Ley Hill 3rds v Berkhamsted on Saturday 18 August 

First off, one of life’s mysteries; is it Berkhampstead (as in Berkhampstead Road), or is it Berkhamsted as in all the road signs? Somebody can’t spell I guess, unless there is an obscure historical reason. 

Anyway, Tom Holman had managed to get us a very prestigious fixture against ‘their weakest team’. After a minor panic when it appeared earlier in the week that we would be at Fortress Bellingdon (as per printed the fixture list) whilst our opponents luxuriated waiting for us at their palacial surroundings, Tom established that the game (fortunately) was away at Berkhamsted. (Phew… so no teas to organise, pitch to prepare etc etc). All we needed then was a match ball (another mystery…why does the away team always provide this, at least in friendlies?) and the scorebook. 

Where’s the scorebook? It was definitely in the clubhouse on Thursday evening but had now disappeared without trace and it was left to Eleanor to carefully extract a sheet from the first eleven book and off we went.  

Unfortunately, Berkhamsted-resident septagenarian legend, Jim Rainey, was unavailable for this one on his doorstep, as he had ‘turned his ankle playing football in Kosovo’, would you believe! Meanwhile, our Berkhamsted/Berkhampstead ‘old boy’, Ian Peplow, who at the last count had played 1,587 matches for our opponents and scored 69,357 runs and taken 3,472 wickets was champing at the bit for a match against his old team, not least when he was re-acquainted with a team mate who had run him out on no less than five occasions! 

We were shown to our armchair-equipped dressing room (I kid you not) when the day suddenly took a bit of a downturn as ‘their weakest team’ turned out to be their thirds, and they proudly claimed to be running five sides that day! How could this be? 

Meanwhile the armchairs were proving very attractive to the significant elderly contingent in our side who are used to nodding off in one at this time of day! The omens were not good, although at least rain was forecast! 

Yet again Hill won the toss (I make that 11 out of 14 this season) and, with rain expected mid-late afternoon decided to field, on the basis that we would probably stay drier this was round! Perhaps not the soundest of cricketing reasons but at least the game would be guaranteed to last until tea with Berkhamsted batting. 

Amazingly, Umar struck early on when Gregory Asquith took a good catch at mid-wicket to dismiss an ominously well-equipped young opener but we waited a long time before another wicket came along, courtesy of a very well judged catch on the mid-wicket boundary by Denis McCarthy off Terry Rothwell, who for once was struggling to weave much magic. 

By now the cloud level was very low and, thankfully, rain was in the air. But there was still time for plenty of personal agony. After mis-judging a bouncing ball at mid-off which caught me in the most intimate of unprotected places, a few overs later I found myself galloping in from the long off boundary in a valiant attempt to hang on to a skier off Terry’s bowling. The bowler himself, and a couple of other fielders to boot, all of whom were far closer to the ball than me, stood back to watch. I remember seeing the ball disappearing in the clouds, glancing down to see no fielder moving a muscle, and setting off in the vague direction of where I thought it would come down. What happened next is a blank! 

Just as I approached the estimated landing area I must have slipped as all I can remember is my head hitting the ground and me getting nowhere near the ball.  

Colleagues thought the ball had landed on me, but I felt nothing apart from the after effects of knocking the contents of my head around! However, by Monday evening a familiar round yellow bruise appeared on my shoulder to suggest that I had been hit by the ball! I can only imagine therefore that I passed out for a few seconds at the crucial time! Must wear a helmet at long off next time out! 

The ensuing short break while I went off for repairs brought Paul Green a wicket and there was only time left for me to rejoin the match in time for an action replay of the concussion incident! This time I did get to the ball but in all the excitement was unable to hang on to it and the little finger of my right hand has been swollen to twice its normal size ever since. 

A few minutes later it was all academic as the umpires in the ‘proper game’ on the adjoining pitch adjudged conditions too wet to continue and we followed suit from their cue. A splendid and long tea followed but that was the end of the cricket for the day, with Berkhamsted rattling along at 150 odd for 3 from 27 overs.  

Why is my head hurting?!