Finally, a Victory!

 I've not blogged every game, but if you read between the lines on my cricket posts, you can probably see a common theme about this season so far. 

Every game I've played I've been on the losing side, and none of them were close. I was 0 and 5 for 2025. 

Rather rubbish, really. 

So today, I took our Sunday team out to play Wellow, on their beautifully rustic ground above the dam fishing pond, and near the Maypole I attended the celebrations at last weekend. The facilities may not be up to much, but the setting is delightful.

After a bit of negotiating with our friend the Wellow skipper, it was decided that we would bat first, on a snooker table green wicket surrounded by a tangled outfield that the Wellow mower had broken down on with the job only a quarter done. 

As ever, I went out to umpire with six little stones collected from next to the pavilion, which gradually turned my hands black. Lawnmower oil. 

Against the two paciest, and best, Wellow bowlers, it was apparent very early that the wicket was going to be a naughty one, with the ball bouncing chest high one ball, skittering along the ground the next. But after our senior opener unluckily dragged one on that kept low, two young batsmen made a really good fist of watching the ball hard, playing sensibly, and seeing off these opening bowlers, and what came after, for fifteen overs when we took drinks. 

At this point, I risked unpopularity by telling them that they had now done their job, and done it brilliantly, but it was now time to push on. 54 off 15 overs is a little light in the context of a 30 over game, and we had some power hitting in the hutch.

To their great credit, they then upped the scoring rate, one of them making the highest score in his young life of 33, which set the platform for some power hitting later on by our middle order, one of whom blasted 50 in about 35 balls. Many a ball was lost to the unripe green stalks of the adjoining cornfield. 

We closed on 174 for 5, a brilliant team effort. 

Time now to bowl, and also time for a sharp shower after a couple of overs. Again, I was unsure about most of Wellow's batting line up, and they started with a former Notts ladies player who batted with great class. But our young pair who had batted so well were up to the challenge, and got her and the other opener early doors. 

One of Wellow's opening bowlers now came on to bat, after umpiring in his pads, and he looked like he could play a bit. But after hitting me for a boundary, I got one to bounce on his and he spooned it to cover. 

After a month, my first wicket this year, and it was their gun bat, and most welcome after the drubbing I took on Saturday. I was bowling well, pushing the ball through a bit, and I soon had another wicket to end up with 2 for 7. OK, they weren't as good as Saturday's bats, but I really needed that!

The serious damage, however, was done by our second team spinner at the other end, who got some sharp turn even bowling with a slippery ball - the cricket ball that is - and took 5 for 18. Much better than me!

So, I captained us to victory and got myself off the mark for the year. I think I handled things pretty well. I'm not very good at the actual game perhaps, but I do know a fair bit about it, and how to run a Sunday game. 

And lovely house martins flew over the ground too!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 01.06.25 

Wicker Man Goings On

 Monday saw my family and I visit Wellow village for a special ceremony. Now I've played cricket here a few times, and drunk at the pub overlooked by the traditional Maypole in the village, I've never attended the May Maypole ceremony. 

It was a major occasion in the village, preceded by Morris Dancing, some rather inappropriate medieval children's entertainers who were, perhaps in the traditions of the time, rather rude, which preceded the main event, when the carefully selected children of the village carried out some dancing. 

The whole event was incredibly reminiscent of watching the classic film "The Wicker Man", and a reminder of ancient times when such ceremonies were probably accompanied by a spot of human sacrifice to go along with all the merriment. 

Nowadays, the bloodiest events are probably the arguments between the mums of the village, fighting tooth and nail about whose daughter gets to be May Queen, or the train holder, or the flower girl. Like something out of "The Archers". 

Probably families not speaking to each other to this day. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 28.05.25

Feeling the Heat at Wellow Dam

 Sunday saw us take ourselves - an hour and half early in some cases which must be some kind of club record - to Wellow for a game of proper village cricket at their very rustic ground with its portaloo that not even the insanely brave would dare use. 

It's a lovely setting, a wicket barely distinguishable from the rest of the ground that slopes down a hill to a dam that separates the ground from a fishing lake, where bored men waving sticks at the water were taunted by effortlessly skimming swallows feeding their young of the telegraph wires. 

By the time arrived, our team, somehow an eleven, was more or less there, but the opposition weren't. The suspicion was that they were at the pub, and indeed some of them may have been until fifteen minutes before the game began, Their selection policy seemed to involve asking anyone to play who happened to be at the ground, including the grandfather of one of our juniors, but it worked as they managed to get eleven too.

Eleven v eleven games are a rarity on Sundays these days.

Sent in by my co-captain to contest the toss because he keeps losing it, I indeed won and announced we would bat without hesitation. On a very hot day, this is always a no-brainer, but after fifteen minutes, we all wished we hadn't.

The Keele captain was wiped out by a nasty swinging delivery by Wellow's guest Australian player from Sherwood in the Bassetlaw league 3 and thus better than any of us. Our young left hander was then torpedoed by a ball that rolled along the ground. Batting at four, I then survived one ball, before what seemed like a perfectly safe defensive shot was scooped off the ground by the bowler, a 6 foot 6 beanpole who somehow launched himself forward, downwards and sideways to make the catch.

I stood there absolutely stunned. Defeated by a giant ginger salmon, I pronounced myself cursed. Four ducks in a row. 

Luckily, our batting was heavily backloaded, and our big hitters, combined with wiser batting by our resident geographer, took us to what seemed like a highly competitive total of 157 in a thirty over game. I felt somewhat relieved, but not for long. 

Wellow always seem to turn out a couple of very good players among the young lads and beer enjoying social players, and it was the aforementioned affable Australian who put us to the sword straightaway with some mighty hitting, although he was dropped early on. We were playing "retire at 50" in this match, so when he was hooked off when he raised his half century after what seemed to be about fifteen minutes, we felt we were perhaps back in the game.

No. The new batsman at three was just as powerful. 

We did keep nicking wickets at the other end, I myself took two for 23, but we couldn't get the gun batter out, indeed he too got to 50 before retiring. Could this be another chance??? 

No, for two reasons. One, the Wellow captain who had got me out was equally capable of hitting a very long bowl, and two, the venerable geographer had hatched a plan to replace me with himself in order to bowl gentle lollipops for the Wellow captain to hit into the pond in order to get the game over and get us to what was admittedly a very nice pub all the quicker on what was by now a very hot afternoon. 

He was hit for twenty, and the job was done. So we had lost, but it was still an enjoyable afternoon. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 25.06.24

Cricketers not Doing their Usual Things

 After a lot of scrambling around, we were very grateful to Wellow Cricket Club for agreeing to get a game on with us today, albeit a rather short handed one.

Wellow is a charming village, famous locally and perhaps further afield for its maypole, and the cricket ground was in a wonderfully bucolic setting, on a big slope below a field full of very noisy sheep who were probably used to being used as target practice by big hitters during games, and knew what was coming next. 

No-body wanted to play a full format game with only 8 and 9 players a side in brain frazzling 31C heat, so we agreed to play an odd sort of 20 20 format game where some lads could bat twice if required. The serious nature of the match was underlined by the fact that a couple of the Wellow players had cracked open the beers before the game had event started. 

At least we were all wearing our whites. 

I kept up our proud record on Sunday of losing every toss, and so ended up bowling first on a day where no-one sane wanted to be fielding. Hence we agreed on restful drinks breaks every five overs. 

So, for these twenty overs we have three wicket keepers who all bowled, two seam bowlers bowling spin, and me, the captain, who didn't bowl at all. Our own regular second team player, who plays for WEllow as a sideline, was busy scoring a 50, and I hobbled about the field - everyone fielding on the boundary - barely able to move after playing on the Saturday, of which more anon. 

The third team captain, bowling filthy spin, got a wicket and our third team wicket keeper who has never bowled in a match before, took two. The first team captain got bored of bowling filthy spin, and decided to try and bounce out the Wellow opener with limited success. But drinks - and cigarettes - every five overs was very welcome. 

Upton rattled up 135 for 8 off their twenty overs, I think, and then it was time for us to bat, or rather it would have been if we weren't missing a quarter of our players who'd buggered off to Macdonalds. 

Because I hadn't bowled, one of our senior players insisted that I should open the batting, and having initially thought the idea was crazy, decided "Sod it, I hardly ever get to bat, I always have to bat last so can't get changed early, and I alwas have to go and umpire. I'll open"

Picking to open with me another player, and having told the Wellow skipper I was opening, taking strike and was also rubbish, he kindly put their gun fast bowler on to bowl at me, who I scrambed to block out for three balls before putting a tentative single through md-wickets.

My opening partner meanwhile, was getting stuck into hitting fours, something I joined him in a couple of overs later, belting a couple down the hill and into the long grass. I then lost my timing after that, and decided to just knock the ball around for ones and twos while my partner started hitting sixes, and rather bizarrely, a four off the back of his bat. 

We made it to one drinks break, then a second. Just as well, becuase batting and runnin up and down the wicket is bloody hard work on a day like this. 

I was just thinking I could go on and make a fifty, but off the last ball of the fast bowlers spell, he castled me with one that kept a little low. 

I'd ended up making 29, my hughest ever score. We won't talk about the nature of the game though.

Whoops, I just did. 

My opening partner meanwhile did get his 50, and retired in tiumph to watch the rest of the game, which we went on to win by eight wickets (or seven? or six?) after the first tteam opening bat went out there and blasted 45 off about 20 balls. 

It had been a fun game for everyone apart from the third team captain, who was slightly put out by not getting to bat, which actually from my point of view gave him more time to eat his Macdonalds and doughnuts. We celebrated by going to the pub next to the maypole, and talking about more cricket stuff.

As if we hadn't been all afternoon. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 11.07.22

Boiled in the Cricketing Heat

 Sunday was a friendly game against Wellow, a team that we have several connections with thanks to players who have played for both clubs. It was sure to be another very hot day, although a featherweight breeze made it a little more bearable. 

Once again, the buzzards were riding the thermals overhead, and bees were feeding off the last of the bramble flowers. I was trundling around trying to loosen up before the game, hoping that my ankle would stand up to some more bowling after Saturday's efforts. I was thinking I might have to bowl off a short run.

Some might say I'd be better off not bowling at all, lol!

So, we batted first and with our regular umpires away, this meant I had a chance to take to the middle and do some flamboyant arm waving when a boundary was hit, which as I was umpiring at the end where the less good bowlers seemed to be bowling from was a lot more fun than my umpire colleague, who barely had to move while the opening bowler was on at his end.

Have I said that the Wellow team looked suspiciously young and good when they turned up? That always alarms me, as I am old and rubbish these days.

Anyway, our opening bats both recorded 50s before retiring, one rather faster than the other, but after a bright start we got a bit bogged down by the Wellow spinners for about 10 overs, which as it was only a 30 over game was a problem, although some late hitting by the third team captain, thankfully not wearing a long sleeved jumper like he had done on Saturday in the 32 degree heat, got us up to a reasonably competitive total of 143.

Or so we thought.

The opening bat for Wellow, apparently a player on Saturdays for Cuckney in the higher divisions of the Bassetlaw league, made mincemeat of our bowling, and raced to 50 in about 8 overs. It's so easy to spot a top level batsman, the speed of foot movement is so much faster. So much for the theory that friendly Sunday cricket would be a genteel knockabout!

However, he retired on 50 as both teams agreed, which meant I didn't have to bowl at him. Oh dear.

Indeed I did bowl, off a full run too, and ended up bowling better than I've done all year. The accuracy was there, I beat the bat, and as usual HAD NO LUCK AT ALL. I just can't buy a wicket this year, although on a dead slow wicket with no seam movement, and a ball that doesn't swing I've got no chance at my pace. 

I only bowled one bad ball, but despite flogging myself to death in the heat, I just couldn't break through. 5 overs for 17, but no wides or no balls. I fielded ok again too. 

At 120 odd for 3, the game looked dead and buried, but there was a late twist thanks to some aggressive bowling from our skipper, and some mystery left arm wrist spin too. A flurry of bowleds and stumpings followed, and a first time wicket too for one of our players who came to cricket late, but Wellow's last pair saw them over the line.

A fun and enjoyable game, in all. One day I'll bat again though, and add as many as one run to our total.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 19.07.21

The Taylor-Forbes Memorial Game

No cricket yesterday, but today I played in a club match to honour a couple of gents who were very influential at Newark and Wellow cricket clubs, and from whom a number of players take part in the game, as well as players from other local clubs who knew them.

It is always a popular fixture, one I've never been selected to play in before and so considered it quite an honour to take part in this one. Especially as I was probably the worst player on either side.

The last couple of years the weather has been great  for this fixture, but today it was cold and grey, with a biting wind cutting across the ground. I was playing for the Forbes team, and as we batted first I was able to walk around the ground photographing the cricket and also the bees making the most of the flowering dandelions around the margins. I knew I wouldn't have to bat as we had so many good players.

Alas, not true. The wicket was tricky, and slow bowlers were just rolling along the ground. Our resident Division A bat got a 50, but most others struggled. I know I did. I needed a spade rather  than a bat, and only managed 1 not out.

153 should have been enough, but my first over went for three boundaries and although I got better and removed our first team captain, no-one could quite keep the runs down and we lost with about 5 overs to spare. I fielded well though and winning wasn't the point.

Lunch by the way was excellent, this is why I hate fielding second. Not enough time to digest my food.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 27.08.18