Full Fixture Information

Full Match Report

This is the result of the latest East Meon match.
Captain Scott?s XI, Home

Result: East Meon won by 8 wickets

Man Of The Match: Tim Clay: yes, really

Champagne Moment: A. Wheeler: catch

Teddy Bear Moment: Tim Lawrence: dolly drop

Full Match Report:

Scene: A fluffy cloud in Cricket Heaven. Blues skies, a green striped wicket, immaculately white cricketers, millionaire?s shortbread, scones, clotted cream and crustless sandwiches as far as the eye can see. W. G Grace sits on a deck chair, resplendent in his blazer, next to a recent arrival: G. ?Bash? Blackman, resplendent in Elvis gear. In the distance: a mumbling commentary: not TMS, but the less intelligible sound of Bernie, obscuring the celestial scoreboard, with an occasional audible ?an? that??

WGG: ?Welcome, Bash. Could be interesting. Wicket looks a little spicey, wouldn?t you say? Might take a bit of turn?.

BASH (channelling Elvis): ?Uh-huh?

On planet earth, the day started uncertainly with a man down. Not merely the EMCC giant Bash, but more immediately one of our intended 11. With the sad news of Bash?s departure fresh in our minds and hearts, there was only one true replacement: the wobbly-kneed & supposedly ?retired? Metro Gnome ? MELVIN. With Sole Man?s late thumbs up too, we nearly had an embarrassment of speed and agility. Sticko?s tea made it to the ground without its chef, along with the Scotties? keen and regular scorer, armed with much kit and a state-of-the-art and somewhat over used walkie-talkie, which squawked occasionally across the peaceful valley.

Will lost the toss. EMCC, fielding? First?! We headed out into a muggy afternoon to meet a team who usually put us to the sword with nasty swingers and mighty blows (much of the damage usually having been done the day before by 6?s excitement, beer, heat and dance) Not this year. And first we needed to pay homage to the mighty gentleman Bash in a minute?s silence.

From that quiet minute on it was all ?chirp chirp chirp? in a thrilling afternoon?s cricket, well attended by villagers, toddlers and a rabid dog called Piper.

Scottie?s openers looked the part. Their smartly-capped Aussie showed little respect for his fellow countryman T. Lawrence, or his recent green baggy. It was left to Edney, stuttering up the hill to claim their number 2, caught by Ollie, with 8 runs on the board. Their top order looked a little rushed and excitable. With a variable bounce, cutting was hazardous; so it proved for Roberts, caught by A. Wheeler at short extra in a dive that was partly brilliant, and part Tom Daley meets premiership footballer angling for a penalty. He?s probably still spinning. (Unlike Bash, who would have been purring). The next passage of play favoured the Scotties, with their skipper and Slatter tucking into our bowling with long strides and lusty blows. By now, Atkinson W was in the attack and despite his bustling approach, he was cruelly despatched over and between fielders. Oh, and dropped by our normally reliable keeper. (Mooro: ?Are you doing the match report. Don?t forget: I wasn?t playing yesterday? - sorry, Chris!). Frustration vented from our normally taciturn skipper, but to his credit no (audible) profanities. Two new attackers were summoned: Atkinson J. who bowled superbly, using varied pace and the fizzing pitch to achieve ? no wickets in his 7 overs. And Tim Clay, who defied all the laws of probability and gravity to achieve? 5 in the same time frame. After two days at the No Name, Tim?s circulation was more beer-stream than blood. His first over was respectable. No. 2 shocking: Gingsters, despatched to the moo-field. His saving grace was a straight one that their no 1 missed, LBW for 79. Then their batters went AWOL / suicidal. After a solid platform, their middle order crumbled under the confusing array of uncooked Clay deliveries: somehow, Tim ended up with a 5 wicket haul for 45 runs. Thank the cricketing gods he already had a green cap. He was considerably helped by a superb diving catch by Tim L at point, who scratched his good record clean away by dropping a horrible sitter a few overs later. By the laws of cricket, one Aussie having a good game of cricket is enough on the Rec, it seems.

At the other end, a cap of much more faded green was shortly handed to the umpire. Melvin had unearthed some sporting antiques from a distant drawer and was soon trundling up the hill as it were still 1986. Once he?d re-discovered his length (Will: ?pitches have got longer since you played, eh Melvin??) he bamboozled enough batters to achieve excellent figures of 3 wickets for 16 off 4.4 overs.

A score that looked in danger of getting well over the 200/220 mark, collapsed from 142 for 3 to 181 all out. Verdict: a bounce that was difficult to predict, some (mainly) good bowling and some (mainly) good fielding. Some other memorable moments. Hollis chasing down a ball, preventing a 2nd run, throws to the bowler: A. Wheeler. A calm removal of the bails would remove a well-short-of-his-crease batter, but with several conflicting calls (probably boosted by dogs barking, kids screaming and walkie-talkies) Wheeler decides Mooro?s end looks more promising. The batter lives on. And a valiant full length one-handed dive on the far boundary by J. Redmayne. Again, no wicket but cricket (and possibly osteopathy) were the winners.

Tea: a glorious and much-complimented affair, with the exception of WA?s recycled pork products.

Frustrated by their ability to ingest too many carbs, and mindful of a) a naughty pitch and b) a younger and less ?er.. ?spliffy? Scottie attack, Atkinson O and Hollis strode out. They were confronted by a succession / procession of ?left-arm overs?, never popular and never easy for tea-less Right handers. Fortunately, their first few overs were over-exerted wides and long-hops. Ollie leant back and helped a few to the Forge. At the other end, Hollis watched the umpire stretch his arms and the extras mount. After 3 overs, a hefty platform of about 30 looked ominous for the Scotties until Pack found his length and Ollie was trapped in front, LBW for 24. Never an easy moment for opposition to see Yet Another Bloody Atkinson enter the fray, and especially one with poor recent form, no kids on the boundary and THE BAT (don?t ask James about it unless you?ve got time to kill). But suffice to say, the bat worked and Jimmy used it with elegance and venom. It even SOUNDED expensive. Most importantly, he even left the kind of balls that had scuppered the CS line-up, only occasionally spanking through mid-wicket when shorter length allowed. Or lofting drives over the bowler into lost-ball territory. One exception was a blow of such ferocity that it burst through their extra cover?s hands and, still progressing at lightning velocity, struck two external parts of the (male) anatomy that causes maximum pain ? or maximum hilarity - according to your position on the field. The banter continued, even as Scottie?s chances of victory were receding. The wily Hawson looked likeliest to wear down EMCC defences, but it was not until after a drinks break that Hollis succumbed, toeing a slow Wood full toss to long-on for 22. His nurdling and nudging had just progressed into boundary-scoring, but by the time Redmayne sauntered to the crease the damage had been done. With some confusion over when our 20 overs were officially starting, and the pavilion clock still stuck in a remote time zone, ?not many runs per over? were needed.

Jimmy and James, acting on the team?s enthusiasm to get to the No Name to sample as many of he 55 beers on offer, got us over the line with time and batters to spare. The only slight downer: as the end approached, Jimmy was on 98. Calls from the boundary to James R not to score more than one run, were not heard; JR hit a back-foot 4 through the covers, leaving James A two-short. (Which is ironically, and very nearly the condition that James left one of the Scottie fielders in.) Honours satisfied; symmetry achieved. An amazing 8 wicket victory that seemed more luxurious than it might earlier in the day. And from a like-minded cricket team: another potential recruit for 6?s next year.

Cue the Bash?s iconic wicket celebration: broad grin, hands aloft: pumping victory and joy into the ether. RIP Bash, long live cricket in the valley.