On this soggiest of English summers, the Peckers made their way to Tilford desperate to for a change in fortunes. A series of defeats had left even the most optimistic of Peckers fearful of another lashing of either heavy rains or even heavier runs. Skip informs me that the last time we enjoyed a record-breaking season 2015 (17-14-2-1) we followed with a stinker of Vieux Boulogne proportions. History seemed in danger of repeating itself Blackheath, Withyham and Cheddingfold wheeled out sting teams and scored a truckle against us.
The pre-game has been marked by a friendly banterous relationship with Skip and Tilford regular and Pecker enthusiasts Ramekin, Dan Wrenn and brother Jack (aka Wrennsleydale and Wrenn Leicester), keen to punish perceived slights from the Peckers 2023 win when we had won by over 100 runs. “Tell Pirate to bring his lid”, they said. We gathered at the Barley Mow to enjoy some pints and an extremely generously cheesed margharita pizza.
Wrennsleydale Junior, ringer brought in as a hitman to slay the Peckers
Batting first, our batsmen started well on the even but ponderous Tilford wicket. Of the openers, Molezarella was precise and potent, full of clips and curdles. Cannonbert was brittle and belligerent, storming down the wicket and cheddaring Wrenn Leicester for boundaries as though he was no more than an un-ripened Brie. Mole would ultimately fall for a solid if unspectacular 27 and Cannon for 21, both caught out.
You’ll never win anything with kids, Alan Hansen once said (best wishes for his recovery) and Tilford clearly had not forgotten that last year Traash had smashed a 12yo around the park. They were fielding a couple of less ripened stars with excellent techniques.
We were confident the opening partnership would set a platform for the engine room of the order, with Kwakka and Henners at 3 and 4. Sadly Karl’s defence resembled something more Swiss (in cheese terms) and he would play all around a slow straight one from the youngster Price (“Price is Right… Arm Over”), whose slow plump fizzing spinners resemble a young Runkle, wresting wicket after wicket from wide-eyed Pecker batsmen. He would claim the scalps of Kwakka, Henners, Mama Cass, and Horse in a sprint through the middle order that changed the complexion of the game in a few short overs.
At 89-7, it’s fair to say that the Peckers were feeling blue. However, in stepped Gruysy and POB to revive our fortunes with a pair of crackers
Greasy surveys the scene as the Barley Mow survey the landlord
Playing the sticky wicket as it was intended, they chipped away with 1s and 2s, scampering caerphilly and both building notable scores. Greasy contributed an excellent 39 and POB would top score with 43, a charming and intelligent knock, like his favourite provolone, mellow and mild with the occasional one smoked through the covers.
The Peckers would ultimately fail to bat out the overs, via a grating incident of Moley announcing and applauding a POB half century a full 10 runs early, ensuring the mockers did their job. 155 on the dry bouncy Tilford outfield looked a little short of par.
Pobsy raises his bat for the second time
Tea at the Barley Mow was held back for the post-game England match, but we enjoyed delightful hot sausage rolls and pints of Loxhill Biscuit as we took a brief half time break.
Our total looked unlikely to be enough but with England – Slovakia looming, Tilford seemed to be in a tremendous hurry. Inspired by the sausage rolls, Spinach served up a variety of pastries, ably assisted by Horse at the other end. Both would be assaulted by the younger Wrenn, who seemed on an absolute mission. Cow Corner, Goat Corner, Sheep corner.. there was no rebloch-on show, only effortless swats to all areas of the boundary, racing to his 50 in fewer than 20 balls.
At the other end, Tilford legends Spotty and Knight would take on the roles of quiet accumulators, making 20 odd each. One of the popped one up that would do for POB, pulling a hammy scampering round and sending him hobbling to the sidelines.
Wrennsleydale would eventually be undone by a Henners floater for 79. There would be no respite however as this would only Wrenn Leicester to the crease who took his lead, starting his innings with a huge 6 smashed over Henners’ head.
Props should go to Henners and, in particular, Cheffrey Archer, whose quiver of arrows were extremely precisely fired, restraining some of the wilder excesses of the brothers Wrenn. But, in truth, by the time England kicked off the match was all over bar the Stilton. Tilford reached our score of just 22 overs, with Wrenn Leicester finishing on 49no off 30, bringing the family figures to 2-44 off 12 and 128-1.
We repaired to the marquee at the back of the Barley Mow for a tremendous array of sandwiches and cakes and a humdinger of a close match over a couple of jugs graciously bought by the Victors. As always, Tilford warms the heart of the Peckers, with a lovely family vibe to the day. Many thanks to our lovely supporters – GG, the Spinach clan, Zebra, Subaru, John and to our delightful hosts.
Penned by Horse.
