CCC v Whitstable Labour Club, Whitstable

On a rare sunny afternoon, Cincinnati travelled to the historic Kentish fishing town of Whitstable, famous for its Native Oysters and organic ale, to take on the local Labour Club (and sample the ale).


Last year's match at the Radfall Cricket Ground, just outside Whitstable, saw CCC win by nine wickets as the home side's bowlers struggled to contain the Skipper who was in the batting form of his life.
This year, some feared that the contest would be even more one-sided as we fielded one of the strongest batting line-ups of the season, with Selfish, Tom, Dan, Tim M and Jim all in the side - and all with runs behind them this season. The ECB's medical experts had even cleared the Skipper to bat with a runner for the rest of the year.
After a swift sharpener in the pub across the road, where the absent chairman was spotted pretending to be a Carp in the fishpond (we knew he couldn't keep away), Selfish and Tom strode to the crease to make first use of a good batting strip. There was talk of scoring 300 by tea...
Not for long.
Whitstable had unearthed a particularly rapid opening bowler who was getting swing and bounce with the new ball. To general alarm in the visitors' camp, both Selfish and Tom perished cheaply after some promising early shots and Cincinnati were about 30 for 2 when the two Tims came together.
Both had been short of runs recently but the joyous grin on the face of Tim M upon getting off the mark for the first time in three matches was probably visible from space.
The Tims put on a century stand which helped ease the Cincinnati score towards respectability as the Whitstable bowlers continued to apply pressure.
A valuable attacking innings from Jim saw the tail add another 30 or so and Cincinnati finished on 164.
A fine tea, including the now compulsory contributions from Amy, was demolished in seconds and, after a strangely controversial extra two overs of Cincinnati batting, Whitstable began their run chase.
For much of the evening Whitstable were in with a chance of chasing down our meagre total but they kept losing wickets. The highlight of our fielding performance was surely Mark W's pair of brilliant slip catches.
The first rivals the Selfish run out against the Actors and Ash's direct hit against the Saints for the title of this season's best fielding. The ball took the outside edge and flew low to Mark's left but he dived, flung out a hand and somehow got his fingers under the ball just an inch from the ground.
Jim roared in to bowl a spell lasting nearly two hours, getting quicker and angrier as his 12 overs unfolded. The rage which boiled within our star seamer was eventually responsible for denying the home side a win. They finished some way short and despite sometimes dangerous appealing, we couldn't take the last couple of wickets.
Match drawn. The wicket deserves a special mention - considering the amount of rain we've had recently, it played extremely well.
Scores: CCC 164 all out. TimR 62, TimM 35. Whitstable Labour Club c130-8. Jim 4-29.
Season so far: Played 8; Won 3; Drawn 1; Lost 3; Baffled 1.

7) Cincinnati v SB Select @ Battersea Park

Selfish enjoyed a marvelous stag weekend with a nail-biting match v CCC. To be honest, it's all a bit of a blur now. I do have the occasional curious flashback in which the former chairman is repeatedly stroking my bowling through the covers, but I put that down to the pints of Guinness and Baileys that were served up to me later in the evening.

SB Select batted first. Brother of SB retired on 50, and SB and Phil got close to the half century.

CCC put in a tenacious performance: Jim and Max bowled well; the Skipper took a sharp caught and bowled; the Chmn teased a former Lord's cricketer with his nagging off-spin; Dev showed his potential to become a CCC all-rounder; the vice-captain and Will scored undefeated fifties; and the former chairman stood in for SB by scoring almost the maximum number of runs possible without having to retire.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think CCC ended up four of five runs behind SB Select.



I had a great day. Many thanks for your help.

Cincinnati v London Saints

Sunday brought high drama to the timeless tranquility of Elstree in deepest Hertfordshire, where Cincinnati, fresh from a tense defeat in Ham, took on the London Saints.

As players walked to the Old Haberdashers' Ground, past neatly trimmed lawns and mock-Tudor gables, a warm sun shone benevolently on the peaceful heart of English suburbia. Geraniums blushed, gnomes nodded in immaculate front gardens, and two full tins of freshly baked brownies were safely conveyed to the match for tea.

But for a second week running, we were unable to spend long dwelling on the niceties - there was an unhelpful problem to worry about. We were again a team of only 10 men, and this time none of them was Simon.

It rapidly got worse.

Without Selfish in the team, Captain John "Happy" Pickersgill became utterly submerged in a Zen-like state of total selflessness. Even though our star batsman was nowhere to be seen, the skipper elected to go ahead and bat first anyway. And his peerless generosity continued during his own innings: without a moment's hesitation, he offered his front pad to the grateful bowler and was dismissed LBW, selflessly not taking up too much time at the crease.

The score had been moving rapidly along, though, with debutant Ash clubbing a mighty six over midwicket on his way to 17 and Dan, in more classical fashion, sweeping and driving to good effect.

But the wickets continued to fall and we were three down for 40-odd when Lurpak joined Will at the crease.

Both had been comparing hangovers on the train journey north and so decided that, with the loss of early wickets, the pitch keeping low and none of their available eyes functioning particularly well, it would be sensible to settle down and play quietly for a few overs.

With this in mind, Will opened his shoulders and carted the Saints' best bowlers to all corners of the field. He crunched good length balls through the covers, pulled anything short past midwicket and threatened several times to bring down one of the vintage aircraft droning overhead on its stately way to the aerodrome nearby.

At the other end Lurpak quietly went about remembering which end of a bat to hold and the pair put on over 70 together before Will finally fell for a dazzling 53. Lurpak left the scene soon after for 32 and Saints took a firm grip on the match again with some canny bowling.

At tea Cincinnati were all out for 154. It looked like an inadequate total on what was a decent batting pitch.

(Tea was impressive, with fruit, a good brew and a fine array of sandwiches. Crucially, it may just be, there were Amy's lucky chocolate brownies too - the same fortunate confections which had seen us home against old rivals BK at Greenwich earlier in the season.)

Max and Lurpak took the new ball but struggled to make an impression on some determined Saints, who looked like setting out to claim the runs required with minimum fuss. Both openers eventually fell to some late movement through the air and what was probably the best decision any umpire will make all year...

Saints stuck to their task, picking up the runs they needed without much trouble. But Cincinnati, too, showed mettle, hurrying the batsmen with some tight fielding, and trying to apply pressure with accurate bowling and threats of extreme violence from behind the stumps.

The turning point came - as turning points often do - with a moment of freakish genius. An agitated Saint drove crisply to our debutant Ash, who was standing deep at mid-off. Being new, Ash had not yet learned that the customary Cincinnati response is to let the ball sail through your legs and on to the boundary for four.

No, misguided soul that he was, Ash came steaming in and murderously hurled the ball at the bowler's end, scoring a stunning direct hit. A dangerous batsman was on his way and from then on, it seemed that either side could win.

The Chairman then took charge, plying his wily brand of flighted torture, while Steve, Adam and Max kept the pressure on. But with several wickets in hand Saints were in the better position and it looked like they would scrape home.

Then, with just five more runs needed to win, Saints lost their ninth wicket, bringing the last man to the crease. The nerve-shredding tension even managed to silence the chirping from behind the stumps as batsmen and fielders all focused on the one thing that mattered: not screwing up.

Enter Captain California.

In His Infinitely Selfless State of Inner Peace, John threw the ball to Desperate Dan, a batsman. Dan had never bowled for Cincinnati before and was thought to regard bowlers as kindly types who serve up nice red things to hit. No-one, least of all Dan, knew how he would react under the pressure, with one wicket - or three runs - needed for victory.

The breeze dropped. Fielders held their breath. A luminous rainbow appeared in the gloom.

The silence was shattered by the sound of splintering stumps, and then a raw, bloodcurdling howl - Dan had completely lost it as he was swamped by his euphoric team-mates, and Cincinnati had pinched a thrilling win by two runs.

CCC: 154 all out. Will 53. TimR 32.

London Saints: 152 all out. AndyO 3-12.

CCC Vs The Actors - a view from Denmark

Scene: St George's Field, in the Kingdom of Denmark.
Fortinbras and his army approach.





ACT I
As bitter wind whipped across the blasted heath,
A band of men sought sanctuary beneath
A Royal Oak, near th' sporting ground of Kings,
Where deer once were hunted, in sunnier Springs.

But no soon'r had the Team of Ten arrived
Than their chosen fath'r, Chairman O, contrived
To lose his nether raiment, trousers white,
And with them seemed to vanish all his fight.

For all men know what naked soldiers need:
A tailor - or at least a noble steed
To carry dress for battle from afar.
Failing that, a wife or girlfriend in a car.

But Andy had no saviour near enough,
And took the field of battle in the buff.
No Scottish strap had he, nor trusty kilt,
As Jock was slain by John, who, bearing guilt,

Offered up instead a host of merry pants -
Clean, he claimed, and wholly free from ants
Were they - but hardly strong enough to lift
A Chairman's drooping spirit, this paltry gift.

So unhappy men bent weary shoulders
To th' task, while twixt rival chairmen smouldered
Embers others could not grasp - perhaps
A heat from past elections, or th' lapse
Of days since last they met. Much time apart
Surely sharpens pangs of passion from the heart.

Such were the struggles amid the showers
That drenched the scene, it seemed that mighty powers
Must intervene. And so the Captain, hurt,
But brave, returned again to lead us into the dirt.

ACT II
And this is how the tragedy unfolds:
Attacks came early and the Rock was bowled;
Then the Vice - wielding pick - unleashed The Shot,
But a second saw him sadly lose the plot.

Lurpak dropped as low as mallards fly
But could not evade the umpire with one eye.
Heroic hitting at the last from Max,
Alas, merely delayed the quivv'ring axe.

Only Selfish Batting kept the team afloat,
Till even Simon fell. With him sank the boat.

ACT III
At Tea, the ten slain men did eat and drink
But Amy's absent cake, so some did think,
Left void what even Ham could not re-fill.
A stirring speech from Skipper was the pill
Which waked our wounded heroes from their sleep,
And led them to the field again, to keep
Their noble breasts puffed out with London pride
So they could say, "If nothing else, we tried."

ACT IV
And so they fought again, with arrow and sling,
Bending their backs to tempt the ball to swing,
And these determined efforts brought reward:
Twenty runs and four key wickets on the board.

From the teeth of death, they pulled new life,
And it seemed that e'en amidst the fearful strife
This Team of Ten might steal a famous win.
And, Lo! Pigs did fly above the inn!

ACT V
For strapless jocks and spikeless socks, and even
Borrowing Andy's box could not help Stephen
Or his comrades overcome the Actors,
Who had with them the fortune and factors
Beyond the reach of even Swooping Jay;
Chief of them, The Limpet, whose lengthy stay
Crushed all hope from within the Team of Ten
And sent our wounded heroes to the bar again.

Here, scores would be settled and wounds licked,
While two chairmen, in their own war, bit and kicked;
A famous fight-back had come to naught,
And all in the name of leisurely sport.