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Fixtures and Results | Match Reports

Date Against H/A Link Result Captain/Score
Sun 18 / 6 / 2017 The Sportsmen Home (YW) Lost by 193 runs. Oppo 311-5. Old Mo 118-9.

SCORECARD

The tale of a pitch that launch a thousand runs, a lost toss and a wilting Weed.

Fitmen 118-9, lost to The Sportsmen [sic], 311-5, by A LOT

A gallant band of Fitmen rumbled to Moseley Ashfield on the hottest day of the year so far. The jungle drums had been working overtime on the pitch we would find. Everybody had heard of the double ton scored on that very same pitch the previous day, even the very pleasant ambulance driver asked about the double ton but more of that later!
Unlike certain Lions call-ups, being a Captain of the Fitmen never de-values the shirt but on a hot day the single most critical task for a Fit-Captain is not to lose the Toss. After checking the coin several times to make sure it wasn’t a “double tail” (which Fitman has he played against before?), the oppo Captain called heads. Who in their right mind calls heads on the hottest third Sunday in June ever recorded in Moseley? It landed heads and with badly disguised joy he decided to have a bat.
Experimentation was the order of the day. The Northern King of Swing and the Kings Heath Tweaker opened up the innings. Edges and beating the bat were aplenty but nothing fell close to a fielder. At this point we knew that the rumours of the fabled “perfect pitch” were real and the wicket started to take on a heavenly golden glow just like the “special” mushroom in the original Super Mario Bros.
This was the time to unleash the season’s leading wicket taker. The field was set. The fielders then moved to where they wanted to be, generally in the shade (herding cats and stand where you f*@#&%g well want) sprung to mind. The crowd was hushed. In came the mighty Sharif and with his second ball the batsman hit it to the only fielder still standing in the sun! Hoorah! Went up the cry! If we could only nip out a few more. Unfortunately, oppo’s number 3 walked to the wicket and started dispatching all, to every part of the ground. It was a fine display from a talented player. Although to be complaining about the 4th replacement ball, saying that it wasn’t coming off the bat, after 120, resulted in several fit grumbles and some interesting suggestions where he might put that ball!
After 160 odd he smacks a ball to deep long on, straight into the clutches of the mighty Weed. With a bit of a juggle, the catch is taken but Rob needs to leave the field. He was worried he had done, and I quote, “a bit of a Howarth”! The depleted Fitmen continue and after throwing the kitchen sink at the batsmen, we decide to throw a slightly jaded but extremely fondly remembered mobile phone at the opps. “Nokia” ended up with figures of 2 for 48 off 5 overs! There is life in the old batteries yet!
During the final over it was noticed that the Rob, while icing his “Howarth” was taken all light headed and went for a lie down in a very uncontrolled manner. So the innings was declared with 2 balls to go to tend to the Wilting Weed. Rob slowly went from an unhealthy looking shade of grey to, well, no colour at all. The absence of colour is theoretically possible but surely not on a live human being. Actually, at one point the Commodore did step on Rob’s fingers to make sure he was still alive! Shortly after, Rob’s wife came to tend to him and upon laying eyes on her wounded hero, was heard to cry “You do look like s@~&!” The ambulance duly arrived and after exchanging pleasantries with the lady driver, the emergency crew tended to our fallen comrade. The ambulance was removed from the field (with the not so wilting weed in it) and taken to the car park.

Tea was taken and it must be wondered that the lack of atomic wings played its part in the fit reply. A survey was conducted on the Tuna sarnies and the reply was a marked improvement on previous efforts, with moist but not unpleasant the best quote.
Not much to say about the Fit reply. The day chasing the ball in the stifling heat had taken its toll. Apart from Tuckerrr, it was a sorry tale, falling 121 runs short of our re-vised target.

The biggest cheer of the day was when Rob, recently discharged from the ambulance, appeared Phoenix like, at the entrance to the ground and waved gingerly to his hapless comrades. Get well soon Mr Weed!