SCORECARD

The Good ‘Ole Days
Old Mo 200-7 Declared; President’s XI 166 all out.
Fitmen win by 24 runs

Just like in the old days, the toss was fixed by the club grandees during an all night goat baiting session in the Reddings Road lodge. The Fitmen were to be inserted in a timed match that harked back to the Good Ole Days. Those were the days eh? The side batting second could be completely outplayed and bore the opposition to death as they ground towards a draw.

The President’s XI certainly had the personnel to serve up cricket that could keep the crowds away – just on this occasion they didn’t manage it!

Raj and FitVirgin Donald Baker (30) opened up as the calculators ground into action – the main talking points were 'when tea was to be taken', 'could we finish the Tiger before the Golden Glow' and 'how long Mother Sedhava’s Pakora would last for'.

The middle late order was already getting concerned that the gram floured lovelies would evaporate before they’d removed their batting corsets – and were proved right.

The match ball, procured specially for the occasion from Aldi’s, looked a beauty, but didn’t trouble the openers who put on 46 for the first wicket spurred on by the wafting breeze from the industrial strength BBQ.

It took a double bowling change before the breakthrough and was down to the veteran of a different century to fool them. Both went to Strickers and both in conjunction with the flexible wrists behind the stumps of Chiz. Tom consolidated the innings with a well pace 23, Jack didn’t waste much time upping the rate with his breezy 13 before becoming victim to Bal's (3-23) wind ball whilst ‘Butch’ milked ‘em as he gracefully made a 50.

Not to be outshone in front of the crowd almost entirely made up of his own family, Tucks duly rattled up 33 ably supported (kind of) by Sunny and Chas. The Tuckers clan, clearly unimpressed by junior being left stranded on route to back to back half centuries, immediately left en masse for the lear jet bound for Aberdeen.

With 15 minutes until the scheduled tea interval, FitCaptain Glypta completely lost the plot and declared. The tea hadn’t even been brewed and pandemonium hit the BBQ area. Tea was immediately extended to an hour and heart beats returned to normal.

A sporting target of 201 off a minimum of 35 overs looked entirely..........unlikely. A draw was certainly on though and the opening pair of Howarth and Bruelly looked determined to drive away the spectator base built up over 20 years of entertaining cricket.

Calamity first ball as Howarth looked to have been ‘Medusa’d’. Hoping that he either 1/ didn’t nick it, 2/ the codicil about no first ballers had been inserted or that 3/ this was actually a parallel universe all proved unfounded -and that was the end of opening partnership.

The Prof understandably went defensive to shore up the innings and knocked up a dashing 1 of his next 23 balls before a rush of blood hooked four to the long leg boundary. Chiz looked solid, but nothing a small length of hose wouldn’t sort, and despite Sapey’s brief cameo a partnership with the skipper set up and unlikely victory.

125-4 and just 76 required. Had to be on – surely?

Frost (46) and Chiz (26) ceded their wickets to Butch (2-26) and Ash (4-21) respectively but no panic, we had Falmouth U17’s rising star still in the hutch not to mention the Moseley Estate Agents Jowett and Jewitt loosening their prosthetics. Martin manfully overcame the groinal agony to stroke 27 and all was under control. Jack Burkinshaw-alike was running the book – it was all downhill from here.

But then it struck...........The President’s XI succumbed to the blood sugar boost kicking in to Sunny’s bowling. The tandoori chicken usually takes around an hour to make the breakthrough and so it proved as the speedster (2-24) sniffed the BBQ being fired up once again. The urgency was obviously transmitted to Syd who, instead of the customary nod at the ball as it headed for the boundary, tried to wave at it – and it stuck for the catch of the day.

The Estate Agents were re-possessed, but Strickers wasn’t to be denied. Him and Bhuta would see us OK. OK him and Bal would see us OK. OK let’s pack it in and get a burger.

Spain, eventually, won...................was that a declaration jobbie as well?

The resident bookie couldn’t believe his luck as the punters faded into the night...............what a margin and no payout.