Nurdle & Spank

Of all the appendages that homo sapiens has evolved, the medial malleolus is one of the least effective with which to catch a cricket ball. At least it was a unique, innovative method to choose. The hand thing hadn't worked for anyone else, barring the notable exception of Ben Salt's smart return catch and Jeff the keeper, who had gloves.

The day started early, having a chat with a fox up the allotment while harvesting stuff for tea, then DC2 came round to cut up dolphin in my kitchen. The sandwich malarkey was behind schedule when the call came through from the 1st XI to nick one of our players owing to their own deficiencies. We rolled with it and even ended up with jam appreciator and all round top gun Rich Grove to replace and bolster.

Portway's opening batsmen were keen to get on with it after winning the toss, but some tight, unrewarded opening bowling by Mackie, assisted by the other one, limited them to below four an over and happily, a couple of catches stuck. Unfortunately, all this did was to bring better batsmen to the crease. We watched some of the biggest sixes hit at Frenchay and heard the tinkling of glass from the golf driving range and hoped they wouldn't fire back. Some tried reasoning with the batsmen not to hit it quite so far, especially when we were having difficulty finding a replacement ball. They wouldn't even let us continue with a brand new one.

Despite positivity in the field, the Cowboys couldn't rein Portway in. They could induce one of their batsmen to fling his bat to square leg, but you don't get points for that. Just giggles. Dave, Ben, Rich, Grant and Alan all bowled admirably in the face of the onslaught. The short square boundary didn't help and did I mention the dropped catches and the fool who took one on the ankle? Even when the ball was caught and the batsman started to walk, the umpire wasn't sure and the batsman curtailed his homeward hike.

So somewhat daunted then by the prospect of scoring 298 to win. Those nice ladies in the kitchen had done their bit by laying out all the sarnies, veg, dolphin and that. They even had the brew on. Nice one. People were heard to say with their mouths full that it was the best tea of the season. Good to see some friendly faces to support too.

And so to bat. What's this? Who's this? Excuse the novice Cowboy (and scorer for the first twenty overs) but which one's George and which one's Adam? Or is it Alan? No, that's Alan spectating in the Tavern Stand. The one without the hat's just smashed another four. Fifty up. So soon? Crikey! Game on.

After the loss of Adam at the end of a great opening partnership the Cowboys consolidated and pressed on. George, supported by Grant and the early order ended up with a personal best in the eighties, making it all look possible and Jeff, Rich and Ben all tried to keep the hope alive.

It would seem that the ankle bone isn't connected to the batting bone and the No.7 batsman didn't need a runner. After getting off the mark with a six it didn't look like he was in the mood for running at all, but if the run rate was to be kept in sight then the slightly beguiling bowling required a bit of nurdling as well as spanking. Not spooning to the keeper off the back of the bat, although appealing when the batsman was walking was a strange custom, as was the Portway Haka at the fall of each wicket.

Dave and Mackie powered the lower order, the latter hitting his maiden six, followed immediately by another which won a few nominations for the cider moment, but it was unreasonable to expect him to do that every ball, which is what was required of the last couple of overs. In the end, 253 for 7 was a bold effort, leaving Stroddy and DC2 with their pads on, possibly salivating at the short boundary and what might have been.

Scorecard here, more match reports here.