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Batting for the other team*
(* A title suggested on no fewer than three occasions, post-match,
by captain Sultanti. And who am I to go against his word?)
By Simon Tate
Imagine if you will a time many years from now. A man of advanced
years, I sit with grandson on knee, by a fire crackling merrily on a
cold winter’s evening. We’re watching some alternative television
programme on Channel Four when the youngster turns to me and asks,
‘Granddad, did you ever bat for the other team?’
‘Certainly not,’ I reply and prepare to clout the young tyke to
within an inch of his life. Then, suddenly, I’m stopped in my
backswing by a decades-old memory long suppressed. A tear wells as I
recall one glorious occasion on a wonderful late summer’s day; an
afternoon of innocence lost in luscious green fields and youthful
adventure. Then there was also that time when the Old Fallopians
took on their annual foes, the Old Wimbledonian 3rds.
Yes, your humble storyteller was indeed called upon to play for the
other team when plans for a 12-a-side disintegrated upon arrival due
to the Dons being two musters short of a full complement.
Pleasantries exchanged, I remember the home side got off to a flyer
as their openers capitalised on some early looseners from the
initial Fallopian strike force. However, Messrs. Frisby and Roy soon
settled into their respective grooves and, while the scoreboard
ticked along, it was at a pace that caused neither captain much
alarm.
But then came the visitors’ version of good cop, bad cop, otherwise
known as John Shaw and Peter Henry. A wicket containing more spring
than a moshpit full of teenage frogs had the latter licking his lips
and the home openers were soon two-stepping to a rare rendition of
Fallopian chin music. Henry’s first over yielded his and the
innings’ first victim, courtesy of a snorter that found the edge and
a gleeful Hemelryk’s big padded gloves. Cries of “just like proper
cricket” were heard from the huddle of celebrating visitors.
At the other end, Shaw waved his ever-dependable magic wand, loaded
with seemingly innocuous but devilishly accurate dibbly dobblers.
This menacing yin-yang attacking conundrum flummoxed the batsmen,
reduced the scoring to a crawl and no doubt played a part in the run
out that promptly followed. That the pair only finished with one
wicket between them was highly unlucky.
The innings wore on and in came Tennant, fresh from the previous
week’s five-fer, to block up one end while first Venables, then
Sultanti and a returning Henry mixed it up at the other. The home
side were now solely reliant on the bludgeoning blade of Gardener to
occasionally poke the scorers from their slumbers. A smart stumping
here, an lbw there and the Dons were left hoping for a belligerent
display from their number six. Unfortunately for them, that role
fell to your trusty Fallopians twelfthie, a man whose best shot in
the locker is the leave. An uncharacteristically aggressive
seven-ball cameo followed, but Dimitri Mascarenhas it wasn’t and the
innings ended on a tantalising 177 for six. Evenly poised.
Tea-time sandwiches munched, the Fallopians’ Smallman and Sweet
walked out to face an opening spell of pacy, accurate bowling which
kept them pinned to their creases and reliant on extras to get them
off the mark. A running miscalculation did for Smallman, while a
leading edge saw the end of Sweet. Two down and the score barely
into double figures. Hemelryk shone briefly before being bowled,
while both Press and Sultanti came and went without causing much of
a flutter on the scoreboard. The home side’s opening bowler,
Warwick, ending his seven over spell with an impressive two for just
four runs.
Then came a sterling innings from Venables, fresh from his two-year
hiatus, and aided at first by Tennant and then Roy. Some comfortable
nudging and nurdling along with the occasional meaty boundary and
suddenly the Fallopian scoring rate, which had been dangerously
close to flat-lining, now beeped back into life. But the wickets
continued to fall; and none more bizarrely than that of Frisby, who,
in the confusing aftermath of an overthrow set off for an extra run
despite the ball being safely in the bowler’s hands at the
non-striker’s end. A late rearguard followed from Venables and Shaw,
who with some fine batting and surprisingly sharp running between
the wickets moved the Fallopians towards respectability. But
unfortunately, both fell in the final chase.
And as I’m brought back from this dewy-eyed trip down memory lane, I
look down to answer my expectant grandson thus, "Yes, I did bat for
the other team once. And yes, so should you if you get the chance.
Because, my son, you may return home with the words 'traitor' and
'turncoat' ringing in your ears, but you’ll also return home a
winner. And that is far, far more important."
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