Skip to main content

The First Taste of Victory

Swinging Googlies (165 all out) beat The British Library (164 for 7) by 1 run.
Victoria Recreation Ground, Surbiton.

After a run of defeats and a tie, the Swinging Googlies have finally won their first game of the season. 

Rob Punter (34) and Andy Fairburn (27) were the men sent out to open and started notching up the runs pretty sharpish. Fairburn is beginning to look more and more like a demon with bat and ball, both in the nets and on the field of play. This was, according to all records, the highest opening partnership in Googlies history.

Lawrie Homan came in and put 72 on the board in no time at all. Mike Abel (5) was looking comfortable - that is before I gave him out LBW. Sean O'Connell (8), Steve Fenwick (0), Dave Le Vay (7), Myself (0) and Joe Abel (0). All in all, with 165 as the team's total, things looked comfortable - it is thought that 165 is the highest ever total set by the Googlies in their history.

After the tea break, and in spite of some sharp fielding, the Googlies had a bit of a wobble and the British Library's veterans were both exceptionally stoic and resiliant with the bat - the older members of their team being particularly gracefully with their shots, if somewhat overly defensive.

Breakthroughs were happening and wickets being picked up here and there by the likes of Homan, Fenwick and J. Abel. On the whole, the fielding was looking sharp at the outset, O'Connell and Fenwick taking good catches, but the British Library seemed particularly adept at grabbing singles and doubles.

Ron Googly, the Swinging Googlies official reporter, commented:
But the thought of being defeated by one’s own tea was simply too much to contemplate and with some strict marshalling from Rob and gentle banter from Tommo, the fielders gradually started to turn it round. Steve got third time lucky and made up for putting a couple down and Dave L threw himself around with abandon, again going for grass stain of the week award. Tommo laid down some stylish moves and indeed it was good to see sexy cricket back on the field of play. 
I must admit that it was good to see that my 'gentle banter' - which included winding-up one batsman about the cleanliness of his cricket gear - was acknowledged and the use of an expression I coined, 'sexy cricket', also getting a mention.

After coming down to the last ball of the last over, and the British Library needing three from it for the win, some sharp fielding ensured that they scored only a single. Victory was secured.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Atay Maghrebi: To Essaouira and the Atlantic

Leaving Marrakech, the landscape stays flat, except for a few distant outcrops of rock. The sensation of the inhospitality of the environment creeps up on you as the olive groves become fewer and further between and rough scrub runs away to the base of distant hills.
Eventually, the landscape starts to undulate as you pass through small towns like Sid L’Mokhtar, and, after two hours, Morocco simply runs out of land as the coach starts to plummet down to the Atlantic coastline and the peeling whitewash of Essaouira’s medina.

The morning started with the obligatory slices of sweet cake dipped into apricot jam, with a side of yoghurt and coffee. I had a chat with Merissa who was already awake and wearing sunglasses like she was nursing a hangover.
I packed up my bags and meandered my way out of the medina towards Bab Laksour to get a taxi.
Having learned the lesson last year that taxi metres are always mysteriously broken in Marrakech, I readied myself for a battle with the driver who…

Atay Maghrebi: Out of the Dark and into Jemaa El-Fnaa

The night time offers a wealth of opportunity and intrigue in almost any country, but when I'm somewhere where my understanding of the language extends to just a handful of phrases and disconnected words, I find it all the more enthralling. Marrakech genuinely quickens the pulse and widens the eyes by night, with the famous Jemaa El-Fnaa as its wildly arrhythmic beating heart.

After a day of perfectly idle wandering and preparing for my journey to Essaouira, I sat up on the roof terrace, ordered atay, read the ending of Alex Garland’s The Beach and waited for sunset.

During this time, a Dutch woman and a Belgian man sat near to me and started to talk about a range of subjects. Most of their discussion was centred around the regular banalities of two travellers who don’t know each other well and clearly don’t have a great deal in common.
Shortly before sunset, the Belgian man caught my attention as he started to regale his newfound friend with quotes from the Quran taken both ou…

From a Crooked Rib by Nuruddin Farah

I stumbled across Nuruddin Farah’s novels when searching for something written by a Somali author. Perhaps due to the conflict that has raged for years in Somalia, it is very difficult to find much from Somali writers published in English.
From a Crooked Rib was published in 1970 and tells the story of Ebla, a young, orphaned, illiterate nomadic girl, who runs away from her encampment. She takes the decision to leave upon learning of her Grandfather’s intention to marry her off to an older man within their Jes (a group of families living in an encampment together).
She firstly escapes to a town, Belet Amin, where she finds her cousin and his pregnant wife. She also finds a guide and confidante in a character known only as the widow. Things seem settled until, yet again, Ebla finds her freedom compromised by a male character – this time her cousin, whose wife and child Ebla has been nursing.
In her haste she leaves Belet Amin with the widow’s nephew, bound for Mogadishu – still called