- Beck's XI vs The Twenty Minuters
- Burton Court
- 28th August 2005
- Toss: Twenty Minuters
- Result: Lost by 50 runs
- Man of the Match: C Stevens
| Beck's XI innings | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| J Todman | bowled | Scott | 0 | |
| N Clarke | LBW | Elwes | 3 | |
| C Dugdale | c C Stevens | Curtis | 0 | |
| T Rhodes | stumped C Stevens | Lloyd-Baker | 71 | |
| J Plummer | bowled | Elwes | 0 | |
| C McGarry | bowled | Elwes | 0 | |
| J Nicholson+ | bowled | Curtis | 16 | |
| J Gibbon | c Lloyd-Baker | C Stevens | 4 | |
| J Beck* | caught & bowled | Groom | 45 | |
| M Daniell | run out | (C Stevens) | 1 | |
| G Hughes | not out | 3 | ||
| Extras | (b 18, lb 4, w 15, nb 11) | 48 | ||
| Total (all out after 35.4 overs) | 191 | |||
| FoW:1-4,2-7,3-22,4-27,5-27,6-71,7-81,8-185,9-185,10-191 | ||||
| Bowling | O | M | R | W |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| W Scott | 6 | 2 | 11 | 1 |
| ARB Curtis | 6 | 0 | 37 | 2 |
| J Elwes | 6 | 2 | 18 | 3 |
| C Stevens | 7 | 0 | 27 | 1 |
| A Stevens | 3 | 0 | 20 | 0 |
| B Godsal | 4 | 0 | 26 | 0 |
| H Lloyd-Baker | 3 | 0 | 19 | 1 |
| RTC Groom | 0.4 | 0 | 6 | 1 |
| The Twenty Minuters innings | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| H Lloyd-Baker | bowled | Plummer | 0 | |
| M Maxwell-Scott | bowled | Plummer | 6 | |
| J Elwes | bowled | Plummer | 0 | |
| A Stevens | bowled | Rhodes | 0 | |
| C Stevens | cClarke | Gibbon | 44 | |
| B Godsal+ | bowled | Beck | 16 | |
| RTC Groom* | bowled | Dugdale | 12 | |
| ARB Curtis | bowled | Clarke | 4 | |
| J Greayer | notout | 5 | ||
| R Scott | cTodman | Gibbon | 8 | |
| W Scott | cNicholson | Rhodes | 18 | |
| Extras | (b 7, lb 2, w 14, nb 5) | 28 | ||
| Total (all out after 3 6overs) | 141 | |||
| FoW:1-5,2-6,3-11,4-11,5-32,6-84,7-90,8-101,9-110,10-142 | ||||
| Bowling | O | M | R | W |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| J Plummer | 8 | 4 | 13 | 3 |
| C Dugdale | 8 | 0 | 22 | 1 |
| T Rhodes | 6 | 1 | 19 | 2 |
| M Daniell | 2 | 0 | 14 | 0 |
| J Beck | 3 | 0 | 16 | 1 |
| G Hughes | 3 | 0 | 14 | 0 |
| N Clarke | 3 | 0 | 12 | 1 |
| J Gibbon | 3 | 0 | 22 | 2 |
Match Summary
The now traditional August Bank Holiday fixture saw clear blue skies and a blazing sun over the green fields of Burton Court. P Cannon was sadly not present to resume one of his many personal grudge matches, but the Twenty Minuters reckoned the presence of W Scott and the improved nets form of 'Yips' Curtis promised a better result than the previous year. Skip won the toss, and with the threat of a substantial tea and televised Ashes result looming large, had no hesitation in asking the opposition to bat on what looked like a belter, under a cloudless sky.
In a breathless start to the match, it took just eight deliveries to reduce Beck's XI to 7 for 2. J Elwes then mounted the most destructive spell of swing bowling yet seen by the Twenties. Vicious out-duck defeated the bat three times in just ten deliveries, and Elwes found himself with figures of 0-3 after two overs. 27 for 5 prompted a mid-innings conference, in which the skipper dared to suggest it might be sporting to wheel-out some of the part-timers. He'd misjudged his audience badly: the bitterness of past defeats rose to the surface, and the baying crowd demanded blood. But once again, the Twenty Minuters were badly off the pulse. The eponymous J Beck and T Rhodes went on to put on a century partnership, only broken by the late (and desperately unlikely) intervention of spin twins Lloyd-Baker and Groom. The former had proved yet again that the chance of a Twenty Minuter spilling a chance rises exponentially with the time he gets to think about it - a blistering one-handed sensational full-blooded diving catch at slip, followed by the much easier chance going down. And yet again, extras proved to be a self-inflicted wound of monstrous proportions, accounting for more than a quarter of the imposing total of 191.
As the remainder of the Twenty Minuters benefited from the wisdom of Skip's decision to field first, enjoying an extended tea and some televised cricket, Britain's Worst Opening Partnership™ went to face the onslaught. The flip side of Skip's wisdom was that the Twenty Minuters have never chased a total successfully in their history (0 from 6 at time of writing), much less amassed a total of 192 against halfway competent bowling. Maxwell-Scott played two magnificent and unexpected shots over the heads of the slip cordon, in his most effective imitation of Marcus Trescothick to date. But well-directed pace bowling from Plummer soon blasted away the top order. A Stevens on debut had been unlucky with the ball, and proved it wasn't his day with a duck to boot, leaving the Twenties staring down the barrel at 11 for 4. C Stevens and Skip buckled down the hatches, putting together a partnership of 57 over 12 overs. Having done the hard work, Skip shouldered arms to one that clipped the outside of off. C Stevens then holed out at long-on for a well-paced personal best of 44 (to go with his wicket, catch, stumping and run out in an impressive jack-of-all-trades performance). Admirably, if briefly, R Scott and Curtis dealt only in boundaries, whilst Greayer failed to catch the mood at the other end with a nuggety, misplaced 4no. W Scott's flayed 18 was unfittingly played to a deserted terrace, since the crowd had by now surrounded the telly to cheer England's tortuous victory at Trent Bridge. That frankly more important victory, combined with convivial opposition and sufficient Pimms, provided adequate compensation for another heavy defeat.
The View from Fine Leg
Well, it's swept the nation as this season's must mention in anecdotal form, and that, officially, makes cricket the new Sudoku. I don't know why I capitalised sudoku just then, I don't even know what the word means, but others are keen to lend it a capital and I think it'd be silly to lose friends over such trivialities. But I mean it when I say it: to be invited back, make sure you drop a little cricket chat; after all, people won't buy a paper unless there's a picture of Hoggy's butterscotch mane on the front page. What's more, White Lightning's captain and this reporter were both allowed into Mangina's on the King's Road in whites. Two guys, after hours, slightly drunk, in trainers, welcomed in thanks to Aussie batting collapses. Lovely stuff. And so, it is with a sense of duty as well as a keenness for statistical manipulation that this reporter is pleased to fuel all your summer anecdotes as he compiles the match report for Chelsea's biggest cricketing clash of the year.
Now before we get started - oh I know they wanted to hear that - pipe down, before we get started in earnest, I should just like to say that there are certain things that can be recreated on paper, and certain things that somehow fail to capture the power of the occasion. No matter how much the writer lauds it up, it still falls short. But then, that's just the way it goes, some things translate well to paper, others do not:
- What do you do with a blue whale?
- Cheer him up.*
- How do you get two whales in a mini?
- Drive across the Severn bridge.*
You see? that just doesn't work on paper because the pun is misspelt. Alternatively, though, there are some puns that work on paper, but not in real life. Consider this recent exchange that I had with my brother:
- 'Do we have any new leads in the case?'
- 'What am I? a detective?'
- 'No I mean, do we have any new pencil leads in the pencil case? I'm trying to finish this diagram.'
See? Now that doesn't exist out loud, it only works on paper. So what I'm saying is, although the written word occasionally fails to recount events perfectly, it sometimes offers other possibilities. - did you steal those jokes from the Funday Times letters page? - well... I was going to reference the author in the bibliography, so it's not so much theft as a, well more of a hommage frais, ok? - and what was the diagram you were trying to finish? - it's not important.
And on with the report.
The day was warm, the leaves wandering across the late summer sky. The sun cast two distinct shadows on the pitch. Two men where standing in the heart of the protected area looking for a coin. One was tall, with a rangey stride; the other squat, and bullish. The coin was found, Her Majesty whispered: "heads". We had a game on.
That could be in the Telegraph. Henry Winter actually said yesterday: 'Michael Vaughan is a tall man, but it is no tall order to...' I mean, I'm not in the business of attacking other writers but Winter, sort it out.
Well, White Lightning strapped on the pads and went out to bat. Four ducks later, and at twenty five for five, things looked hairy. This reporter was standing at square leg, umpiring with disbelief. Clarke had just been given out lbw by Tods. Now, when you are at twenty five for four, and less than a quarter of the overs in, you look very carefully at lbw appeals. Very carefully. You remember that any doubt, any, has to go the batsman's way. You recall that there are many factors to take into account: height, was it outside leg? was there any bat on that? how far forward was he? and didn't that late swing suggest that it might just have wafted past leg? i think it might, mightn't it? Might is a strong word, it shows doubt, and any doubt, as we have seen, must go the batsman's way, especially when the batsman is the host of the annual cricket sixes tournament. Up went the finger. Tods? are you out of your mind? Sorry boys, it was plum.
And there you have it. Testament indeed to the spirit of this modern age that a man should give out his old flatmate at a crisis situation in the game because, hey, dems is da rules. MichaelAngelo would blush.
Fortunately for White Lightning, the dismissal was enough to fire up one spritely young batsman, Rhodes took the bit between his teeth and steered the innings past 100. Ably assissted by Clams and McGarry, who fidgeted incessantly in his crease, the score gained some respectability. Frequent bell ringings announced that England had bowled out the Aussies and were chasing 129 to win the test. All was as God had intended when He decided to rest on the Sabbath. The innings gained speed as the overs closed, the captain, Beck, smote lustily for 45 before lifting a dolly back to bowler Groom accompanied by the word: "oh". And this reporter hoisted the total from 190 to 191 before being run out in what his captain would later call "a cacophany of errors." Inspirational linguistic gymnastics from the captain there.
And so to lunch. The captain's wife was magnificent. No health foods, no fancy stuff. Pork pies, scotch eggs, pasties and pepperamis. Lunch for men. Lunch for cricketers. Ham for Tods. Lunch.
England went out to bat, the weight of a nation on the shoulders of the two left-handers who wheeled their arms about and launched solid forward defensives against imaginary deliveries. Captain John Plummer, who must receive special mention for providing the pitch and making both teams the envy of all those outside Trent Bridge on that bank holiday weekend, strode up to bowl and was shortly applauded back to the outfield with figures of three overs, one maiden, three for one run. Some tasty bowling then. This reporter would like to expand thereon, however was standing at deep fine leg, with a can of Heineken, thinking about life and stuff, and so missed most of what was happening. In fact by the time I had jogged up to the pitch to cheer a wicket with everyone they had pretty much got back to their positions and I was told to go back to deep fine leg, the loneliest fielding position of all. I found actually, that I talked to myself quite a lot out there. I didn't mind so much since I'm a good listener, which is lucky because I didn't shut up.
The bell began to ring, England's batsmen were faultering. Somebody needed to settle the ship. Groom got stuck into the crease and set up camp for much time. The England batsmen kept falling. Some swift bowling from Dugdale, some nigglers from Hughes and just a little frenzied wicketkeeping by Nicholson saw the recovery partnership finally broken and the end was in sight, all that needed to be done was to finish the tail.
Hoggard and Giles were batting seven and eight, Jones was injured and there were still twenty to get. All that was needed was for the tail to wag, just a little. Up steps Gibbon, right arm over, 'the wizard'. Soft, slow, delicious. The bat swings. Hoggy drives through the covers. The ball is in the air, Clarke races round the rope and pockets it. England need two to win. Rhodes bowls, Giles turns it round leg, two there, it takes an edge, Nicholson keeps his eye true, Giles turns for the second.
The cheers go up.
England win!
White Lightning all round!
All was as God had intended as He rested on the Sabbath.
Speaking of which, on which day did He create fromage frais and see that it was good? Did He at all? or did He just create milk and fruit puree and say, you work it out. By that rational did He create the notion of extended metaphors? or answering a question with a question? - surely if He simply created a question then we could do the rest? - Do you want me to answer that? - Is there an answer?
Regardless, there was a time when God created cricket, and He saw that it was good. And then He created Sudoku, and He thought, ah well... you win some, you lose some.
* ref. Sunday Times 4th September. Funday Times. Letters Page. Joseph Hays, aged 11. Bucks.
