Medstead vs Wield, Sunday 8th August
Conditions: Sunny or overcast (depending on whether Tony was batting) and very muggy, lots of flying bugs.
Match Summary: A winning draw by the youngest (average age 30-ish) Wield team in years. Wield finished on 211-5 (Tony Robson 64 no, Ed Robinson 70 and Matt Love 31) while Medstead flapped around on 118-8. The killer father-and-son Robson partnership took 4 wickets!
After the rain and glum skies of the previous two or three days Wield’s summer continued with a road-trip to Medstead and a return match to the early summer victory over these townies. With the Frank Shaw trophy already stashed for Wield it was a dead rubber, but for Medstead there was clearly a search on for dignity. As we arrived they were already in the nets and Yorkie duly obliged by taking the bat. Matt and Tony skipped out to the wicket, and that was the most activity we saw from Tony for the next four hours.
Matt started briskly and was soon putting away their early bowlers (complaining of the slippy ground and calling for sawdust) for fours all around the ground. Tony dug into that same slippy ground and enjoyed the view. The heat bore down, the flying ants buzzed and the ladybirds made their homes in the stumps while we all snoozed gently with Tony. Then in the eighth over everyone was suddenly woken up by Tony calling a single, as an afterthought. Even the fielders were caught off guard so he was able to hit a four in the next over. Matt continued to sky his fours around the ground until a grateful square-leg swallowed one and Alex Don arrived at the crease.
Tony was dropped, Alex was dropped and the umpires (Robin in particular) started to abuse the scorer who refused to acknowledge any signals, arm-waving or shouting. No harm done though as Harry Robson (8) swiftly fell back to sleep again like his Dad.
Alex was caught and in came the famed Lord Flasheart. But it wasn’t him, not this time, Ed was on fire and soon the ball was screaming into the gardens and woods all over Medstead. More than twenty came off one over and 6s flowed freely from the flashing blade. A pair of young lady supporters were awestruck by his stroke-play. In the 25th and after only 10 overs at the crease Ed motored past his 50, while Tony dismissed such youthful exuberance from the other end with his solid 25. Two overs later the 150 came up with a four from Ed and a single from Tony, kindly offering the strike to Ed (again).
Shortly after all that excitement came more: a loud appeal for LBW from square leg, midwicket, point and gully and Alex the umpire sent Ed on his way – 70 from 18 overs (11x4s and 3x6s). Will Frome joined Tony, who by now had started to grow feathers as he scratched around on the wicket like a rather small rooster. A few 4s from Will to liven up proceedings and he was on his way to be replaced by Guy who also wandered back again a little later as Robin strode out muttering “must not drop it, must use hands” - last week’s debacle had clearly left him with post traumatic stress disorder.
So there we were in the 435th over, Tony on 40 and Medstead gamely not wilting under the batting onslaught. Cricket’s a cruel game: Tony’s first 6 of this millennium and two fours hurtled him past his 50 while Robin nurdled around the field at the other end trying to catch himself out. Tea was a blessed relief a couple of overs later. Tony carried his bat to tumultuous applause from the gathered crowds as word of his marathon innings pulled people to the ground from as far afield as the playground across the road – 64 not out and Harry the scorer made a dash for the cake.
A delicately replete Wield team waddled out to the field 30 minutes later. Once Robin’s two friends in white coats had assured themselves that Robin would be alright for a little while, Will opened the bowling.
And nothing happened. Rupert, your correspondent, was given the ball at the other end and the scoring opened, very slowly. Will again, nothing. And this continued for the first 10 overs when finally there was a loud clonk from the batter’s end and a louder appeal from the bowler. Medstead’s opening bat was bowled and Wield had a breakthrough.
Blood was smelt… Philip came on with much intake of breath and then Robin joined him – the equally famed and feared Wield pace attack was moving up a gear. Your correspondent was put at silly cover as punishment for appealing a bowled wicket and promptly managed to hang onto a ball while falling over and making it look like a spectacular dive. Robin had struck and his friends in white coats applauded.
The next batsman kindly hit the ball high into the air and then stood under it while Guy came out from behind the wicket and bounced off him. The ball trickled disconsolately along the ground and Robin went a funny colour. Yorkie missed one that went over his feet for 4, which was fortunate really as the Medstead batsmen were running without calling. It all ended in tears very shortly afterwards as Alex threw in from the mid off boundary to the batter’s end - hit the stumps cleanly and sent Guy’s large nemesis back for an early bath.
Meanwhile from the other end Philip was tying them down. The runs were not coming easily and your correspondent took another catch at fine leg off Philip. Yorkie let another go through his feet while I dropped one and Robin’s shoulders lifted a little. Matt came on and completely flummoxed them as the tension rose – would we get them all out before Yorkie put himself on?
Instead Yorkie decided to pile on the humiliation and brought on Jack Robson (11) bowling off and leg breaks and having one dropped in the field by your correspondent (again). A strange smile crossed Robin’s careworn face. Matt took a beauty behind the stumps off Jack (too high for Guy) and they were five down. Tony came on from the other end in support and the runs dried up completely. Much like his batting really. Another catch from Jack’s bowling came my way at silly cover and Tony’s mixture of long hops and googlies struck twice: well, the googly did, his other wicket was a full toss that just pitched before taking out the leg stump.
Eight down and Yorkie came on to clean up. Maiden followed maiden from both ends and a breathless hush descended on the ground – 100 to get and the match to win, a bumpy pitch (more like a moonscape) and the gloaming descending prompting calls for light. Five minutes to play and not quite the last men in… The selfish hope of a season’s fame did not even cross Yorkie’s mind as he sauntered in for the last over… The final ball of the game was smitten long over mid wicket to bounce spectacularly off Andrew Frome’s beautiful blue Mercedes. A fine six but ultimately futile: Wield claimed another winning draw and Robin didn’t drop any catches.
Home for the Vagabonds next week and Wield’s heads are held high once more (with many and sincere apologies to Sir Henry Newbolt).
Rupert Cazalet
