Big hitters fix poor opening

Played at Victoria Park - By Philip Barrass

Proper gentlemen, those Stokies of Newington. The Fallopians mustered 6 at starting time, and were invited to bat. New to hectic week-day fumblings, Andy Huckle strode to the crease, accompanied by a neatly trimmed Mat Asquith. 

Winston and young Joe formed the smooth-faced coalition brought together to take control, and take it they did. Winston swung like James Last, his first delivery leaping at Huckle's chest. At the other end, Joe bounced in like a junior Jeff Thomson, smoothly delivering balls with pace and guile that bode ill for later years. 

2 overs, 6 runs, no wickets. 3 overs, 16 runs, 2 wickets. Huckle feathered a boomer from Winston to the keeper. Asquith, pulling with the verve of a younger, more tidily coiffed Peter Stringfellow, caught under the trees. This would be fun. Stebbins, skipper, hard as pig iron, facing the firey young Thomo.

First ball, a touch wide. Crack! Fired without mercy to the point boundary, the grass ablaze. Stebbins never thought of running. A shrug of the shoulders, a tug of the collar. Taking guard. Thomo Junior races in, releases the ball, Stebbins swings again. Stumps shattered. 

In comes Fred Alexander, a bandit in a knotted scarf. The face set, grim. Meaning? Business. He is quick, scurrying, running for everything. But not quick enough! Run out! 4 down. 

Where is Tariq? We know now he was pulling an injured family from a wrecked car, saving the lives of four and beating out the flames. He shouldn't have bought them tea. He had a game to play.

Barrass, very senior, was in. Record so far? 4 innings, 9 runs, 2 golden ducks. Without Tariq, who was next? Castle, T.  [And your point is? - TC]

But these Stokies? Real gents, didn't I say? 2, 3, 4 times they allowed aerial balls to drop to the ground, and Barrass survived. Charlie Davies, untouched and untouchable, was watching from 22 yards, cold-eyed and waiting his moment. 5 overs left, the score recovered to the 90s, and the coalition seen off, their replacements without the threat. 

Full toss from Tanner, slow, straight. Even Barrass can strike this, and does. Firmly, but indeterminate. Winston glides in at mid-wicket and pockets - the coalition is not dead yet. 

It's Tariq! Shocked from the accident, he runs to the crease. His mind is absent, but the raw talent shows through. He and Davies hold their feet to the throttle and the Stokies creak. 149 all out. [actually, when you add it up properly, it was 158 - TC]

The Bandit [He means Fred Alexander - TC] opens the bowling as the rain starts to spit on the players. Sharp. Accurate. No surprise when the first is bowled. Stokies are trying, digging in, but cannot escape the clutches of Alexander and Asquith, solicitors to society's upper echelons in any other life. The target is distant, and with every over gets more so. Desperation seeps in like foul seawater into a blasted submarine. Wickets fall. Tariq comes on, left arm, perfect length, perfect line, a little touch, and Davies behind the stumps has his man. 

But Winston is still there. Castle comes on. The familiar sprint, the slow-down, the four juddering paces, the longer stride, the revolutions of the arm - one, two, three. Finally, release.

Beamer! Bashed away. Again. Leg-side wide. Next. Too short, 4 square of the wicket. Stebbins, no mercy, prepares to take him off. One more at Winston. Bowled! Bowled! Castle leaps into the air, Ian Duncan-Smith at a Sex Pistols concert. News of the pulled hamstring cannot be long arriving. 

Now we're safe. But still Stebbins removes Castle from the attack. Stokies fall 20 short.

Do they regret their early-evening chivalry now?

Beyond a boundary: Philip Barrass hits another four                Photo: Tim Castle