The World Cup really has been dull this year, hasn't it? Or am I just becoming old and cynical? Anyway Capello and his bunch of pampered, under achieving millionaires fulfilled their potential absolutely. Has there been a more inevitable and disappointing end to anything since The Roman Empire slipped into The Dark Ages?
The Field of Dreams welcomed the auld enemy again yesterday as Brackley's finest visited us for the fifth consecutive year. It has been one of the spicier fixtures in recent years. This year was different however. I can't remember a better bunch of players, and has there ever been a better visiting umpire than Dennis? I can't remember one. It just shows what happens when the village idiot misses the bus and spends the day marrying his cousin.
Skip won the toss and invited Brackley to have a bat. We started well with a wicket in the first over, Gravy was quicker than normal and ripped out the off stump. He continued to bowl with vim and vigour, catching the outside edge on at least three occasions. Only one went to hand (actually left breast) and was spilled. A now trademark sharp catch from The Judge and another direct hit from the Lost Boy for a run out and Brackley were 50 odd for 3. Brackleys number three is a class bat and was in great nick until he slapped a wide one to Pritch in t'covers for a sharp catch. 77 for 4. Was there anything to come from Brackley? Yes. But not enough. Cartwright Jnr. batted beautifully for 79 and was the last wicket to fall. His best innings against us, for sure. Nobody could stay with him long enough to post a competitive total. The Judge accounted for the dangerous Cartwright Snr. with a smart catch from Brockett.
Northern Gravy did the damage, ending with 6 for 56. His best spell so far this season. He even carried on after he had split his webbing. The man is an inspiration.
183 was 50 short of par at Chennai. Our run chase was un-eventful. Exactly the sort of run chase I enjoy the most. The Lost Boy anchored our innings. Having been dropped on nought he punished Brackley by carrying his bat on the way to 71. Vish never looked like getting out and was particularly severe on his older brother (bowling for Brackley for the first time).
A couple of (Word Up) cameo knocks from the cod piece wearing Jones and Cook saw us home with an hour or so to spare.
A thoroughly enjoyable afternoon then. I am already licking my lips in anticipation of next week.
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