A BEAUTIFUL SEPTEMBER day, sullied by a dreadful crash on the M40 which made most of us very late. The 35-over match didn’t start until 1.15 with BBQ lunch at 2.15 or so, and – because darkness threatened – no tea until after the match was won and lost.

Martin Bowden, skippering against his other club, won the toss and elected to bat. Robbie Lawson, he of the 145 not out last week, and Rupert Morris opened very briskly, at 6 an over, Rupert swinging his bat to good effect and Robbie as graceful and purposeful as ever. By lunch Robbie had scored 50 and Rupert had just been out – in a stand of 70 or so – for 15. Linthwaite was advanced up the order and faced 6 balls, five of which he failed to hit while the last bowled him. This was the start of a bad day for him.But if he fucks up in the field, his morale-boosting presence in the dressing room is worth 40 runs, to paraphrase what Wellington said of Napoleon’s presence on the battlefield.

Freddie Motley whacked a couple of boundaries before holing out [9], Dennis was bowled [for 12] going for the big one – rather unnecessarily, a rush of blood to which he is prone – Martin Bowden supported Robbie with some fine smacks [three 4s for a total of 22 before being caught and bowled]. Adam hit a nice 4 before being caught behind. Bird N. had just told Robbie he does not do quick singles before Robbie ran him out going for a quick single. But Sean Mayana came in at the death and hit some lovely boundaries, including a massive 6, before being bowled for 23.

And all this time Robbie was stroking the ball to all corners, with a grace we have rarely seen before. It was an innings [127!] as fine as last week’s, with eighteen 4s and two 6s. He gave no chances. We scored a total of 228, thanks to Robbie’s peerless batting. Even Acme were delighted by the style of his glances, cuts and drives, if not his total.He is truly a pleasure to watch, and what a contrast to their top scorer, no less effective but a world apart aesthetically, and what is the V&A about if not aesthetics?

Was 228 enough? Martin suspected trouble and had e-mailed an SOS for another bowler, someone like Chris Monsey-Thear, who was away at Tom Bird’s stag weekend. If only Tom had decided to spend it with a nice cup of Horlicks and Scrabble, all might have been different.

One sensed trouble when their openers started at over 6 an over and were still there on 80. There were perhaps two turning points – the first came with their star batsman on 20…he whacked a ball to Peter Linthwaite at mid-wicket. In the field, Peter is more Rip Van Winkle than Jonty Rhodes and you can see in slow motion his reaction. First you see him wake up, then react with horror as he perceives the ball flying straight at him; you notice his surprisingly quick calculation that it might hurt his hands, then his voluntary movement away from the ball, followed by the sheepish grin. Unfortunately the batsman went on to make 100. The other moment was when Robbie and the wicketkeeper, between them, rather fucked up a run-out. But it was not our day in the field, Freddie dropped one, the ball fell just short of players or missed the wicket by an inch, LBWs were turned down. Bowlers like Peter

and Sean could not find a length, Dennis’s slow stuff was tonked…but there were good wickets for Martin [bowled], Adam [caught by Bowden], Freddie, who hit off stump with his second ball to dismiss their centurion, Chris Moore [stumped, should have been given another stumping too]. They seemed to be coasting towards the target. But the wickets fell – and suddenly they needed 6 off the last over. Dennis had been kept back but the scorer had credited him with someone else’s over so he had, according to the scorebook, bowled his limit of 7. Robbie bravely bowled the last one. Unfortunately, his two first balls were a bit short, and were both hit for 4 and that was that. But Robbie had made it a splendid game and day.

I was thankful for the restorative my doctors provide from a whisky-shaped bottle. We went to the Rainbow where mine host and hostess greeted us with old world charm, as you might greet Dennis Wise on your doorstep, drunk, at 3 a.m., or a scorpion in your shoe. They quite like customers, but not an unannounced coachload, some of whom smell of dachshund or Class ‘B’ substances or Famous Grouse. Can’t blame them.

Next Sunday is our last game. We play A FEW GOOD MEN. They are certainly good at cricket. They do not have Peter’s bottle problem and can throw overarm so we need some butch talent.