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

From our man on the 45 with an uninterrupted view of the action

Perhaps now it can be told.

The Dave Lloyd incident, with which Jon has tantalised his readers for the last couple of years, was just an everyday story of well-rounded cricket folk.  I was halfway though a spell of bowling from the downhill end, and fielding at backward square leg when the bowling was from the other end.  I can't recall now who the other bowler was - no matter, this is Dave's story.

The Spetchley Park pitch was dead slow, and the outfield was slower still.  The significance of these details will become apparent.  The unknown bowler trundled up the hill and delivered a decent-enough ball outside off.  Sinking into the spongy wicket, the ball sat up and was gleefully caned through the off side in an unusual display of aggression by the hitherto catatonic Fossils batsman.  Shrewdly, skipper Matt had deployed the lithe form of Dave Lloyd in the cover region. As you would.   As the ball sped towards him, Dave's cricketing instincts took over, and he hurled himself at it like a - well, imagine if you will a sizeable multi-storey car park being demolished by the application of a few well-placed explosive charges.  Our man subsided to the ground in instalments, failing utterly to stop the ball, which continued its trajectory unhindered by the flying wreckage behind it.

When the dust had settled, Dave sat up, counted his limbs, and, peering over the rim of his crater, gazed out towards the cover boundary in the clear expectation that one of his teammates had by now retrieved the ball, and might well be winding up to send a flat throw back to the keeper.  No.  The slow outfield had brought the ball to a halt several yards short of the boundary, where it still lay quite undisturbed.  The rest of the fielding side were by now helpless with mirth, and, impatient for the entertainment to continue, were making no effort to intervene.  Realising that (a) the batsmen were still running, and (b) no-one else was about to do anything to stop them, Dave rose cautiously from the ground and trotted off, with as much dignity as could be mustered, towards the ball.

At this point, a lesser man might have tripped over his bootlaces or resorted to some other cheap trick to hold the attention of his public. Experienced professional that he is, Dave eschewed such gimmicks in favour of leaving 'em wanting more.  A tidy pick-up and a straight throw to the stumps and order was restored once more.