“It is poor form to take offence at personal comments in a match report”, whined old has-been, Tim Young to me over lunch.  He might regret that.  The rest of the Thebertons team where rather young and fit (or in the case of local estate agent, Alexander Risdon, young).  They brought with them a number of charming girlfriends, who where dab hands at gathering chairs during the occasional rain breaks and one of whom very kindly found my sunglasses and returned them to me before I had even realised they where lost.

Nick P-G had determined to take an egalitarian approach to captaincy and a fortnight ago reached out to those who had not been given a game due to the rude health of the V&A’s pool of cricketing talent.  As a consequence, many regulars made other arrangements and by Saturday, only ten players where forthcoming, one short of the traditional number. Thebertons batted first after a brief rain delay and it quickly became apparent that in James, they had a batsman of some quality.  He and his partner sailed steadily, if unspectacularly, through to lunch without loss of wicket.

Sarah Jenkins, caterer once again, had taken umbrage at Nicky Bird’s description of last week’s lunch as “entirely adequate… leftovers”.  I had taken this to classic understatement for effortlessly assembled vittles of high quality, but she has known Nicky longer that I have.  If there is one golden rule of match reporting, it is that whilst you can be as rude as you like about the players (they come and go), you must never, never, never insult the tea lady; she is the very epicentre of the team.  Thus I am pleased to report that lunch was a more than adequate ensemble of what used to be referred reassuringly as ‘the usual fare’, and was heartily enjoyed by all. 

After lunch, the Theberton innings was checked by an inspired spell of bowling by Adam Jacot.  Last minute visits to counsellors, physiotherapists and health farms had done their stuff and he entered an almost zen-like trance as he prepared to bowl each ball, followed by a squeal of delight when he induced a false shot or one of his three wickets.  In the mean time NPG spent much of the time running around the field shouting meaningless phrases such as “Good areas”, “in the zone” and “wheels” to name but three, and castigating Nicky Bird for forgetting where is supposed to be fielding.  Nicky usually keeps wicket, today stepping aside for James Huntingdon Whitely, which means that he usually has a slip and a batsman to broadcast to.  With fielders far flung, conversational opportunities are few, so his wandering was less absent mindedness and more a desire to get within range of another fielder for a chat.  His fielding, incidentally, was notably competent: stopping all that came his way and even throwing overarm on one occasion.  It must be diet.  At lunch he does not touch a drop of wine and strictly monitors his intake of caviar.

 Despite having dismissed the upper order the scoring started to accelerate rapidly.  The incoming batsmen where rackets pros, and whilst classical technique was not much in evidence, they put quick reactions and hand-eye coordination to good effect to flay the ball hither and yon.  If any evidence of how useful rackets is to playing cricket, I need only refer you to John Arlott’s beautifully crafted monograph on A.E.J. “The Boy” Collins, who played rackets and cricket for Clifton College and as a thirteen year old in 1899 scored 628* in a house match, a score which remained unmatched in any form of organised cricket until January of this year.

Playing NPG’s inventive ‘restricted declaration’ format the Thebertons batted for all but one of their maximum of 35 overs to reach 180-6, leaving the V&A 31 overs to knock off the runs, a tall order on a two paced pitch, but requiring Thebertons to bowl us out in the same time to win.  I thought this to be a tactical error as there was nothing demonic about either pitch or bowlers.  I reckoned without the startling ineptitude of the V&A top order. 

To begin with NPG had concocted a rather eccentric batting order.  He believes in standing up for the unsung and downtrodden, in this case those who had had little chance to shine during the season, leaving the likes of Lachlan and De Caires jettisoned to the tail.  This is admirable in its way, but has practical limitations.  There was a bit of brouhahah, beginning with murmurs of dissent and resulting a vote of no confidence.  NPG, however, said he had been elected as captain by the collective membership of the V&A and was going nowhere, so the batting order stood.

It was not a success.  Tidy bowling and spectacular catching saw Messrs Bird, Grantham, Jacot and Huntingdon-Whitley all depart without troubling the scorers and when Emley scooped Risdon to square leg, the V&A where 6-5 in the fifth over.  Enter Lachlan who, this season, scores mainly in sixes; it is easy that way he says. Taking advantage of some generous bowling changes he added six more clearances of the boundary to his tally in an innings of 62.  Sadly, there was limited support: the next highest score was 7.  Despite this it would have been quite possible to bat out for a draw, but this is not the way the V&A play.  Dennis was out trying to force the pace and Lachlan eventually caught on the boundary attempting another six.  When Adam Jacot, batting for a second time in the absence of an eleventh man, was bowled first ball (thus claiming the dubious distinction of claiming a pair in a one innings match), there were still four overs remaining.  A worthy and comprehensive win for the Thebertons, who where simply too good in all departments for a depleted V&A side.

After the match I attempted to make myself useful in tidying up the pavilion until NPG told me I would be most help keeping out of the way.  My wife calls this conscious incompetence and says it is something I do very well.  Possibly the lateness of this match report represents more of the same.