Luck, they say, is preparation meeting opportunity. They say it comes more plentifully the more you practice. That sweat and luck are directly related. They, as usual, are not right. It started wonderfully. Despite the overcast conditions and extremely green pitch, KRCSC opted to bat after Charlie undertook his already customary toss loss. Out went the Plastics, a mixture of optimism and trepidation in the hearts of the three of them who care whether they win. Saril opened the bowling. Testing lengths, good pace, opting for true lines over the usual devilish swing. The batters paid due respect. In came Jamie, all hip twirls and tiptoes. KRCSC, like so many before, had no idea what to do to a left-arm swing bowler operating round the wicket with a paceman's run up and spinner's action. One down. A hope. Bradbury turned to his venomous strike bowler next. Snarling, pawing, charging in (for the first ball at least – the lung capacity isn't what it was), Webb's pace was up. KRCSC's batsmen sure could drive, but Webb is too smart for cricket to be that easy. Into the ribs. Then full. Then good length. Then just back of a length. A spell that deserved more than the one wicket it yielded. A dream, though, was starting to force its way into the real world. Cometh the hour, cometh the hair. Niall has, equal parts quietly and with loud denouncement, really worked over the winter. A steady line, good areas; one pitched a little too full on the leg side and the batsman knew he had to put it away. The timing was off, though, and a combination of excellent field placement and personnel selection saw Alex and his hands, the safest hands in London and therefore the world, barely having to move an inch. Then, the secret weapon. The slow (double) bouncer. Straight through the batter. Two more. Four down. Perhaps? Two ringers in rotating at the Power Station End, with the ever-reliable Saril back at the Albert Bridge End. Lizut switched from rasping off-spin to medium-fast. A genuinely good cricketer, maybe one ball of the 36 bowled was off target. I've got no idea how he didn't get a rattle, but 6-0-21-0 was more than handy. Maithri, playing through the pain barrier, saw his chance. One half a yard outside off. Swing and a diss. One a little quicker just outside off. Left alone – luck holding judgment's hand. One quicker still – top of middle. Straight through him. 3-0-16-1. Five down. Maybe, actually? Maybe! But KRCSC are an experienced outfit with a lot of wherewithal. I can't remember who got the sixth wicket or when, but at six down their lower middle order played themselves in well enough for us to learn their names were Mo and Chris Brown – upcoming opponents of "The Road" would be wise to note them. Picked their gaps, ran sensibly, moved the fielders around. Bradbury brought himself on. Swing, and, as ever, thoughtful variations, but no bounce on this track and no luck on the many good balls bowled meant none of the usual terrorism, and he was negotiated. Webb back in at the other end to provide a breakthrough. Batsman clearly trying to remember if he brought his other thigh pad and his rib guard. Should've had him. Nearly had him. 5-0-28-1. The lot of the paceman: any bat on it and it flies away. Davies at the other to complement the pace, a containing role. "Jeez, that turned! Bowled mate," – when an opposition umpire congratulates you nutmegging their best batter, it should really count as a wicket. But it doesn't. 2-0-7-0. A slight lull in proceedings; none of the fabled ADMIN TEAM able to get a wicket and no private Whatsapp group within a private Whatsapp group to discuss what to do. We plugged away. The fielding was excellent. Peter earned the highest compliment a wicketkeeper gets – you never noticed him, with such understated aplomb did he gather every damn thing. Lizut and Webb flung themselves this way and that. Niall, Jamie and Saril kept the boundaries closed off –Niall even got to use his cricket foot. Nobody dared to hit anything anywhere near the gluey hands and bazooka arms on Alex and Jon. Maithri didn't let a single thing past despite being unable to bend over. We chased everything down. But edges flew for four, floaty drives didn't carry, the pitch misbehaved but never on the right ball. Plenty of preparation. Plenty of practice. Plenty of sweat. No reward against a pair now well set. Even Jamie – who ended with 8-1-25-2 – could only shift one of them, but my God it was a Jaffa. Starting in, floating out, swinging late back in, biting off the track, clipping top of off. They'd play it back for years if we had a good video. Enough LBW appeals to give the umpire tinnitus and perhaps a little bit of home field advantage on the close calls. Niall pushed hard in his second spell and nearly got a bloody maiden! Would hardly be the first time he bowled a maiden over, nor was it the last that day if any saw the way he looks in umpiring dress. Ended up with a tasty 4-0-26-2. Bradbury also picked up a wicket, taking the pace off and striking the batsman in front; 6-0-36-1 is good and still looks worse than it was – two or three boundaries that went nowhere near where the batter meant them, and a couple of firm LBW shouts turned down. Another day that's 3-27. Field in to the new guy. Saril (6-0-51-1) got the wicket he deserved courtesy of an excellent catch by somebody, probably not Matt. Should've had another, and it's weird that it wasn't caught since Matt can catch anything and it definitely looked like him under it. Having settled, if allowed his full allocation I reckon 3-58 off 8 was on for Saril and would've been a fairer reflection. Would the drop matter? 219-8. Very chaseable at 5.5 per over. Special mention for the lovely tea laid on by KRCSC. We need a picnic blanket. Alex and Jon opened. KRCSC's most successful batsman opened their bowling too, which surely goes against the whole point of social cricket and I assume is a function of late stage capitalism. Apparently he returned 4-3 off 8 last week, and you can see why: he was quick and rangey, getting good swing away from the right-hander. Alex and Jon played inside the line and with soft hands, prudently weathering the storm. Their opening batter bowled from the other end. Also quick, but skiddier. Alex knew he had to get him away but, ears ringing with how long 40 overs is and wracked between instinct and thought, got trapped in his crease. An unfortunate LBW to end a watchful 2. Captain fantastic strode out, having had to insert himself at 3 because Davies wanted an extra few minutes to eat a second sarnie. He never got it. Quacktain fanducktic was soon on his way back to the hutch, livid with himself, with Matt, with the grass, with the sky, with the concept of zero, with life. He's better than the ball he got out to, and will prove it. Out went Davies. An experienced player (he claims), he knew the ship needed settling. A steady pair of hands. A youth spent batting number 8 for crap teams and having to anchor one end while the fat guy who used to be good but now is just mates with the skipper tried to wallop everything meant he was the one to do it. What's that? A streaky four off the first ball? Why can't HE be the fat guy who used to be good but now is just a walloper for once?!? A teenage dream played out, but there was to be a sticky ending. Jon was ticking over merrily, struggling a bit against swing but punishing anything off a good length. He just needed a partner. But Davies continued to swipe wildly. Seatbelts on lads, he can't drive. Cutting without scissors. Gone fishing but forgot his rod. A sweetly timed cover drive over the infield – throw enough shit, etc. Confidence rising. The next one was delivered on a plate with all the cutlery. Fullish, outside off, a bit quicker. Easy pickings for a pinch hitter till you leave your weight back and flash it to gully. 10 off a few. Three down. Not many up. Webb, enforcer with bat as well as ball, fidgety in the crease but commanding on the back foot and punchy off the front. Call him Jonathan Trott on steroids. Some lusty blows, some speculative swipes. A quick-fire 17 (he claims at least four are missing) but bowled by a ball with some lovely shape. Could've been dealt with, but no shame in it not. Lizut came out. Lizut stayed there. He built an innings. Left what needed leaving, punished what needed punishing. A bit of lip to the fielders (he's Australian), some absolutely scrumptious shots to keep their responses muted. Jon made his way to a nicely played 25 @ 65 before being bowled by one that probably kept a little low. An opener's innings and in a better team we'd be talking about the foundations of a comfy victory. Lizut kept going. Maithri, on one leg, was always going to struggle to show his range. Trapped leg before for a duck. Lizut kept going. Peter, on two legs, both used exclusively for leaving or blocking when your star batter is seeing it like a beach ball. Unlucky to be given out lbw to one that looked a little high. Another duck. Three is probably too many. Lizut kept going. Jamie, surely tired after nearly one-manning us to a sub-200 target but promoted to 9 anyway due to Niall's modesty, bowled for a golden. Four is too many. Lizut kept going. Niall, hot pink sweatbands and glowing from his 2-26, wasn't in the mood to play their game. As long as Lizut was there, we had a chance. That made Niall's job very simple, albeit not easy: stay in. Completely motionless, he watched anything off-target go past the stumps with a mixture of contempt and bemusement – did they not know the point of the game? Why bowl something he didn't have to play? At least a dozen balls, maybe many more (our scoring needs work in every sense), for an expertly crafted quacker. KRCSC had no idea they were in the fifth afternoon of a test match needing two wickets to force a result, but Niall doesn't play pyjama cricket. Five ducks, though, is a lot for any outfit that isn't trying to get a perfect duck:non-duck ratio. In came Saril. Injured and basically batting one handed (hence the slight drop down the tail), he modelled his early part on Niall's tactics: play nothing that doesn't need to be played. Lizut got his 50. A sumptuous late cut played backwards of point for 2. Hefty applause from the pavilion; slightly startled looks from the spectators facing the wrong way. But now he had to accelerate, and he had to get Saril to as well – we mightn't survive their premier bowlers coming back. Two fours on the trot for Saril, playing whatever he was told to play to perfection. Lizut wanted maximums for himself. He'd got one, but efforts for a second didn't come through. LBW for 52. Saril stranded on 8*. Game over. 80-odd short. Poker players often say they'd rather be lucky than good. We aren't either, really, but if we keep the march towards the latter and recruit a little of the former, we'll surprise a few people this year. Man of the Plastics: Jamie. Sensational bowling figures against some really good players. Gift to Man of the Other Team: Pink gin to Chris Brown for 77* and a wicket. Honourable mention to Lizut for an economy rate of just 3.5 with the ball and scoring nearly half our runs with bat despite coming in at 6 and dealing with three ducks in succession at the other end. Unfortunately he is foreign and can't win Man of the Plastics because of the Constitution. Special commendation to Niall for picking up 2 timely wickets and refusing to be drawn into this vulgar "scoring runs" malarkey. Further commendation for looking every inch an umpire and commanding great respect from the fieldsmen. Resplendent and noble in a lab-coat, he should've been a scientist. Tantrum of the match to Charlie for an exquisite dressing-down of Matt. Bat pointing, stern voice raise, helmet throwing, we got the whole nine.
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THE TEAMFormed from a collection of players who met on the internet via social cricket at Archbishop's Park, Plastics XI represents the foolhardy members of that group who decided they wanted a bash at proper cricket instead of playing with plastic balls. The team's ability is best described as "weak-weak". Luckily, our social media game is much stronger. Find us on: Archives
October 2021
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