Match Summary
Under toppling banks of cumulo-nimbus, and the meteorologist's threat of a cataclysmic end to a hot spell that had smothered the city in its warm, fetid embrace for too long, two Twenty Minuters ploughed back and forth in an empty net, sometimes dipping to retrieve a ball from the snares of the leg-side netting, one frequently stopping to scratch his head and re-measure his run-up. There was little to indicate that within the hour, one would suffer a decisive failure in self-confidence and fail to even bowl himself, and the other would be ambushed by a bout of yips so severe as to reduce several of his team-mates to helpless giggling at the sheer inevitability of it all. Such were the rewards of diligent practice, on the eve of a new Twenties fixture against Barney's XI.
With the opposition (and Leon) straggling in from the far side of London town (and Holland), the Twenties took the sportsmanlike option of fielding first. The New Bappa deck, never shy of imposing its weird idiosyncrasies upon the match, started to misbehave badly from the off. A fortnight of blazing sunshine had not improved its unpredictable character. Cannon was quickly into the wickets, whilst Elwes opened with three maidens coming down the slope, and the opposition were 12-3 from the first 9 overs. The ball mostly came on low, periodically rising sharply and snarling at a batsman who'd dared to come too far forward. With the opening 'quicks' taking a rest, the pressure on the Barney's XI's middle-order was regrettably allowed to lapse. Macaulay and John soon established themselves, finding a profitable 'help yourself' area behind square leg, and learning a New Bappa lesson - swing hard at the wide ones, because the deck will shaft you sooner or later. The potpourri of Twenties second-line bowlers, twirlers, yippers, chuckers and all, failed to achieve the success of the opening pair, and furthermore gave freely to the extras column. R Scott, it must be mentioned, added to his burgeoning reputation as a partnership-breaker par excellence, to the customary bemusement of all onlookers. The innings total of 142 was immediately categorised by Skip as 'daunting', and a sad let-down of the heroics of Cannon and Elwes.
After the best occidental-themed Twenty Minuters tea on record, featuring everything for which a beleaguered, half-cut gentleman cricketer could hanker (courtesy of 'Mrs.Chesty' - honourable mention) the home side began its reply. The solid start that was recognised by all as indispensable to a successful run-chase failed to materialise. At 10-4, serious questions were being asked of the batting line-up's ability to bat. To be fair, the track - which was now assuming all the nightmarish proportions of a trip to the zoo with small children - was perfectly exploited by Barney's XI's opening pair of Macaulay and Firth, who were to take 6 for 19 between them, eclipsing even the efficient brutality of Elwes and Cannon. When Leon fell cheaply, upon which as usual all hopes had rested, there was no way to avoid the conclusion that this innings was a hurtling locomotive about to run out of track. Yet amidst the wreckage of the Twenties top seven, the rock of Maxwell-Scott stood firm, snicking elegantly for four through the slips, driving through the covers and down the hill, and although never looking particularly 'in', was never technically 'out'. When he was in fact comprehensively bowled out, he had made an innings top score and personal best of 22, no mean feat against a lively attack on a cantankerous deck. Skip had been and gone for a brisk 13, also favouring the region between first and second slip, when Cannon strode to the crease, full of indignant wrath at his lowly batting position. With his usual cocktail of flair and aggression, he laced boundaries through point and past the bowler, and when joined by No.11 R Scott, another advocate of 'attaque a outrance', put on the top innings partnership of 28. But the innings was put out of its misery when Chesty heaved across the line to a straight one, after a mere 26 overs, and 37 runs short. Nevertheless an enjoyable outing against personable opposition, and a stunning tea.
