SCORECARD

My Precious (Winning Record) Is Lost!

Sportsman 146 all out, Old Mo 136 all out

It is perilous to study too deeply the arts of the Enemy, for good or for ill. But such falls and betrayals, alas, have happened before. Well at least that is true of previous ventures on the perilous track that is Richmond Hill Road. In nothing is the power of the Dark Lord Sauron more clearly shown than in a wicket formed in the bowels of Orcs and soaked by the urinations of the Balrog.

And so we walked into peril from the inn, a merry old inn (or country pub and eating establishment as it is now advertised), — to Mordor – under a dark and portentous sky. Hopes were still high, however, for though we did not have Bilbo, we did have Bilal; a late replacement for the torn hamstring of Ash.

‘Twas not a difficult task to invite the opposition to bat first, but the works of the evil one were at already at hand when Ade threw up his ring and all seemed lost. First to pitch the (at least to start with) blood-red orb into the Slough of Despond were Dave Healey and The Chairman, who performed the unfathomable miracle of bowling tightly and remaining upright. Wickets were slow in coming, but with Raj and Ade coming into the attack the scoring rate was kept to a level that only indicated a final total of 120 or so by the time drinks were taken.

At this point a plaintive cry was to be heard from a figure upon the cowshed roof calling "where art thou my precious one?". Was it the creature Gollum? No 'twas Ian Nutt.

Lusty blows from the Sportsman’s lower order, straight from the Shire, took their toll in the latter stages of their innings, punctuated by splattered stumps and a stunning catch from Tom “Bolbadil” Caesar. A final score of 146 was indicated by the scoreboard, but unconfirmed by the scorebook. Further information is not extant...

Tea followed and Troll sat alone on his seat of stone, and munched and mumbled a bare old bone; For many a year he had gnawed it near, for meat was hard to come by. Done by! Gum by! Perhaps he had enjoyed better fare than we.

Unto the pitted and blasted track ventured Gandalf Howarth and Tom. “The pitch must be trod,” said Captain Frodo, “but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom, but proper batting stokes will carry us far upon it.” Simon and Tom fell victim to the demons lurking in the swamp, but when Tuckerrr came to the middle to join Tahir, suddenly the tide began to turn.

Seeing the ball like a football (it was by this stage, given the accumulated layers of mud) Tucker began to cause panic in the Sportsman ranks. When, with a fine pull shot Tucker despatched the now sludge-brown orb into the thickest part of the Dark Forest - where none would enter, save they impale themselves - a replacement was ordered, presumably from the store of Saraumon.

With the departure of Tucker, Captain “Frodo” Green entered the fray and having surveyed the blasted plain decided that “Shire” batting would be more appropriate. With only 28 required and plenty of overs in hand, all seemed fair for the return home, but Sauron was not to be outdone. Summoning all of demons of Mordor, Tahir was to fall to a ball that dipped, swerved, skidded, plopped and just about everything that it shouldn’t. Dave and Raj swiftly followed back to the cowshed – complete with horse blanket (possibly), but with Ade now back in possession of the one true Ring all still seemed rosy.

When irritated by the witless and wanton destruction of timbers behind him, Captain Frodo dared to speak up for what was right and true, but as Gildor said “Do not meddle in the affairs of certain wicketkeepers, for they are lacking in subtlety and quick to anger”.

Yet the Dark Lord still held one final evil spell and when the orb stuck in the sodden turf, Captain Green was to fall victim. Ian “The Wall” Nutt came next to the trench (formerly the crease) and the final overthrow of the opposition was still in sight, but alas, ‘twas not to be and when Bilal (not Bilbo) was last man out 11 runs were still needed (or were they?)

And unto a second Inn the Fitmen did retire, though not accompanied by the victors.
"Always after a defeat and a respite, the Fitmen take another shape and grow again," said Tom “Bolbadil” Caesar.
"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Captain Frodo.
"So do I," said Gandalf Howarth, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
(With apologies to JRR Tolkien)