues-ville, at least for this week.

One number, however, will be etched in my memory for some time: 71 (with a little star after it for good measure). Yes, I scored my career-best, a match-winning (no need for modesty here) unbeaten innings of 71 (71!) that, in partnership with Liam, saw us chase down what had at one point looked like an imposing target of 198 with several overs to spare. “Hell, yeah!” is, I think, the appropriate phrase.

In pursuit of such a total we needed a quick start. And we got one courtesy of an extremely impressive opening partnership of 90(ish) between Dom and Shrimpy. Shrimpy played some gorgeously timed drives, while Dom was typically severe on anything short and/or leg-side. I’ve forgotten how Shrimpy was out, but it precipitated the all-too familiar Hyde Heath collapse. Will Cousins came and went; Wade was given out LBW by Tim Barnsley (which led to a distinctly unedifying dressing room tantrum); and Dom was dismissed for 50(odd) after a firm lofted drive saw the bowler dive full stretch into the air to complete a stunning one-handed return catch.

I came to the wicket at number 6 just in time to see Fiddy and Jez depart for not much. All of a sudden we were 118 for 6. But I managed to hit a couple of boundaries and their captain responded by setting some truly atrocious fields: at one point, their (very) slow left-armer had only two on the off side. With the pitch a belter (thanks Mikey!) and the outfield quickening up in the summer sun, it felt almost impossible not to score runs. Meanwhile Liam never looked like getting out (apart from that one ball where he looked like getting out) and we cruised home surprisingly comfortably.

It was quite a turnaround from the first half of the game. Perhaps it is tea that should take the credit. Chicken tikka wraps were a clear highlight, and it was excellent work by Spencer to spot several going uneaten on the oppo’s table. It showed the reactions of an athlete and great presence of mind to nip over there before anybody else had noticed and bring them back to the Hyde Heath table. If only we’d showed such commitment in the field…

After Sohail failed to turn up, we were left very light on bowling. Ben was tight early on, and returned at the death (in an excellent piece of captaincy from Charlie) to strike immediately, but he deserved more than his one wicket. Spence struggled with his run-up and was a little erratic, and it was left to me and Shrimpy to get through a sizeable chunk of the overs. I bowled ok-ish given the long lay-off and was happy to finish with 2 for 60 or so off 12. It would have been better had I not been hit for two massive sixes in my last over and dropped a fairly straightforward caught-and-bowled chance.

That drop was not the only one. As the batsmen began to accelerate, the fielders wilted and chances began to go down, including a couple of missed stumpings. I forget how many we dropped but it must have been somewhere in the region of four or five. What I don’t forget is Charlie juggling, and then dropping, a nice loopy dolly at mid-off. Always hilarious. As I said, it’s good to be back!

Pages Of... cricket!

In another departure from the hallowed turf of this here blog, we also had a piece published in a fantastic magazine called Pages Of (which, incidentally, is co-edited by Mrs Tragics). It's loosely about trying to explain why cricket is awesome to people who probably don't care, with some half-baked stuff about social history and national identity.

Oh and there's some excellent pictures of Hyde Heath cricketers. Chris, remind me to send you your copies!

Here's the opening bit:


I find it difficult to say when exactly I fell in love with cricket, or indeed why. I remember the first time I really followed the sport obsessively: it was 1997, I was 12, and my father had recently taken me to Lord’s, the “home of cricket” to watch a one-day international between old foes England and Australia. The match has since become famous for the sparkling debut performance of the 19 year-old Ben Hollioake, who died just five years later when he crashed his Porsche into a wall outside Perth in Australia. But for me, it was the series that followed – The Ashes – that marked the origins of my near-obsessive passion for cricket. What is strange is that, recently rifling through an untouched drawer in my childhood bedroom, I came across imaginary scorecards and team selection lists that included players from years before that – players I don’t remember having even seen, live or on the television.

But it’s 1997 that stands out. The Ashes that year was a six-Test series (six matches of five days each, taking place over the course of eleven long summer weeks). It was a rarity then; unheard of now, as the game begins to change irrevocably. What, I think, struck me then about cricket was a sense of slow unraveling not seen in any other sport that I know of. 


To read the rest, buy the magazine!

HHCC vs Goodwill Wanderers

A win! A bloody win. After a joyless August, the (no longer) mighty Heath registered our first victory since July 28th. With Abbots Langley dropping out on the Thursday, much conferring took place and it was finally agreed that Goodwill Wanderers would be the day's opposition. And what an aptly named cricket team - for they proved a most entertaining bunch, full of abuse directed (as it should be) relentlessly towards their own players.

But before we get to the report proper, first, an apology. Last week's match report was written after a very boozy evening and I'm afraid it all got a bit Mark Nicholas in places ("Stephen Harmison, with a slower ball, one of the great balls. Given the moment, given the batsman, and given the match…" Yep, sorry about that one, chaps.) So this week, a review in strictly rigorous fact-based fashion:

1. Hyde Heath fielded first. (I can't remember if we won the toss.)

2. We bowled. Ben sent down a very tidy opening spell to pick up one wicket; at the other end Spencer picked up three, but was expensive in his second spell. Ateeq took two (or one) and I took one.

3. I bowled the best I had in some weeks but proved expensive as one of Goodwill's batsmen made an inexplicable 60 or so, in which he looked like he might get out any second but periodically timed the ball, much to our surprise.

4. Sohail bowled well, although his figures were ruined by a sole death over that cost 16, and Goodwill finished on an eminently threatening 179 (later upgraded to 180 for reasons that never became entirely apparent).

5. My fielding was ghastly.

6. Tea was belting, with jam and cream bedecked scones the stand-out performance in a strong all-round display.

7. After being horribly dropped offering one of the simplest caught-and-bowled chances you could imagine, Dom proceeded to compile a second consecutive half-century, and along with Capper, finding form after a couple of low scores, put together an increasingly authoritative opening partnership of 120 that effectively sealed the match. Both timed the ball well, with Dom particularly strong on the cut, and Capper timing the hell out of it off his legs.

8. Jez and I then came in to steal some glory with a few boundaries against a demoralised opposition (who have clearly never witnessed a Hyde Heath collapse before).

9. We went to the Plough.

10. The end.

HHCC vs Roxbourne

The pattern of the 2013 season continued this Sunday at home against Roxbourne, as Hyde Heath again fell just short of victory, with the absence of several key players increasingly keenly felt. On the plus side, it was an extremely enjoyable and competitive game, thanks almost entirely to a quite brilliant innings from Dom Haddock, who pitched up at Fortress Heath having only just returned – engaged, no less! – from glamorous Copenhagen.

With most of the team slow to arrive, the mighty Heath were forced to bat first and the makeshift opening partnership of myself and Capper got off to a poor start, when after a couple of well-times strokes, Henry was bowled by a gently away-swinging yorker. Jez, at number 3, and I steadied the ship – although it turns out there is such a thing as too steady, and after a rather painful 11 off 40 balls (dropped three times, never looked like scoring any runs) I was finally caught behind having a horrible swish.

Thereafter, our middle order stuttered and all looked grim, until Dom rocked up, played himself in carefully, before accelerating through the gears. At first he made himself comfortable, judging the pace of the pitch and the bowlers; then he pushed the singles hard to irritate the fielders, bowlers and captain; before really cutting loose in the final overs. It was probably the best innings I’ve seen Dom play – placing the ball perfectly and running hard, or drilling it through the gaps for boundaries, he made a mockery of line or length or fielding positions.  In the final two overs, there was a sense of inevitability about his batting that echoed Michaels Hussey or Bevan at their best. Whatever field was set, whatever the bowler bowled, Dom placed it where he wanted – for a scampered single to keep the strike, or in the gap for yet another boundary. It was pretty amazing stuff.

Given useful support by Ben, Angus (who injured himself trying to keep up) and Stanley (who played one glorious stroke through the covers) Dom was able to drag us up to a relatively respectable 150ish thanks to his unbeaten 65 off 47 balls. Especially impressive as he was about 12 off 30.

Unfortunately, from there our lack of bowling was exposed. I opened and picked up a couple despite bowling dross (the wickets came from a brilliant stumping by Capper and a quite extraordinary one-handed catch low down by Spencer at cover) whilst, at the other end, Spencer picked up three, bowling with more height and pace than usual. But he probably bowled an over too many, and despite being 7 down , the oppo cobbled together a sufficiently significant partnership to take them over the line. It’s rather been the story of our season – just a bowler or batsman (or both) light.

How we could have done with Richie Austin.

HHCC vs Bank of England

Veronica Hartley presents the trophy to the two captains.

As bad light prevented England from what would have been an historic 4-0 series victory over the old enemy, Hyde Heath marked our own long-standing fixture with a touching tea-time ceremony in memory of the man who originated it, Brian Hartley. A couple of hours later, and the newly inaugurated Brian Hartley Trophy (a rather nice silver tankard) was held aloft by the captain of the Bank of England, as we recorded our sixth loss of a disappointing season.

Chasing an arguably below-par 165, the Bank cruised home with 3 overs to spare thanks to a monumental effort by one of their young batsman who saw them home single-handedly with one of the most clinically inevitable centuries I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. We didn’t bowl badly – I was reasonably accurate, as was Sohail, Spencer was steady, and new man Usman bowled with pace and swing away. We did probably have attacking fields for too long (Usman still had two slips, a gulley and a backward point when he was past 70), and I think we could have tried a few more bowlers. Charlie was limited by the attack at his disposal, but Sohail should have bowled more than just 6 overs, and I probably would have given Dom a couple just to see what happened on a stodgy wicket.

But in the end it probably wouldn’t have mattered: he was simply too good for us. To underline the chasm between him and the rest of us (by ‘us’, of course, I mean ‘them’), when his hundred was brought up, the Bank’s total was only about 120. When he hit the winning runs off Charlie (batting and bowling in the same match for the first time in years) the next highest score was just 23.

I, Block

Earlier, we’d got off to a poor start as Henry cut the fourth ball of the opening over straight to point. Dom and I then steadied things with a careful 50-run stand. It was slow going, but the opposition bowled accurately, found a little swing, and the pitch made all but the rankest of long-hops difficult to time. As we began to grow in confidence, however, Dom skied to mid-off and I gloved a silly sort of late cut / dab shot to be caught behind for 38. After doing all the hard work I was bloody fuming.

The customary clatter of wickets which followed was halted by Matt Sims, who played several rasping shots through the off-side, and Usman, who – despite some ropey calling – looked very solid for his 50. On a pitch with a bit more pace, he could be very dangerous.

There was one moment of genuine concern when one of the Bank’s fielders slid round the boundary to avert a four, collected the ball and hurled it in, only to buckle and remain on the ground. It turned out he’d inadvertently slid along the rubber matting surrounding a new children’s climbing frame that had earlier this season been placed inside the boundary by some half-conscious dunce. The poor fellow in question was taken to hospital with a cut so deep that witnesses said they could see bone. Fortunately, although hobbling visibly, he returned to the ground later in the day. But it’s about time somebody moves that bloody thing.

Anyway, enough local-issue griping. In the end we scrabbled up to 165, which I thought was probably just about enough. With their young centurion in the ranks, however, I think they could have chased many more.


PS. I've been told off for neglecting to mention tea. It was excellent. And there was bloody loads of it! Which is almost as important.

Bourne End vs HHCC

So apparently that old adage about London buses also applies to half centuries. You wait over a decade for one to come along, and then suddenly it's two in consecutive innings. Yes, after my long-awaited maiden 50 against The Full Tossers two weeks ago, 50 number two was registered immediately afterwards, away at Bourne End. If the first was painfully slow, this was a much freer affair – flowing even, with several fours and even a six – although I did benefit from two or three lapses in the field – not drops exactly, more a kind of lethargy that prevented the oppo's fielders from even bothering to attempt to catch the ball. Perhaps the same lethargy overcame our spectators who failed to acknowledge the momentous landmark until after I was dismissed, top edging a pull, for 52. No claps, no jugs people.

Batting at three again due to absences – have I nailed down this pivotal position? Where will Capper slot into the order when he returns? – I came to the crease after the openers had made a calculatedly aggressive start to our chase of 220 in 40 overs. After playing one of the most sweetly timed lofted drives you could wish to see, Dom was extremely unfortunate to be given out caught of his forearm by Ben Sonley, and left the field absolutely fuming. He's subsequently emailed me to say that he has a rather large bruise half way up his arm where the ball hit!

At the other end Shrimpie “had the dog” after several catches were dropped off his bowling and Bourne End captain Azhar had capitalised by depositing a series of increasingly fast, flat deliveries into the nearby field. After smiting several glorious sixes himself (“Do you reckon I can win the sixes cup in one innings?” he asked as I came out to bat) he essayed one big hit too many and got himself stumped.

Strangely, the run rate didn't drop that much as I found an able ally in young Olly who batted extremely sensibly – blocking the good stuff and capitalising on anything legside – and the partnership began to grow. It was by a distance the most I've enjoyed batting: the pitch was a minefield, and the opposition's battery of “quirky”-actioned spinners were turning it square and finding occasionally laughable amounts of bounce. Olly was sconned twice in an over, one was called a wide so high did it bounce over my head, and I have a cluster of bruises on my ribs from a succession of off-breaks that spat off a length. But I felt confident judging the length and there were sufficient bad balls to keep things ticking. Thank god they didn't have any genuinely fast bowlers – Sohail would have been lethal on that pitch. At the half-way stage we were 100 for 2 and very much in the game.

When Olly and I were eventually dismissed, Jez and Spencer kept our hopes alive with a quick-fire partnership, but their dismissals exposed our inexperienced lower-middle order (comprising Gwillem (sp?), Angus, Ben and Liam). And as the run-rate began to escalate, the wickets tumbled, our innings rather tailed off and we eventually fell short by 20 or so.

Earlier, we were so short of seamers that I opened the bowling, picking up two wickets – one to an excellent reflex catch by Ben in the gulley. But it was nothing compared to Liam's quite brilliant snare to get rid of their dangerous number four, who I'm pretty certain has scored runs against us in the past. The batsman was lured into a false drive against Ben, who like those battalions of Gloucestershire medium-pacers in the early 2000s (Mark Alleyne, Ian Harvey, James Averis, Jon Lewis, Mike Smith... any others, Ali?) found a niggardly length to record our most economical figures of the day. The ball in question flew high over Liam's head at point. Backpeddling rapidly, he kept his eyes on the ball, leapt backwards and somehow caught it one-handed. An absolute screamer.

Inexplicably, Liam decided to make up for this moment of brilliant by shelling two much more straightforward catches – one at long-on and one at backward point. Those moments proved crucial, as thereafter the wheels rather came off. Spence dropped one in the deep after having run in too far off the boundary and Angus got nowhere near two that were arguable catchable, as the bowling was put to the sword. Even more inexplicably, I actually took two catches – one pretty well-held inches off the ground at deep backward square leg. But, increasingly lacklustre in the field, slow between overs, and lacking much bowling, we were incapable of preventing Bourne End's late innings acceleration, despite good spells from Ben and Dom. In the end we got closer than might have been expected, but not close enough.

Oh, and before we conclude this week's match report, special mention should go to the makers of Bourne End's tea. Well-made sandwiches were supplemented by an absolutely belting chicken biryani – heated up in the pavilion and served in 22 separate tupperware boxes alongside a cooling yoghurt and mint sauce. Yum! Perhaps it was the curry that contributed to all those runs. Ahem. Sorry.

The Carpenter's Arms vs HHCC

A brand new fixture, courtesy of the conference (how much conferring actually takes place, I'll never know) saw Hyde Heath cricketers travelling all the way to the village (town?) of Harpenden and its rather charming environs, to do battle with the Carpenter's Arms CC, inside the very pleasant grounds of a well-heeled boarding school.

Winning the toss in a limited overs match, Charlie decided (eventually) to have a bowl. Things started badly as Jez rediscovered his wide problem, but at the other end, Spence bowled with accuracy and a bit of movement with the new ball to pick up three wickets and help disguise the fact that, for a limited overs game in particular, we were pretty light on bowling. Replacing him, I then picked up two further wickets (to fairly average shots) to leave the Carpenters in need of some rebuilding.

Fortunately they were able to do so thanks to a talented left-hander, and, off another batsman, one of the worst dropped catches I've ever seen. Shrimpie, whose bowling has really picked up in recent matches (the very quick and the very slow deliveries now supplemented by a good stock ball that has a bit of loop at decent pace and still grips a fair bit off the surface) enticed the batsman into a poke outside off stump. The ball looped gently - no more than a little under-arm lob - straight to the hands of the man stationed at 1st slip. Inexplicably, however, the ball went not cleanly into his hands, but clunked into his thumb and thudded to the floor. A moment's pause for bafflement. The realisation that it had truly happened. Derisory laughter all round.

And the culprit? Um, yup. Sorry chaps.

On the plus side, this enabled me to pick up another three wickets (two to fairly average LBW decisions) to make it five in total. Two jugs in consecutive weeks. Good lord.

Furthermore, that the opposition were able to recover to post 164 (still well below par on a flat pitch with a fast outfield) meant that Henry was able to record his first hundred of the season, putting some fairly average bowling to the sword - strong as always through the legside but also playing the occasional back-foot forcing stroke through the offside. In his slipstream, Dom made 30-odd and Shrimpie chipped in with a few, and that, ladies and gentlemen, was that. Another win for the mighty Heath.

HHCC vs The Full Tossers

Another wicket for Shrimpie

A great week for sporting patriots (an Ashes thrashing, some rugby, that tennis fellow, some other stuff) reached what was universally acclaimed as its apotheosis on the hallowed turf of Hyde Heath last week, with a long-awaited maiden half century from your humble correspondent. Long-awaited, it must be said, in more ways than one: for not only is this something like my 14th season at the club, but it was also one of the most painfully tedious innings that Fortress Heath has had the misfortune to witness in some time.

Batting first after losing the toss, we lost Matty fairly early, before I (batting at three due to several absentees) and Shrimpie put on a hundred or thereabouts for the second wicket, of which I contributed about 12, or maybe 15, certainly no more than 20. Shrimpie was at his best, timing every shot perfectly and manipulating the ball into gaps with ease. I was leaving elegantly as ever, and playing and missing with real flair. The crowd surely sensed something special...

Once Shrimpie was out for 60-odd, played on (I think), Heath newcomer Mike (a friend of Shrimpie's form Lacey Green) proceeded to demonstrate what an asset he could be for the club with some powerful hitting and judicious defence on his way to an impressive debut fifty. Meanwhile, I pootled along, increasingly hot and exhausted, but really nailing the odd forward defensive. Strangely, I also hit my first six ever (a rank full toss obvs) and then somehow I had 50, before being caught (rather brilliantly in fact at long-on) attempting to hit another. Oh well.

I actually caught one

Of more note, perhaps, than my non-existent strokeplay was the occasionally fractious dialogue with the opposition, The Full Tossers. At the half-way stage of our innings they had only bowled 18 overs, and the more quickly Shrimpie scored, the slower the over-rate seemed to become. Whether or not this was a deliberate policy, there certainly did seem to be a lot of field changes (possibly to counter my vast array of strokes) and things did get more than a little frustrating - to the extent that words were exchanged and threats made. But we all kissed and made up shortly afterwards, as it should be with village cricket. By the time of tea, they'd bowled a perfectly respectable 40 overs, so all was well.

After some smashing cucumber sandwiches (thanks me!) it was back out in the blazing sun. Ali bowled his usual immaculate line and length and Shrimpie varied his pace and found some turn, and soon their top order were in tatters. Shrimpie took five wickets (of which I managed to catch one at midwicket) and by drinks, with no other bowlers used, the draw was the only option for the Full Tossers. From that point, it was a case of trying to winkle out the remaining wickets, with short spells for myself, Liam, Tim Nutman (making a welcome return to the club) and others. Despite a rare run out by me (bullet arm? Err, rubber bullets at best), we were unable to take that final wicket, as their captain bravely came out (in jeans, after having earlier retired hurt) and blocked out the final over. A four-jug draw, therefore, and very easily they went down too.

Richard Austin

Richie batting

It's difficult really to know what to write, if anything at all – especially on a flippant little cricket blog such as this. But it would be wrong, I think, not to mark the tragic event in some small way. To readers of Cricket Tragics, Richard Austin will be known as a classy batsman, one-time excellent seam bowler before turning cannily to off-spin, an endlessly thoughtful strategist of the game, and a funny and warm-hearted individual, who was always good company in the pub and whose entertaining writings graced these pages from time to time. Of course, his life involved much more than simply cricket (as it does for all of us) and it is his partner Lynne and young daughter Rosie with whom our greatest sympathies must lie.

But it is through cricket that we knew Richie, and so through cricket that we will remember him. The club held a minute's silence for him before our last match and we are privileged to be hosting refreshments in the pavilion after his funeral this week. I'm sure our warm and varied memories of Richie will live long into the future, and many a glass will be raised in his name. 

The last time I saw Richie was in the Plough after we'd been thrashed by Great Gaddesden at the end of June. He was wearing his superhero t-shirt from the Kent 'Invicta' tour of 2010, during which he played a starring role with both bat and ball. It brought back some great memories of his highest score for the club (a dashing and extremely attractive 80-odd). Richie was one of those naturally talented cricketers, who could change a game single-handedly with either bat or ball. He was always a pleasure to watch, to chat to, and to play alongside – whether sending one of his signature pull strokes scorching to the mid-wicket boundary, finding extra bounce off a good length, or, in recent years, deceiving batsmen in the air with his flight and drift away.

Richie bowling

Richie was also a great thinker about the game, and always had a strategy or a plan of some kind up his sleeve. His attention to detail was to the fore when he produced a piece of analysis on the exact measurements of a 6 hit by Sohail in 2012, using Google Earth to compare it to a similar blow struck by the same batsman 3 years earlier. Only Richie would have gone to such lengths for a blog read by about 12 people.

Some of his ideas were less successful than others, however, and it is one such instance that is still one of my favourite things ever to have happened in my years at Hyde Heath. Back in 2008, away on tour at Harvil, Richie was bowling close to his very best, getting the odd one to bounce and really zip through. Frustration growing after repeated plays and misses from the batsman, Richie requested that the short leg be moved to second slip. Much to the bowler’s unconcealed annoyance, the captain, Matt Sims, refused. But what should happen two balls later? Richie pitched one up on middle and leg, the batsmen tried to flick it through midwicket, instead chipping it straight to myself, at the disputed short leg position, where I just about held onto a very straightforward chance. Magic.

Richie was an excellent cricketer, but the great thing about village cricket is that actually talent doesn't really matter very much at all. Richie was a pleasure to play alongside and to know and to call a friend. He will be greatly missed.

HHCC vs Great Gaddesden

Me bowling

Scorchio! The hottest day of the year so far (probably) saw an under-strength Hyde Heath XI brushed aside by the might of Great Gaddesden, although, whilst the eventual winning margin of around 80 suggests a thrashing, we did have our moments, and with a bit more luck/application/talent, could well have pulled off something special. Alas, it was not to be.

Missing several players meant that Jez assumed the gloves behind the stumps (as 4th choice keeper? 5Th?) and our bowling attack featured no less than four spinners with just the one seamer (Mike Perera, playing his first match for the Heath and his first game of cricket in a decade). On a divine track for batting (flat and easy-paced – nice work My Duck!) we were always going to be in trouble unless a) somebody bowled like a genius, or b) the opposition were terrible. Unfortunately, neither came to pass, as a succession of spinners – Nick bowling off-breaks, Shrimpie, Richie and myself – all singularly failed to do anything dramatic.

Like a thoroughbred horse, GG (geddit?!) got off to a flier, with Mike's extra pace proving much to the liking of their top order. With a few more matches under his belt, he'll be an excellent addition to the team (his batting – brief but wristily brutal – could also come in very useful) but this time proved expensive. He was given especially harsh treatment by their hard-hitting number 3 – at one time a talented fast bowler who had trials with Derbyshire, but reduced to bowling spin (and thrashing us round the park) by cruciate ligament damage. He hit one biggest sixes I've ever seen at the Heath, and at one stage we had everyone on the boundary against him. It may have been a negative tactic, but it worked, as he drilled my first ball – the trademark wide long-hop – to Shrimpie at deep cover. Class.

Jez encouraging the troops...

Shrimpy and I were then able to slow things up for a time, but we both probably bowled too many overs (24 between us) and it might have been worth giving Stanley or Atif a whirl. I struggled to quite find the rhythm of previous matches, but finished with four wickets, which could easily have been more in Gaddesden's eventual total of 220. Jez, you may be interested to hear, did an excellent job behind the stumps. He dropped a very tough chance of me, and missed a tight stumping chance when he got carried away with a caught behind appeal, but he did take a good catch off my bowling and gave away only 2 byes (or was it 1?) in the whole innings.

Tea of course was a highlight – Atif's pakoras and chicken tikka of particular note.

Then Shrimpie and I strode out to open the batting against, *gasp*, a woman! We negotiated her opening spell and that of an ok medium-pacer at the other end, and were just beginning to build something that could have been significant when I decided to play a pull-shot (last seen: 1998) and got myself bowled. Urgh. It was the best I've ever felt batting, on a flat pitch, against not enormously challenging bowling. That half century is never going to come...

That led to a bit of a collapse as Atif was run out (your correspondent was diplomatically looking the other way so cannot say for sure which of Shrimpie or Atif was to blame) before new player Mark was beaten by their Derbyshire spinner, who was turning it both ways (albeit slowly off the pitch and with a discernible change of wrist position). From there, most of our middle order got starts, with Shrimpie, Mike and Nick all scoring between 20 and 40 at decent pace, but we were losing too many wickets. When Charlie came out to bat at number 11 with 12 overs still to block out, it never looked likely. Jez settled things by having a heave at the widest delivery you could possibly imagine, and that, ladies and gentlemen, was that.

HHCC vs Chesham

It's been a slow start to the season for Cricket Tragics in more ways than one. I missed the third and third matches of the season; the second - away against the Lee - mostly involved eating, drinking and watching the rain; and when I finally do get to play in a full-length match, it takes me the best part of a week to get round to writing about it. But it's wort the wait.

Critics of this blog (of whom there are none) often point out how much the emphasis is on my own exploits rather than those of the rest of the team. "Cricket is a team game," they say. To which I reply: "History is written by the victors! Or, in this case, the writing about the cricket is mostly about the person writing it because he's not that interested in what the rest of the team are up to, and, besides, can rarely remember much of it unless he's directly involved." A pithy retort, I'm sure you'll agree.

But not this time! No, this time, the writing is all about me, for a reason: because I actually did the cricket quite well. A sunny day dawned bright and fair at home at Fortress Heath, and, with Charlie winning the toss, we found ourselves fielding against two technically sound young Chesham openers on a flat, slow pitch. Luke and Sohail both bowled with pace and accuracy but there were no demons in the pitch, nor inside the heads of the opposition, and they were happy to build a careful opening stand.

At this stage the skipper turned to yours truly - usually the moment in each innings when the batsmen's eyes light up and the run rate rockets. But modelling a new run up (actually sort of nearly a run, rather than the geriatric shuffle of yester-season). I bowled reasonably accurately and even got a bit of turn up the slope. The odd over was expensive but I was given a rare extended spell. It was all rather enjoyable despite being made made to wait a long time for a wicket. But as Chesham looked to up the run rate, batsmen began to come and go in a hurry. In total, I bowled 16 overs for 70ish runs (still a bit expensive) and took 6 wickets, of which no less than 3 were excellently stumped by Dom Haddock (two fairly wide and turning wider, and the other pushed down the leg-side).

In between all this excitement, I even took a catch - probably the best catch I've ever taken, running forwards from short fine-leg, then diving full-stretch (or that's what it felt like, it was probably more like an uncoordinated tumble) to grasp it just off the turf.

Luckily I made up for all of this by helping to run Jez out after our top order had failed to show the same discipline as Chesham. After our chase of Chesham's 195 had ground to a halt in a flurry of poorly executed heaves, Jez and I were calmly blocking out the remaining overs. But then Jez called, I hesitated, we both hesitated, Jez ran a bit and stopped, I ran a bit more and stopped, and then we decided that the best course of action was evidently to have a meeting in the middle of the pitch to discuss whether there ought to have been a run or not. I was sent on my way, before being called back by a very selfless Stevens. Unfortunately Charlie was out to a good one a few balls later and the team had registered a second home loss of the season.  

Guess who's back?

February: it's dark, cold and beginning to snow - which makes it an ideal time to start thinking about the season ahead. This Sunday sees the mighty Heath reconvene after a well-earned winter's rest for the first pre-season practice of 2013.

Sadly, we're not jetting off to Mumbai to acclimatise to turning pitches and boisterous crowds, but to the indoor nets of the Beacon School. There is a slight problem with pre-season net practice at  the Beacon and that is that the indoor nets are so bouncy as to turn ropey long-hops into vicious bouncers and all shots apart from the cut completely unfeasible.

Unfortunately, what this means is that for the first match of the season our bowlers invariably dig it in half-way down a water-logged pitch and get dispatched to the boundary, whilst our batsman loiter on the back-foot as if it's Day 1 at the WACA, only to get comprehensively bowled by one that fails to rise above the ankles. Ah, the joys of village cricket.

It's customary a this time of year for me to set some personal targets for the year ahead, but looking back over the past few seasons, they are always the same (score a fifty, don't bowl dross, don't drop too many) and I always fail to meet them, so this year, like a public sector middle manager, I'm going to make my targets far more achievable: play the cricket sometimes, win some of it, do ok sometimes, drink at the Plough, turn up to the Beer Festival.

Oh and I'm vaguely thinking of getting my bat made lighter, in the vain belief that this will rectify my horribly creaky technique.

2013: it's going to a cracker.

HHCC vs Ivinghoe & Pitstone

A disappointing season in terms of personal achievement came to a close in fitting fashion on Sunday: after my fielding was horribly exposed and my bowling sadly overlooked, I was then invited to open the batting. Two balls later I was back in the pavilion having bottom edged a yorker onto my off stump. Screw you, cricket!

My personal travails rather mirrored those of the Heath, as we were winkled out for 105 to cap a season that never quite got going. With no less than five matches cancelled due to the weather, our stats at the end of the season – played 17, won 8, lost 6, drawn 3 – were hardly much to write home about, and certainly a far cry from the glory days of 2008-2011 when the mighty Heath carried all before them.

A distinct end-of-term feel pervaded our performance throughout. After getting off to a late start, we put in one of our worst fielding efforts of the year. My ground fielding was woeful, and we put down a good 5 or 6 catches (Shrimpy two, of which one was very tough, Liam a very sharp one, Ali and Sohail one each). There were misfields, the odd mini-strop, and overthrows galore – 8 runs gifted in two balls by myself and Jez, Chasey the unfortunate bowler.

As it was, we were saved from having to chase anything to large thanks to Ivinghoe and Pitstone’s traditional middle order recklessness and some excellent, crafty off-spin from Richard Austin, who varied his flight well, bowled very few bad balls, and relied mostly on drift and undercut away from the batsman rather than big spin off the surface to record career-best figures of 7-44. Not a single one of those was a ‘gimme’ – the classic spinner’s wicked caught on the boundary – all were genuine dismissals where the batsman was out-thought.

The other highlight was a magical slower ball from Ali to dismiss I&P's hard-hitting opener. After being driven down the ground for a spate of booming boundaries, Ali unfurled a perfectly disguised off-break, which completely deceived the batsman, sneaked under his bat, and bowled him in highly satisying fashion. Shades of Steven Harmison c2005: "Ali Richards! With a slower ball! One of the great balls! Given the moment, given the batsman..." Oh shut up, Mark.

Unfortunately our batting couldn’t quite match Ritchie’s (or Ali's) craft. Nobody ever really got in and it was a pretty sorry innings from start to finish. There were two memorable bright spots on an otherwise grey day, however: firstly, Liam sealed his victory in the Duck Cup in resounding style, crowning the season with a goldie to underline his prowess in this area.

And secondly: the umpiring of a certain Paul Haddock, who, in a perhaps unrelated move, recently added your increasingly humble correspondent to his “professional network” via LinkedIn. (In parentheses: we’re aware of the strangely timed line break above, but, trust us, this little anecdote deserves a paragraph of its own). It’s difficult to explain exactly what went through his once-great legal mind (perhaps it was the rare sight of Charlie’s arrival at the crease?) but suffice it to say that never before has the Heath born witness to an over consisting of no less than ten legitimate deliveries. Umpiring serenely from the Plough End, Paul ignored repeated entreaties from his square-leg colleague (ahem, me) as well as increasingly urgent calls from the scorers. Ball after ball was ushered through, as the over mounted to near-mythical proportions. Eventually, to the bafflement of fielders and onlookers alike, Paul had enough and called it a day. Wisden is being notified as we speak.

Fare thee well, cricket. Till another year.

Abbots Langley vs HHCC

A global first for Cricket Tragics - yes, it's Google Earth Analysis! Plus, a 1,500-word dossier report from the ever-thorough Richard Austin. Rather putting the Tragics editorial team to shame here - perhaps it'll inspire them to raise their game a notch for the last match of the season?  Or perhaps not...

Some of you may be familiar with the ‘Twelfth Man’ recordings by Billy Birmingham which satirise Channel 9’s sports coverage in general and cricket in particular. If you haven’t listened to the ‘tapes’ then you really should. One of the best is ‘The Final Dig’ in which there is spoof coverage of a one-day international between Aus and NZ, set against the backdrop of Richie Benaud planning to retire as Commentary Team Captain and the other (flawed) commentators jostling to replace him. In this match Australia score something over 400 in their 50 overs and the Kiwi’s very nearly chase the total down (at one point Richie starts singing ‘that’s Parore’). Well the Heath’s trip to Abbots Langley last Sunday wasn’t quite that dramatic, but we did see nearly 500 runs scored off 72 overs!

We’ve had to endure some pretty dreadful weather this ‘summer’, so it made a pleasant change to have some proper cricketing weather at last and to be playing away from home on a high-quality ground boasting such luxuries as sight-screens (wow), a scorebox (gosh) and a bar (wahay)! If this all felt a bit like being on tour, Charlie reminded us that Abbots Langley (only one ‘t’ btw) would be a tough challenge, especially as we were fielding a much altered line-up (there were something like 12 players not available) and would be playing a dreaded ‘overs game’.

Reduced as we were it says something for The Mighty Heath’s talent pool that we still looked a pretty strong team on paper. The good news was we had a variety of bowlers and a whole posse of attacking batsmen. (I say ‘posse’ but I don’t actually know what the collective noun is for middle order batsmen – I plumped for posse as I quite like the cowboy connotations). Less good were the issues of balance in our team in that we had no recognised wicket keeper and no recognised opening partner for Shrimpy. Accordingly (and in view of the scorchingly hot weather) Charlie’s plan was to break with long standing HHCC tradition and bat first if we won the toss! A fine plan it was too, the sun was out, the large outfield was lightning fast and the pitch looked likely to be a belter – bowler’s purgatory, in other words. Charlie’s plan was soon in tatters as the oppo won the toss and decided to bat, so he asked Jez to roll back the years and don the ‘keeper’s gloves as we all trooped out to field in the baking heat.

Initially all went very well as ALCC struggled slowly to a mere 23 off the first 10 overs. At one end Fiddy located a perfect length and went for a mere 11 off 5 overs, whilst at the other Luke was working up some serious ‘wheels’ and was unlucky not to pick up a wicket as flashing edges found the gaps in the field. The initial slow run-rate was illusory however, as the change bowlers came on it became clear that their skipper was adopting the 1970’s/80’s ODI tactic of building slowly initially with an eye for fireworks later (we were to adopt a more modern approach in our innings but more on that anon). What’s more, as the change bowlers (Sohail and yours truly) came on, the irritating tendency for the ball to unerringly land in space continued and as the scoring rate began to increase. We were reminded that we were playing on a serious large ground.

After spilling a number of difficult chances we had a brief period of success where we took 2 quick wickets, the second of which was a fine direct-hit run out by Jez who had passed the gloves to Shrimpy and was bowling by now. This simply meant that their skipper (approaching 50 and beginning to look dangerous) was joined by their Aussie ‘Pro’ who began to dismantle our attack. Our fielders looked like mere dots in a sea of green. Ball after ball flew to the boundary like tracer-bullets avoiding the fielders entirely or ricocheting painfully of shins, elbows, chins and other miscellaneous body parts. It looked likely that we would be faced with a total well past 300. Our bowlers tried to find areas where the Aussie was less destructive but there weren’t any. Jez becalmed him for a short while via the innovative tactic of bowling numerous wides but even that was just delaying the punishment. Fortunately for us, both batsmen sportingly retired at 100 leaving the incoming middle-order with little time to get themselves in and thereby providing us with a little respite. The run-rate thus abated somewhat and Abbots Langley finished on a mere 274 for 5. I won’t mention our bowler’s figures as it would be unsporting to do so.

As the rest of us piled into the marvellous tea-time spread provided by our hosts (‘trying to match the Legendary Hyde Heath teas’ in the words of their skipper), Charlie was faced with his second conundrum of the day; who to open with Shrimpy? Again, Jez got the nod, which prompted the suggestion that perhaps Liam should go out to umpire just to keep the Duck Award for 2012 interesting! Such speculation was soon ended as Jez got-off the mark confidently with a lovely cut that almost went for four; he was looking good in the demanding role of keeper/bowler/fielder/batsman, until that is he got out next ball to a ball that swung in sharply!

At the other end Shrimpy was timing the ball beautifully and looking in great nick, but when he was run-out and Nick (our overseas pro) followed shortly after, we found ourselves in the parlous position of 17 for 3. If the oppo were tempted to entertain thoughts of an easy win, Luke and Spence suggested that they may have to think again as they re-built the innings with gusto. Luke looked in imperious form unfurling one glorious cover drive after another and was well supported by Fiddy who was timing the ball sweetly. At 90 for 3 after 12 overs we were back in the hunt until Luke found himself on the wrong end of a very harsh leg-before decision just two short of 50. This was a blow, but Sohail and Fidds maintained the tempo of our innings moving the score to 143 for 4 after 19 overs. We were ahead of the asking rate and it was game-on! In fact we had been up with the run-rate from the word go, treating the start of our innings as if it were a power-play with 13 in the first over and adopting (like I mentioned earlier) the modern approach to a limited-overs innings of hitting from the outset.

One highlight of their fifty partnership was a colossal six from Sohail that sailed over the sightscreen into the car park. This brought back memories of his mighty smite against Petts Wood a few years back. I’ve consulted Google Earth and can confidently measure this hit at a whopping 90m; only 4m shy of the distance he achieved at Petts Wood in 2009:




An attempt at repeating this feat over mid-wicket wasn’t quite so well timed however and the catch was duly snaffled just shy of the boundary. This brought yours truly to the crease to support Spencer as he approached a maiden (and well-deserved) 50 for the Heath. Unfortunately Fiddy was removed by an absolute peach of a delivery from their promising off-spinner that dipped and spun and removed his off-bail leaving him, like Luke before, just 2 short of 50. It seemed the writing was on the wall now as our ‘posse’ was nearly gone.

A stand between Jake and I got us to 193 for 6 with 12 overs left and perhaps instilled some last hope for us and some doubt in the minds of the opposition until we pressed for one quick ran 2 too many (I was trying to farm the strike) and Jake was run-out. There was a moment of merriment as Angus our other non-english player (a debateable point as it turns out) walked out to bat with left-handed gloves belonging to the oppo’s Aussie. Perhaps he was hoping that some of the magic would rub-off; it didn’t - he was bowled by their spinner in similar fashion to Spence and Liam before him. With their seamers about to return there was hope that Charlie could hang around, but it wasn’t to be as he also was bowled leaving your correspondent unbeaten on 59 and our innings perforce closed at 219 all out off 32 overs.

Okay so we lost. But it was a manly effort and had we not lost those early wickets we could very easily have won. In any case the result didn’t matter that much as it was a thoroughly entertaining game of cricket.

HHCC vs Roxbourne

A brand new opposition – replacing Old Salops at the last minute – brought out an impressive display from a Hyde Heath side missing a few key players. We lost the toss and – shock! horror! – were put into bat on a grey and muggy day offering plenty of swing. Dom and Henry did an excellent job of negotiating the early movement, before Dom was given out LBW by Matty.

Out strode at number 3 a man wielding the very bat apparently once used by a certain Chris Gale (it's a long story). But alas, it was not the former West Indian captain taking a break from Twenty20 duties to try out something more meaningful, but none other than yours truly, not exactly the kind of big-hitting run machine that has opposition bowling attacks quaking in their boots. But with a bit of luck – I played and missed quite a bit and had a vague-looking drive put down at gulley – I managed to scratch away and keep Henry company to set a platform for the lower order to attack/collapse. We were helped by their bowling, which, whilst accurate and frustrating, needed to be a smidge fuller and quite a bit straighter in order to take full advantage of the overhead conditions.

After I departed – stumped having an aimless waft – Capper continued on to a really excellent unbeaten century, the backbone of an ultimately very creditable total of 211. As ever he was particularly strong between mid-on and mid-wicket but there were some back-foot drives through the offside too and a sumptuous clip off his toes that sped to the boundary with little more than a flick.

From there, a combination of Ali – predictably excelling in the conditions – and Spencer – less predictably sticking to a much better length than usual – kept the opposition top order frustrated and pegged back with regular enough wickets. Perhaps they bowled too long though, and by the time the spinners came on, the draw was the only real likelihood. Although the cause wasn't really helped by the fact that Atif and I bowled utter dross once the rain started to fall. Charlie (Capper's cousin) was more incisive and we fielded well too to have them 9 down by the close, but with the ball soggy, fat and hard to grip, we never quite looked like bowling them out.

Special mention ought to be made this week of the teas – an array of splendid cakes from my dearest Mother, and sandwiches by, um, me. Pat yourself on the back. Why, thank you.

HHCC vs Bank of England

I unfurl yet another devastating leave. This is what the crowds have come to see.
Image credit: Al Shirley.

After last year's blip it was back once again to winning ways against the Bank of England, without doubt one of the most fun fixtures of the year. This time it was not so much the fancy dress – although the Olympics drugs tester was an inspired call – but the cricket that got the crowds a-natter over a glorious bank holiday weekend.

Truth be told however, it's now over two weeks since the match in question and despite regular, increasingly urgent, reminders from Mrs Capper, I've been distinctly remiss in my duties. The result is that I can barely remember a thing, and therefore, in the style of cutting edge (exploitative, loss-making) media companies like the Guardian, Cricket Tragics are going down the route of crowdsourcing.

So, below is a list of the things that I can remember from the match. Those who were there (and even those who weren't) please feel free to add in your memories/fantasies/apocryphal anecdotes. Thanks awfully!

Those bullet points then:

1. The highlight of the match by some distance: Jez's devastating opening spell – devastating for us, that is. What was that, Jez? 8 wides in three overs? Richard Austin was crying with laughter at 1st slip. Apparently it had been a big night... The most amazing thing was that Charlie's decision to remove him from the attack was met not by the usual scowl of displeasure but a big grin from the bowler himself. Priceless.



2. Otherwise, we bowled tidily enough until two of the Bank's middle order took a liking to our change bowling and thrashed the total up to in the region of 190.

3. In what seems like a new strategy designed to minimise the percentage of the match report dedicated exclusively to my own (in)actions I wasn't called upon to bowl, and instead was asked to open the batting.

4. Instead of taking full advantage of a lack-lustre bowling attack, I slapped a full toss to mid-off for 9 to pave the way for a brilliant partnership between Shrimpy and Simon Chase, who put on something in the region of 150.

5. The highlight of which was Chasey's nonchalent dismantling of their off-spinner: lofted straight drive for four, deft reverse-sweep for two, fierce pull for four more. Have a blow mate. Thank you very much.


Chasey on the drive



(PS. This week's match – against Wroxbourne or something – is written up and ready to go. Don't want to spoil you though: will post tomorrow!)