Why does it always rain on us?

Gentlemen of West London CC (137 - 3) drew with St Anne's Allstars (7-1)
Sunday 28th April, Victoria Recreation Ground, Surbiton.
Scorecard

Of all the many traditions associated with the game of cricket, the most well established pertains to the pre-season build-up. At some early stage in the sport's evolution, its founding fathers decreed that the sun will shine brightly and warmly during the middle two weeks of April, right up to the day of your first match when, verily, it shall piss down. And so it proved at our curtain-raiser to the 2002 season, as rain limited play to just 34 overs.

This match saw us travel just a few short miles down the A3 to leafy Surbiton and a meeting with the Gentlemen of West London. Like us, the Gents are a wandering side derived from a college team who specialize in friendly fixtures. Unlike us they all managed to turn up on time - we had to begin with eight fielders - and were able to bring more than one usable bat. They are also a thoroughly decent and hospitable bunch of chaps who had the grace to overlook our shambolic start to the game and went on to serve a splendid tea. Their generosity even extended to letting me win the toss - something I failed to do throughout the whole of 2001.

Buoyed by this early success, I paid our batsmen the usual vote of confidence by electing to field. This gave us first use of an encouragingly green pitch and the bonus of avoiding what is sometimes referred to as the 'Clements Scenario'. For it is the vice-captain's belief that in the event of us batting first, we will be all out for 14 and the match will be over in twenty five minutes. It's that kind of positive thinking which has always held us in such good stead.

It was generally agreed in the pub afterwards that our fielding performance was better than anything we produced last season. Astonishing to report, there were no dropped catches, and very few of those trademark howlers which turn singles into fours. Debutants James Terrett and Jason Nixon provided zest and efficiency in the outfield, Garreth Duncan turned in a lifetime best performance and wicketkeeper Chris Gould was as dependable as ever behind the stumps.

Our bowling was more of a curate's egg - with commendably accurate spells from Adam Clements, Tom Morris and Tristan Haddow-Allen contrasted by wayward fare from Mike Bovill and a grotesquely hungover Nick Jones. But it was one of those days in the field when things don't quite go to plan. When the ball beat the bat it also beat the edge and any nick we did induce never went to hand. Meanwhile all three wickets to fall came from rank full tosses.

I threw the new ball to Morris and Clements, who bowled with good control but were rarely able to fully exploit a soft, slow pitch which offered plenty of deviation off the seam and variable bounce. We never really maintained the right length in conditions where nothing dropped short would seriously trouble the batsmen. It took a slice of luck to earn our first wicket, as Tony Buck played round a full bunger from Clements and lost his middle stump.

Tristan replaced Clements after four overs and showed what we can do when he really tries. After his first ball was cut for four he conceded only four more runs from his next 23 deliveries as almost every ball seemed to narrowly shape past the outside edge. Batsmen Steve Bignall and Mark Sciberras were almost completely subdued and Tristan deserved a wicket by the time a twisted ankle forced him to leave the attack. Same again next time please, Tristan (the bowling that is, not the ankle).

Proceedings were enlived by the introduction of Mike Bovill, a walking mini-highlights package. Poor Boves was afflicted by a nasty attack of the yips and repeatedly tried to dig it in about five yards down the wicket. So soft was the pitch, however, that the ball just rolled along the ground, Trevor Chappell-style, and the surprised batsman was able to reverse-sweep it through square leg. But let me tell you something about Mike - he is the most courageous and determined man in our side and his perseverance was rewarded in spectacular style. Twelve runs had come from his first seven balls before Sciberras launched a near half-volley high towards the cover boundary, where Nick Jones took an excellent catch.

If only Jonesy's bowling had been as sharp as his fielding. Valiantly refusing to attend pre-season nets, his ring-rust was evident in a confidence-sapping first over which elicted four wides. His five over spell contained a few real beauties, but far too many which were short or wide and allowed Dhruv Patel to tuck in greedily. Bignall was also progressing merrily before he fell victim to an absolute travesty, bottom-edging a waist-high Jones beamer into his stumps. With hindsight, it should have been a no-ball.

There was some good work at the other end from Garreth, whose delivered his googlies with sustained accuracy and genuine purchase on the ball. But Patel was by now into his stride and strode along to an eventual 55 not out from 57 balls, forging an unbroken fourth wicket partnership of 64 with James Wright. Patel's innings was a real gem. With confident footwork and wristy cuts and pulls, he punished any errors in length with murderous aplomb.

We had already played through one lively shower but after 27 overs the rain became too heavy to continue and we repaired indoors for an early tea. The downpour continued and the Gents decided to declare in order to maintain the possibility of getting a result. The target was 138 from 27, always unlikely given our ponderous approach to the new ball, and matters were hardly helped by another rain break just three balls into our reply.

Our brief innings was a rather half-hearted affair, partly because it was obvious the match would be abandoned at any moment and partly because the sodden and now quagmire-like pitch was making life increasingly difficult for the batsmen. After Morris fell to a yorker for a seven-ball duck, Tristan and Terrett stonewalled their way through five further overs of the impressive Stuart Snelling and S Patel before the heavens opened once more.

By this stage large lakes were forming in the outfield and it was feared we would soon be less in need of a super-sopper than a call to the coastguard. Stumps were drawn, hands were shook and we retreated to the warmth and dry of the pub, to celebrate what is now a two-match unbeaten run.

Maxie Allen