The quaint and picturesque settlement of Dunsfold, adorned in summer’s uniform of luscious green was perhaps the most apt of settings for one of the most unapologetically brilliant games of village cricket I have had the privilege of participating in. On a completely unrelated note, Patrick was on holiday.
The epitome of village cricket in all its splendour.
As we approached the ground, we slapped eyes on our delightful post-match watering hole, The Sun Inn. The pubs namesake, which has eluded us all too frequently this season, was shining down upon us as this week’s rabble of Peckers filtered into the pavilion. With Pobsy on holiday in Benidorm, Motty had been entrusted with leading this week’s cohort. With the start time looming, our stand-in head of state was nowhere to be found. Fortuitously, however, the ever-reliable Horse was on hand to toss off with the opposition skipper and lead us out into the field. With most of the team limbering up, this season’s top wicket taker Spinach could be found on his back, on a bench, staring upwards, desperately trying to dispel a wave of Hundred final induced nausea from the day prior at Lord’s.
The Old Beast had an arsenal of medium paced right arm volunteers ready to choose from but elected to go with the now vertical Spinach and Pug. The economical duo had bowled a couple of overs a piece before Motty sauntered onto the pitch to relieve Horse. Both opening bowlers had good shouts for LBW fall on deaf ears, or perhaps that should be blind eyes, before the duo struck within an over of one another. Spinach forcing one through the defense of the stern faced Dunsfold opener and Pug using the rather agricultural wicket to expert effect, getting a short ball to dig in and balloon up over the head of the luckless batsman and on to the stumps. With the deck proving to be a rather unpredictable surface, the Pecker’s field took on a rather unorthodox look, with silly mid-on and offs in place - Pobsy would have been most dismayed.
Spinach then found the outside edge of the bat, the ball squirting through debutant Will’s hands. The team politely thanked him for his efforts and continued to plug away. Skipper Motty brought himself and Cat into the attack, with the former trapping the remaining Dunsfold opener on the pad just as he was starting to play with menace. Enter the new man, who after considerable bat tapping and few jeers that he would end up in Australia if he persisted any further, was sent back to the pavilion for a golden duck by the Cat. Before long Bagpuss had forced a chance with the batsman sending the second looping dolly of the day into the midriff of our new man Will, who was unable to hold on to this one either. This time there was less courtesy. *N.B. From this point on Will shall be affectionately referred to as Flora or Bert(olli) – named by the disgruntled pairing of Spinach and Cat. *
More wickets, however, quickly ensued thanks to a lethal spell from the newest Pecker prodigy, 9-year-old Chug. Young Chug mercilessly embarrassing Dunsfold batsman and seasoned Pecker bowler alike. By the time his 3 over frenzy was over, Dunsfold were 90-7. Butternut, unburdened by the absence of an overzealous Pobsy telling him to run straight, was also able to get in amongst the wickets. Another Pecker on debut, Ben “Alco” Traas, who had already had a fantastic run-out turned down, started his Pecker career in rather bizarre fashion. As he came in for his first delivery, Alco mistook 3 stump bowling for that with 10 pins, underarming the ball in the direction of the batsman as it fell out of his hand. After the hysterics had subsided, he followed it up with a wicket maiden, making a deck reminiscent of no-man’s-land in the Somme behave like a day 1 wicket at Lord’s. It was the last stand of Dunsfold that frustrated the Peckers, with this frustration manifesting itself in the form of overthrows, or as dear Bumble would put it, Buzzers. Poor Pirate’s tender hands and feet, which he had diligently used for blocking rather than catching for most of the innings, were helpless to the hapless fielding on display. The Dabbler, however, should be exempt from this criticism, holding onto 3 top catches, including one in the unlikely 45 position. By the time the final wicket fell, Dunsfold ominously looked pretty content with the 122 runs to their name.
Alco Traas 2-8 & Butternut 2-12.
A delightful tea, comprising of a wide selection of sandwiches, flapjack and brownies washed down with a wonderfully well-balanced summer fruits squash, was taken in the late August sunshine.
Stand in skipper Motty gets down low for the best view from square leg.
With tea devoured, The Dabbler keen to rediscover his debut form, walked out along with Horse, who was being deployed as batsman rather than a bowler. It was not long before our poor old nag was off to the glue factory, the ball to jagging back off the pitch. Pirate would suffer a similar fate, his timbers shivered without score. Flora found himself being called upon sooner than he may have expected after just the 4th over. Dabbler and Flora both stubbornly dug in on a pitch that was quickly deteriorating. Just as the pair were starting to look settled, Flora was toast, spreading the ball into the clutches of the Dunsfold fielder. The Cat trudged out to join his old school friend. After a few overs, the Cat was out of lives, succumbing to a ball that trickled off his bat and onto the stumps with just enough force to send a bail toppling. As he retraced his steps with a look of disbelief etched across his face, the rest of the Peckers could only laugh. Pug too made a dog’s dinner of his time at the crease as Dunsfold’s quiet confidence with their innings started to become clear.
A dejected Cat after playing on to his wicket.
Alco Traas went to join the battling Dabbler, who as the wickets tumbled at the other end had quietly been keeping the scoreboard moving and the Peckers in the hunt. Alco and the Dabbler both played with a measure and poise that had evaded those who had come before, edging the Peckers towards the required tally. As drinks were taken, and Motty had sent Pobsy an update informing him that Alco looked like he could actually play cricket, he predictably shawshanked the ball into Dunsfold hands and was back in the slammer. With the Dabbler starting to run out of batting partners, he had an uncharacteristically wild over, offering up a hat trick of catches to a Dunsfold fielder who was clearly cut from the same cloth as poor old Flora… all 3 went to ground. Butternut was uprooted after having a look to a straight one, resulting in the second Golden duck of the day. Spinach had a useful cameo, shoring up an end with a huge 6 thrown in for good measure. The omnipresent Dabbler then raised his bat for a resilient and hard fought 50. Spinach was eventually left Popeye’d after failing to keep out a straight one. It was time for our captain to save the day with the Peckers circa 30 runs adrift. A couple of lovely late cuts and a chipped drive back over the bowler’s head had us dreaming as we began counting down the runs. Dunsfold brought back in their opening bowlers, one of whom delivered an absolute jaffa that our skip could have done little about. Out came the last cowboy from the saloon, Young Chug, with the Peckers only a dozen runs from a victory of true grit. The ball was carrying through at around shoulder height for the youngster, but unperturbed, Chug rocked onto the back foot, cutting the ball wonderfully through the covers. With only 9 runs to go the tension was palpable, every Pecker pacing up and down anxiously. Disaster tragically pursued, with a deadeye delivery finding the courageous Chug’s mark and bringing the game to its conclusion, leaving the Dabbler carrying his bat for 66 on the most unforgiving of decks. A truly remarkable innings made all the more impressive when you consider he was the only Pecker to get to double figures. A game of fine margins leaving the Peckers ruing the 10 buzzers they had offered up before tea.
Dabbler 66* & Spinach 9.
Dabbler carries his bat for 66*.
The Peckers quickly bundled into the Sun Inn’s Garden to drown their sorrows with a rather excellent local Surrey Hills ale called Collusion. It was only in the late evening haze that Spinach realized that Flora was a work colleague of Motty’s and not Cat’s mate from university. This moment of enlightenment was quickly followed by profuse apology for the torrent of chat he had been subjected to over the duration of the day. A brief lull in conversation provided Pirate with the perfect opportunity to announce that as his other half was away, he would be going home to put some adult entertainment on his TV and some frozen peas on his feet. And it is with this harrowing image we leave you. Up the Peckers.
This week’s cohort from back to front: Pug, Butternut, Spinach, Horse, Cat, Alco Traas, Pirate, Chug, Motty, Dabbler and Flora.