Quokkas CC - 204/5 (Sohail 66 n/o, Ali 53, Fergus 35) beat Merstham CC - 201/8 (Seagull 1-8, Faggie 1-10)
Our antipodean representation at Merstham CC hit a season high when regular Faggie was joined by Conan the bow tie killer and debutant Kiwi, Fergus, soon to be known as Todd. I am delighted, because this gives me an excuse to recite this absolutely brilliant yarn read out by the presenters of evening radio show on The Rock FM:
“I heard a news report that burglaries were increasing dramatically in my suburb. To make sure this never happen to me, I decided to get an electric fence and ran a single wire along the top of the standard six-foot panels. I got the biggest cattle charger the local farm supplier had. It was made for 26 kilometres of fence. I then used an eight-foot ground rod, which I drove seven and a half feet into the ground.
One day I was mowing the backyard with my cheapo six horsepower mower and I noticed that the wire for the electric fence was broken and laying out in the yard. I knew for a fact that I had unplugged the charger, so as I pushed the lawnmower around the wire I reached out to grab it to move it out of the way. It seems as though I hadn’t remembered to unplug it after all.
Now I’m standing there. I’ve got the running mower in my right hand and a 6.7 gigavolt fence wire the other hand. Keep in mind that the charger is the size of a truck battery and has a picture of an upside-down cow, on fire, on the cover.
Time stood still. The first thing I notice were my balls trying to climb up the front side of my body, my ears curled downwards, and I could feel the lawnmower ignition firing at the backside of my brain. I was literally at one with the engine. Science says that you cannot crap, pee and ejaculate at the same time, but oh boy oh boy, I beg to differ.
I’ve been holding the fence wire for about 30 minutes (possibly two seconds) now. My hand is wrapped around the wire and I can’t let it let it go because my muscles are contracting around it. Covered in my own shit, piss and with my balls on my chest, I thought to myself that it’s the middle of January, it’s about 30 degrees, 80 cent humidity, and I am standing in my own backyard begging for a lightning strike from the sky and God to kill me.
I honestly don’t know how I got loose from the wire. When I woke up laying on the ground hours later, the lawnmower was beside me and out of petrol, it was later on in the day and I was sunburnt.
Upon waking up from my electronically induced sleep, I realised a few things. Three of my teeth seemed to have melted. Poo, pee and vomit mixed together doesn’t smell quite as bad as you might think. My left eye will not open. My right eye will not close. The lawnmower runs like a demon now. Seriously, I think our little session cleared out some carbon fouling or something. It’s running better than new. My balls are still smaller than average, but they’re now almost a foot long each. The good news is that if a burglar does try to come over the fence, I can clearly visualise what my security system will do to him and that gives me a warm fuzzy feeling all over…which also reminds me to triple check before I mow."
Brilliant. If you have not come cross the show before, I recommend you search for clips about how listeners got their nicknames. The `snipers’ nightmare’ a particular favourite.
As was the case with our unfortunate Kiwi gardener, it was bloody hot in Redhill too. Of course, Seagull `lost’ the toss and obviously we were fielding. Not sure what was more problematic, only having seven players, a lack of keeping kit or the scorebook being safely stationed in Eggs house.
A few more fielders would have been nice, as we immediately faced a barrage of powerful hitting from our young friend Willsher, who, having scored a century against us last season, was a year older, stronger and quite frankly better. It was only some seriously decent bowling from Faggie, Evil, Ali and Fergus that prevented things from getting out of hand. It would be remiss of me to mention that he was dropped by Ali (an absolute dolly) when he was on about ten runs. At that point it looked like that would be the pivotal moment of the match, but it wasn’t. More of that in a minute.
Willsher’s rapid scoring rate was aided by some extremely attacking field placements – having two slips when only having seven players certainly demands a good line, and sometimes Evil found it, especially the ball that clean bowled the other opener. That said, there were mummering’s of “this is the longest power play ever”. The scoreboard ticked over quickly. Eventually Seagull decided to add some protection, and it paid immediate dividends with another high and mighty straight drive headed straight to Faggie on the boundary. This was the deciding moment of the match and Faggie didn’t let us down, taking the ball cleanly. But with the Aussie “close to the line and momentum threatening to carry him over for a six” he tossed the ball across to Sohail who, although surprised, took the simple catch. Here is a recreation of the event
Fabulous.
Or was it? As we celebrated, the batsman stood his ground, questioning whether Faggie had remained within the boundary, not to mention the honesty of the Australian. Who would doubt such a trustworthy nation of cricketers? The two umpires conferred and eventually they decided he was `probably out’. The young batsman, perhaps with eye on a double hundred, wasn’t happy.
During tea, pretty much everyone agreed that Faggie was yards inside the rope and there was no chance of him carrying it over. The possibility of performing an ‘IPL-style catch for the cameras’ was just too good an opportunity to miss.
There were other moments in the first innings. Having been hit for a glorious four, Fergus responded by nearly taking the 10-year old’s head off, before getting his wicket thanks to a solid catch from Ali. Sohail bowled perhaps the highest beamer ever witnessed. Les, getting a lengthy spell, made it even longer by attempting Lockie’s (or is it Nialls now?) longest over record and Seagull, having got a batsman to miscue reenacted his Coldharbour `lost it in the sun, run away from ball’ moment, looking much like a confused David Seaman attempting to find a Nayim lob.
Somehow, on a pitch that would have seen Viv Richards wearing a helmet, our opponents made it beyond 200 from their 35 overs. In a season bereft of a wheelhouse, and we have struggled to get over 150 runs, we had our work cut out.
During tea we discussed NFL fantasy league drafts, celebrating 50th birthdays for an entire year, and the likelihood of a Quokkas tour to Australia followed by one in India.
Our Birmingham contingent are not ones for convention, shunning the sparse surroundings of the changing rooms and taking tea at the far side of the field, in the shade, like intelligent people. I ventured over to give them the batting order and was tempted by a lovely spicey rice dish, which had no bearing whatsoever on Ali, Rachid and Umair taking the three of the first four batting spots. Note to Evil Dave: Find slot for Quokkas mini tour in Brum.
We needed a fast start, and Ali and `Todd’ obliged, smashing 80 odd runs from the first 10 overs. Nice. It wasn’t all just big hitting, there was some nice stroke play and very solid defence too. There was a lot of time was spent trying to find balls from blackberry bushes. Ali, pleased at avoiding his usual six and out, requested that the remainder of his innings be filmed for posterity. He immediately miscued a ball 50 feet in the air that landed safely. I’m sure he will look forward to watching that textbook shot back.
Fergus, who played a chanceless innings, was surprisingly bowled by a beauty from Willsher. Rashid was up next and looked in good nick before hitting a straight drive straight to a fielder. Umair, looking more comfortable playing with a hard ball each game, hit some nice shots through cover before being bowled to a decent length ball. That brought Sohail to the crease, and he really grabbed the game by the scruff of the neck, blazing the ball to all parts…mostly cow corner, but nevertheless some sensational stuff. At the other end Tugboat struggled with the ample and variable bounce off the variable bowling and variable pitch. He was eventually out, caught. Faggie, finding a new home at number seven (Ed: That seems like the perfect slot for a man that triggers the stand-in skipper) joined Sohail and helped us cruise to victory with four runs from the first ball of Another Pie’s over (apologies, we may have misheard the bowlers name).
Seagull
See you on tour.