The zoots arrived at the King’s
and Selwyn Sports ground full of confidence and ready for anything the
Biochemists threw at them, even if it was a very hard leather ball. After a
well-oiled fielding drill in which most time was spent searching in the hedge,
the coin was tossed and the zoots would be donning the pads. And it was dons
indeed who strode out (insert Bradman or Cambridge-related pun) in the shape of
Jack and Ben. The opposition were quaking like an Eppendorf in a vortex, and they
were right to, as the two openers set about carving the early bowling to all corners
of the ground [mostly through point], setting zoots off to a flyer in a manner
not seen since the heady days of Crick and Watson in the 50’s. Ben succumbed
for a quick-made 15, but with “Waltzing matilda” Will Feeney arriving at the
crease, the momentum was not be to stymied. The bowler questioned “is he
ready?” as Feeney adopted his characteristic lumberjack posture. Was he ever,
as followed a flurry of lusty blows. Such was the power of his hitting that day
that some passers by thought that St Johns fireworks has commenced early.
Half way through the innings,
zoots were tootling along at around 9 an over, being placed on 90ish for 2.
After a piece of judgement Nasser Hussain would have been proud, Jack “Yes then
Noed” Steve back to the pavilion. This made the former even more resolute to
bring up his 50, his second in consecutive matches if you interested, and with
the same kind of license afforded the writer of the match report [anon], he
reached his half century with aplomb; magisterial, remarkable, extraordinary,
what a man. In stepped Anthony, but he was no lamb to the slaughter, also
adding a few quick runs before “giving the others a chance”. The final few
overs were commandeered by the indomitable partnership of Matt and Simon- if
Cambridge ever needs a wall built around the city they know who to ask. Never
looking ruffled, a combination of featherweight nurdling and heavyweight
hitting bringing the zoots total to a very repectable 149, with the yank Peter
Woodford whooping and hollering from the boundaries edge (can’t take him
anywhere).
With light dropping quicker than
anticipated so close to the Solstice, the second innings commenced. Starting
with a two-pronged attack of left arm seam, Anthony and Billy (a lingering
rarity from Birdlife) tried to make inroads. The former was initially more
successful than the latter against the aggressive intent being shown by the
biochemists, but both were ultimately rewarded thanks to the athletic catching
of Simon, plucking two beauties out of the air with go-go gadget arms to remove
two good batters. If truth be told, I thought this may have broken the back of
the biochemists, but spineless they were not, and they continued to plunder
runs quickly despite a good show of fielding and keeping. Ben’s bowling may
have been a factor; the runs were certainly continuous. Mercifully, the biffer
had to retire for his fifty, and this let-up allowed a combination of Steve and
Matt to tie down the middle part of the innings, leaving the game delicately
poised for a tense finale. As the chiff chaff stopped singing (anyone else
notice that) however, a spate of slogging brought the Biochemists to within 20
runs with 4 overs to spare. In fact the chiff chaff had probably died in
disbelief when one of their batsman had not been given out caught behind or
walked to an edge a prominent as the north face of the Eiger. A tight couple of
overs against their tail followed with Matt and Jack bowling, setting it up for
a barnstorming finale. But the tail wagged, and with the help of a diving catch
from Jack (What was he thinking!) their destroyer in chief could return to bat
again with a couple of overs to spare, and 138 runs on the board.
The equation
was as simple as Hamilton’s rule: 13 runs needed off two overs. In the inky
dim, Matt managed to allow just six off of his over, leaving Jack to try and
prevent 6 runs off his over to bring the glory to zoots. Two balls. Two Dots.
Then a single, bringing the good batsman off strike. Another single. Thus the
biochemists needed three for a draw and a four for a win. The fielders were
pushed back against the boundary rope as a nervous Jack stumbled in for a final
delivery, and sent down a reasonably straight one (miracles do happen). It was
pushed to long off for one… a quick scamper for a second.. but the ball was
back at the wicket to prevent a third. Zoots had won it, yielding a second win
for the season by mid-June, which I am told is a rare as a Black-eared wheatear
in Hampshire! The game was played in great spirits, with everyone chipping in
with a valuable contribution, and I for one cannot wait to play again. Until
next week…
