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V&A v Howitzers (Cambridge tour)

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V&A PLAYERS for 27 Aug: Tom Bird (skip), Nick Constantine, Sebastian Constantine, Joe Tetlow, Rob Taylor, Ben Horan, Olly Bamber, Aubrey Bamber, Donald Slope, Alexander Pitlarge, David Pitlarge, Nicky Bird (12th man)

V&A PLAYERS FOR 28 AUG: Tom Bird, Nick Constantine, Joe Tetlow, Rob Taylor (skip), Ben Horan, Olly Bamber, Aubrey Bamber, Donald Slope, Nicky Bird, and two subs fielders – lowest two scorers batted twice 

V&A v HOWITZERS, and MARK BRAID X1

SAT. AUG. 27 and SUN. AUG. 28

CONINGTON, CAMBS.

A double header with a team much like ourselves, but rather more virile I thought, more manly, more Adam Knight than Adam Jacot. They had a rotund bloke who played league cricket (very strong in these parts) and smacked a half-century with ease, and then bowled without wheezing despite carrying the evidence of the good life. Very nice people, very chivalrous and if they kept up a barrage of banter in the field it was directed at their own incompetents rather than ours. Our incompetents were in evidence. 

The ground is lovely, the pinnacles of Conington’s magnificent church soar above the trees. Mark Braid, our host and a wine chum of Tom Bird, bought the Georgian manor house a few years ago and runs the Howitzers (originally a pub quiz team) who play on his pitch. Conington, by the way, was part of Scotland until 1237, through the marriage of its owner Maud (downmarket name for a niece of William the Conqueror) to the son of a Scottish king. Mark is – appropriately – Scottish. He’s a barrister specialising in Family, Traffic and Immigration Law. If you’re a Libyan asylum seeker, caught driving an Uber while ratarsed, and wanting to jettison a tiresome wife… Mark is your man.  

Tom Bird skippered the first game (35 overs) and lost the toss. Howitzers batted. Rather well. The pitch was dry (and offered nowt to bowlers) but aesthetically the ground was pleasantly green as rain had recently fallen. I was 12th Man and watched the game with Nick Constantine’s parents and his beautiful girlfriend Becks from Tooting Bec. Michael C and I discussed war, the US 457 Bomb Group stationed just up the road, and other manly things like death and destruction and Ryan Giggs. The women ate and drank. 

We opened the bowling with Ben Horan and young Alex Pitlarge. There were rather a lot of extras. In fact, there were about 50 in their innings, partly due to not having a specialist keeper (the gloves were shared). But also due to wayward bowling. Or ‘shite’ as a spectator called it. I thought this unfair. The batsmen were damnably good and smote anything remotely short or long to the boundary, on a fast outfield. Only the Constantine brothers got wickets (we dropped a couple of tricky catches). Two of their batsmen retired on 50 (local rules). When Tom Bird bowls, as he did at the end, you know you’re in trouble. They reached 227, which looked a bit beyond us, what with some bit players and a lack of butch regulars like Lachlan. 

Tea was quite classy. Everything about the Howitzers is classy, from Mark, who bats and bowls fluently and keeps a fine cellar, to their designer logo (a howitzer of course) that emblazons even the stumps. 

Unfortunately, there was nowt classy about our batting, despite a solid start by Pitlarges, père et fils (David’s leg glance is a thing of beauty). Tetlow looked classy until whacking a shot into point’s hands; Nick C was out first ball, Rob Taylor was bowled after a slight misjudgement as to the position of the stumps, and S. Constantine too; Olly Bamber fell LBW, Tom Bird nicked one to the keeper and Don Slope (Tom’s brother-in-law and more an athlete than a cricketer) scampered about until a brute of a bowler aimed one most unfairly at the wicket. Only his lovely daughter Ethne was pleased to see him return to the pavilion. But luckily for our blushes, young Aubrey Bamber (26*) made hay in the sun. His Dad, a school chum of Tom’s, used to be a V&A regular, and was welcomed back despite being an estate agent. We are an inclusive team and once had a professional swindler. At the death Ben Horan stroked some but our miserable tally of 107 told the sorry. We were dire, and were walloped. Could we do better on the morrow? There was a key change in personnel. Bird N. would come in. 

We stayed overnight at a golf hotel. If it was not Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons nor was it poncey or expensive or full of people videoing their ‘tasting menu’. The clientele are golfers with tattoos, much like ourselves, and the food was excellent, the service ditto, the rooms entirely adequate (although the walls were thin and I fear Rob and Sandra could hear me reading out loud). I am afraid we were forced to suffer the traditional quiz, courtesy of myself. Although it was heavily censored to avoid offending young ears, or Steph Bird’s mum, the flavour of the ghastly event is apparent from some of the quiz answers: ‘Spanking’, ‘Ryan Giggs’, ‘Dianne Abbott on a motorbike’. Aubrey Bamber was awarded a V&A tie for being ‘Man of the Match’. In the morning I played golf on the pitch ‘n putt with Olly and Aubrey. I was only 4 over per hole. 

The game on Sunday was skippered by Rob. I was required to field (am a bit fucked with arthritis and sciatica) with two sub fielders. Our two lowest scoring batsmen would bat twice. Rob won the toss and put them in. This seemed a mistake when the Howitzers powered to 100 without loss, with Aubrey and Joe Tetlow being a bit hammered. My own contribution was nugatory. A dropped catch at the end, but luckily it mattered not. They made – in a 30 over game – 205, with two batsmen retiring at 50 and our only wicket being taken by N. Constantine (bowled). 

205 in 30 overs is rather good; it seemed beyond us. Doubly so when the Bambers were both out cheaply, ditto Don, and Tom Bird walked in, never the most reliable of bats with his trademark hoick to leg. But hold on! Tom’s first balls were dispatched with elegance, he swept majestically, he cut and drove. Ben Horan at the other end was also imperious. We needed 10 an over or so but was it feasible? When Horan was caught (42) it appeared not. When Nick C was AGAIN out first ball, chasing a wide, and Tom (47) was finally bowled (trying to smack a 6) it seemed we were doomed. But Rob gave us hope. He was majestic, his quick 50 was a picture of power. His enforced retirement brought in Bird N. Not the speediest and 11 an over were needed. I batted with Nick C, coming in for the second time. He hit his first ball to the mid-on boundary. We now needed, I think, 26 off 14 balls. I had managed to snick a 4 and to ‘run’ some singles and a two. But oh! Calamity! Nick was bowled. Enter Tetlow, our last man, the second lowest-scoring batsman. He scampered singles, and then a four. Come the final over I hit a single to give him the strike. It all came down to the last two balls. We needed 10, so Tetlow HAD to hit a six. The nice burly league cricketer was bowling. The penultimate ball was well bowled – but Tetlow smacked it over mid-on for 6! Tetlow walked down the pitch and suggested we run three for a draw if necessary. Fat fucking chance, with my knees. It was down to him. The ball was bowled, Tetlow strode forward and walloped the thing towards mid-on where Mark Braid was waiting on the rope for the catch. He raised his hands. Would we be foiled at the end? No! The ball sailed over his head for another 6. A stunning victory.  

A great game and a wonderful weekend, thanks to Tom’s impeccable organisation. It was suggested that next year we might have a weekend tour in Rome, playing the Pope’s team, St. Peter’s Cricket Club. The only problem is one of a potential culture clash, their purpose is to ‘encourage inter-faith dialogue’, and share ‘a passion for learning’. The only learning evident on Saturday night during the quiz was a profound knowledge of Giggsy’s poetry.