Back Row: (l-r) Tim Joyce (your author), Mick Mistry, Paul Arthur, Andy Biggadike (distracted)
Front Row: (l-r) Dominic Youdan, Henry Burrows, Tom Martin, James Yandell's Underwear
May 3rd 2011
6:15pm; Pitch 2, Regents Park. Minutes until start of match? 15. Total number of Old Estonians present? Two. Total number of Old Estonians in absentia? Five. Total number of Old Estonians just got out of a meeting half an hour away in Leicester Square? One. Total number of captains absolutely bricking it? One. But let's go back a few hours, shall we?
The morning of Old Estonians first ever game had finally arrived, following a bank holiday weekend filled with glossy commemorative magazines and at least 20 minutes of trying to work out why the nun on the stage next to Prince William was wearing Reebok Classics (honest, she was!). Our starting 8 was picked and I'd had a semi-sleepless night working out bowling strategies and trying to remember who knew which end of the bat was for holding. The usual fun and games of hauling an unfeasibly large kit bag across London in the morning rush hour had passed with a few rolled-over toes but largely without incident, and come 10am, I'd had four excited texts from Tom Martin, three questions about whether there were changing rooms, and paid the match fees in advance. So far, so keen.
Bounding out of work at 5:30 I put myself and aforementioned large kitbag on a 274, knowing I'd pass within a couple of hundred metres of Lord's, and could hopefully absorb some of the excellent cricketing fortune currently being enjoyed by Middlesex. Unfortunately, as we passed the home of cricket a somewhat hefty gentleman stood on my toe and I completely forgot to cast my eyes to the Hallowed Media Centre and pray for runs. Such is life.
So, 6:15pm. Tom and I are awaiting the arrival of our team-mates. Minutes ticked by, agonisingly. Dom was at Leicester Square and was definitely going to be late. Paul was lost on the Inner Circle and wasn't half having trouble with his maps. I was beginning to despair - Tom remained chipper. Eventually though, they started to arrive. James, looking resplendent in full body-stocking under his whites was next over the horizon, and Mick Mistry, who'd only bought a tee-shirt and was going to be a bit chilly followed close behind. Andy Biggadike was still in Egypt this time yesterday, so it was understandable that he was feeling the cold somewhat. Henry, ever industrious, simply put his work shirt on over his cricket shirt, and cut a quite dashing figure (pictured here).
Some nifty fielding drills were followed by my inaugural loss of the toss, and Fawkes & Reece chose to have a bat. With only 7 men, we were called into some creative fielding positions. Henry and Andy opened the bowling, and restricted Fawkes to a relatively slow start. Two overs in and a harangued looking Dominic Youdan was eventually spotted in the distance. Ever the consummate professional, Dom was bravely down to his pants and into his whites in a flash, and scrambled onto the pitch in time to bowl the fifth over, promptly wanging (technical term folks) down some 70mph frighteners which caught the Fawkes openers on the back foot. An excellent opening spell from Andy (4-0-26-0) and two tight overs each from Henry and Dom meant that after 8 overs, Fawkes were 50ish for no loss.
Paul was the next man into the bowling attack, coming on to showcase the darting leg breaks he had perfected in his kitchen with Henry batting in front of the bin, while housemate Tony tried to do the ironing at midwicket. Unfortunately for Paul, without Tony's kind words of encouragement, he saw his first four balls dispatched for 15 runs. The fifth ball was another loopy leggy, but this time the batsmen could only pick out Mick Mistry, fielding on the square leg boundary. Unfortunately for Mick, the ball was quickly lost in the setting sun, and so without knowing much about it, it hit him sharply on the sternum (the noise of leather on bone causing several car alarms in the local area to go off) and thankfully for us, settled safely in his hands. First strike Paul Arthur, and Old E's were up and running.
If we thought we had seen the catch of the game though, we were mistaken - for in the very next over, Tom Martin pulled off a piece of Collingwood-like acrobatics to pluck the ball from the air roughly four feet behind his own left shoulder, after the other opening batsmen had spooned a leading edge back to him off his own bowling. Showing blatant disregard for cunning, Tom decided to eschew the opportunity to run the non-striker out (who was halfway down the track gawping dumbfoundedly at the catch he'd just witnessed) and instead celebrated like Flintoff with a skeleton key to the Morrisons depot. Double-play or no double-play, it can't be denied that the catch was an absolute beauty.
Having made the initial breakthrough, Paul returned for a second over, and much to everyone's delight and utter confusion, somehow contrived to bowl three consecutive deliveries which bounced twice before reaching the batsmen, yorking him each time. The fourth delivery of his over was again the old double bounce special, this time evading the desperate swishing of a clearly frustrated batsman, and gently nudging the bails from atop the stumps. Arthur had two, and in all honesty, absolutely nobody least of all him, knew how.
With the top order seen off, it was left for James Yandell to come on and bowl four tight overs of fizzing off-breaks, seeing two good stumping appeals turned down and making a sensationally flappy attempt to take a catch off his own bowling which eventually dropped safe in no-man's land. F&R number 4 was eventually given out stumped Joyce bowled Yandell (though he had to walk; which tells you something about the honesty of the umpiring from square leg) and number 5 could only watch as his stumps were obliterated by a fierce inswinger from the returning Youdan. A well deserved wicket for Henry (courtesy of an alarming piece of juggling behind the stumps on my part) rounded out his excellent spell, but a bashy cameo from the number 8 batsman meant Fawkes ended 129-7 from their 20 overs.
Safehands Mick and James opened the batting with 130 to chase and the sun already low behind the trees. Mick was unlucky to fall fifth ball to one which rose steeply and he could only direct to third man. So, two overs in and I was straight into the action. Having played and missed at the first one and deadbatted a few back to the bowler (to encouraging shouts of "do something!" from the ever helpful Henry), James and I eventually settled into a rhythm of picking up singles into myriad gaps in the field, and where possible, dispatching the bad balls to the comically overweight fielder at fine leg ("RUN! RUN! DEFINITE THREE TO HIM JOYCEY"). With the sun now completely vanished, the score eased along to 120-1 and 11 runs needed from the last 5 overs, I was retired having reached 50* (them's the rules, apparently). I'd like to be able to describe my innings as classy but since at least 20% of my runs came from inside edges onto my pads and scrambled singles thanks to James' efficient calling I don't think that'd be entirely accurate. Hopefully I'm saving all my "shots" for later in the season (ahem). Scratchy or not, it didn't half feel good being able to leave the pitch without the disappointment of offering a soft catch or hearing the rattle of stumps behind you. After a very long wait as the square leg umpire, Tom Martin came in to finish the job and despite it being darker in the middle than the inside of a coal-miners kettle, he was able to swat the winning runs in style (well, so I'm told - I couldn't actually see what happened from the boundary). Honourable mention to James for a fluent 45*, and for knowing telepathically that when I shouted "waiting", I actually meant "run now please James". Thanks pal!
Hyperbole aside, it was an excellent team performance and I'm delighted to be able to say we not only won but won well. Despite today's inevitable aches and pains, I really can't wait to get out there next week and do the same again!
Full stats for the match are available on the lastmanstands website.
Yours, a delighted captain.
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