Quokkas CC 191-1 (Tugboat 85no, Faggie 65no, Arunav 27) beat North Stifford CC 187-7 (Seagull 2-9, Skip 1-12)
It’s that time of the year again, when I have a good old moan about the world’s ills, outline the long and painful winter that I’ve had, before providing a short description of the first Quokkas defeat of the season. However, my winter wasn’t all bad this time around. Saints were obviously woeful (I’d put a fork in us back in February) and lost most weeks. The Eagles lost in the Superbowl. My freedom to protest was lost, as was my ability to swim in our waterways and move freely in Europe. However, I did move one step closer to becoming an Olympian, acquired my first trombone and ploughed my way through several cases of a lovely Chateauxneuf Du Pape.
Competing in the Olympics has been a childhood dream. However, despite being incredibly talented at almost everything and really, really, good looking, I have to admit, I lack some outstanding physical attributes, especially, but not exclusively, speed, stamina and strength. Because of this, becoming an Olympian has never seemed attainable. The winter is a good time to take stock, and when discussing this issue over a few pints, we realised there were a couple of loops holes worth exploring. Principally horse riding and target sports.
Despite finding pony trekking in the new Forrest to be tremendous fun, a general lack of bravery and desire to muck out horses for ten years, meant that was never going to work. Target sports thus were the final avenue open to me. So, with that in mind, I signed up for a six-week archery course to hone the skills and make a late bid for Paris 2024. Sadly, after a few enjoyable weeks, it was obvious there are no skills to hone, so the dream seemed to be over. Or was it? On completion of the course, I discovered target shooting was also available and will get my hands on an air rifle for the first time next winter. I realise it will be cutting it fine to make the Great Britain Olympic team, but I’ve little doubt this is the sport for me.
Combining guns with my winter wine consumption may be a concern, but alcohol is of course very good for you. If you’ve never watched Cheers, let me explain. A herd of zebras moves as quickly as its weakest members, with the slowest ones at the back killed first by predators. The upshot is this natural selection helps to improve the speed and health of the herd. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cell. We all know that consuming alcohol kills brain cells, but naturally it attacks the slowest and weakest first, so drinking helps make a faster and more efficient brain. That’s why you feel smarter after a few glasses of Chablis.
It will be obvious by the quality of this match report, that I’ve been on the sauce all evening, but after 13 years of wasting hours coming up with tosh like this, I was thinking of passing the mantel. Sadly, only Faggie volunteered and I was concerned readers might struggle to get a true flavour of the game, if the only words used were “me, me, me, me, me, me…” (Ed: oh, the irony). To save time, I thought I’d give ChatGPT a whirl, but for some reason I can’t login to my account now, so you’ll have to suffer the usual gibberish from the real Seagull. Or is it?
We were in North Stifford for our first game of the season. The last time I was in this part of Essex was to see the Sultans of Ping FC return from an eight-year hiatus to play the Fat Surfer in the Grays Working Men’s Club. Although perhaps closer to the Pistols at the Lesser Free Trade Hall than Oasis at Knebworth, my now fading memory is of a tumultuous gig, that despite the desolate surroundings, was a tremendously brilliant occasion. The surroundings on Sunday may have been at the other end of the spectrum at the beautiful North Stifford Cricket Club, but the outcome was much the same. For the `huge’ crowd in attendance, (Ed: who no doubt came to see the world-famous Quokkas?) who took advantage of the cheap ale and live Premiership football in the clubhouse, this was a Quokka game for the ages.
Fully automated scoreboard, sightscreens, covers, bowling machine, motorised heavy roller and actual boundary rope may be the kind of thing you’d expect to find when arriving at a cricket ground, but it’s not the norm for the Quokkas and to be honest my first thought was that our new fixture secretary may have over-estimated our ability and signed us up to another bruising encounter. We’ve been here before of course, with Seagull arranging a fixture against Portsmouth and Southsea CC, which required our opponents to bat wrong handed to make a game of it. Thankfully, the majority of the North Stifford side was comprised of colts (although I should add, very talented colts), so we at least had a chance of achieving respectability and hopefully getting a return fixture.
Despite the covers, the pitch looked a little green and Skip very wisely chose to bowl first. With a beautiful cloudless sky, this promised to be a great day and with his very first delivery Yak immediately got an edge. This is just what the doctor ordered, a wicket from the first over, but with the ball flying slowly straight to Skip at first slip, he promptly spilled it. That set the standard, as several simple chances were dropped by the Quokkas and one or two by our opponents later.
In Sunday fixtures, not taking wickets can often by a blessing in disguise, with the two openers making good, but only steady progress. However, just as they started to open up, the partnership was broken, with another simple catch, this time held by Seagull, after some smart bowling from Arunav. At the other end, the seemingly ageless Evil Dave bowled a terrific spell of seven overs for not many, beating the bat numerous times and unlucky not to grab a handful of wickets. For someone who was knackered after a three over spell of spin, I was very impressed at Evil’s level of fitness. I have to say he looked sprightly and agile in the field too, putting most of us to shame [Ed: are you OK Seagull? I see lots of praise being handed out, but no sarcasm at all].
Sprightly and agile are not the words you could use to describe Skip [Ed: normal service returns], who looks like a man that has carried the sherpas bags all his life, but one terrific stop, that possibly broke both wrist and ribs, showed that it’s not all about turn of foot. Not all the fielding was impressive though, with Paolo and Faggie moving at the speed of icebergs on the legside, and Seagull diving about ten minutes after the ball had passed him. A short dive to his right would have given Todd a relatively simple catch, but he was too busy admiring a portly sunbather supping champagne in his front garden.
With two batters well set and starting to get away, Skip brought himself and Seagull on to stem the flow of runs. Seagull bowled perhaps his best spell for the Quokkas, bamboozling several batters and beating the bat at will. He was rewarded with two wickets in an over, with a further run out helping to decimate the middle order, thanks to a fine throw from Todd. At the other end, the medium paced Egg (Skip) was equally accurate and got a much-deserved wicket. Faggie showing a solid pair of hands. With runs drying up, there was an opportunity to see Paolo in full flow and he was backed up by Todd, who took a great caught and bowled. Then a suicidal run out added another to the wicket’s column, with Tugboat turning the screw. At the close of innings, our opponents had scored a healthy 187 for 7.
We have a new contender for best tea. Although I had my doubts about chilli con carne on a hot summer’s day, the overall spread was fantastic (Ed: clear evidence of this was two generations of Bradleys spotted mine sweeping long into the second innings) including sandwiches, pork pies, roast potatoes, melon, grapes and strawberries. The Driver will be gutted to discover he also missed out on chicken nuggets and a bucket of KFC hot wings. Over said tea, we discussed the forthcoming Ashes defeat of the Aussies, pondered whether if you died in prison, but were resuscitated, your life sentence would be over, and discovered that Faggie was now a football fan. Just as I was preparing myself for comments along the lines of “he was gonna, you know, kick it right up the other end and put the ball in their goal hole, but no dice” it turned out his interest only extended to betting on the number of corners in Arsenal games.
The possibility of watching two generations of Bradley’s in full flow, and perhaps more importantly, a post-match bar-b-q, enticed Zoolander to attend, and the quality of umpiring was enhanced after tea as he took to the middle for a stint. Surprisingly he didn’t trigger Faggie, although his willingness to take bribes possibly explained that.
Time for a batting masterclass. Faced by array of young bowling talent, Skip sent out the big guns, with Tugboat and Arunav opening. Both were stoic in defence and absolutely ruthless in attack, playing a vast array of fine strokes and sending the ball to all quarters. Chasing 188, they effortlessly hit 60 off the first twelve overs. We looked like a proper cricket team. Eventually, Arunav was out, caught in the deep, but it would the last wicket we lost. In came Faggie and after a measured start, he brushed the cobwebs off in fine style by smashing a full toss for a huge six. There was some good running too. It’s amazing how quickly he runs between the wickets when he hits the ball.
The pace continued unabated, with Tugboat destroying anything short or full, quickly passing his half century. After drinks the pair scored 70 runs from the next ten overs, which saw us home with five overs to spare. It was amazing to watch and an outstanding performance from all three batters. Faggie finished with 65 not out and Tugboat carried his bat for 85 and we wondered whether that was a Quokkas first? (Ed: Arunav retired after getting a century against Tusmore in 2013) If Todd and Paolo hadn’t literally drunk the bar dry, you’d have deserved a well-earned beer.
I should point out that despite the apparent ease in which we took victory, the bowling was of a very high standard. In short, Arnuav, Faggie and Tugboat were on a different level and this was without doubt the finest batting display in Quokkas history. Superb stuff.
See you in Harpenden. It’s all downhill from here.
The Real Seagull Bowl first