Friday 27 May 2011

26/05/11 - Arundel Castle



Ah, the celebrity cricket match. I've managed to blag myself onto a couple of these in recent years. This one has by far the largest crowd I've seen. I only managed a couple of photos and neither of them show the size of the attendance. About 150 people, at peak, I'd say. Arundel is full of retirees with nothing better to do than wander up to the ground and watch whatever game's going on there - might be Sussex, might be England U-19s - back when I lived near here a game against the Duke of Norfolk's XI here was the first stop for any touring Test team. The pitch is just behind the castle, which dates back to 1067 (though it's a bit of a fake - heavily refurbished in the 18th and 19th Centuries). It looms over the town's High Street:


Very Monty Python.

I suppose in the interests of privacy - the match was barely advertised at all outside the town - I should maintain a little anonymity. So: I was representing a bi-weekly satirical magazine with a famous editor for whom I've sometimes written, and we were playing a team representing a large broadcasting corporation. Erm, which is British. There we are, that couldn't be more more subtly masked.

We lose the toss and take the field. The pitch is an absolute belter - a first class pitch, which is far too flat for my bowling - though there's plenty of moisture in the air. I'm given the new ball and a strange sensation comes over me. It takes me a moment to notice, but the crowd is making me fucking nervous. Those people spend their weekends up here watching professionals play, and now they're watching me - fat bloke who used to be good when he was 13 and these days doesn't even get to bowl for half the teams he plays for - running in. My first ball slips out the hand and clears the batsman by two feet. It's a hideous, slow beamer.

Our captain wanders up. 'You ok?' I reply: 'I know this is pathetic, but I'm shitting myself.' His response does me some good: 'I know how you feel - but on the other hand what have you got to lose?' After that shocking start things improve - I beat the bat a few times and the only runs that come off me are past the slips. I'm still going at four an over, because our skipper doesn't put a third man in, despite the fact said slips are terrible - frankly I'd be inclined to bite the bullet and dispense with them altogether as they're clearly hopeless, but I suppose we're trying to look like a proper team.

One of the openers, it turns out, is a really good player. Once I get to my fifth over I'm still pitching the ball up looking for swing, but it seems to have dried up and he absolutely savages me down the ground a couple of times. I can't seem to manufacture enough balls at the other guy, who looks much less competent - I'm hoping to slip one on the good one's legs and give him a single, but my natural angle keeps taking it across him and into his hitting zone. I end up dropping mid off out which is a somewhat humiliating climb down having gone past the edge at the start. In the end I finish with eight overs none for 38, which isn't disastrous considering how many have gone through the slips. I was hoping for something much better.

It gets worse. My tormentor, in turns out, is an Aussie ringer. Most of our second string are pretty poor. Aussie makes a ton. His friend at the other end makes a turgid fifty because he doesn't need to play any shots. They reach 190-1. It would be even worse, were it not for the fact that our famous editor is actually a bloody good off spinner. He takes the only wicket to fall, and more importantly he keeps the brakes on.

We take lunch. We're playing a two-innings game - so there's a declaration now, then we'll bat, hopefully declare, and that'll leave us about 20 overs each for a second innings. The opposition are a rather joyless bunch and don't fancy this state of affairs. They'd rather pile on a massive score and grind us into the dirt. It's pretty obvious, looking at them, that once the Aussie's out there's sod all to come, and they want the burden to be on his shoulders. I've encountered this before (I love it how teams like this always tend to say 'We played really well' in the bar). In fact our captain has to tell them they're declaring (because we paid for the pitch, and it wasn't cheap).

I stride out to open the batting. I receive eight balls, all of them down the leg side. The bowling isn't terrifying, but the new ball's flying through a bit. Oddly, despite the audience, I feel much less nervous. I can do this. In fact, I'm desperate to do this. The ninth is also down the leg side. It brushes my glove, and the keeper takes it. I walk off, to stony silence from the assembled crowd. It's my first duck since I played in Wiltshire about three years ago. And now I've repeated the feat in front of 100 people and assorted snappers from the local press.

What a fucking disaster. I can't really describe how I feel. This game, above all others, I'd been desperate to make a score. It's me all over - in cricket, in life. I remember a coach at school: 'You get out in unlucky ways. You show more fight than anyone else in the team. You make more of the talent you've got than anyone else...but at a pro level it would never be enough.' Failure, written in the bones, and no amount of effort can override it. How was it Somerset Maugham described himself? 'At the very front row of the second raters.' I think I'd quite like that on my tombstone.

Things go ok for the others. Our famous editor strides out at number three, corruscates 40 runs all over the shop, poses for photos and gives autographs, then jumps in a chauffeured car to go to a television filming. Not a man who belongs to the second row. Another chap, our one actual ringer, slaps 88, and a couple of others chip in. We're about 20 short of their total when we're bowled out.

Lunch - a gourmet feast, but of course - is taken. The deal seems pretty simple. They bat again and declare at 5.30 after lunch. That leaves us 20 overs to get the target. We head out, and I take the new ball again. Three more overs, fuck knows how many more edges for four, and a wholly upsetting set of final figures. We do manage to take another wicket, but they add another 120 runs, mostly in mows over midwicket. Now I really think this is naughty behaviour - they declare ten minutes late. With the overs lost for change of innings, according to the local rules we're not getting 20 overs - we're getting 16. To score 156. Ten an over. Good luck with that. Even the (paid) umpires are pissed off.

Here's an unexpected development. I head out to open again, and from ball one, I feel perfect. I don't know why, or what happened. Maybe it was born of pure desperation to get something from the day. Maybe they'd pissed me off with the declaration. Maybe I just felt I had nothing to lose. I honestly don't know. But the short story is, I make 46 from 25 balls. There wasn't much wrong with the bowling, either. Everything just flew out the middle. I was playing shots I barely knew I could - there was one lofted, punched straight drive that nearly went for six, and it's a big boundary. It's one of the best innings I've played in years. After 8 overs, we're 88-1, before the guy at the other end runs me out.

I walk off to cheers and ringing applause. Thank Christ for two innings matches.

We don't manage to get over the line, but we're in the hunt right up till the penultimate over. The miserable buggers bowl all their best bowlers, right the way through. I get the train home feeling like a little less of a failure. Good. Just not quite enough.


4 comments:

  1. Dear Mr Crap Cricketer, if you are infact so crap, how come you seemingly open the batting AND the bowling of most teams you play for? Also after googling you on my computer, I found that you are the all time leading run scorer for the Village CC. Which of course begs the question, if you are 'crap', how bad are those other guys at the Village CC?

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  2. I believe the answers to your questions are addressed in my very first post. Most people who play for vcc are crap, in the grand scheme of things, myself included. Sad but true.

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  3. As a fellow Villager, I can confirm we have had some astonishingly poor cricketers turn out for us over the years. The CC is crap, but by no means hopeless. He's certainly better than me.

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  4. Yeah, I think there are two things at play here really-talent and the rest. I actually think most players start from a more narrow baseline of talent than they might think. On the beach I can pick up a bat and hit the ball as well as the next man, assuming he's not Sehwag, but I think you would see similar results among most people I've played with, be they really good league players or rubbish pub ones. It's 'the rest' that matters, really-how you deploy that ability- in terms of building an innings, working on technique, trying not to give your wicket away... how good you want to be. So back when I trained 2x per week and played 2x a week too, usually against good opposition, I'd say I was average, perhaps edging into the dizzy heights of competent, but I certainly wouldn't say that now. If you play at a low level it's very hard to sustain a high standard. This season I opened up against two guys bowling I'd say in the low 80s & the next game for my friendly team felt like it was played in slow motion, but that didn't last. So if you play crap cricket you can't be anything but, imho.

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