Nearly There
By Ian Clark
WEEK 14
August 9th 2008
2nd TEAM v ROMSEY & OLD TAUNTONIANS 2nds (A)
1st TEAM v LISS (H)
For the firsts this is the big one. Liss at home. Liss are second and have been large and looming in the rear view mirror all season. Portsmouth & Southsea and Andover seconds are in the middle distance and are not out of the race entirely but it's been Liss who have been close. And as the Saturday morning ground staff look down at The Hollow, deceptive, fine rain hangs in the air. The cloud is grey and so low that you can pull it down and throw it over the ground like a duvet.
Opinion is divided. Some say we should hang around until late afternoon in the hope the weather improves and that these games are the ones to play in. I'm not so sure. If we lose, our points average will crash, the field will begin to reel us in and a season's work can be lost in the mist on a muddy wicket.
I'm in the seconds this week. We're away to Romsey seconds who have a chance of promotion. We're lower mid-table so there is little prospect of them calling the game off early. The thirds and fourths games have already been called off.
Liss are on their way and it's been decided not to call off the game until they arrive and look at the wicket.
Meanwhile we hover over Macca's mobile waiting for Romsey to ring; but they never do. Macca rounds us up and the seconds roll out of the car park. On the M27 it rains so hard that the wipers are set at frenetic. Tom rings to let us know that the first's game has been called off.
Macca doesn't say much; he seems far away. Macca never says much. He had a magnificent season last year when the Seconds got promoted but this year he's just been good rather than excellent. No fifties, no five-fors.
The silence in the car is suffocating.
"Have you ever been scared batting?"
"Yeah, twice".
I've been scared so often that I've just got used to it; there's likely to be someone playing for Romsey today that'll scare me. One of the pleasures of my 50 for the fourths was that they had a scary quick bowler.
"I can't remember the first time; it was probably when I was playing for Totton in Gold. The second time was the Indian opening bowler. He was rapid. I played against him at the Rose Bowl. England had a player pull out on the day and I filled in. Jimmy Anderson played. Yeah, that Indian was scary."
So Macca played for England Under 19s. It's odd how some players embellish their mediocre career with exaggeration and outright bullshit. And how the good underplay and Macca's recollection is spare and reluctant.
"I often think me and Pete have a lot in common. I always thought he was one of the best and should have made it. They cut him too though. When they cut me they told me I couldn't adapt to the first-class game. I think they were trying to say I was too thick."
"I moved around between clubs then. I didn't really settle anywhere. I bowled leg spin then but round arm and I did my shoulder. I just rock up now and let it go."
I ask Macca why he doesn't play in the firsts but he just asks why I play in the thirds. I'm old and I like to do well.
Macca smiles.
"We all like cheap wickets."
We pull into Romsey's ground. Romsey are a Southern League club with full-size covers and immaculate outfield. It's still raining and puddles are forming. Romsey's skipper is desperate to play because he thinks he's almost certain to win and he needs to gain ground on the leaders. We congregate in the bar and wait for good sense to prevail.
"Did you play in the Cockspur Cup Final Clinchy?" Clinchy turns quizzically.
"Yes, I did. We lost at Edgbaston. The final at Lords was rained off and we played on the Monday".
And that's it. Clinchy is even more guarded than Macca. I know Clinchy played for Suffolk but he's not going to volunteer anything more.
Half an hour later and with most league cricketers already shopping or decorating, the game is called off. Clinchy is 47 and still plays; Macca plays, so do Pete and Colin. Maybe they were lucky not to make it. Most pros retire and never play again unless it's to spend an afternoon patronising and in turn being patronised by Mick Jagger and Griff Rhys-Jones on the Getty estate. We occasionally see an ex-pro in the leagues but the coaching life support mechanism (often in a private school) or if you were really good, a lifetime of disconnection in the media, are the paths of choice.
I don't care much for pros anyway. There may be rounded, modest ex-cricketers, but most seem to have spent more time barricaded in hotel rooms than is healthy.
Billy Taylor, for example. Billy Taylor is a journeyman bowler who if he had been South African or Australian would have been ushered away from first-class cricket. He nevertheless plays for Hampshire and in the Fleming Park, Eastleigh indoor league for Winchester.
Sarisbury played Winchester in the final indoor game of the season. Indoor cricket is big in Hampshire. Havant, Winchester and Totten have all been national champions and although we lost in the semi-finals we too had our day at Lord's in 2008 as West of England champions. So winning this indoor league has an importance that is not apparent as you look down on the converted basketball court on a wet Sunday night in March. But it's a good chance to play at Lords.
Tom was 14 then and making his debut for the indoor first team. It was a nondescript game; Winchester scored 140 or so and Sarisbury lost 4 quick wickets. Game over. Except Winchester needed the last 2 wickets and with them the last 2 bonus points if they were to stay top, ahead of Totton. Sarisbury had no chance of winning and for a couple of overs Tom and Les blocked comfortably.
And then Billy Taylor bowled his final over. He started by huddling with his team-mates and theatrically striding out his run up to the corner of the court. It was clear he was trying to intimidate, although the cramped curve of his run even then emphasised the contrived limitations of the game.
There is a white line across an indoor cricket mat. The line is nearer the bowler than the batsman. You have to bowl really short, almost a bouncer, to bowl a no-ball. The line is there to penalise but if a bowler has to bowl again and again (because he is bowling short) it can enable a fielding side to encourage a batting side back into the game through extras.
And so Billy Taylor ran in as fast as he could and bowled bouncers at Tom. He bowled 6 in a row and Sarisbury's total crept up. The over dragged and games were now stacked up behind. More than 100 spectators looking down from the balconies. The noise increased so that even the 5-a-side footballers next door came in to watch. It occurred to me that this was the biggest crowd that Billy Taylor might play in front of this season; a bigger crowd than usually attends county championship cricket. Tom fended off the ball time and again; the wicket-keeper was sledging and the atmosphere had the frenzy of a school fight. Pete to his credit came on to the pitch to confront Billy Taylor. Pete must have known him from his Hampshire second's days. The umpires ordered Pete from the court. Les was the non-striker and tried to reason with Billy Taylor. The umpire warned Billy but with a lowered head and turned half away. The best umpire in the league had given up umpiring Billy Taylor long ago, and the two left here were intimidated and peripheral.
I wonder, why didn't I intervene? Partly because there is an initiation ceremony in serious cricket where a young player has to confront short-pitched bowling by a big, ugly fast bowler. Partly because I was intimidated too; partly because I was proud of Tom - he was coping. Partly because like most of the crowd I was enthralled by the drama and the fight.
As the bouncers continued, what had started as a narrative about the power of a fast bowler turned into the story of Tom's bravery. The ball after the umpire's warning was again a bouncer. Some of the crowd started to swear at Billy but he waved back and snarled. He'd lost it and the next ball was legitimate apparently because he misjudged the white line. He continued to charge in but in trying to show how much better than us he was, he ended up showing how ordinary he was. He seemed to recognise this himself as the last ball of the over was a floated off-spinner that Tom patted back to him and walked off.
I don't know what Billy Taylor was thinking. Would a first-class rugby player tackle properly in a club match? And why all the posturing?
Sarisbury complained to the League who produced a report that was so anodyne that Lords intervened.
As I walked downstairs to see Tom, Hedge End's captain shook my hand.
"That's your boy is it? You must be so proud."
The rain is heavier now. It's off.
