V&A PLAYERS: Nick Emley*, Rupert Morris, Ross Ashcroft, Adam Jacot, Nick Constantine, Phil Goodliffe, Christiaan Jonkers, Tom Pritchard-Gordon, Nick Pritchard-Gordon, Martin Bowden, Matt Lambert.

I was listening to TMS the other day and they were lamenting the lack of decent cricket writing that exists in the public sphere. I sympathized. Not enough people have encountered ‘Flanneled Fools’ yet. There was also no small amount of consternation regarding cricketing novels. But could you write a novel about cricket? Wodehouse’s ‘Mike’ is about as close as you could get. I think, alas, that the book would become more about social divisions, subtextual aggressions, jealousy, envy, spitefulness and rage… the sort of stuff that is better suited to things like ‘Love Island’ (Don’t pretend you don’t know what it is, Christiaan…). If you only wrote about cricket you’d probably come up short. There are only so many ways you can artfully say: ‘He’s left it.’

The Legends XI are a decent lot. They’re very heavy on the WAGs+ side of things (WAGs ‘+’ is a new thing of mine that denotes infants.) which is great because we’re a vain lot, really, and we like an audience. Nick Emley was at the helm and dutifully won the toss. 35 overs a side, seven overs a bowler. Win, or lose: none of this draw nonsense. Nick is a results man. He invited The Legends to field first. The track at Stonor (prepared by pro groundsman ‘Tich’ Vickers) has given both batsman and bowler a chance this season, unlike the more benign one at Turville Park, which favours big scores (see last week’s match report). Nevertheless, despite the odd eccentricity, over 400 runs were scored on Saturday at Stonor. Eccentricity is why we love the game, after all.

Rupert Morris and Ross Ashcroft opened up for The V&A. Rupert has had most of the month of July to himself. Feet up in the south of France and jolly nice it was too. Slightly hot; slightly uncomfortable for sleeping. I told him he wasted the trip: if sweaty conditions for sleeping denote a holiday he should have stayed in London. Anyway, Rupert played his trademark scythe through the covers with panache. It went straight to the man at point and we were one down early.

I walked to the wicket and set about doing some damage. I’d seen one of the Sky Sports edits lending some stateliness to the final morning at Edgbaston… it broke the three previous days down into Acts, with quotes from Shakespeare. Joe Root’s 80 was Macbeth’s: ‘Disdaining fortune, with his brandish’d steel, / Which smoked with bloody execution, / Like valor’s minion carved out his passage’. With thoughts of disembowelment spinning round my head, I took guard. I am not known for my patience at the crease but their opening quick was sensationally intimidating with the ball. Not the sharpest, by any means, but the seamer in particular hooped the ball away from Ashcroft and self, whilst flirting with seam movement in both directions. The bit between our teeth, we fought on and took the runs where we could. 

Ashcroft fell to an extraordinary catch at first slip. Dawid Malan would’ve shelled it, as would Cookie. The ball started on middle and leg and swung away from the bat, clipping the shoulder and thundering toward the ankle of the slipper. The ball before, said slipper was overheard saying “I can’t catch a thing. I’m only standing here because I’m useless in the field.” Ross can take heart from the fact that he did exceptionally well to get any bat on it at all – others would have floundered.

The V&A faced off the openers and began to take the Legends’ bowling attack to task, with a healthy run rate the norm. Matt Lambert, on debut for The V&A, hadn’t had a bat in about half a decade. It didn’t show. He played sweetly, with a lot of high elbow and crisp striking until he was undone by a ball that kept rather low. Nick Pritchard-Gordon was equally unlucky, digging out a yorker, only for it to roll tamely onto leg stump and dislodge the bail.

Lunch was taken with The V&A at 150 odd for four, from 25 overs. The catering was shared by Jane and Megan. I hadn’t realised that Jane was a chef, but I’m quite ignorant at the best of times. The food was sublime. Coronation chicken, ‘slaw, rices, pulses, cheeses. We are truly spoilt by those that provide for us, and I often fear that the spectacle we offer as a reward pales in comparison.

Dear leader, Nicky Bird, has returned from his sojourn to Cape Cod, complete with a light tan and a rather carefree air. He’s developed a new fascination with the amount of wine available to one travelling by air on a long haul flight. Conversation turned to the fact that airlines have stopped providing the miniature bottles, in favour of pouring freely glass by glass. He thinks it a scandal; a ruse to make you feel like the service is better whilst they control how blotto you actually get. Adam Jacot and I agreed that Nicky is just grumpy because the air-hostesses have become more matronly and stopped flirting with him – long gone are his hippie days of flowing locks and the well-lunched Mick Jagger aura. Christiaan doesn’t wine and fly (he does whine, sometimes, as you’ll see later), he takes a hot chocolate and a double dose of sleeping pills. A little was made of the tailoring in the 1970s. I’ve never been much of a fan of flares, but I do rather like the seven inch lapels. Christiaan announced that he rather likes a velvet jacket. We agreed on the concept, but couldn’t agree on the optimal colour, so we decided to go back to batting instead.

I was out shortly after the resumption*, leaving the charge in the hands of our skipper. He picked up where he’d left off before lunch: finding the boundary regularly with some audacious sweeps and flicks into the leg side. Martin Bowden proved an excellent companion and found the boundary on occasion too. As the overs remaining dwindled, the score increased. We finished on 221-7 from our 35 overs.

Jonkers and Pritchard-Gordon The Younger opened the bowling and Tom struck early, dismissing one of The Legends openers for a duck, potentially first ball, if memory serves. Alas, that was the end of The V&A’s good fortune for quite some time. Their first and third batsmen dug in and saw off Jonkers and Pritchard-Gordon.

The Sledge Sessions: Vol. IV

I started doing these earlier in the season and thus far they’ve featured Nick Emley, Christiaan Jonkers and assorted others. Of late, there have been some rather expletive exchanges which don’t count as sledges, and some very good camaraderie on both sides. Not much to go on, really. However, local quick wit Mr. Jonkers has obliged, this week.

Having beaten their best batsman on several occasions, the batsman in question played rather a nice defensive shot. “Well, that hit the middle,” chuntered Christiaan, offering the beady eye to the opposition, flicking away his forelock for good measure (reminds me of another one of our bowlers, actually). Back at the top of his mark, Christiaan wheeled around and thundered back in, menacingly. He proceeded to offer a shin high full toss to the batsman who promptly drove the ball with the force of a tracer bullet, evading Christiaan’s flailing left hand and the token resistance shown by self at mid-off to the boundary for four. The batsman looked at Christiaan and said “That hit the fucking middle, too”. Nick Pritchard-Gordon roared with laughter, as he often does when the opposition get the better of us, and on we went.

The batsman made 80, but Christiaan had his revenge by producing the champagne moment of the day, where he actually KICKED the ball in his follow through onto the stumps, running the potty-mouth out by a couple of yards. It was almost as majestic as the yelp of sheer delight that came from somewhere inside Christiaan directly afterwards. Poetry in motion.

Former V&A superstar Robbie Lawson came to the crease. I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him before but I’m told he now lives in self-imposed exile in that Penal Colony known as Australia. He doesn’t support the Baggy Greens though, he’s still a Pom. He has scored many a run for The V&A so, rightly, a few of our number were a little apprehensive. Step up Martin Bowden. Martin is, I think, the canniest bowler I have ever seen. He curls in from an arcing run up and delivers the ball precisely where he intends to, with faultless accuracy. He drew Lawson down the pitch, only to bend the ball past him leaving Phil Goodliffe to complete another smart stumping (Phil had already removed the Legend’s opener with a brilliantly quick stumping off the medium pace Lambert). It was also a real pleasure to see Robbie and Martin embrace before the former trudged off back to the pavilion. Robbie, you have clearly been missed and it was a pleasure for both the old and the new of the V&A alike to have you back at Stonor!

The chase was in the balance, the run rate was agreeable, but favoured The V&A. Adam Jacot bowled with more aggression than is his usual custom and pinned down the opposition. Thirty were required from the final three overs. Palms undulated with sweat. Nick Emley rang changes in the field. Phil Goodliffe kept the energy alive from the wicket, having pinched two outstanding stumpings. Ross Ashcroft held two staggering catches under immense pressure in the deep. The atmosphere was electric. The night was closing in. 

Suddenly, the final over was upon us, the Legends XI requiring just six to win the game. Up stepped Tom Pritchard-Gordon in his Toulouse-Lautrec sunglasses (they’re small, round, thinly framed and black – but Tom works with leather: he’s probably a hipster. For those not au fait with that term, its synonymous with “c&*t”). The first ball was a dot, the second a wicket. The third struck the batsman in the groin. The fourth was pummelled at Tom’s head and he very nearly took an outstanding return catch, just failing to palm the ball up to his future self as he lay on the ground. The fifth was a single and the final ball saw the Legends fall short by a solitary run. Victory for The V&A.

It is roundly agreed that it was another fantastic fixture to go with a handful of others this season. The spirit of the opposition was warm and competitive and it is such a joy to play in these nail-biters. The joy very much comes from winning, though, make no mistake. My commiserations to The Legends XI who fought valiantly and batted extremely well. Thanks again to your dedicated WAGs+ contingent, and The V&A’s own, for your unwavering support. Thank you Megan and Jane for the outstanding catering. Well done Nick Emley for inspired captaincy and delectable egg & cress sandwiches (you thought I’d forgotten, I know…). Next week sees us close the shutters to the outside world and go toe to toe within our own ranks.