V&A v. ACME
11th September 2010
V&A v. THE INVALIDS
16th April 2011
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V&A v. A FEW GOOD MEN

A FEW GOOD MEN are a team born at Durham University, and good they are, and men too – they can throw and run and bend and are all under 30. In embarrassing contrast we were mostly the wrong side of 55, with Cobb nearer 70. It cannot be long now before he takes the Capt. Oates walk and disappears, muttering that he may be some time. Only Scott and Alex were what you’d call nimble in the field, with Christiaan getting an honourable mention. The decrepitude that has crept up on us means that singles become twos as batsmen twig that a fielder will take a while to stoop and return the ball underarm in the rough direction of the keeper. We need a minimum of 4 young people in the field. Otherwise we give perhaps 30 runs away needlessly. I would be failing in my duty as acting archivist if I did not refer politely to Adam’s performance. He arrived in less than tip-top condition. He seemed to have been beaten up or cut himself shaving, though judging by the stubble that appeared unlikely. Fielding at deep gully a ball was lobbed his way. He managed a show of commitment by slowly falling to his right. But by this time the ball had long since rolled gently passed him. Perhaps his lowest point was fielding at the long-off boundary when a ball came his way which meandered between his legs and nestled in the long grass behind him. It must have been but an inch or two over the rope. But poor Adam, in his confusion and shame, could not find it. His bowling however was more than adequate and one appeal – a full-throated, arms-wide, eyes-bulging Dominic Cork style rant – was superb, but ineffective.Rupert Morris made some teasing remark to Adam about his fielding, which Adam took to heart…when even Rupert comments on your shite fielding, Adam said, then things have come to a pretty pass.There was some sort of metaphor at the end of the day when Martin, Dennis, Nick Emley, myself and Adam, were pushing Peter Linthwaite’s old jalopy downhill in an effort to get it started. The clapped-out pushing the clapped-out…

I lost the toss in a 35-over game, standing in for Dennis [skipper] who had not arrived, and they wisely elected to bat, knowing the pitch would get progressively easier. It was a bad toss to lose. Their opening few overs were indifferent and Rupert and Nick scored at 5 an over, but then the bowling improved and our run rate stuttered. On 43, with Nick on 19 [with three 4s], umpire Adam gave Nick out LBW when well forward. Adam said it was plumb. Nick disagreed but he did not labour the point much beyond lunch, tea and dinner; nor will he bang on about for long at Lords on Monday when the two are due to sit side by side, through an unfortunate accident of scheduling.

Scott came in and sought to advance the rate in his strong front-foot style. Rupert was soon bowled – for a useful 25 [four 4s]. In walked Cobb. And out again after three balls, bowled. Dennis, watching the run rate with alarm – it had dropped again –promoted himself and did what he does best – hammer the bowling. But after two huge sixes and a four [22 quick runs] he too was bowled, and in marched Martin. Almost immediately Scott was caught – for a fine 23. On 103 for 3 Bird N. joined Martin with the run rate looking dire. Martin whacked two 4s but in truth he was not at his imperious best, scoring an uncharacteristic 10 singles in his eventual score of 22*. Luckily, Bird hit 20 in an over which made the rate respectable but although he ended with 48* [six 4s, two 6s] when our innings closed on 181, he felt frustrated that the last two overs only went for 6 runs. A costly failure.

Rupert and Kitty provided an excellent luncheon of spiced chicken, tongue, ham, salads etc. I provided the potatoes, not perhaps an absolutely equal division of labour. I also did tea. It was a tad meagre, consisting of some broken biscuits. Rupert commented that I hadn’t had much to do and what I did was pretty piss poor. I made the excuse that the cakes I had baked – Battenberg, chocolate and jam sponges – and the scones had all been left behind by mistake, but this might not have been strictly true.

They started slowly. We were offered hope by the whisper of a long tail – and a quick wicket when Dennis bowled their opener with a beauty that pitched just outside off stump and hit middle and leg. But they turned out to have three really good batsmen and although Christiaan managed to tempt one to cut a long hop to Alex at point [very good catch] and another into a caught and bowled, we did not achieve the breakthrough after tea which was essential. With only 20 runs to get, a ball was skied just behind the keeper [me]. Unfortunately, I am now obliged to stand up to slow bowlers like Peter wearing a helmet, because of a ball in the mug received lat year that I have not recovered from. A helmet has a peak that makes it impossible to see high balls. The ball in question fell harmlessly by my big toe.

They reached the target with overs to spare, I think. So our season, which has been hugely successful, ended not with a bang but a whimper. However, it was a lovely day and the opposition are just the sort we like, helpful and pleasant and appreciative. They did not complain about my tea or ask for a rebate. On another day we wily old pros might have prevailed but their lack of even a token geriatric or cripple makes a difference.

We are over-generous in that department. On the first day of next season I trust we won’t we see what we did back in April this year. One of our stalwarts seemed pregnant. Too many succumbed to injury this year – Nixey, Noble, Andy Fraser –evidence of some form of self-abuse. But luckily Dennis stayed fit to dominate both batting and bowling.

Our AGM or dinner dance will be in February, possibly at the Coach & Horses, Kew. Our new and energetic Treasurer, Rupert Morris, will conduct a fund-raising auction and collect subs [the sum to be announced]. Entertainments may include the usual spot-the-ball and apple bobbing – plus a spot-fixing game in which you have to decide whether Adam is genuinely useless in the field, or whether he was nobbled.