Absolutely Plumb

It was a fine, fine evening; the sort of evening when not playing cricket would be an affront to the elements. The river Teign was at half-tide, while behind it the sun burned through the mists that partially obscured Haytor. Sloping down to the river lay a cricket pitch, the home of the Shaldon Optimists. At last, it was time for the Cavaliers' first match

As the first members of our team arrived, we were greeted by a small boy with impeccable technique clobbering some much older boys back down the hill. We hoped he wouldn't be playing against us. He was. We watched him nervously. If the kids were this good, we were in for a hard time.

Glynn, the Optimists captain, and I took a stroll down to the pitch for the toss. I called tails correctly and, after a quick inspection of the pitch, decided to bat. We'd had a good chat before the match and had agreed that this would be the best way to approach the game anyway, but you can't just skip the toss.

Grandad and I padded up and marched out to bat, thus fulfilling one of my childhood dreams that one day I'd walk out to open the batting with him. The Optimists made the moment extra-special for us, forming a guard of honour and applauding us onto the pitch for our first match. There was a little more theatre to come as well, as Grandad prepared to face the first ball. Glynn set his field right back, the bowler jogged in and, as Grandad dropped the first ball on the ground with a solid defensive shot, I called him through for a single. I was halfway down the track before he responded; he sprinted through like only a 75-year-old man can, and we were under way. Cheers from the pavilion greeted the Cavaliers' first ever run, and it was most appropriate that it had been scored by our President and senior member.

The opening bowlers were the Optimists' Colts, the youth players, and they picked up their pace while I was at the crease. It was rather noble of them to avoid letting fly at Grandad, but they had less sympathy for me. I got bat on the first, scampered a single, and let Grandad enjoy most of the strike. When I did face the bowling, the pace was upped considerably, with Chaz Woolnough in particular whizzing the ball past me on more than one occasion. I slowly began to get the measure of it, and used Woolnough's pace to eke out a few runs, including a pull shot for four that I surprised myself with, before I tried to sweep Glynn's first ball - a languorous full toss outside leg stump - and top edged it straight up in the air for an easy catch. I was first man out, and, checking with the scorers, found I'd made a scratchy ten. I was delighted to have made double figures.

A wearying Grandad was finally out, rather unluckily, as a straight one from Moore clipped a bail just enough to wobble it off, and the wicket brought our two best batsmen, Si Cahill and Karl Wilcock, together. Si appeared to be in no mood to hang around, going hard at the ball and occasionally making spectacular contact, while Karl grinned incessantly and noodled the ball around. If we'd been playing fifty overs, they'd have both got to 50, I'm sure, but we'd agreed that everyone should have time for a bat, and they both graciously retired to applause from fielders and spectators alike.

By now, I was umpiring, and some of the younger lads in the Optimists side were convinced that we must have a ringer. I found it funny when they asked if Chip was our Sachin Tendulkar and if Matt was our pro. They shouldn't have worried. Chip came and went, bowled by a ball from one of the Colts that left him, James was bowled second ball, Kev went for a big hit and was caught for a golden duck. Everyone else got themselves in, scored a couple of runs and then politely retired to let someone else have a go. Our hopes of reaching three figures had vanished. Glynn kindly allowed us a couple of extra overs so that every one of our players could have a bat, and a combination of some stoic defence, generous fielding and wayward bowling saw our last pair score 16 runs in as many balls before Bryan was bowled by Will Farley. We'd made exactly 100 all out.

Our defence started remarkably well, as Andy bowled their opener second ball and, 12 runs later, his son James repeated the trick to leave the Optimists 12-2. Two balls later, James hit the pads of the dangerous-looking Will Farley, who was attempting to play Pietersen-style switch-hits:

Umpire: That looked close. Do you want to appeal?
James: Sorry?
Umpire: I asked you if you wanted to appeal.
James: Eh?
Me (nearby at mid-on): I think you should appeal, James.
James: Err, ok. Howzat?
Umpire (raising his finger): Out!

We conceded just 20 runs off the first six overs. Did we have a chance of defending our total?

It's often the first-change bowlers that take the brunt of the punishment, and I was probably a little unwise in keeping fielders in at the end of our opening bowlers' spells. Si's first over went for 11, including two lusty fours, and Tuffnell and Moore were about to give us a masterclass in clean hitting. Ball after ball shot over the boundary in an exhibition of how to hit the ball hard into gaps. Kev bowled tightly but still went for nine in one over, while Chip's opening over was clobbered for 16. We were delighted when the pair retired graciously to warm applause, but the momentum had swung in the Optimists' favour. I brought back James and Andy to no avail, and even had a bowl myself, but, Si's spectacular caught and bowled dismissal of Gallagher aside, we couldn't buy a wicket. Soon, the Optimists needed just 21 runs from the last 36 balls to win the match.

Then the Optimists showed that they, too, were Cavaliers in spirit. They slowed their run-rate and played defensively when it would be easier to cart a beleaguered attack all over the park, until they still needed 11 from the last three overs. A tight finish looked possible, until they laid into poor Chip once again and left themselves needing just three from 12 balls.

Si bowled a tight penultimate over to Glynn, who took just two off it. We needed one wicket to win, and they needed two runs. I threw the ball to Kev and told him it was time to make a name for himself, brought all the fielders in and went for a full slip cordon. Kev's second ball went for a single to bring the scores level and Glynn back on strike, and the game looked over.

The Cavaliers were unbowed, and encouraging words flew in Kev's direction. Glynn very carefully blocked the next ball, and the next. And the next. One ball to go. If we took a wicket, we won; if Glynn got a run, the Optimists had it; a dot ball would mean a draw. Kev's last ball was slow, wide and short and, as it sat up ready to be hit to the boundary, Glynn stepped forward and very deliberately defended it dead onto the track. It was the most sporting of finishes and, although the scores were tied, the game itself had very clearly won.

The teams warmly applauded one another, shook hands and headed for the pub. I gave a little speech thanking my team for indulging my dream to one day captain my own side and for playing with such spirit. I also had a commemorative plaque made up for the Optimists, and gave Glynn my grateful thanks for providing such sporting opposition and such a warm welcome in our inaugural game. I also gave a Man of the Match award to Karl, whose batting had been tremendous and his wicketkeeping impeccable. Our post-match collection, boosted by the generosity of the Optimists, raised over £70 for Cricket Without Boundaries, our nominated charity. Everyone agreed that it had been a wonderful evening, and everyone wanted to know when our next match was going to be.

The Optimists were wonderful hosts, and we'll certainly be back next season.

L-R: Malcolm Bradley, Si Cahill, Rich Blagden (captain), Alisha Ryder (mascot), James Ryder, Ryan Hopwood, Bryan Alway, Ernie Blagden (Club President), Charles Ryder (vice-captain), Kevin Johns, Andy Ryder, Karl Wilcock, Matt Lissenden.

Match drawn.

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