Nearly There
By Ian Clark
WEEK 17
August 30th 2008
3rd TEAM v AMPFIELD (H)
1st TEAM v CALMORE SPORTS (H)
"Just had a call from Pete. One of the babies is back in hospital. He's out."
Not a good start. Anyone who follows sports is told quite often that a game is the most important in a club's history. But today it's true. Sarisbury has had a cricket team for at least 80 years and in 2007 we even played at Lords but nothing compares to today. We could be champions of the biggest league in the country, we could realise decades of effort and we could join the Southern League and so become a senior club. Next year even test players could play at The Hollow.
Bob and I sit together on a bench and watch the Calmore Sports openers take guard. Calmore are a good side. They are fifth in the league and we know that position well; where teams contemplate narrow defeats and unfair LBWs and the might have beens. Tom and Jewelly bowl well and as I walk around to The Green there is another cheer and Calmore are 23-3.
The thirds are playing Ampfield who have only won two games all season and we've been boosted by the availability of former first teamer Joe Humby and the return of bookend Floydy who played at CBBEA in week one and is now back at the very end.
Joe gets their best player out in the first over with Greg diving and catching the ball in front of first slip. The rest of the session is characteristic of the season; tidy, grudging bowling restricting Ampfield to 101.
We need to win to stay up. 101 is a low score and we've got more batting today (with Floydy, Andy Evans, Phil Journeaux and Joe) than we have had all season. A message comes back from The Hollow that Calmore reached 204 - that was 100 more than looked likely when I left.
We are soon 34-4 with all our main batsmen out. The Ampfield opening bowlers are disappointingly good and we start to prepare for a close finish. Joe hits his first ball for 6 and for a while calm returns with Oli solid at the other end. Then both are bowled and we are 65-6, still 37 runs to get.
Tosders is in with Greg. Tosders has decided that if this is the last day then he'll go out as himself. A good length ball is flat-batted over mid-off and Tosders is away. I stand in my pads with my gloves off so I can chew my nails. Robbo sits in his shorts enjoying the sun, enjoying the game. Greg bunts and scuffs and slowly the target falls. Tosders clumps another 4 over square-leg and after an hour we are just one run from safety. Fittingly, Greg turns the ball off his legs and we've won.
In the changing room Tosders is beaming; he looks boyish, bright and toothy. He finished 21 not out. "That was like a hundred to me". Maybe one more year Tosders.
Greg is fussing about nets and boundary markets again as players leave hurriedly hoping to see the firsts. Tosders, Greg, me, Olly and Robbo sit together contemplating the season; ending as it began. Robbo probably thinks we should have done better, been more positive, less cramped and cautious. We're all pleased to have got through it though, all of us nearing 50, all of us secretly pleased that next Saturday we won't be here. And we'll still be in Regional 1 South next year and that's still very important to us all.
Olly and Tosders bring in the benches. It's nippy as Greg locks up the pavilion and we make our way to The Hollow.
I can see the scoreboard on the far side of the ground. The pavilion is obscured by spectators, perhaps 40 or more, and I can see Otis and Sammy Freemantle batting. Batsmen 5 and 7 in the middle, it's mid-evening and it's going to be okay in the end. 201 - 5 becomes clearer and Otis inside edges the ball down to fine leg near to me. For a moment all is still, like the photo of fans behind the goal as the ball hits the net; then a cheer and whoops of delight. The players all shake hands and Tom and I have a short hug on the boundary.
I can see all the fourths are back without Hannah (who is stranded on a biology field trip in Pembrokeshire). They won by 10 wickets, having bowled out the opposition for 28. Garage music thumps out of the firsts' dressing room and Tom leaves to join them. All around is manic chatter and alcohol. Ray takes a photo of the firsts in early celebration clutching their champagne glasses. The youngsters are shirtless and huddled together in the front, Chairman Robbie and Captain Fred are letting themselves go, slightly removed. Tom, the youngest player, is in my shirt and at the back Bob is beaming.
The seconds arrive back from Routledge. They've won too with a very young side and turned their relegation fight into a 6th place finish.
Robbie calls for quiet and starts his speech; Robbie likes speeches.
"This all started years ago when Derek Saunders started the colts. And this is about all those players who have played for us since..."
Tom, Landers and Keith have their arms around each others shoulders, like a front row ready to pack down. Jo and I hold hands and I look at the young firsts, they lost at Portchester because of their age but they won games too because of their youth. They played uninhibitedly.
Olly rings Moja's curry house and books it out for the night. I walk Jo back to the car, kiss goodnight and walk back to the pavilion. The far corner of the ground is still and dark. Stephen's bench is briefly illuminated by an early leaver's headlights. Bondy and Angela pass me with Erika in her pushchair. The noise of the pavilion builds and the light from the clubhouse spills on to the outfield. Inside its warm and joyful and differences are embraced.
By 10pm Mojas is full. More than 50 of us are in there. Dr. Mike has ordered £200 worth of champagne and Robbie, Fred, Gooders and I are on the far end of the communal table. Looking down Callow with his 40 league wickets is with Tom and the colts, and Jewelly the modest star of the firsts is with livewire Otis. All 4 teams are here.
Bayliss who hasn't played for 2 years but whose dad was a stalwart shakes Fred's hand. "You've made me very happy."
Fred seems non-plussed by this but smiles.
Gooders asks if the old team of the late '80s should have gone up to the Southern League? Fred played in that team but left after one disappointment too many.
"No mate, we weren't good enough. But we are now"
And into the night we reminisce and plan. By 12.30am its time for me to go; I've not been drinking and it's not a place for a sober man. I say goodbye to Tom who's staying on and walk the mile or so back to the car.
Meanwhile Hannah has started celebrating with her bemused college friends having stood on a cliff until midnight waiting for a signal to bring her the good news.
As I reach The Hollow it's already hibernating. It's cold and dark and all I can see are the spectral sightscreens in the distance.
The ignition fires and breaks the silence and I pull away.
