Resignation rumour sweeps Blackheath, and Hampstead Heath… or wherever

By the Chairman

“It is rather like sending your opening batsmen to the crease, only for them to find that their bats have been broken before the game by the team captain.”

With these dramatic words, Geoffrey Howe, the former Chancellor and Foreign Secretary, one of Britain’s most distinguished politicians, described how his best efforts had been undermined by Margaret Thatcher, the captain of his government team, in his famous resignation speech.

A short time later, Thatcher herself was forced from office, having lost the support of her star players.

Lord Howe’s vivid analogy also neatly captures the hopelessness and despair facing Cincinnati in the absence of our own Captain, as we found ourselves, on June 1, up against the might of Real Maredrid.

In fact, with minimal adaptation, Lord Howe’s words put our desperate plight that day perfectly:

“It is rather like sending your opening batsmen to the crease, only for them to find that the captain had sent them to entirely the wrong cricket ground to play a team going by a completely different name, and then pootled off to France.”

So on a hot afternoon, in the shade of a municipal dog waste bin, the assembled six Cincinnatians, and one unfortunate young son, scratched our heads and waited for the opposition to arrive at their own home ground. Only it wasn’t.

Eventually, we discovered that we should have been playing at Parliament Hill, despite Brendan’s instructions to turn up at Hampstead Heath Extension.

Perhaps he thought we would need to come in off a long run. Perhaps there was a darker motive at work...

When the game finally started, and the opposition’s charming and competent captain, Mr Hugh Jones, politely informed us that their team was in fact the Gospel Blokes, not Real Maredrid, the chairman’s brain was scrambled and ludicrously he decided to bat first.

Opening the innings with Ben Jackson, the Chairman did his very best to get Cincinnati off to the very worst of possible starts, skying a full toss high over his own head, just beyond the reach of the wicket keeper and neatly into the hands of Mr Jones, who politely and charmingly dropped it onto the grass.

Some months later, with Cincinnati’s two openers still at the crease, the score reached 50, and drinks – some of which may have contained lethal barbiturates – were ordered, and taken.

Whereupon complete chaos unfolded. Even without Brendan to direct our performance, we managed to put on a peerless display of farcical batting, losing eight wickets for about 20 runs in the space of half an hour.

By the time Faisal, one of our talented all-rounders, arrived at the crease, 50-0 had become 70-8. Humiliation, our default setting, beckoned.

But nobody had told Faisal how things are supposed to end. Instead, he played a brilliant innings and rescued our prospects, finishing on 36 not out, having guided Cincinnati to 130 off our allotted 30 overs.

After a break for tea and a spot of dancing to the popular music combination entertaining the crowds from the bandstand, we set about defending our slender, but no longer entirely hopeless, total.

Ali and Faisal then ripped out the top order of the Blokes’ batting line up with quick and accurate spells, leaving them in the kind of disarray which had engulfed our own innings an hour earlier.

Ali finished with 3-14 and Faisal 2-12. Just when they thought they had survived the worst, Chris came on and took 2-2 off three overs of testing left-arm seam. Simon, Richard and Lucky Dan all chipped in with wickets too.

The Gospel Blokes were duly dismissed for 35, giving Cincinnati victory by the improbable margin of 95 runs.

Praise is due to Saqib for some fine wicket-keeping for only the second time in his career.

With plenty of daylight left, our hosts then suggested a 10 overs per side beer match.

The Blokes notched up 66-4 and Cincinnati fell six runs short in what was ultimately a far more exciting contest, in which the Chairman hit three sixes on his way to 28 off 13 balls before running himself out (or ambling himself out) returning lazily for a two, in the last over, effectively ending our chances of victory.
Despite the challenges posed by our leader’s absence at some kind of European summit, we fought on, and we fought to win… leaving only one thing left for Brendan to do on his return.Consult history, captain. And then consult your cabinet.

Game played at Parliament Hill on Sunday, June 1.

The Skipper writes: 'Ooh er.'