Gardeners batsmen blossom at Strollers expense

Well let’s get a flowery metaphor out of the way straight off the bat. The Gardeners may have to go into exile from our cricketing paradise on the well tended grounds that they are a bit too good for us. If September 11 2001 was “a good day to bury bad news” May 3rd 2009 was a good day not to bowl.

After probably making the wrong decision in fielding first the week before, new skip Chris Lucas claimed he lost the toss this time and the Gardeners elected to bat. But such is the level of distrust now surrounding Lucas and tossing that we may have to implement a video equipped “toss council” to escort him to the middle to witness proceedings. On a side note what is the ritual of middle tossing all about? Why do captains HAVE to walk out to the strip to do it when they could just as easily do it by the pav’? Pointless. Almost as pointless as BlackRod banging away on the door a new Parliament while MPs shout “let us in ya c##ts!”.

With Lucas and Holmes opening the attack all seemed quite normal on a severely docile main North London pitch. We were, of course, tucked away in some obscure short boundaried corner of the ground, a strip I personally saw under 11 girls using just a few days before [but enough of my hobbies]. Why we are treated like the subclass in a pitch allocation apartheid scheme I don’t know, but I’d like to see MandelaLucas overthrow our oppression and dismantle the NLCC system. Or offer to pay 10% less on pitch fees.

But back at the game things were far from normal. The Gardeners openers were settling in pleasantly and looked like accomplished players. Trevor “Mr Entertainment” Pile came on at the bottom end and Jake “Come over and we’ll look at fabric swatches” Jackson came downhill. But Jake belied his taste for women’s clothing by hospitalising Nisbett the Gardener’s number two. A nasty top edge, that even Matt Morgan couldn’t have bettered, smashed into the batsman’s face and ripped open his lip. A deathly hush fell across the ground as we all feared the worst: yet more pressure on Government implemented A&E targets at this politically sensitive time.

The dripping Nisbett retired hurt and was replaced by Aked who also looked like an excellent player. As they became accustomed to the non pace of the pitch the batting side began to open up and boundaries started flowing like blood from an open wound. Suddenly it was obvious that with the 40 over format again selected this was going to be a very long day. And so it proved as both players began to smite the ball all round the place. Eventually, about 100 years after we began, a Jackson second spell long hop was greedily pouched by the Tigger-like Betts who was having another bouncily energetic day on the leg boundary. At last a breakthrough had been ground out. Maybe now we could… oh we couldn’t… new batsmen Dutta’s first contribution to the game was a mightily driven straight drive off Pile for four. “You’re not offering competitively priced, yet customised, corporate entertainment now, Trevor” came the cry from the crowd.

And so Dutta was off. Looking sunhatted and tall like a young Clive Lloyd he proceeded to smash the Strollers bowling at will to any part of the pitch he cared for. And he certainly cared for long on, as despite three fielders being placed there the sheer power of his strokes sent the ball hurtling over uneven ground for a humiliating series of boundaries. “I was going to stop it, but it would have hurt my hand” said Dickie truthfully.

By now everyone’s figures were looking bloated. In fact if our bowling figures were overweight people from such TV shows as ‘Please Staple Me I’m A Fat F###’ [ITV3] they’d need the fire brigade to get them in and out of their bedrooms via the window. With the frame removed.

Eventually, some time in the 23rd century, Dutta top edged another powerful stroke and skied the ball to short extra cover. All Strollers looked to the heavens as new boy and stand in wicket keeper, Lester “The Kitten” Parker made a bold dash for the rapidly descending ball. Charging across forty yards of verdant greensward like Mel Gibson at Gallipoli, Lester closed in on the catch. All seasoned Strollers now stared shiftily at their feet in the sort of shoegazing solidarity last seen in 1993 at a Camden Suede gig supported by My Bloody Valentine. We knew these things always end in some pathetic dropped catched tragedy. We have been ground down by a million defeats, a million mistimed shots into our own goolies, a million plopped up soft caught and bowleds, a million wide balls that started off as good intentions, a million dismal half stale teas and a million Big Gav fielding abortions. These things NEVER go our way.

Or do they? Lester was that happy thing; the new puppy scampering on broken glass, too naïve to know the pang of pain, and as such he actually held that catch and truly there was much rejoicing. Dutta the destroyer back in the hutch for 84. Sucker!!!!

Now we had them. Only 250 for three off 30 overs. Game on.

But out came more Gardeners willing to do some serious spade work. And although a couple more wickets fell – swallowed up by the “They have their own gravity” bucket hands of Lucas – more fours and sixes swiftly followed. At the end of their overs the Gardeners had racked up a stunning to wander round Versailles-like 336 runs. The biggest post war [Falklands] total ever amassed against the Strollers.

After last week’s rushed tea that felt like a rough quickie in the alley behind the disco, the break was a leisurely affair with the Strollers eating and quaffing heartily knowing that they faced a task against the Gardeners that was truly UPHILL.

After a last week sulk that rated high on K*****ometer, George Brown was promoted to open the Strollers innings with the “in touch” comeback kid Chris Deavin. Unfortunately Aked, the Gardeners outswinging medium pacer did a bit laterally and George thinsnicked to first slip for 1. Graeme came in but never looked settled and went cheaply to the same bowler. From the base camp at the foot of this innings it was not pleasant to have lost two wickets and still be staring through cloud at the 336 Everest.

“Nobody f###s with the Jesus” says a purple catsuited John Turturro in the Coen brothers magnificent “noir in colour” comedy homage to the ‘Big Sleep’ – ‘The Big Lebowski’, but obviously this classic comedy has never been watched by Deavin who unleashed his own jihad on the slurry of short pitched filth that was coming his way from Gardeners quickie De Jesus. A lesser writer would delight in pointing out that De Jesus looked a bit cross as he was crucified by Deavs.

And with Lucas also powering away at the other end it seemed as though the Lord had possibly not forsaken us. [Although these days with so many distractions like online casinos, internet porn and HD sport on plasma screens who couldn’t forgive Him a little forsaking now and again]. Indeed there was a moment when Strollers were actually on the required rate of 9 an over.

But, of course, it wasn’t to last. Deavs either lost concentration or received divine revenge and was caught quite humbly. Big Gav looked like he’d walked out into a Big Gav Wonderland on a slow pitch that truly suited his leant on front foot style, until a big moving outswinger from long haired, dog-on-string Hollywood Hillbilly-lookeylikey Campbell took out his off peg.

Chris Lucas was joined by Andy Moorhouse who was looking to pick up where he left off the week before. In form and “mad for it”. But the first of two calamitous run outs ruined the hopeful run pile Strollers had amassed. Andy drove into the covers and Chris Lucas chose that moment to impersonate Usain Bolt. Not worrying about who’s call was who’s and which way was up he arrived at Andy’s crease to find Andy still standing in it, looking bemused, confused but not amused. Result Chris out on 48 but holding a new land speed record of 22 yards in 1.347 seconds.

By way of contrast the eternally injured [“He destroys cruciate ligaments for England”] Mickey Leighton hobbled out to bat taking 9.45 minutes to get from boundary to crease. God derived lightning did strike twice as Andy, madly mimicking his skipper, drove to mid off and scuttled to the other end only to find Mickey still standing there adjusting his NHS leg brace. After some clarification of the run out rule Andy had to go and with it any slender hopes Strollers had ever had about planting a winning flag on the top of the world.

From there on in all was epilogue. The game was lost. Dickie Betts and Jake Jackson had great fun driving and tickling the Gardeners’ attack all round the place in an underpowered “satire” on what the visitors had done to us. And the newly belligerent Betts looks like an emerging middle order force to be reckoned with.

But the real force on the day was the Ground Force of the Gardeners, young, keen talented cricketers who often with only eight players on the pitch due to injuries, won with absolute blooming ease, making a stroll in the garden seem like an utter walk in the park.

Graeme Holmes
05.05.09

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