Home
The Constitution
History
Fixtures
AGMs/EGMs
Averages
Records
Features
Picture Gallery   Links

From our man showered, changed, mentally scarred, and in the pub with a pint by 6.30

This was one of those days which come along once in a while where the only rational response to the unfolding horror is to retreat into the delusion that "we'll laugh about this one day".  Not yet though.  Not if you were there.

For occasional readers, the Sun Inn was a regular, though hard-to-explain fixture which we kept up for years to the evident puzzlement of both sides.  The Sun Inn in question was, and probably still is (say our lawyers), a perfectly decent pub in a pleasant setting in Barnes, though by the time of this particular match the cricket team of that name had decamped to another pub following an incident into which we, rather callously, never bothered to enquire.  It was also a nightmare to get to, either via the South Circular or by public transport.  Nonetheless, on the appointed day eleven members of RBCC turned up there an hour or so before kick-off for a nutritious lunch of malt, hops, yeast, vitamin B12, water and essential electrolytes and minerals (ideal for the sportsman).

Arriving at the nearby cricket ground with several minutes in hand before the scheduled start, we found the pitch to be on the damp side of very wet indeed, and the weather generally more autumnal than might be expected for May.  Not being the kind of cricketers who let a little moisture get in the way of ghastly humiliation, we changed at the usual leisurely pace and the captains went off to do whatever captains do away from the prying eyes of the plebs.  The coin came down, as they do, and Sun Inn took first use of the mud bath.

Solly and PoC opened the bowling with their now-legendary nagging accuracy, and things appeared to be going our way as the Sun openers found runs hard to come by.  A glance at the scorecard shows all too clearly that this was too good to last.  Phil had the Sun no. 3 caught by Matt (one of three catches for Matt in the innings incidentally - almost certainly a record for an outfielder) just before the first bowling change.  A combination of some looser bowling from Kennedy and Read and and some batting of a rather higher calibre by no. 4 King saw the total rising rapidly.  An over of the Beard's slow-left-arm non-spin only added fuel to the flames before Andy was brought on to restore some respect by ripping through the Sun middle order, including the vital wicket of King for 78.  The remaining batsmen found the glutinous pitch to be rather unpalatable, three of them even donating their wickets to this correspondent, and, with King's departure, the innings subsided rapidly to 140 all out.

Tea was completely unmemorable (at least I recall nothing of it this long after the event), but it would have been entirely in keeping with the day if tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches were involved in some capacity.  Though not as food, obviously.

After tea, a refreshed and respectable-looking RBCC batting lineup girded its collective loins for the task ahead.  140 didn't look completely out of reach.  An opening pair of Gummer and Solomon promised resilience, with a potentially destructive array of strokemakers (Lee, Brasier, Hewlett, Muir) to follow.  At 7 and 8 we had the extravagance of O'Connor and Rose, with the specialist no. 10s MacMillan, Read and Kennedy fighting over the final three places.

The ubiquitous Mr King, of the Australian persuasion as I remember, opened the bowling for the Sun, and demonstrated exactly how to bowl on a dodgy wicket.  Straight and full, that was his motto.  With the other Sun bowlers catching on fast, batting was far from easy, and the not wholly unexpected Red Bat collapse set in early and never looked like stopping.  Under an increasingly gloomy grey sky, wickets tumbled apace.  As pads, bats and foul language flew across the visitors corner of the ground, it became increasingly obvious that history was in the making.  A brief flurry of resistance from Hewlett and Brasier was quickly snuffed out; Muir, O'Connor and Rose came and went and the tail was left embarrassingly exposed.  By now, any discussion about the record lowest RBCC total had ceased, as all present knew that we were about to create a new one.  The Beard flailed away in his customary fashion, occasionally making contact with the ball, and finally missing a straight one.  Barry was still there, and I, having been elected the tail-enders tail-ender, went in at 11 with the rampant antipodean still steaming in.

Oddly, as I took guard several of the opposition encouraged me to strain every sinew to keep the ball out.  Our man King, despite his cricketing talents, seemed not to be wildly popular with his teammates, and they didn't want him getting another wicket, as this would give him their club's best-ever bowling analysis.  To the satisfaction of the close fielders, I played out a few balls defensively, taking a single, doubtless from a thick edge.  With the sky darkening by the minute, we defended desperately until Barry finally lost patience and hoiked a long hop vertically into the air.  All for one and seventeen all out in 15.3 overs.

Thirty minutes later we were back in the pub (though a different one) for some much-needed refreshment, and watching torrential rain bouncing off the pavement.  Another twenty minutes resistance and we might have pulled off the worst draw in history.  Now that would have been something to laugh about.

14 April 2004