Cambridge to Casablanca Cycling CC vs Oeiras C.C
17th August 2013, Santarem, Portugal
The tour to Lisbon had already been a tiring and emotional experience by the time the eve of our main fixture came around.
The atmosphere of apprehension, excitement and tension was further intensified by a rousing speech by Pearson E which served to officially inaugurate the Cambridge to Casablanca Cycling Cricket Club, who had only previously competed in 6-a-side cricket. Leading a truly memorable meeting, tears were welling in the former blue’s eyes. Off-the-field-skipper Dean’s lip was observed to wobble. Backs were patted. A shirt presentation was followed by a quick tactical briefing and we retired early to bed with a cup of camomile tea.
The following morning, after an endless taxi ride into the middle of rural Portugal, we arrived at the large, scorched, hard, dry, pebbly, plateaued, landscaped ground, complete with boundary rope and tekkers portacabins. The ground was the impressive creation of Sandy, Portugal’s ‘Mr. Cricket’, and a cricket badger’s playground. After a quick warm up and the toss (which Pearson E lost), Cambridge to Casablanca took the field along with the batsmen, a wizened umpire, six tiny lizards and a photographer who was to take his place disturbingly close to the wicket, unaware of the danger posed to him by Rory’s traditional buffet offering of half volleys and long hops.
A tense hush eventually descended as former womaniser Davidson steamed in to bowl the first ball. Having temporarily forgotten that he was not Brett Lee, his intended delivery was a fast, intimidating bouncer aimed at the batman’s throat. The resulting enthusiastic yet inviting half-tracker sat up nicely and was cheerfully walloped over cover point for an emphatic one bounce four by opening opposition batsman and captain ‘Snake Charmer’ Sharma. A few balls later, the opposition’s other opener Ninja Monk hit a six over point. It was immediately clear that the day could be a long one. This was no Ljubljana.
Sharma and Monk were scoring freely, but the flow of runs was to be unexpectedly arrested; first by a weary Cassels stopping a full blooded drive with his kneecap, then by Rory triumphantly pinning Sharma lbw, a slightly dubious decision from the designated umpire who looked old enough to have coached Mr. Billinghurst. The leg before decision was to prove a mere curtain raiser for some spectacularly questionable umpiring throughout the match.
More wickets soon followed; a low Gimson full toss catching a gust of wind, blowing to off and obliterating Monk’s stumps, and another mediocre Davidson delivery finding the edge of Bob, a friendly and enthusiastic Naval officer from Wigan.
The succession of wickets lead to the arrival at the crease of old Radleyan and frequent former soggy biscuit victim Cobb, who found time for a quick discussion of the school’s Fagging System with Pearson E before stroking Gimson impeccably to the long off boundary. Spending in excess of two minutes adjusting his box after the stroke also proved effective as further boundaries followed.
When Dean bowled the expatriated Charles round his legs during an effervescent spell of leg spin, (undoubtedly aided by his recent bowling of approximately 100 overs bowled during TMC and beach cricket), Oeiras were nevertheless in a decidedly rocky position. Taking after his father, Captain Pearson E sportingly decided it was time to facilitate further runs for the opposition, and duly called on the gangly Dillon, already an almost certain candidate for emergency medical attention for ginger’s heatstroke, to coming loping in from the boundary and have a bowl from the Rugged Farmland End.
Jack quickly found the corridor of complete certainty, sending down five wides in his first over to such a deviant degree that even our marvellously myopic umpire was able to validate them. This ploy lulled Cobb into a false sense of security. Dillon cunningly decided to test the batsman’s ability to play the double bouncing ball, and the stroke of brilliance produced a wicket. Cobb’s mirth at the pea roller impeded his footwork and he chipped to Pearson C. at mid-wicket who took a breath taking diving catch, somehow avoiding the sharp pebbles present throughout the outfield.
The wicket brought Sandy’s stocky, muscular son Paulo to the crease, and the batsman wasted no time in hungrily tucking into Dillon’s thick-crusted Melton Mowbrays. The scoreboard suddenly roared into life, with Dillon’s second and third overs going for 16 and 17 respectively.
Quickly proving able to be equally adept at dominating bowlers who were not unspeakably poor, Paulo went on the attack. Charlie getting hit for 21 off an over mostly consisting of good-length balls on off stump was a sign that the man was a fine batsman. Skilfully manipulating the strike in between thrashing endless balls to the fence, Paulo raced to a sparkling 92, before Charlie’s perseverance was rewarded with a high top edge to Gimson who took an excellent catch on the run.
Oeiras had only one vaguely able batsman left, but he gathered a few precious runs, partly thanks to easy dropped chances by Pemberton and Dillon. Tight bowling at the death by Davidson helped keep the lid on, but our hosts ended up closing on an impressive 240. We retired to the portacabin for an excellent tea.
Perse 2nd XI and Philanderers opening pair Cassels and Pearson C were given the honour of opening up, and immediately set about securing the record for most catches offered to the wicketkeeper in the opening spell of any cricket game in history, triumphantly hitting their goal with a total of around 6. Our Bob behind the stumps conspired to shell every one of them, floundering helplessly, juggling, cursing, tumbling and eventually quite justifiably threatening Ninja Monk with physical violence amid building frustration.
The drops were of little consequence. Both batsmen continued to demonstrate a total lack of co-ordination and batting ability. Charlie was soon meekly popping an easy return catch to Monk, and Cassels thick inside edging into his pads, whereupon the increasingly sun ravaged Umpire immediately raised his finger, mumbling ‘bang in front’. Incredulous, Toxicator managed to make a successful appeal via the DRS, and much to the dismay of Dean looking on at square leg, was called back by the opposition to briefly continue his innings before spooning a catch to Cobb at Mid On.
With the more match fit and mentally stable pairing of our overseas player, Nunez, and junior pro Rudkin, at the crease, CTCCCC started to make a reasonable fist of the run chase. Rudkin’s was soon hitting an impressive six and Nunez hitting the stroke of the match with a glorious, lazy off drive off Paulo for four. They would put on 91 before Nunez (33) catastrophically ran himself out with a suicidal run to Mid Off, and soon after Rudkin’s stumps were destroyed by the 16 year old Sandip to end a fine 41.
Our run chase had stalled, but the most deadly blow was still to be dealt. With 108 runs need for victory, star batsman and incessant binge drinker Pearson E was unlucky to feather a fine leg glance into the gloves of Sharma, who had replaced Bob behind the stumps. A palpable air of doom descended on the CTCCCC dugout. Dillon’s rain dance behind the pavilion could not summon a single cloud to the Santarem skies and the format dictated we could not bat for the draw. We were going to have to muster the runs.
The swashbuckling Pemberton batted bravely, but soon succumbed to Sandip, before Jack, initially showing promise with a textbook forward defensive, was comprehensively bowled by Tom, Bob’s 13 year old son.
Our last chance lay with the uncompromising power of Gimson and the oft-poopooed batting of Davidson. Jessie Ryder’s heavier homologue was soon dispatching a waist high full toss for a colossal six, and Rory was showing all his guile, technique and determination to create an even wagon wheel with some very useful runs. Could the physically mismatched pair guide us home? The answer, alas, was no. An unfortunate mix up between the two cottagers lead to Gimson being run out for 24, and another hammer blow being struck.
The new batsman was George Dean. Much like Geoffrey Boycott’s TMS commentary and €1.50 bottles of vino verdhe, our spiritual leader’s batting divides opinion. Underrated nerdler and able night watchman to some, utterly inept rabbit to others, could he help Davidson secure the 45 runs needed for victory?
Dean courageously battled to 7, only to make the fatal error of letting the ball hit his pad-bat-glove area with Triggers McGraw officiating. He was immediately sent packing. With only 10 players available, a ‘last man standing’ format was agreed – the bearded, beading Davidson would have to muster the final 29 all on his own, with not even a batting partner to provide encouragement.
There was a wonderful inevitability about Rory’s eventual, unhesitating triggering after missing a sort-of straight one from the returning Snake Charmer, on his second spell of bowling either side of his significant stint keeping wicket. It was all over.
So Cambridge to Casablanca alas slipped to an 18 run defeat. Rory had scored 41 in a fine battling innings. Ninja Monk ended with 2 wickets, the under-16 combo 3, Triggers McGraw 3.
It had been a wonderful day and an absolutely thrilling game of cricket. Smudger was visibly disappointed not to have recorded a victory in the club’s first ever fixture. Man for man CTCCCC were the better outfit, but Paulo’s brilliance with the bat had ultimately kept the two sides apart. The two sides exchanged pennants / sweaty cycling tops during a very civilised post-match beer and resolved to keep in touch.
After the tour awards ceremony at Tosca Tasca, the team were soon merrily sipping pints of vodka red bull and doing a team sprinkler in Paulo’s bar in Cascais, and the result, much like most of the ensuing night out, was all but forgotten.
17th August 2013, Santarem, Portugal
The tour to Lisbon had already been a tiring and emotional experience by the time the eve of our main fixture came around.
The atmosphere of apprehension, excitement and tension was further intensified by a rousing speech by Pearson E which served to officially inaugurate the Cambridge to Casablanca Cycling Cricket Club, who had only previously competed in 6-a-side cricket. Leading a truly memorable meeting, tears were welling in the former blue’s eyes. Off-the-field-skipper Dean’s lip was observed to wobble. Backs were patted. A shirt presentation was followed by a quick tactical briefing and we retired early to bed with a cup of camomile tea.
The following morning, after an endless taxi ride into the middle of rural Portugal, we arrived at the large, scorched, hard, dry, pebbly, plateaued, landscaped ground, complete with boundary rope and tekkers portacabins. The ground was the impressive creation of Sandy, Portugal’s ‘Mr. Cricket’, and a cricket badger’s playground. After a quick warm up and the toss (which Pearson E lost), Cambridge to Casablanca took the field along with the batsmen, a wizened umpire, six tiny lizards and a photographer who was to take his place disturbingly close to the wicket, unaware of the danger posed to him by Rory’s traditional buffet offering of half volleys and long hops.
A tense hush eventually descended as former womaniser Davidson steamed in to bowl the first ball. Having temporarily forgotten that he was not Brett Lee, his intended delivery was a fast, intimidating bouncer aimed at the batman’s throat. The resulting enthusiastic yet inviting half-tracker sat up nicely and was cheerfully walloped over cover point for an emphatic one bounce four by opening opposition batsman and captain ‘Snake Charmer’ Sharma. A few balls later, the opposition’s other opener Ninja Monk hit a six over point. It was immediately clear that the day could be a long one. This was no Ljubljana.
Sharma and Monk were scoring freely, but the flow of runs was to be unexpectedly arrested; first by a weary Cassels stopping a full blooded drive with his kneecap, then by Rory triumphantly pinning Sharma lbw, a slightly dubious decision from the designated umpire who looked old enough to have coached Mr. Billinghurst. The leg before decision was to prove a mere curtain raiser for some spectacularly questionable umpiring throughout the match.
More wickets soon followed; a low Gimson full toss catching a gust of wind, blowing to off and obliterating Monk’s stumps, and another mediocre Davidson delivery finding the edge of Bob, a friendly and enthusiastic Naval officer from Wigan.
The succession of wickets lead to the arrival at the crease of old Radleyan and frequent former soggy biscuit victim Cobb, who found time for a quick discussion of the school’s Fagging System with Pearson E before stroking Gimson impeccably to the long off boundary. Spending in excess of two minutes adjusting his box after the stroke also proved effective as further boundaries followed.
When Dean bowled the expatriated Charles round his legs during an effervescent spell of leg spin, (undoubtedly aided by his recent bowling of approximately 100 overs bowled during TMC and beach cricket), Oeiras were nevertheless in a decidedly rocky position. Taking after his father, Captain Pearson E sportingly decided it was time to facilitate further runs for the opposition, and duly called on the gangly Dillon, already an almost certain candidate for emergency medical attention for ginger’s heatstroke, to coming loping in from the boundary and have a bowl from the Rugged Farmland End.
Jack quickly found the corridor of complete certainty, sending down five wides in his first over to such a deviant degree that even our marvellously myopic umpire was able to validate them. This ploy lulled Cobb into a false sense of security. Dillon cunningly decided to test the batsman’s ability to play the double bouncing ball, and the stroke of brilliance produced a wicket. Cobb’s mirth at the pea roller impeded his footwork and he chipped to Pearson C. at mid-wicket who took a breath taking diving catch, somehow avoiding the sharp pebbles present throughout the outfield.
The wicket brought Sandy’s stocky, muscular son Paulo to the crease, and the batsman wasted no time in hungrily tucking into Dillon’s thick-crusted Melton Mowbrays. The scoreboard suddenly roared into life, with Dillon’s second and third overs going for 16 and 17 respectively.
Quickly proving able to be equally adept at dominating bowlers who were not unspeakably poor, Paulo went on the attack. Charlie getting hit for 21 off an over mostly consisting of good-length balls on off stump was a sign that the man was a fine batsman. Skilfully manipulating the strike in between thrashing endless balls to the fence, Paulo raced to a sparkling 92, before Charlie’s perseverance was rewarded with a high top edge to Gimson who took an excellent catch on the run.
Oeiras had only one vaguely able batsman left, but he gathered a few precious runs, partly thanks to easy dropped chances by Pemberton and Dillon. Tight bowling at the death by Davidson helped keep the lid on, but our hosts ended up closing on an impressive 240. We retired to the portacabin for an excellent tea.
Perse 2nd XI and Philanderers opening pair Cassels and Pearson C were given the honour of opening up, and immediately set about securing the record for most catches offered to the wicketkeeper in the opening spell of any cricket game in history, triumphantly hitting their goal with a total of around 6. Our Bob behind the stumps conspired to shell every one of them, floundering helplessly, juggling, cursing, tumbling and eventually quite justifiably threatening Ninja Monk with physical violence amid building frustration.
The drops were of little consequence. Both batsmen continued to demonstrate a total lack of co-ordination and batting ability. Charlie was soon meekly popping an easy return catch to Monk, and Cassels thick inside edging into his pads, whereupon the increasingly sun ravaged Umpire immediately raised his finger, mumbling ‘bang in front’. Incredulous, Toxicator managed to make a successful appeal via the DRS, and much to the dismay of Dean looking on at square leg, was called back by the opposition to briefly continue his innings before spooning a catch to Cobb at Mid On.
With the more match fit and mentally stable pairing of our overseas player, Nunez, and junior pro Rudkin, at the crease, CTCCCC started to make a reasonable fist of the run chase. Rudkin’s was soon hitting an impressive six and Nunez hitting the stroke of the match with a glorious, lazy off drive off Paulo for four. They would put on 91 before Nunez (33) catastrophically ran himself out with a suicidal run to Mid Off, and soon after Rudkin’s stumps were destroyed by the 16 year old Sandip to end a fine 41.
Our run chase had stalled, but the most deadly blow was still to be dealt. With 108 runs need for victory, star batsman and incessant binge drinker Pearson E was unlucky to feather a fine leg glance into the gloves of Sharma, who had replaced Bob behind the stumps. A palpable air of doom descended on the CTCCCC dugout. Dillon’s rain dance behind the pavilion could not summon a single cloud to the Santarem skies and the format dictated we could not bat for the draw. We were going to have to muster the runs.
The swashbuckling Pemberton batted bravely, but soon succumbed to Sandip, before Jack, initially showing promise with a textbook forward defensive, was comprehensively bowled by Tom, Bob’s 13 year old son.
Our last chance lay with the uncompromising power of Gimson and the oft-poopooed batting of Davidson. Jessie Ryder’s heavier homologue was soon dispatching a waist high full toss for a colossal six, and Rory was showing all his guile, technique and determination to create an even wagon wheel with some very useful runs. Could the physically mismatched pair guide us home? The answer, alas, was no. An unfortunate mix up between the two cottagers lead to Gimson being run out for 24, and another hammer blow being struck.
The new batsman was George Dean. Much like Geoffrey Boycott’s TMS commentary and €1.50 bottles of vino verdhe, our spiritual leader’s batting divides opinion. Underrated nerdler and able night watchman to some, utterly inept rabbit to others, could he help Davidson secure the 45 runs needed for victory?
Dean courageously battled to 7, only to make the fatal error of letting the ball hit his pad-bat-glove area with Triggers McGraw officiating. He was immediately sent packing. With only 10 players available, a ‘last man standing’ format was agreed – the bearded, beading Davidson would have to muster the final 29 all on his own, with not even a batting partner to provide encouragement.
There was a wonderful inevitability about Rory’s eventual, unhesitating triggering after missing a sort-of straight one from the returning Snake Charmer, on his second spell of bowling either side of his significant stint keeping wicket. It was all over.
So Cambridge to Casablanca alas slipped to an 18 run defeat. Rory had scored 41 in a fine battling innings. Ninja Monk ended with 2 wickets, the under-16 combo 3, Triggers McGraw 3.
It had been a wonderful day and an absolutely thrilling game of cricket. Smudger was visibly disappointed not to have recorded a victory in the club’s first ever fixture. Man for man CTCCCC were the better outfit, but Paulo’s brilliance with the bat had ultimately kept the two sides apart. The two sides exchanged pennants / sweaty cycling tops during a very civilised post-match beer and resolved to keep in touch.
After the tour awards ceremony at Tosca Tasca, the team were soon merrily sipping pints of vodka red bull and doing a team sprinkler in Paulo’s bar in Cascais, and the result, much like most of the ensuing night out, was all but forgotten.