HHCC vs HHCC

Ah cricket. Ah England. Two weeks of solid sun, and when it comes to the much anticipated curtain raiser to the Hyde Heath 2010 season, what happens? It bloody rains. But we're a tough breed down at the Heath and a wee bit of second innings rain was never going to stop us getting our cricket on.

With the final of the third IPL being screened in the evening, there was definitely a sense that some of the glamour of that tournament had rubbed off on the Heath. Everyone arrived pretty much on time, Jez, Richard and Napes were all nursing injuries (just like Sachin Tendulkar), and we even had a couple of overseas players in the form of Tim's Australian friend (whose name at this moment escapes me) and hotly-tipped Sri Lankan all-rounder Amala (exact spelling to be confirmed).

Me batting

The format of this match is always a slightly unusual one. Two teams of ten Heath players aside face up to each other. In one corner Charlie's Spitfires (captained by stalwart Heath skipper Charlie Samuels) and in the other, Capper's Cavaliers, led by Henry “MS Dhoni” Capper, in a particularly smart retro HHCC baggy blue, dating from Robin's playing days some years ago. The match was to be 40 overs per innings, with a maximum of 8 overs per bowler. Batsmen were allowed a life until they reached 10, and had to retire at 50.

Richard Cousins takes a low catch at 1st slip

And so to the cricket. Somebody won the toss, and we (the Spitfires) batted first. Haddock and Simms got us off to a good start, and Amala continued the good work, driving wristily and picking the gaps at will. If we can get over the fact that it really is quite a trek for Amala to travel from Walthamstow every Sunday, we could have a pretty serious top order this year.

And then, the moment they'd all been waiting for: I strode to the crease, feeling in no form at all. After using up my life top edging a first-ball mow off Richard Austin (bowling off breaks today) I Settled down to score a pretty scratchy half century. Mistimed drives for one were interspersed with the odd pull shot and edge to third man, in a characteristically dour innings. In my defence, Ali, Nick and Rich all bowled extremely well and I was pretty pleased just to battle it out until told to retire. Shame it doesn't count for the averages...

Captain and President survey conditions

After some powerful striking by Brad at the death, we made it up to 193, a competitive total we thought. Rain, however, brought reduced overs and target and it all got a bit confusing. But suffice to say that I bowled rubbish, Capper and Nick both made runs in quick time, and we lost fairly comfortably.

Hey ho, it was nice to get the season started, see everybody again, and to be told by Richard Austin that my new haircut apparently makes me look like George Orwell. Ah the Heath.

What the Mighty Heath could learn from Team England

Two apologies are due: firstly for the extreme quietness of Cricket Tragics over the winter. We've been in hibernation. And secondly for taking a month to post this piece. It comes from Mr J Capper, Hyde Heath Chairman, umpire, and stalwart buyer of rounds in the Plough, so really our tardiness is inexcusable. Sorry JC!

I have been lucky enough to be in Johannesburg watching the 4th and final Test between England and the “Proteas”, as they are now called, from the first ball on Thursday, 14th January to the last on Sunday, 17th. It’s the first game for many years, other than at Hyde Heath, that I have watched from first ball to last and there were a number of rather interesting comparisons. I just wondered whether any of the differences could be the catalyst to the Heath turning into the team they would like to be – or maybe not.

First thing: as we were getting up for breakfast there was a wailing of police sirens, the like of which suggested, at the very least, a major bank robbery, and reinforcing our concerns regarding crime in Jo’burg. Actually it was the England team coach and the escort heading to the ground, crossing all the red lights, and arriving 1 ½ hours before the scheduled toss. Now Atif might have mistakenly jumped a red light, but probably on his evening job, delivering pizzas rather than arriving in a rush to be early, but certainly no-one, other than Charlie, our captain, ever arrived that early before a start. Actually, Jeremy, who lives closer to the ground than anyone else – his house could be used as a boundary marker – usually arrives some time after the teams have taken the field. Not that useful if we’re fielding, as he is one of our opening bowlers! So, the England team arrived early and then started stretching and “warming up”. Not usually seen at the Heath, but there was some familiarity in practicing slip-catching before the game, different only because there was no delay looking for the ball in the nettles every three attempts.

Once the match starts, the teams run (yes, run) onto the pitch with the captain leading (and, even he was running, not hobbling) everyone else following closely, no-one is still smoking and they all seem to go straight to their correct fielding places – they all even seem to know from which end the first over will be bowled and. they don’t have to re-adjust the clock for a delayed start.

Once the game is under way there are a lot of similarities. Probably, the way the ball seemed to be bowled so much faster was down to being so high above sea-level and not any reflection on the fitness of our opening attack. The players on the boundary remember to stop signing autographs in time to walk in for the next ball. Everyone remembers to walk in apart from some excessive players who ran in – every ball. The ball kept on being thrown back to the keeper – not, however, to the left, right or high above him. Each throw was backed-up – and usually stopped. There was an interesting ploy of catching the ball as it traveled back to the bowler, I had always assumed our tactics of dropping it as it was passed round, caused one side to get roughened up slightly quicker...

Strangely, there was no sign of sulking or throwing toys out of the pram when a bowler was taken off, nor did we see any bat-throwing despite some strange decisions. None of the players looked like they were only picked because their wife was making the tea or because their dad was Chairman, Alright, the Barmy Army did make a lot of noise but the WAGs at the Heath aren’t that quiet, particularly as the evening wears on. The only other unusual detail – no-one wore black socks!

Could the “Mighty Heath” learn from this? Probably not; after all, in spite of the early arrival, the keenness in the field and the correct attire, they still lost. Badly.

HHCC vs Bank of England

A pretty straightforward victory over the Bank of England touring team on Sunday ensured an enjoyable Bank Holiday weekend for everyone at the Heath.

In slightly chilly and overcast conditions, stand-in skipper Henry Capper won the toss and elected to field. In Jez’s absence our opening attack consisted of Luke Brennan and James Aird. Luke, in particular, bowled as rapidly as anyone on our team has for years. Sticking to a good line and getting some sharp bounce from a hard, flat wicket he troubled all of their top order. At the other end, Airdy bowled an expensive opening over but soon found his rhythm. Two excellent reflex catches by Capper and an inside edge onto the stumps meant the Bank were three down with about 40 on the board and we were into their middle order.

Brad strikes

Brad and I then bowled in tandem for the next hour or so, taking three wickets each to knock over the Bank for around about 140. I bowled probably the best I’ve bowled all season early on, landing it on a good length and getting appreciable turn and bounce – I even landed a googly and it turned! One dismissal was particularly satisfying: the ball pitched on about leg or middle and leg, the batsman played defensively half-forward, the ball ripped across him, taking the edge to be very well caught by Anouj low down at slip. A real dismissal, like on the telly!

Me Bowling

There were a few entertaining moments as I began to tire and drop short. Nick, fielding on the cover boundary, failed to stop a succession of cut shots, much to his own bemusement. Then I slipped a rank wide down the leg-side which Capper failed to stop. The batsmen went for a quick single. Brad picked up at short fine leg and fizzed the ball in. A direct hit! Surely the batsman was out? But their umpire said no, and the ball cannoned away to the boundary. 6 wides then: that’s got to be a first.

Capper batting

After tea, Capper and Shrimpton opened up and put together a solid partnership, before Shrimpy was LBW. Nick then provided the late fireworks with some beefy hitting as we reached the target one down before even reaching the 20 overs to go mark. With Capper in fine form for his unbeaten 74 we probably could have chased 300.

The Bank’s players – as is their wont – then got dressed up in fancy dress. With a theme of ‘something beginning with G’ there were some great outfits – gangsters, gladiators, gays and even God. With singing and dancing until closing time, the Plough didn’t know what had hit it...

Ivinghoe & Pitstone vs HHCC

Back in July when Henry Capper dropped an absolute dolly against Chesham Bois, I wrote “Surely this year’s Cack Award is in the bag?” After Sunday’s loss away to Ivinghoe & Pitstone, that may well have to be reconsidered. I emerged as a serious contender for the award by dropping two (or, according to Richard Austin, 3) moderately straightforward catches at long-on. The sun was at a pretty tricky angle though…

At least I had earlier contributed to the team cause by taking a rather good catch, running and then diving forward at mid-wicket. In a rare limited overs game for the Heath, I had also bowled tidily to record figures of 2 for 18 from my allocated 8 overs – both wickets plum LBW. Capper, on the other hand, reasserted his hold over the coveted Cack Award with a performance of masterful incompetence. Waiting at the Plough before heading off, I received a call to say that he had just woken up, under an hour before we were due to start, in Hackney. When he did eventually arrive, about 30 overs into the match, he kicked off with two terrible throws from the outfield, both leading to overthrows, and was then out, caught at mid-off for single figures. Classy.

Despite all this, the Heath started well. We had the opposition 45 for 5 after they had won the toss and elected to bat. But from here our fielding disintegrated and we allowed them to finish on 174, with their young left-hander scoring one of the worst 50s I’ve seen in a while. In all, we dropped eight catches – Nick two caught and bowled chances (one was admittedly very tough), Dom two behind the stumps (and he failed to collect the ball for a run-out), Airdy one running backwards at point, Jez a sitter off me at mid-on, and of course my two (or three) at long-on.

Our top order then made a meal of the run-chase and before long we were about 35 for 5 with myself and Nick at the crease. We proceeded to forge a partnership of 103, with Nick playing some fantastic shots, none better than a gloriously timed straight six back over the head of their off-spinner. We ran well between the wickets and I simply sought to give Nick as much of the strike as possible. With about 35 needed off 6 (I think) I was bowled for 36, cutting one that kept low and the match was very much in the balance.

Nick then took their other off-spinner to the cleaners, with some clean hitting over mid wicket and with 14 needed off 18 balls surely the match was ours for the taking. But then their opening bowler returned to bowl his last over. He started by clean bowling James Aird for 0, but when Brad struck him beautifully through mid on for 4, we were surely home and dry?

Alas, no. Brad was bowled off the penultimate ball and Jez was then cleaned up first ball, the last of the over. Charlie strode out, needing only to give Nick the strike. Their medium-pacer bowled a clever slower ball, Charlie played down the wrong line and was bowled – another Heath duck. We were all out 8 runs short, with Nick left unbeaten on 93. It was a pretty poor team performance in an exciting match: Nick’s innings was brilliant, and we really let him down.

But we won the Ashes, and that’s all that really matters.

HHCC vs Gamecocks

Apologies to all our many fans for the quietness of Cricket Tragics of late: there’s nothing like a thrashing in the Ashes to quash our enthusiasm for writing. I also had to attend a wedding last weekend and therefore missed my first Hyde Heath match of the season – by all accounts it was an eventful day, with a first-rate strop from Richard Austin and Henry Capper given out LBW by his dad.

But it was good for me to get some time away from the game and the gruelling schedule that all HHCC stalwarts must deal with. I had some time to really think about my cricket and come back stronger than ever. Well sort of. We won the toss (again) and elected to field (again). Austin and Jez kept things tight against a rather shotless opening pair before Jez struck with what was described as the one good delivery of his spell.

James Shrimpton on the attack- or is he caught & bowled?

After a bit, Charlie signalled to me to get loose. As I began to do some half-hearted stretching and think vaguely about how best to disguise my long-hop, Nick bowled a leg stump full toss that was fairly drilled to me close in and behind square on the leg side. First thought: “that’s seriously travelling – get the bloody hell out the way!” Second: “maybe I should make a token effort to catch this”. Third: “Oh Christ, I’ve only gone and caught it!” The poor old batsman didn’t realise how unlucky he was.

But he was about to... After that moment of glory it was my turn to bowl. The first delivery was a gently looping low full toss which the batsman hit straight back at me. I was so excited about the prospect of taking two catches in as many overs that I promptly dropped it. A sitter. Shortly afterwards I bowled the same ball to the same batsman who played the same shot with the same result. Another bloody simple drop. Oh dear. I also missed a fairly simple run out not long after...

Anyway, I carried on wheeling away with surprising accuracy and a little dip and turn. After about ten overs though, I began to wonder if I’d ever get a wicket. Well I did. As Gamecocks began to search for quick runs their shots became increasingly desperate and I finished with 4 for 39 from 15 overs. Bloody exhausted.

So Gamecocks finished with 136 and Dom Haddock and Henry Capper set about destroying their bowling. Haddock was particularly brutal, punishing anything over- or under-pitched on his way to 67 off 40 balls. He hit three sixes, one of which – flat over square leg – was a real cracker. We lost a couple of wickets towards the end but reached the target three down inside 19 overs to seal a comprehensive victory.

HHCC Marine Tour, Kent 2009

Tour time! This year Captain Matt Simms had declared a marine theme, and recruited an able crew to man the good ship Heath and take on the might of Kent’s cricketing villages. The various vessels arrived in Meopham in time for a spot of overpriced lunch at the aptly-named Long Hop. And then, we were ready to rumble.

The oppo won the toss and invited us to have a bat. For some reason I was asked to open the innings alongside Henry Capper, but the experiment failed when I got a leading edge to cover and was dismissed without scoring. No matter though, as Capper, James Shrimpton and Will Reynolds all registered half-centuries to take the Heath to a respectable 223 off our 40 overs. Will’s peppering of the third man and fine leg boundaries more than made up for a stolid passage in which Ben Sonley ground his way to 12 from 42 balls. In the closing overs the quest for quick runs produced some amusing moments – in particular, ducks from Atif, bowled having a wild heave, and Captain Simms, stumped by a 14 year-old keeper off the bowling of a 12 year-old.

Meopham started brightly, but their hard-hitting, gum-chewing Aussie opener was dismissed courtesy of a stinging return catch by Jez, and the Heath sensed their chance. Richard Austin bowled his allocated overs off the reel and, finding an immaculate length and zipping it both ways off the pitch, finished with the outstanding figures of 5 for 19 to break the back of the Meopham innings. At the other end, Shrimpy followed up his 50 with three wickets and we bowled them out for 103 – our first victory against Meopham at the third attempt. Credit, unusually, must go to Atif (Keith) “Scrappy Doo” Mirza who took a very good catch diving forward to partly atone for his earlier batting.

The marine theme guaranteed some interesting awards in the post-match ceremony. We were all given fish badges, the three batsmen who registered 0 were awarded rubber ducks to wear, and Will was honoured with a Shark Head award for ruthlessly edging the ball behind square all day. Then the evening saw our return to the scene of so much amusement last year – namely Lashings. But, to our disappointment, the outdoor beanbags had been removed – apparently they had gone mouldy, or something. We also forwent the usual expensive dinner in favour of takeaway from a rather insalubrious kebab shop, in which some local crackhead repeatedly asked us about the exact spelling of the word “circumcised”. God bless Maidstone...

The next day saw us prepare to take on the mighty Harvel, who we somehow beat last year (courtesy of a great spell from Ritchie and some excellent batting from Keith Mirza and, um, me...) Anyway, this year we were running rather late, thanks to some poorly functioning alarm clocks and Matt’s erratic navigating. The game was 50 overs this time and we decided to bat first – mainly, as Matt realised, because nobody was really in a fit state to take the field. The skipper opened the batting with Capper and the two of them ground out a really attritional opening stand. At one stage we were 16 without loss from 10 overs. Riveting stuff – so much so that Richard Austin, scoring at the time, had to call for a knife, his pencil blunted by a seemingly endless succession of dots.

Matt’s eventual departure was followed by Shrimpy’s – pulling a long-hop to a diving mid-wicket – and I joined Capper at the crease, our aim to bat until lunch. That we duly did, courtesy of some good batting from Capper and some characteristically tedious blocking from yours truly. Lunch was a delicious curry and that – or my dismissal of last night’s booze into the ladies loos (sorry!) – gave the innings a bit of impetus. I pulled the first ball after lunch for four and hit a few boundaries off their Sri Lankan leg-spinner, but was then stumped for 41 with about 8 overs to go.

That actually worked out rather well as James Aird and Richard Austin then attacked in fine style. Airdy made 40 in double-quick time, including some beefy hits for 6. We finished then with 207. Was it to be enough?

In short, no. But before their innings even started, I was on my way back to the pavilion nursing a cut cheek and black eye thanks to their opening batsmen. As I was placing the bail on the stump, he decided to use his bat to hit the stump more firmly into the ground, and instead cracked me in the face. It bloody hurt, but was obviously rather hilarious as well, so sympathy was pretty minimal. Oh well.

We dismissed their openers quickly, but that proved to be a mistake as Sri Lankan overseas player Dhushantha Ranatunga proceeded to dismantle our bowling attack with grace, timing and precision placement. Airdy bowled splendidly to at least force the odd defensive stroke, but once he’d reached 50, Rana gave him the charge, donked the ball over the sightscreen for 6, and promptly retired.

The remaining batsmen were equally murderous, if less attractive, and myself, Keith Mirza and Ritchie (crocked after yesterday’s exertions) came in for some fearful tap. Keith went at 10 an over and Ritchie’s six balls cost 14, including a hilarious misfield from Keith at fine-leg. The ball was rolling gently towards him, but a couple of young children were accidentally standing in the way. Instead of walking round them and picking the ball up, Keith calmly stood and watched as it dribbled over the boundary for 4. Cue an apoplectic exchange between the bowler and Scrappy Doo. One only hopes the children were out of earshot by that stage...

Anyway, Harvel knocked off the runs in 25 overs, which left us plenty of time for boozing and a game of one-hand-one-bounce. Exactly as last year, Atif demonstrated his poor sportsmanship by continuously refusing to walk. Our catching though was excellent – if only it had been the same in the real cricket.

That evening, disappointed by Lashings’ lack of beanbags, we headed to the Maidstone Wetherspoon’s for some well-earned binge-drinking. Somehow Capper managed to place himself in charge of the whip – even the barmaid asked us why we had entrusted out money with that guy – but a load of tequila later, nobody was too bothered.

Friday then dawned bright and fair and we spent an enjoyable morning watching Australia’s batsmen capitulate against the swinging ball at Edgbaston. Might that be an omen of things to come against Pett’s Wood? Well, maybe.

Matt lost the toss and we were again invited to bat. Capper’s third opening partner in as many matches was Scrappy Doo, attempting to make up for two consecutive tour ducks, which he did, kind of: off the mark with a wild heave that went down to third man for 4, and bowled essaying a similar shot an over or so later. The Heath innings was dominated by 75 from Shrimpton who had earlier run out Capper for 21. The fact that he had told me the over before that a run out might be on the cards suggests perhaps the competition for the batting cup is getting pretty cut-throat this season.

Richard Austin also made a hard-hitting unbeaten 36 down the order, but it was Sohail, representing the Heath for the first time this season, who really caught the eye. His 53 included some seriously meaty blows, none bigger than a massive six into someone’s garden a good 30 yards over the long-on boundary. All of which helped us to a pretty solid 235 all out, and with a strong bowling line-up we were confident of forcing victory.

I opened the bowling from the pavilion end and Sohail and Airdy did the work from the other end. Sohail took 2 wickets, before I got into the action, yorking one of their players. And then, the turning point: a triple wicket maiden for yours truly. The first one dipped quite sharply, turned a fraction and took leg stump, the second was a rank long hop that the batsman miscued straight back at me – caught and bowled. The new batsman managed to keep out a vicious leg-side full toss to avert the hat-trick, but then thumped another half-tracker, this time way down the leg-side, straight to Airdy at short fine leg. Oh dear, what an over.

I continued to dish up a load of twaddle and for a minute it looked like Pett’s Wood might escape with the draw, but Jez came on and took the last wicket to finally dismiss them for 132. A convincing victory that made up for last year’s lacklustre defeat, and meant we finished the tour with a creditable 2-1 win/loss ratio. And so to the pub again; for some final awards, fines, and massive thanks from all to Matt for organising yet another splendid tour.

World Exclusive! The 26.5 yard pitch!

Thank God for the internet, huh? In times of yore, if one’s story was suppressed by mainstream media outlets, the options were pretty limited: you could print your own pamphlets (costly), wear a be-sloganed sandwich-board around London town (and risk being deemed a crackpot) or simply keep schtum. Well not any more!

Cricket Tragics have been in contact with a certain member of Hyde Heath cricket club who has had his story suppressed for nearly 3 years now. It was never published on the official HHCC website due to behind-the-scenes political double-dealings, but now, at last, the truth will out! Cricket Tragics spearheads the fight for freedom!

Reproduced below is the letter that has caused all the trouble.

Sir,

I would like to report what I believe is a first in the normally not-very-cutthroat world of village cricket.

Early this season, I turned out as is my wont for the village of Hyde Heath in a friendly match against the normally very friendly local village of Chartridge. We lost the toss and the opposition elected to bat on a track which our groundsman had covered with our newly-acquired plastic sheeting (aka “covers”) at 7.30 that morning, displaying a meteorological prescience which would have shamed Bill Fish.

It rained “halberds” as the French say until just before the scheduled start time of 2.00 but we were able to remove our covers and start play on time on a wicket which was dry and bouncy.

Being the first match of the season, there was a certain inevitability that our opening duo who are unplayable by mid-August, should display some rustiness, characterised by an apparent inability to land the ball in the batsman’s half of the wicket. This tactic, apparently intentional, elicited from the opposing batsmen a degree of aggression quite out of keeping with a so-called friendly match.

The bowlers continued to bowl very short, the batsmen repeatedly dispatched the ball to all corners of the lush early season outfield and the score was well into the 20s after only 15 minutes or so. Dissent began to grow in the Hyde Heath camp. Our captain was known to have imbibed injudiciously the previous evening, our 11th man’s fielding revealed that he had never visited a cricket field before, our keeper was taking the ball on the second bounce and our widely acclaimed team spirit was beginning to falter. Matters came to a head when 2nd slip, our self-appointed senior pro, provocatively challenged the captain to “get a grip of his bowlers”.

At this point your humble correspondent, having witnessed proceedings from the vantage point of first slip, reached a trial conclusion: the wicket was too long. Nature has blessed me with a natural one-yard stride and I was able to ascertain by dint of measured pacing that the pitch was not one, not even three but a full 4.5 yards longer than it should be, an excess in excess of 20%!

Imagine: a cold April day, an over-wintered bowler no longer in the first flush of youth seeking to build up to a full 63mph and finding that he is unable to land the ball anywhere near the opposing batsman and then discovering that our Chairman, an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist with apparent aspirations to be a pitch inspector, abetted by our normally competent groundsman, had conspired to create a Frankenstein monster of a pitch fully 26.5 yards long.

The bald facts of the case are that we re-measured the pitch, re-drew the creases, allowed the visitors the benefit of their good fortune and hung on for a draw. The deeper and alarming truth is that two teams of professed enthusiasts of the summer game plus two seasoned umpires failed to spot the travesty.

Is this an indictment of the falling standards which beset our society more widely; or was something more sinister at work, perhaps some form of mass hypnosis? Ball-tampering is one thing, but pitch-tampering! How would Darrell Hair have addressed such a threat? The longer-term ramifications are still unclear, but one feels that our beloved game is in peril. This matter is a long way from over.

20 September 2006

Name withheld by the editors of Cricket Tragics