“The best things in life are free,” so said Neale Donald Walsch (and others)- American author, screenwriter and speaker. Walsch, however, much like many other ignorant Americans has never traveled many miles by TFL, on a crisp (bloody cold) May evening, to participate in a mildly competitive game of the most amateurish standard of God’s own game- the ten pound match fee a token charge for the experiences and stories that follow in this report.
Even before a ball was bowled, the players were reveling/left reeling due to a unique quirk of the away ground. Having trudged a good mile from the changing rooms to the green, green, grass of the paddock (and wicket) the players began to de-strip from various work clothes and Thursday lounging gears (Chairman) only to be greeted by a tirade from a rather batty, old white man declaring that he ‘did not want to see underpants’ and that players should make the short trek back to the ‘new and very expensive (‘crispy’ clearly not in his linguistic armory?!?)’ changing rooms. This wasn’t the sort of warm up that some of the players in the ranks were expecting and messers Alex ‘John’ Carew (recently discovered Five Guys), Mark ‘Conners has put on some timber’ Conway (think Samit Patel said an unimpressed director of cricket- H.Rudkin) and unnamed others were reeling as CTCCC took the field after the Chairman lost the toss. . .
What followed was a consistent line and length and some inauspicious batting from the opposition- who somehow managed to plink their way to a respectable 140ish from their 20 overs. . . . (Yawn). And so followed the chase.
“Gorgeous hair is the best revenge,” so said Ivanka Trump – American businesswoman, fashion designer, author, reality television personality and offspring of the world’s most feral humanoid. Mrs Kushner, however, has never recovered from a long lasting mental battle against her own technique and the deepest darkest mind games that can ensure with a propensity to chase a wide one early on. H Rudkin, knowing himself that his chances of maintaining a ‘gorgeous’ salad might be slowly failing him took on the challenge of raining in his natural instincts and challenged his mental frailties head on. It was an innings, which had shades of the mighty Steve Waugh at Melbourne 2003, who despite a lengthy barrage from Caddick and co. declined to play a hook shot all day. In this case, Caddick and co., was replaced by a man the opposition called ‘weirdo’ (think ET goes home) bowling what can only be described as grenades alla G. Dean (but far far slower). He sent down half volley after half volley only for Rudders to shoulder arms. 55 of the reddest runs followed. Triumph was, of course, secured by elegance personified, Ed ‘the Head (boy)’ Pearson, who made a mockery of the oppos’ dire attack and Shaws’/ Sherwins’ dismal dismissals to dispatch the bowling to all parts and send us to a local pub with the first victory under our belts.
Cambridge to Casablanca Cycling Cricket Club