Mak the knife

Sunday 12th May, Old Deer Park, Richmond. St Anne's Allstars (97) lost to London Nigerians (234-3) by 137 runs.
Scorecard

"A very competent side". That was how we were described by the match reporter for the Gentlemen of West London, with whom we'd drawn two weeks previously. The phrase now seems slightly less appropriate in the light of this defeat, by a margin which would be embarrassing in a Test match, never mind a thirty-over a side contest. So where did it all go wrong? During the post-match team debrief in the pub, we identified the following key areas:

  • Over-reliance on the full toss.
  • Dropping at least seven catches.
  • Those twenty four wides didn't exactly help.
  • We could have done without two run outs.
  • They were much better than us.


    • Indeed they were, and our ineptitude should take nothing away from the skill and talent of the Nigerians, the latest poor souls to waste a Sunday afternoon by giving us a pounding. They were the Audley Harrison to our Julius Long, as Mak pummelled his way to an unbeaten century before Tade scythed through our top order with his prodigious outswingers.

    The day had begun promisingly enough, with fewer of us hungover than normal and the prospect of reasonable weather. But there immediately arose the kind of situation which only happens in this kind of cricket. At the appointed start time only half the opposition had arrived, so the captains agreed to dispense with the toss and the Nigerians would bat first.

    Their visitors' problems arose from my carefully prepared but wildly inaccurate directions, which had merrily sent them to a completely different cricket ground half a mile away. This state of affairs led the more cynical of my team mates - ie all of them - to make two very serious accusations against me. These were:

  • I had done this on purpose because it would be easier for us to beat a team comprising only seven players. This falls down on the grounds that it is obviously nonsense - we would still have had no chance against seven London Nigerians. Even two would have been a bit of a handful.
  • I had done this on purpose to ensure we fielded first. This theory is linked to an observation made at the time by Tom Everest - that whatever happens during the pre-match formalities - win toss/lose toss/exceptional circumstances - the result is always the same. At the beginning of every match, I walk out to the middle with the opposing captain, perform some mysterious and clearly rigged ceremony involving a coin, then walk back to cheerfully announce that we're fielding. Have I slipped the other guy a fiver? Well what are club funds for?

    When we finally got under way Adam Clements took the new ball and made an immediate statement of intent by bowling a wide. Variety is the key for any strike bowler and so, just to keep the batsman on his toes, he followed up with a couple of full tosses. After a while he became bored of the full tosses and returned to the wides. This tactic paid dividends when, by the end of the over - some twenty minutes later - Sota became so fed up of watching wides go past him that he threw his bat at one and got a nick. Chris Gould held the catch to give Adam one of the less deserving wickets of his career. His season tally for 2002 now stands at a sensational 2 - equalling his total for the whole of 2001.

    I'm probably exaggerating the poverty of Adam's efforts, but it's fair to say this was not one of his better days. Overpitching too frequently, he kept inviting Tade on to the front foot to drive sweetly through the covers. Clements' off-colour performance set the tone for the rest of the Nigerian innings, as bowler after bowler trundled in to send down an endless succession of wides and full tosses. Length was the main problem, as we seemed to be aiming to pitch each ball several yards behind the wicket keeper. Andy Dyer wrily remarked that the groundsman might have got his measurements wrong, and, if we checked the pitch, we might find it was only twenty two yards long. At least the batsmen seemed to be having fun, clipping each waist high beamer to the midwicket boundary.

    It was an afternoon when too many players underperformed. Tristan Haddow-Allen bowled tidily - 7 runs from 4 overs - but without penetration. Mike Bovill suffered a relapse of the yips while the valiant Nick Molden began with a loosener and enjoyed it so much he carried on bowling looseners for the remainder of a three over spell which went for 43 runs. Dyer restored some control with his well flighted off breaks but the pick of the bowlers - by a distance - was Tom Morris.

    Despite joining the attack just as the ball was softening and the batsmen finding their range, Morris sent down eight consecutive overs of accuracy and surprising pace. Surprising, because he has a curious run-up which involves tearing in off twenty yards and then coming to a complete halt just as he reaches the stumps, before releasing the ball. I don't remember Michael Holding doing that, but Tom seems to get by and his persistence was rewarded with two wickets. Ilube had never really settled and had already been dropped at mid-on when he repeated the shot in Morris' first over. This time though, debutant Alex Williamson held on to the catch. Then twelve overs later Tom finally got a yorker through the defences of Tade, who had been enjoying punishing our bad balls to the tune of a muscular 47 from 58 balls.

    Impressive though Morris was - and he was our only man on the day who could land six consecutive balls on the cut part - there was not much he could do about Mak, the visitors' imperious centurion. It's not often you get to watch a Radio 3 producer bowling to a Nigerian international cricketer and on this occasion Mak stole the show, blasting his way to an unbeaten 100 from a ridiculous 69 balls. Combining the physical presence of Dave Prowse with the suppleness of Wayne Sleep, he took our popgun attack to the cleaners. Any delivery which even marginally strayed in line or length was despatched to the boundary with ruthless vigour, via majestic pull shots, clinical square cuts and effortless off drives. It was as if the Vikings had arrived to lay waste to our village, and amid the smoking ruins lay 14 fours and 3 sixes, including an enormous pull over midwicket which would have cleared the ropes at the MCG.

    Clean and powerful though his hitting was, we had numerous spurned chances to dismiss him. Whereas weightlifters begin by coating their palms in powder, we spread our fingers liberally with butter, with the result that spilled catches rained down on the outfield like hailstones. Time and again Mak and his colleagues launched the ball high in the air towards the straight boundary, where the fielder unerringly let the ball slip through his despairing digits onto the turf. The unbelievable number of dropped catches - and there were just too many to keep count of - was doubly disappointing because it took the gloss off an otherwise decent fielding display. Our outcricket had been unusually sharp - Williamson, James Terrett and Josh Ryan-Collins impressing with their acrobatic stops and returns.

    Mak had even been dropped when he'd made only 25, a reprieve which we began to regret as he plundered his way inexorably towards a century. Towards the end Kapoor joined the party, as I threw on Williamson and fellow new boy Josh Ryan-Collins - lambs to the slaughter as their first overs for the Allstars disappeared to all parts.

    • After the declaration we mulled over our victory target of 235 from around 30 overs and decided to go for it. It was the kind of optimism last displayed by the Titanic passengers who, after missing out on the lifeboats, thought they might as well swim the rest of the way. After just four overs we were - and there's no other way of putting this - fucked. Our fate was decided by the pace, accuracy and lavish movement of opening bowlers Kapoor and, especially, Tade, who finished with the useful figures of 6-2-8-3. His third ball - to Mozza, whose miserable start to the season continues - swung in before cutting away off the pitch to hit off and middle. Then, in his second over, he persuaded Terrett to follow an outswinger and provide a regulation catch to the wicket keeper.

    From 15-2 we staged a partial recovery thanks to some sensible batting by Dyer and Tristan Haddow-Allen, who twice cut Kapoor neatly to the point boundary. But the good work was undone when he pushed to mid-off and called for a non-existent single. The direct hit left Dyer yards short of his ground.

    Ryan-Collins then gloved to backward square and at 36-4 the game was clearly up. The Nigerians acknowledged this by putting on their occasional bowlers and our remaining batsmen went out for a bash. Tristan padded up to a straight one, making way for Jones to drive his fourth ball through long off for four before playing all round the next one and losing his off stump. Our batting coach was rather concerned by his subsequent technical self-analysis. "I don't look at the ball".

    The procession continued. Molden struck two lofty fours before becoming the second victim of a run out from a direct hit. Gould fell to a catch. Williamson and Clements were bowled via a yorker and a full toss respectively. All of this meant Bovill claimed the red ink and our good friend Mr Extras was, by miles, our top scorer.

    In the post-match interview I was asked what positives we could take from the match. A difficult one that, but I would plump for the discovery of the Sun Inn, the nearby pub in which we drowned our sorrows afterwards. It's a very pleasant Fuller's house and one of the few pubs in Richmond I'd never drunk in before. I recommend it heartily, much the same as the Nigerians would recommend we abandon cricket and return to the quiz machine.

    Maxie Allen