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And lo, as spring turneth into summer, those cricketing gods didst look kindly upon the fair valley of the Meon, shining forth sunlight, to bathe the green sward upon which cricketing feats might be wrought. And as ropes were laid out and bats were oiled, thus spake the gods, saying unto the players: ?verily, catches win matches? and ?one wicket brings two?.?
On a glorious Sunday morning, Bunny sent through a picture of his newly cut, straw-coloured strip, the sun blazing down from a jet blue sky, Park Hill in the distance, looming proudly over the ground. Ali posted it on Instagram, with the caption ?Nirvana?. And heaven it was. Except, perhaps, for one of our number, who endured something closer to purgatory. But more of that later.
Our opponents were Shirrell Heath, formerly known by the more functional, if less bucolic, name of IBM South Hants. They arrived with sad news, that they were giving up their lovely home ground, nestling in woodland next to the De Vere venue at New Place. I used to enjoy playing at New Place. There was invariably a wedding taking place, and as the game plodded along, bored fielders could entertain themselves by watching as various traditional wedding vignettes unfolded. The tearful bridesmaid being consoled by a patient aunt. An amorous couple seeking (unsuccessfully) a secluded spot. Several bored men electing to watch Dampers block out five overs, rather than listen to yet another round of the Grease Megamix. Anyway Shirrell Heath, you will always be welcome at EMCC.
Will lost the toss and was asked to bat. He duly opened up alongside Ali, who whacked the first two balls to the square leg boundary for four. EMCC were on track for a solid total of 960 runs. Alas, it was not to be, and Ali snicked off to a good length ball in the next over.
Jimmy strode to the crease, the expectation and anticipation weighing heavily in the air. Having endured the most meagre of Mays with the bat, surely this was a situation tailor made for him, a golden opportunity to pile on the runs and rescue his season. Oh Jimmy. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. After a 1, and a 2, he reportedly caught his bat on his pad playing a straight one and was bowled. For someone about to watch his brother make a load of runs, he took it remarkably well; there was no wailing or gnashing of teeth. But one sensed that, even for this most devout of cricketers, his faith in the game was being tested.
Mark struck two attractive boundaries and departed, only to return to the field ? ominously for those left to bat ? as an umpire. De Wob clobbered four boundaries of his own and was trapped in front. Charlie D was bowled for three, and suddenly we were no longer in the land of milk and honey. We were in the land of gin and marmite, on 84-5.
Things got considerably worse when Dave Rees innocuously inside-edged the ball into his thigh. Before we knew it, he was trudging back towards us, Mark having raised the finger, apparently in response to a solitary stifled appeal from fine leg.
Luckily, throughout these trials and tribulations, Will was anchoring the innings, riding his luck and smiting the ball to all corners. He was joined by David Blackburn, who played very well for his 32, hitting six fours and only succumbing to a catch on the boundary that was very well taken by Kumarasamy.
At around this stage Mark?s umpiring spell came to an end. As he walked back, Dave gestured for him to pull up a chair, for a short lecture on divine retribution. Mark veered right, hastening swiftly off the pitch and disappearing through the gate. We wondered whether he might be off to enrol in witness protection, but no, he had simply gone to collect his beef and horseradish sandwiches. And they were so good that all was forgiven.
The Prince (of Peace?) joined his son at the crease and played a wonderful, chanceless innings, ending on 38 not out, also with 6 boundaries. At one point, like a moth to a flame, he started walking towards the alpaca end to sniff out a lost ball. He did later find it, the ball having been obscured from mere mortals by a small tuft of grass. Will retired on 101, and with Nick Crombie?s 13, EMCC had reached a very respectable 250.
The highlight of tea was undoubtedly Mark?s Redemption Sandwiches. The low-light of tea was my offering of chocolate donuts from the Wild Bean Caf? at Petersfield services. There was a great turnout of supporters and hopes were high for our turn in the field.
As is customary, I informed the Shirrell Heath umpire that I would be bowling right arm over, to which he responded ?yes don?t worry, we know??. There was a degree of feeling in this that led me to think that all may not be forgiven from last year. I?m not sure this year will have improved matters.
Much more exciting was the opening spell from David at the other end, who bowled some express pace up the hill and took his first wicket for the club, castling their number four with a peach.
Dave Rees came on and bowled a probing Melvyn Dowlen line and length, taking 1-12 in a four over spell. Charlie Dutton took two more, from just two overs, both caught. Charlie?s deliveries seem to defy physics, by speeding up when they hit the ground. I know this because, by this stage, Shirrell Heath were 28-7, and I had been invited to join the slip cordon, something which only happens when the game is a foregone conclusion.
Nick Crombie came on and bowled his bamboozling in-duckers, picking up 2 for 8 from three excellent overs, including two maidens.
Meanwhile, at the other end, Atkinson J?s tough times continued. Matt Smith was providing stubborn resistance, launching several boundaries, including two giant sixes into the tree line. Even Shirrell Heath?s number 11, seemingly to his own surprise, dispatched three deliveries to the ropes. Could Jimmy bear any more of this indignity?
Then, with Matt on strike, from the very pits of despair, Jimmy settled at his mark, hit the crease, and ripped one through the gate. The match was won and all was well. The light, it shineth in the darkness, and the darkness shall not overcome it.
Amen.

Man of the Match: Will ? a terrific, match-winning knock
Champagne Moment: David?s first wicket for the club
Phallus: Mark D, for reasons