Oxford Comma

*Sigh* Good evening pop pickers and welcome to another year of post Saturday musings. I have searched the literary annals for inspiration this year, I look in the mirror and hope to see Ernest Hemingway staring back at me. An inspirational figure who filled his life with travel and adventure, as well as the odd drop of rum and a fat Cohiba. Sadly I see Eddie Hemmings staring back at me. (Nippers had better consult Wikipedia to understand what I mean - a free snake awaits the first person to tell me what his highest test score was).

Is it really that time already? A proper winter this year gave way to a perfect spring and just as we were thinking this can't last; it didn't.

Predictably the rain lashed down on Friday night and our crushing victory of Banbury XX will have to wait 9 weeks.

So, what to do with a spare Saturday so early in the season? I paced about. Shouted at the cats. Threw the cats out. In the rain. Even that didn't lift my black mood. The next logical step was to pick a pointless argument with the squeeze, for it must be her fault that it has rained for the first time in SIX WEEKS. Now, female intuition is a marvellous thing, the squeeze caught me off guard with a preemptive strike and suggested that I head to the Field of Dreams and watch the seconds play. That's why I love her.

Thoroughly enjoyable it was too as I witnessed an absolute mauling of Oxford IV's.

Batting first, Diddy openers Kankadandiandiandiandi and the Judge notched up 70 odd in quick time with a mixture of late cuts, dabs and drives. A splendid start. Pras was the first to fall, gloriously. Santosh hopped to the crease and picked up where Pras left off, some expansive, head in the air drives outside off stump would probably have been very impressive had a connection been made. The pull shots did connect and were stupendous. The ton was up in quick time as Bernard strode manfully to the crease. He stared looking like someone who had been to Austria to hone his skills before starting to look like a batsman and clubbing a marvellous straight six.

Meanwhile the Judge was accumulating a competent half century, never looking troubled, apart from a suicidal single that brought out the best comedy fielding moment of the season so far as Oxford screwed up monumentally - how we laughed.

In a lesson that we can all learn from he then got out when well set for what should have been a fine century. I am sure other opportunities are just around the corner.

Meanwhile AB was moving steadily toward another red inker, the perfect situation for the Accumulator, nudging and nurdling and resolutely turning down down sharp singles until ball six he provided solidity and impetus at the same time. Joined for the final 8 overs by Rob "I have a BMW, have I told you?" Keat they pushed the score up to 248 for 4. Rob delivered exactly what he has threatened to just when he needed to. He can rightfully claim the outside lane of the motorway as his own now.

Oxford got off to a solid start before Northern Gravy was rewarded for a fine spell of medium paced bowling with the first wicket.

The match seemed to be drifting until the introduction of Footpenis who found the just the right spot on the wicket, combined with his stature (he is only 4ft 2" tall) he found a couple of shooters and before he knew had 4 for not many, ripping the middle order out. Meanwhile Sam Baldrick had a cunning plan; bowling with fine control and prodigious turn he mopped up most of the lower oder and finished with a 4fer that was well deserved. Jones returned and pinned back the off stump of number 11 and it was all over. 25 points and not quite six o'clock.

Hopefully I will actually be playing next Saturday rather than cursing the weather, until then...........

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