As much as the media seemed to be hyping the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s demise, so Wanderers lived up to the genre of his plays.
Whether the first match of the season was a comedy, a drama, or a tragedy is subject to debate. Perhaps all three. Certainly, as the kit bag was packed up after the match I pondered that ‘what ‘s done is done’ as I looked forward to the reunion with Plumpton in a week’s time.
The toss was lost on an April afternoon that was very…. April. The home side decided to bat, a wise decision, given that any other route would most likely have resulted in any local spectator turning up a couple of hours later to find a sparse and empty recreation ground.
Now let’s try to rationalise this. The first game of the season is about opportunity- the result doesn’t matter. So when you look at the scorecard keep this in mind. It will numb the shock.
|Total||(3 Wickets)||35 Overs||240|
|Fall Of Wickets||36,133,202|
|Jones (G)||c||Kitchener (L)||0|
|Total||(9 Wickets)||15.4 Overs||35|
|Fall Of Wickets||1,1,13,14,14,23,23,29.35|
|Venue||Littleworth Recreation Ground|
|Result||Littleworth won by 205 runs|
As you can see, Littleworth made full use of their 35 overs- Wanderers using seven bowlers. Of the crop that threw the pies, Master Wadey seemed to settle fairly well and Lord Sponge looked threatening at times. The shortness of the leg-side boundary, affluence of the batsman’s stroke play, and general new season rustiness all played their part. Added to that some creaky fielding, one man short, dropped catches and… well you get the drift. But it’s the first day of the season, and I’ll continue to use that excuse. The problem is that explaining the batting performance may neutralise such a justification…
After a hearty tea aplenty the task of assembling the batting order had Jordan and Luke to give a steady start to the reply that demanded a mere seven runs an over. The total was realistically out of reach but an opportunity to get some time in the middle- or not.
The tragedy turned comedy as Luke was ran out, or ran himself out, without facing a ball. It was downhill from there (well, it was downhill from a minute past two really).
Number’s two to seven amassed a sum of two runs between them- one of them coming from a borrowed rookie who had never picked up a bat before. Among them the unfortunate Big Bear Jones fishing at a wide one to join this season’s early primary club subscribers. Even top scorer, Master Wilson, failed to cover himself with glory when charging an occasional spinner and missing a straight ball that took two bounces to reach his stumps.
The last three wickets were swept up by a small thirteen year old lad who, whilst showing much promise for the future, struggled to pitch anywhere near a length. Our embarrassment was complete.
But in reality Wanderers don’t do embarrassment. Minor setback perhaps, but we are never shamed. If the club were solely built on cricketing acumen it would have folded with so many long ago. A happy drink was consumed and next week’s arrangements were discussed.
As the bard once said:
‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so…’
683 × 235