Ley Hill Thirds vs Slough Fifths, 14th June 2003

Duncan Mallard
 

A scorecard, dear reader, is many things. This sheet of bald facts and combover figures can be William Shakespeare to one, Jeffrey Archer to another. To some it is as barren as the Mojave desert, a dry thing of dust and cacti, where tumbleweed occasionally...er...tumbles. To others it is the ocean and carries weight and moment, drama and crisis, great heroism and great pith.
 

Let's take the pith for a moment and look at the 3rd XI scorecard from Saturday gone. Some things are obvious. Yes we lost by over 160 runs. Yes we struggled to 73 all out. Yes it was like shooting big, drugged fish in a small, thin barrel and yes there will be blood letting. But let's take another look. Deeper than that. Now cross your eyes a little until things are a little bit blurred and what begins to emerge is a tale that is more than the sum of its parts. A story of individual feats of heroism that overshadow the Titans, put Hercules to shame, and make Sisyphus look like...well....a sissy.
 

Take for example the bowling. Will Rothwell in particular found that the lbw law was either having an off day or that Shakoor Rana had been dug up and was officiating from his end. The looks of despair owed more to Victorian melodrama than youthful exuberance. Despite this Will toiled in the sun and decided that only shattering the stumps or getting catches would serve him that day. And so he did...FIVE TIMES! Both openers departed to Rothwell's relentless accuracy. Rothwell junior then went on to remove two lower order batsmen AND the day's centurion to a ball that was hit higher than one of Paul Green's deliveries (which apparently can be seen from the Great Wall Of China). Will now owes everybody a jug.
 

And what of Rothwell senior? The records will show that he took one wicket, caught Mallard. What you won't see is the low flighted delivery that flew to mid off who took it like a Yo-Yo champion reeling in his horizontal projectile one handed with the aim of giving Jim Rainey a few more grey hairs. If you go back a year you'll see this classic duo removing Phil Ashwell (105 bowled T. Rothwell, caught Mallard) in a similarly dramatic style (spawning salmon have not leapt with more purpose)
 

Nor will Craddock's solitary dismissal show how the previous ball swung, turned, dipped and stuck it's tongue out at the batsman (only to be lashed to the boundary) while the pie that followed took the off bail with it. But enough of bowling, like all children we want batting.
 

'Lucky' Terry Rothwell bagged a platinum duck (or is it a diamond duck?...first ball of the innings anyway, hooking the ball over his left shoulder into the hands that awaited behind). A mere 0 does no justice to this moment. Mallard, (hounded into opening against his better judgement by the diabolical Mortimer), got his second duck in as many weeks and it was only an irascible and cantankerous knock of pragmatism and élan from Craddock, combined with youthful joie de vivre and éclat from Jake that elevated the score to something approaching middle age. Good lads.
 

But wait. For in HB pencil we'll see that J.Newell scored four runs. 'So what?', say the Lowns and the Rennards, the Jones'ss and the Phillips'ss. What you could not see was probably a unique moment in village cricket that day, when an American stood at the wicket waving his bat around and looking for all the world like Babe Ruth at Yankee stadium. And got four runs. Pow! like a tracer bullet to the boundary. Even quicker were any Ley Hill coaches present scuttling for their coaching manuals...especially those that were out for 0. Order was restored in the following delivery when middle stump was uprooted and the young American returned grinning to the hutch. He now enters the Hall Of Fame that contains Paul Green's reverse sweep and Tim Kaye's on-drive.
 

Talking of 'Killer' Kaye his 10 in the book will say nothing of the obdurate display that he put on for we that watched. Donning his batting helmet and then kissing Pauline (which is a feat in itself) the Ealing Ripper then took out his fury on the Slough V bowlers cracking a succession of deliveries contemptuously around the green sward of Bellingdon. Well done Tim.
 

We lost. But Xavier Tra was leaned on less heavily that day, and Dave Mortimer at least maintained respectability by opting to bowl. Whether or not he won the toss is immaterial. You may learn nothing watching the third eleven, in fact we can guarantee you won't, but it can't be written down and by God it's entertaining.

Man of the Match -  Will Rothwell with his five'fer (still owes us all a beer)
Clown of the Match - Duncan Mallard for doing the hard work of kicking a ball that was only two inches off the ground and going like a rocket into the air (off his suspiciously clown like size 15's), and then dropping what turned from a scud into sitter.