Croxley Guild CC 164-9 (Dave 4-35, Irfan 3-6) beat The Birmingham Quokkas CC 154 all out (Hurreira 50, Rashid 25, Faggie 23)
The great Oasis ticket frenzy passed me by. I saw them at the Hull Adelphi back in ‘94. It cost me £4. £12, actually, as Prof and Skip were dragged along. Seeing Liam lauding above the rest of the world from a 12-inch-high stage about three feet away from me was a brilliant experience. He walked off stage half-way through an eight-minute version of `I am the Walrus’, which is exactly the too-cool-for-school front man presence I’d been waiting for since the Roses went on their hiatus. Once the rest of the world caught up, as they did with Blur and The Verve, I gave them a swerve.
Paying a small fortune to see them on a big screen accompanied by 50,000 karaoke singers is not the experience I’m looking for these days. Give me an hour of Slowdive-distorted guitars in front a few hundred shoegazers any day of the week. Maybe you’re the same as me?
That said, there were a few more of us attending the Victorious Festival in Southsea this year, especially on Friday night to see Fatboy Slim press play on his cassette deck. But the highlights for me were a DJ set by Mr C to a sunset-dripped backdrop of passing cross channel ferries and sailing boats, the Isle of Wight’s finest Wet Leg (far better live than I’d ever imagined), and the K.O.G. Sound System, who entertained about 50 of us with his high energy afro Caribbean garage, drum and bass, dancehall and afrobeat. That’s what eight hours of sun and cider can do to widen your horizons.
In truth, I’m not much of a drinker these days, which is why having spent the previous day celebrating reaching 50 years of age, my `definitely maybe’ designation for the game on Sunday was somewhat fanciful. However, with Tugboat busy tugging boats and Todd II entertaining another Todd, we were a player (and wicketkeeper) short. Feeling as fresh as a man can be after drinking Sangria all day, I decided to join the Quokkas for the last game of the regular season. Some might say it was a wise choice.
With Leigh unable to field a side, Evil Dave had found a late and conveniently located (for him) fixture in Croxley. When I arrived at `The Green’, there was a hive of activity, with a crown green bowls tournament, three tennis matches, a youth ruby game and an under-12 football match underway. There was no sign of any Quokkas, a cricket pitch or indeed any indication that cricket might take place here at all. With 2% phone battery life left, I ignored the need for GPS to get me home and called Evil:
“So what’s the story? Do you walk past the rugby to get to the cricket pitch?”
“Eh, not sure.”
“I’m at the tennis courts…”
“OK…”
“Is there more than one entrance?”
“Possibly.”
“I can’t see anyone. Where are you, Dave?”
“In my car on the way to the ground.”
“Goodbye Dave.”
I eventually found the London-based trio of Faggie, Sohail and Toes lurking amongst the crowd of football mums. The cricket strip, of plastic variety, was currently hidden under discarded tracksuits, bags and cones. The outfield was the rutted football pitch (currently in use) on one side and even more rutted rugby field (seen a lot of use) on the other. There was no sign of our opponents and it was starting to rain. Hmmm. At this point I wondered why I had given up a much-needed day of leisure in sunny Southsea.
As the football and rugby games ended, our opponents arrived from nowhere (Ed: Was it the clubhouse? Ah, yes, probably.) with beers in hand and pushing an electric scoreboard on wheels. A gazebo was quickly erected, and boundary marked out. Evil Dave and the ever-expanding contingent of Birmingham Quokkas, which consisted of Ali, Rashid, Umair, and debutants (and “very good bowlers” correctly assessed by Rashid) Irfan and Hurreira, also arrived. The rain, which never really got going, then stopped. Things were looking up.
Faggie, currently the least successful Quokkas captain with a 0-6 win/loss record, lost the toss and was asked to field. Whether he would have batted in the very bowler friendly conditions is anyone’s guess. Sohail confirmed he would, but we rolled with it.
It was arguably the strongest Quokka bowling attack ever. Jez was unplayable. Hurreira was unplayable and life threatening (to both batsman and slips). Ali was only ever so slightly more to the batsman’s liking and Dave bowled as good a spell as he ever has, taking four wickets along the way. Sohail and Faggie kept up the pressure, and we saw some Rashid `spin’, also known as seam bowling. A returning Jez and Irfan, who varied his pace and flight brilliantly to help him take three lovely wickets, prevented the tail from wagging.
It was an impressive bowling performance. I think there were more edges found and chances created in his game than the rest of the season combined. If we had a decent slip fielder or two, we’d have skittled them for next to nothing. Sadly, we had Rashid, Faggie and Sohail. Their techniques varied, but all with the same outcome. Rashid either stood motionless or used his chest. Faggie favoured catching with his jaw, while Sohail chose ducking “to protect the money”. Only Ali and Seagull showed a safe pair of hands, claiming a couple of catches each.
It is worth noting that there was some very decent batting too (avoiding being decapitated by a Hurreira bouncer is testament to that) and this was roared on by a partisan crowd enjoying a beer or seven. Despite an incredibly slow outfield, they set us a very healthy 165 to win.
Over tea we made plans for a 2025 mini tour to the second city, introduced Seagull to the blackgaze genre of music, examined the strengths and weaknesses of Faggie’s NFL fantasy team, and discussed Sohail’s attempts to integrate into British society by eating biscuits from the 1970s. All fascinating stuff, but with time needed for jugs to be bought and drunk, it was on with proceedings.
By this time we had glorious sunshiiiiine. Toes opened and looked decent until he missed a straight one from the seventh ball of the innings. Irfam looks a talented batsman, but unfortunately, he found a safe pair of hands at midwicket when beautifully timing an on-drive. When Umair was caught an over later and Sohail had all three stumps decimated as he attempted the biggest heave I’ve ever seen, we were 21-4 and in trouble.
Thankfully, Rashid showed a very calm head and settled in for the long haul. At the other end, Hurreira, amazingly playing with a hard ball for the first time, looked almost as talented with the bat as he did with the ball. A highlight of his innings was three supersonic sixes in a row through midwicket, helping him to motor to a maiden half century.
Just as it looked like we would saunter to victory, it started to slide away as Seagull gave him out LBW and then raised the finger again as Rashid edged to the keeper. Stand in, stand in skipper Faggie, looked in good nick, but when Ali emulated Sohail he was running out of partners fast and the pressure was mounting.
Jez joined him and played sensibly, but he was caught for 11. Evil was bowled soon after and last man in was Seagull. At this point we still needed about 30 runs. Not insurmountable. And when the returning opening bowler was hooked by Seagull for four and a series of deliveries were eased for singles, it looked like the chase was on. That was until Faggie emulated many of his predecessors by going for an almighty heave, hitting it up in the sky and offering a simple catch. Where did it all go wrong?
With victory in our grasp, we had fallen 12 runs short, but to be honest it didn’t matter. There is no point in looking back in anger. It had been a great game, our wonderful hosts were happy with their victory and we had added an excellent new fixture to the calendar. All part of the master plan. Afterwards, we joined our opponents for some BBQ, cigarettes and alcohol. What better way to celebrate your birthday and a great way to end the summer.
Seagull
Gonna live forever