Sunday 22 May 2011

21/05/11 - Wimbledon


To Wimbledon, then, for my second game of league cricket in seven years. We're in the middle tier of the Surrey Ryman Division whatever league, the winners of which win a Porsche and 72 virgins made out of solid gold, or something. Last time out I didn't bat but I did throw down the stumps from fine leg for a run out, thus giving these boys a wholly unrepresentative impression of my talents. Not the prettiest ground in the world, but quiet enough.

Pitch is very interesting. Groundsmen this season are clearly having a tough time of it with the lack of rain. So we've got a bone-hard track with plenty of cracks in, held together with an even covering of green grass. I assume this means there's good bounce and carry, but once I get out there (oh joy, I'm opening again) barely a single ball gets over stump height. There's plenty of pace - but no bounce at all. I go out there with not a thought in my mind other than defence: 50 overs is a fuck of a long time for someone who's mostly been playing 35, and I'm pretty sure it's an even longer time if you're out for a duck.

Bowlers are typical decent league players. There's a sharp, skiddy outswing bowler from one end, and a lanky South African at the other who's bowling leg cutters. From the boundary I expect he looks pretty easy to get away, but he sure as hell isn't - he's skidding and cutting the thing everywhere, and nine out of ten balls are bang on the money. He traps my opening partner LBW with not many on the board, and I'm 3* and going nowhere.

Things start to improve a little after 10 overs or so. The other guy finally drifts onto my pads a couple of times, and I manage to stick him away. Our number three - another ringer from my main club - immediately settles in. By the time the change bowlers come on - a leg spinner and another seamer - it's time to stick or twist. 16-year-old CC is whispering in my ear, and as I take strike to the leg spinner I'm pretty sure I know which option is best. His second ball, on a good length, is spanked through midwicket for four. The skipper immediately shifts a man out to cow corner.

I block the next and then ping him over square leg for a six. More field shuffling - I see out the over with the field spread all over the place and any number of singles available next time round. It's amazing how captains, even at an ok league level, can be thrown into a panic by a couple of big shots. Mate at the other end, who's only ever seen me stodging out for our other team, is staring wide-eyed down the wicket and couldn't have looked more surprised if I'd taken strike with my dong hanging out. Between the overs I'm amazed to find 16-year-old CC is even talking for me: can't remember the exact words but the gist of it is 'get me on strike - I'm going to smoke this fucker out of the park.'

So suddenly things are looking pretty good. We're 60-1, through the opening bowlers, and I've got the spinner exactly where I want him. Now it's just a case of working singles for another 20 overs, get to 50, have a mow and, if I get lucky, maybe make a ton. Piece of piss. Things are looking even better when the seamer at the other end drops short. I hop back to pull him through the leg side. Weight transferred backwards? Check. Elegant pivot through left foot? Check. Middle and off stumps pegged back? Hang on...

Oh yes. I forgot there was no bounce.

What a knob. I guess I shouldn't be too disappointed with that knock - apart from a few exceptions, this is the first proper bowling line up I've faced in a long time, and I didn't do much wrong for the first hour. It looks like a 220 track to me, so getting through the new ball and leaving us 60-2 at fours isn't a bad start by any means. But at 90-4 things are looking a lot less clever. A 50 partnership hauls us back into the game, but in the end we're rolled out for 180. Good score, if we were playing darts.

There's not much beyond the openers - just some nagging spin - which on this pitch really shouldn't be a problem as long as we're sensible. The one thing it's not doing is turning. To say we bat like retards would be an understatement. If I thought my dismissal was stupid, it was nothing on the three suicidal run outs, or the two guys who parked themselves on the back foot to a spinner with a pretty easy-to-spot quicker ball. Christ, if they'd batted like that at my old club I'm pretty sure there'd have been some John Sitton-style advice being handed out in the changing room.

I'm not convinced we're out of it: the bounce is so low that anyone bowling wicket-to-wicket is going to be a nightmare to get away. But all they've got to do is bat 50 overs - it'd be almost impossible not to make the runs. I think we get our tactics all wrong from the outset of their innings. We need one slip at most, and a tight ring with extra protection on the leg side. If we're going to get people on this pitch it's going to be bowled or lbw - instead we're bowling nippy outswing to two slips and gully, even though the keeper's taking everything at shin height.

Hardly a surprising state of affairs when they get to 100-1, though three dropped catches haven't helped matters. Game over. Except it's not. The number three is looking well-set, but has slowed up and finally scoops one to cover. And from thereon - well - what to say but 157 all out? It's a combination of good bowling and fielding, batsmen bottling it under pressure and a pitch that's possibly getting even harder to bat on - you'd have thought with it being their home ground they'd all be instinctively on the front foot  and not doing what I did, but there are at least two out playing shots you wouldn't dream of playing having watched the game for the best part of 80 overs. Anything on the stumps is impossible to get away, but it's actually our leg spinner who picks up the most wickets. I'd like to think my constant encouragement of the batsmen from slip to spank him for six had a part to play.

They're a nice bunch, the opposition, and the whole game's played in a very good spirit. But I can still see why I don't want to play league any more. In terms of proper cricket, I'm fortunate enough to now have access to friendlies that are played at a high level - probably higher than this. There's just too much riding on a league game - our skipper was utterly distraught after the first innings, and jubilant after the second. I on the other hand, was more...meh. I thought both teams played really badly.

The opposition had a long debrief after the game - it was clearly in polite tones, but I wouldn't really want to analyse my performance on a weekly basis in any detail these days (This month: turned up hungover - played a fucking stupid shot and walked when I probably wasn't out; turned up hungover - played a fucking stupid shot; didn't turn up hungover - played a fucking stupid shot. Conclusion: I'm not particularly good, and prone to playing fucking stupid shots). I think about cricket far too much as it is, and adding the team's league standing/local rivalries/competition for places/internal team politics to that mix - well, it might have worked for me when I was 23, but not now.

I guess to my mind you do things properly or you...well, I would say don't do them at all, but perhaps 'you do things properly or you do them half-heartedly and lagered up if at all possible' is my motto. I know I've been able to do well at league level in the past, but I was living in the sticks, going to the gym most days (because there was sod all else to do), and netting or playing evening games every day I wasn't doing that. I fought my way into the first team, and clung onto my place, and every game was fucking stressful and bloody hard work. Whereas now - well, this is my last game for a couple of weeks because life intervenes - I couldn't do myself justice, and to my mind you play this sort of stuff because you want to be as good as you possibly can be.

Nope. It was a fun game, and I certainly wouldn't want to give the impression I didn't enjoy it - but it just confirmed all my feelings. Thanks but no thanks. The boozing after the game was marvellous, on the other hand. We all went back to our mate's house, and like all good Aussies he's got a DVD of the '06 Adelaide Test. Watched Collingwood notch up his 200, saw some of the Aussie innings, passed out on the sofa before they bowled again and the wheels came off. Best bit of timing I've managed all month.

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