Saturday 27th May 1st Xl v Lawnswood away

1916 and all that!

Last week it was the liver, after this weekends cricket, it's the heart. And the West Indies v Pakistan Test Match didn't help either. (Apologies to those of you who don't have Sky!)

After twenty-four hours from Tulsa, sorry I mean of rain, it was quite amazing that we got a game in at all. Even more so, because at 1.30pm there was no sign of action on the square at all - not even stumps.

Smiler, nice fellow that he is, decided to help the opposition by setting up the wickets, and was immediately rebuked by his own side! Even though we were playing on the YMCA ground you don't really expect charity do you?

YMCA, for those not in the know, stands for Young Men's Christian Association, though I doubt any of the opposition were actually of the faith!

Surprisingly enough, skipper Reg continued to be a bad tosser and we were put in to bat on a rather green and soft track, that, by the end of the afternoon Reg likened to the bomb pits on the Somme. Obviously a lot older than he looks that fella!

We also found that the Leeds Umpires Rain Appreciation Society were also to look after our game for the second week in a row, which brought many a weary look to the western sky throughout the afternoon. (This pairing also took the Tongans game at Tong on the Sunday, and are following us to Highbury next week - a fact that made Bobby wonder if the League only had two umpires and cloned them - perhaps one will turn up next week with a mouse growing out of the side of his head! Come on keep up with the news you lot!)

So the game eventually got underway in glorious sun and Reg and young Shack strode manfully out to the wicket. They would probably have been better thumbing a lift since the square was almost out of sight of the changing rooms. Anyway, undaunted the rest of the lads took up position on the 'pavilion' steps and commenced to devour the reading matter generously supplied by Hastie ("I've got more nicknames than birds") and Hornby ("Do you have a young son?").

If a lot had happened in the first few overs we wouldn't have noticed it anyway, and the few shouts of approval that were vent probably faded out halfway across the soccer field. So it was that the majority of the team became engrossed in their various reading (looking at the pictures Smiler) and form filling, all that was except Lacky.

In true professional style Lacky went to compose himself on a seat some 800 yards away on the boundary edge. And there he sat viewing at close range the wicket that was becoming decidedly unhealthy - silly boy. Somehow or other Reg and Darren managed to survive for the best part of 40 minutes before the latter succumbed for a hard earned 7.

So it was that Lacky took the short walk out to the centre, took guard, faced the first ball and then took the extremely long and painful walk back to the changing rooms having achieved his first (and hopefully last!) Tong Golden Duck, bowled around his legs.

It is not absolutely certain how many of his team mates actually witnessed this occurrence bearing in mind the distances involved and the fact that Bobby had left his very expensive new vari-focals at home. So to keep us in touch which the happenings out in the centre George offered to lend out his 'small boy viewing telescope' that for some reason he always carries in his cricket bag!

Fourth man in, promoted for the occasion because of previous weeks sterling performances, was that star of German porn movies Herman Shack.

Big Steve and Reg ducked and dived for a further half an hour on a wicket that was becoming more difficult the more it dried out, before Steve was also sent back on the long walk. So it was that Ruley joined his skipper.

Now thankfully, because from half a mile they look very similar, Fat Boy has taken to wearing a helmet and those who were able to drag themselves away from their literature were able to make some sense of proceedings. However, following the 'early out club's' walk round the boundary lamenting their various dismissals, senior Shack came to drag us all over to the scorebox to lend vocal support.

This was nicely timed to coincided with our battle scarred skipper falling back into the trenches with a valiant 23 - which turned out to be 27 after he had 'adjusted' Kirsty's scorebook! Next into the fray Piggsy -though christened 'Juggs' for the day after an unfortunate error in the local newspaper!

Perhaps Piggsy would have done better as 'Juggs' went back to a ball that he shouldn't have, and heard that fearful death rattle as the ball shot low under, or past, or around (anyhow he missed it!) his bat and took out the stumps - oh yes they had eventually put them out.

Our skipper's penchant for promotions brought out Tongs answer to Jack Russell - the dog not the keeper - infact ours bats right-handed, doesn't paint and can't keep! Recent cameos with the bat were beginning to be noticed though, which is a good job as the score went from 72 for 4 to 79 for 8 in under 20 minutes. With Fat Boy (25) quickly following 'Juggs' to a brilliant slip catch and then Bobby and Smiler both missing straight ones for a pair of ducks!

Time for the tail to wag - again.

Promoted from the Tongans after only one game because our Zimbabwean had pulled a fetlock, yours truly returned to the crease to join George and revive memories of successful partnerships from long ago.

Ah those were the days. Opening 50 partnerships at Old Mods, victory in the darkness ("umpire that cars got it's headlights on") at Tong - I'm the author here I'll write what I want! Anyway, after five minutes of this the bowler asked if there was any chance of being able to bowl at me. So I let them all take up their fielding positions and then took my normal left-handers guard! Utterances followed in some eastern tongues and they all swapped positions.

Having promised the rest of the lads not to bore you readers with this too much, let me quickly say that the last two wickets accumulated a further 41 runs, with George top scoring with 28 (not out) and Hammy/Gordon/etc/etc/etc being unbeaten with a much cheered 8.

A target had been set!

With the weather still holding fine, a tea soon forgotten, the skipper's encouragements still ringing in our ears, snippets of Wilfred Owen stiffening our backbones, we emerged from the trenches - 120 would be a winning score because "they don't like it up 'em".

After a maiden first over from Lacky, 'Juggs' was given the ball and struck with his very first delivery. (Who said he had the hands of a mid-wife?) Young Shack holdimg on to a high ball at point - just the start. One down with only the second volley, though 'Juggs' is more like a Big Bertha than a field gun!

Two more tight overs from Lacky, the ball missing all edges and the wicket (George and the slips getting very excited already) and 'Juggs' strikes again, trapping the Lawnswood number three LBW for only 2 runs. Shell shock was beginning to settle in.

The arrival at the front of the next detachment brought with it a change in tactics from the opposition. Realising that defence was not a good idea on this minefield they decided to hit out. Thankfully young Lacky is both young and strong and so was able to cover much of the 7 acres of land to the east of the square on his own!

Though for a time it looked as if these surges of attack would overwhelm our positions, the frequently aerial shots and the splendid ground coverage always gave us a chance of sniping the occasional victim. And so it was, as 'Juggs' and Ruley continued to pick up victims thanks to fine snaffling by Shack ("I'm a specialist gully skip"), Half Volley Hannam (no it didn't bounce Ruley!) and McCutcheon ("As long as it comes vertically down from 200 feet I'll hold it").

The excitement grew, the noise level rose, the scores got closer - oh it's all too much; will they have a tail that wags?

Enter a rather large nineteen year old, who had the appearance of one Inzaman-ul-Haq. (Was he at the Somme Reg?) This likeness should have forewarned us that he wasn't going to play out for the draw as 'Juggs', young Shack and Lacky all took some damage. And with the score standing at 111 for 7 and only ten runs needed we were in danger of being over-run.

It is at times like this that good teams all pull together - so on mass we all gave Reg loads of advice on field placings and bowlers. He actually appeared a little overcome by all this support and had to take a long period out to control himself, but after gathering his troops into strategic positions at far corners of the ground, and giving Lacky those immortal instructions of "Bowl the bugger out" the scene was set.

Thankfully, this young Lawnswood titan was so enjoying flaying the bat he failed to notice the fact that there were now acres of space into which to push the needed runs. Lacky though now remembered that first day advise on the art of bad bowling and decided to avoid bouncing the ball on the minefield and aim straight at those wooden things.

A flurry of ball, arms, bat, legs and stumps and he was gone, but still two wickets were needed with only 8 runs to spare.

The Lawnswood opener was still there holding out despite knocks to most parts of his body - no sympathy please it is their home ground - but the appearance of ten and eleven in the batting order did much to raise Tong spirits. First Ruley traps the number 10 plumb and then finally the number eleven (who had changed his trousers and so wasn't recognised at first) holes out to Ruley at point.

Game, set, match and the war! To the loosers the clearing-up to the victors the Three Horse Shoes - it's a pub not a trophy (this for the benefit of our two readers from Peru!)