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The Anti-Gibbo
18/08/2012
The Saturday Team were beaten by Stanton Drew by 116 runs. The full scorecard can be found here.
Stanton Drew is a hot place that smells suspiciously of sulphur. It is set in England’s Green and pleasant land but is packed with dark satanic milliners selling all manner of evil head wear. There are several stone circles at Stanton Drew which are, according to local legend, wedding guests that danced to the Devil’s fiddle playing on a Saturday night but did not stop as midnight passed and they continued to dance into the Lord’s day. They were thus turned to stone. As well as the stone circles there are two upright stones that stand either side of a third recumbent stone in the pub garden, these are meant to be the bride and groom with the pissed vicar lying at their feet. These naughty revellers are apparently waiting for the Devil to return, when they will dance again to the sounds of his satanic fiddle (that is a musical instrument not a euphemism).
Last season Knowle West Cricket Club folded and the Bailey family moved en mass to play for Stanton Drew. Rob Bailey had, before this game, amassed almost 700 runs in 11 innings with two centuries; one of which was 202 not out. The stalwart of the Eastonite’s batting on the other hand has been Green Gibbo who had made about 260 runs in 9 innings.
So the scene was set for Green Gibbo to meet the Anti-Gibbo!
Or was it? Green Gibbo had sent out a text the night before saying that the Foe’s star batsman was handcuffed to the radiator in his front room.
Arriving at Stanton Drew they found a lot of fat men watching a game of football in the outfield of the cricket ground. Some of the fat men turned out to be pregnant ladies, while others did not. As the football continued the Eastonites inspected the pitch which was very flat and slightly moist. “It is very flat and slightly moist”, explained Garnier helpfully. When the football game drew to a close the Foe’s cricket team arrived and dragged a very large net down to the far end of the ground and erected it to catch any boundaries that might happen in that direction.
Once all the mowing and hedge protection and boundary rope positioning had been done a toss happened, which Green Gibbo won and he elected to bowl. The Eastonites took to the field on a very hot sticky afternoon and the opening pair strode satanically to the crease; one of whom was the Anti-Gibbo. Bugger! Who had Green Gibbo handcuffed to his radiator?
So what does the Anti-Gibbo look like? Well dear reader, he is a robust gentleman with a robust mouth. He took his guard and announced that he was hung-over due to being at his mum’s 50th birthday the night before; this comment started a monologue that then continued at some considerable volume for the duration of the match.
If you are confronted with a power house of batting (and talking) there is only one thing to do: get him out early. And so it was that the Eastonites droped him in the first over. To be fair it was a very difficult, legside, caught behind chance.
The Anti-Gibbo then settled. Sloggers have been seen before but this fellow chose which ball to have a go at and then hit them blooming hard. However, he was not too proud to defend and take quick singles (he could move quite quickly for a big bloke). Before too long he was on 50 and the Foe’s total was 64. In fact it was getting a little tedious as the Eastonites watched the Anti-Gibbo biff the ball around like a class room bully busted down to kindergarten lording it over his schoolmates. Whilst this happened dark clouds rolled in over the hills and the wind picked up. Ravens began to appear one by one and land on the outfield. The strains of Carmina Burana drifted on the uncomfortably hot breeze.
The Anti-Gibbo had shown he could handle Budge and Garnier, so what about Kahlu? Well, he struggled with the odd ball but other balls flew out of the ground to be retrieved by his reluctant team mates who would spend most of their team’s innings in the hedge rows. Despite the boundary fest nothing much had looked catchable for an age but then finally, when he was on about 70 odd, he launched a loose one high to cow corner… which was dropped by a Cowboy.
The Anti-Gibbo was finally out, caught by Green Gibbo at deep extra cover, for 115 with the foe on 170. The clouds miraculously cleared, the Sun came out and the ravens buggered off.
The Foe finished on 239 for 2 after a little argybargy over a caught behind, where the batsman did not walk and so was not out and a run out, where the batsman did walk (instead of running) and so was out. The other opening batsman finished on 75 not out but had received constant abuse from the Anti-Gibbo, who stood on the boundary rope once he was out and threatened to turn his team mate to stone if he did not get a move on. The Foe looked like they may go on to score 300 and so it was a fine effort to restrict them to 239, which at 6 an over was an achievable target on a flat pitch.
The hot, tiered and tetchy Eastonites made their way to tea which was a splendid affair in the English style. However it was a slight disappointment to see the inclusion of chorizo (which is Spanish) and corned beef (which is obviously Argentinean) as sandwich fillings.
After tea Iggy hugged Grove manfully and then they strode manfully to the crease. At least Iggy fumed in the hot and pissed off style and Grove minced rather. Several weeks ago Iggy got possessed by the Duck Demon who had been residing in him ever since. However, since Iggy scored 38 last week the DD had been feeling a little uncomfortable and looking for a new home. When Iggy hugged Grove before they went in to bat the demon had obviously taken the opportunity to make the jump from one host to another because after three balls Grove minced back to the pavilion having played the most pathetic shot possible. And who was the bowler? The Anti-Gibbo, that is who, with the ever present monologue and now in league with the Duck Demon. He went on to get 2 wickets for only 14 runs; the other wicket was Iggy, who got so wound up by the constant chuntering that he self destructed.
The fragile Eastonite’s batting line-up once again put in a feeble performance, failing to find the boundary while watching the required rate rise. The wickets then tumbled.
Some of the Eastonites got so frustrated watching their team’s innings that they decided to indulge in some country pursuits go on an impromptu hippy hunt. A hippy vagrant type had wondered onto the ground looking for a drink of water and was reported, by the Foe’s women folk, to have left with a cricket bag. RT1, who dislikes hippy men but likes women folk, and Iggy, who was in such a mood he would have picked a fight with Ghandi (and lost), jumped up ready for action. Kahlu, padded-up and waiting to bat did the same and the three of them jumped into RT1’s van like the Primark A Team. Sometime later they returned having hunted down the hippy and demanded to rummage through his worldly belongings, they reported that he did indeed have a cricket bag but it only contained his dirt vagrant pants. RT1 went off to the kitchen to scrub his hands in boiling water; “dirty, dirty, dirty” was the mantra as he scrubbed his hands red roar.
With a little resistance from the lower orders the Eastonites limped to 123 all out and ran away to the pub. Green Gibbo was so pissed off at the Eastonites’ efforts with the bat that it was thought a sacrifice was needed. Searching for the nearest thing to a virgin that they could find, which turned out to be a 53 year old mother of three, they performed the ceremony on the ‘drunk vicar’ stone in the back garden of the pub. Garnier dutifully collected up the blood that flowed and made black pudding. “The secret to a good blood sausage”, he said helpfully, “is blood”.
TT and Green Gibbo shared man of the match and the hippy hunt won the Cider Moment. The Eastonites are to petition the IOC to get hippy vagrant type hunting and lynching into the 2016 Olympics. Well done lads, the cricket might have been shit but the hippy hunting vigilantism has inspired a generation.
There you have it: the Anti-Gibbo scored a century, bowled well, even rolled the pitch and his wife made the tea. Also, 83.5% of the words spoken during the match came from his mouth. So it was that the big fish in the small pond prevailed as the Cowboys floundered and the Devil returned to Stanton Drew, who’s naughty party people once again danced to his tune. Due to Green Gibbo’s anger there is now a new stone circle in Stanton Drew that used to be the Easton Cowboys Saturday XI. According to local legend one of the stones can be heard to make a ummy sounds every time a rabbit hops past and it can occasionally be heard to break wind.
Meanwhile in St Annes the police and fire brigade managed to free a bemused Rob Bailey (former Northamptonshire and England batsman and first class cricket umpire) from the handcuffs that had been used to secure him to the radiator in the front room of an unassuming suburban house.
Casuals Result
Blind leading the Barking
Downs Saturday A Team v Casuals 0 – 1
(35” Moylan ) Wednesday 15th August at Frys.
Most of the Casuals team have been managers for cowboys teams before. And successful at that.
At home and abroad. As manager this season I was thinking I would have to compete with many opinions and of course this is only natural. So I had to try to impose myself, make my plans clear, simple, and able to conduct at training. If we could take something from the training pitch we could really do something this season. Many physical injuries had healed and we were being boosted with great spirit encouraged by “Skullduggery by the Sea”.
My first game in charge was against the Saturday Downs A Team. A quick, pacey, fast passing team who were mostly 10 to 15 years our younger. Organisation started 3 weeks beforehand. Emails and texts went out. During this period I realised our keeper is blind.
Angelo, our new Guru, cant see to save toffee. No wonder he never replied to texts. How he kept us in the game a few times when we were really under the cosh, was ninja like. More importantly, what is he pouring into our pint glasses?
So, I began to see my problems this year were less about opinions and the stereotypically cultural ones the cowboys impose on themselves, but more fundamental. How was this age ridden, half bloated, cobbled, menopausal bunch of misfits going to win the league and cup.
Well, I’ll tell you how. With passion, self organisation on the pitch, aggression to win, physical commitment and above all, team spirit. It was like Chelsea in the Champions league but more interesting.
We fought like dogs – Paul C
Thanks to Nick for turning up injured in case someone else got injured and he had to come on.
He ran the line all game too.
Thanks to Ash for sorting the game.
Football Result
Last night the Casuals beat the Downs A Team by one goal to nil. KurlyPaul scored for the old men.
Cricket Odyssey
11/08/2012
The Saturday Team beat Wrington by 9 wickets. Read the full scorecard here.
As the good Eastonites met outside The Promised Plough they expressed surprise that they had not received the customary email confirming selection. In fact each of the team had just turned up out of force of habit assuming they had been picked. But where was Green Gibbo? After a bemused wait the Celestial Nisan Micra came into view and Green Gibbo appeared among the Eastonites.
“Why did you not pick a team” asked the Eastonites of Green Gibbo.
“Well I did. But I sent the email from my phone, so you won’t have got it” replied Green Gibbo.
“Why did you not send a text from your phone”, continued the Eastonites, “then we would have got it”.
“Why don’t you shut up and get in tune with the cosmos man” snapped Green Gibbo. The Big G then went on to relate the story of the booze odyssey that he had been on the previous night. Enjoying the charms of a boat trip on the river he had lost track of time, returning to the lock on the way home they found it closed for the night. They cruised the river for a while, lost and without direction. Eventually Green Gibbo ran aground and had to fight off a Cyclops. He then sailed on some more before landing again where he was held captive by a nymph called Calypso who fell in love with him. Anyway to cut a very very long story short he finally got home and found a text from Garnier saying he had been grounded by the Flight Controller because his Venturi Tube was blocked and there was no way to assess his wind speed. Hopefully a little deft work with a pipe cleaner will see Garnier declared fit to fly for next weekend and that the velocity of his wind will be duly logged.
Back at The Plough Green Gibbo began a belated emergency team selection. After a few hurried phone calls he had the full XI and the Eastonites headed for Wrington through the Balloon festival traffic. Green Gibbo had everyone stuff their ears with cheese just in case they passed any Sirens on the way. Most of the team opted for Cheddar but Green Gibbo, being affected, insisted on using Boursin, in the French style. “My ears will chaff terribly if I but a hard cheese in there” he said.
Once at Wrington their skipper told us that they had 17 players unavailable for selection due to a wedding in the village and they only had 10 in the team. There were then emotional scenes at the toss as the Foe’s skipper explained to Green Gibbo that they had been guilty of not playing cricket in the correct spirit in the past and that they were just trying to play for the joy of it this season. “We have seen the light and will be true believers in the ways of Green Gibbo” he blubbered.
“Yeh, very touching I’m sure” said Green Gibbo unsympathetically while spooning soft garlic infused cheese out of his ears. “Now toss the effing coin and I’ll have heads”. Heads it was and the Foe, without mercy, were put into bat.
So it was that an enfeebled foe faced RT2 at full speed from one end and Kahlu turning the ball through 90 degrees from the other. Poor Foe.
It was not long before Kahlu bowled one of the openers with a wonder ball that turned a mile and then delicately clipped the bails off.
RT2 then removed the other opener with the help of Grove’s right hand that plucked the ball from the air as it shot over his head. “I was just putting my hand up to ask to go to the toilet” explained Grove. “Oh, bloody hell, here we bloody go again” said Green Gibbo “have you only got one joke about catching the ball at full stretch above your head”. Grove limply bowed his head in shame, for it is true, he does only have one joke about catching the ball at full stretch above his head.
The Foe’s skipper then hacked a ball back into his own stumps off RT2’s bowling however, the bails stayed firmly rooted to the stumps. Green Gibbo, unimpressed by the big fella’s efforts, called Budge on for the next over at the same end and low and behold the Foe’s skipper hacked the ball back onto his own stumps again, this time removing the bails. Great captaincy from Great Green Gibbo.
Budge also managed a stunning run out by throwing the ball with a Seles grunt at the wicket keepers end while everyone shouted “bowler’s end”. But so accurate and vicious was the throw that the flailing batsman was out by an inch. Budge’s feet (and hands and all manner of limbs) thus brought the next batsman to the crease. He looked like Captain Cool batting in sunglasses; he took guard against Kalhu and was bowled by the second wonder ball of the innings. Pitching in the huge foot marks left by RT2 it turned from a foot outside leg to clip the bails from off stump. Captain Cool stood at the crease in disbelief for a few minutes, his bottom jaw quivering, before his fragile mind could comprehend what had just happened.
Another wicket for Budge with a catch by RT2 convinced Great Green Gibbo that there were easy wickets and he brought himself on to bowl. He quickly got two wickets: one with a rank full toss (which he called an in-swinging yorker) and one with a rank long hop that failed to bounce (which he called Fabien).
The Foe’s number 9, and last batsman, who was 79 and looked like he had been press ganged as he had popped out to get a paper. He strode to the crease manfully, took his guard and they to everyone’s shock took a sharp single. He then set out his stall to bat out the remaining 13 overs but was bowled by a good ball from TT. The Foe were all out (9 wickets) for 55 in 28 overs.
Those of you who know about the scourge of the foreign influence on the English Cricket tea will know that the dubious practice of having French sticks (or baguettes if your brain has been enfeebled by foreign travel or super market advertising campaigns) began at Wrington. Matters were made worse by plum cherry tomatoes which are Italian and therefore have no place in a cricket tea, for Gibbo’s sake what is wrong with proper round English cherry tomatoes? There was also Pâté which is so French that there is not even an English word for it; Green Gibbo stuffed some of this into his ears for the journey home.
And so Grove and Iggy strode manfully out to bat. Or at least Iggy swaggered in the Scouse style and Grove mince rather. Iggy remember was on a Tripple Buttock; which is three golden ducks in a row. As Iggy successfully defended the first ball he faced there was a deafening raw from the “Olympic” crowd who had been inspired and now demanded legacy. Once the threat of a golden duck was out of the way Iggy batted like a man reprieved from a death sentence and the Cowboys got the runs in 11 overs; Iggy getting 38 of them.
It would have been a 10 wicket victory too, if Grove had not been out to a ‘plumb aberration’ (or a ‘cherry plum aberration’). Fed up of everything being flung down leg and no wides being given because of the new found feeling of love for the enfeebled foe, Grove premeditated one that was not going down leg at all, it was dead straight.
As the Eastonites drank complementary beer, curtesy of the Foe’s skipper, Iggy got man of the match for batting and Kahlu got the cider moment for one of his wonder ball or other.
“Bloody hell” mused Iggy, “now there is nobody left to hate”.
11/08/2012
Ubberpops led a team toHazelbry Brian
Just to let you know that we did get a team down there for the day/night event. It was a really good day/night. Some of us camped over and a few had to get back for early starts on Sunday.
The first match was Shaftesbury v Horsingham. Shaftesbury batted first and got 198 in 20, can’t remember wickets but not many. Biffing big sixes over the thatched cottage. I reckon we all would have bet our houses on Shaftesbury winning the competition at that point but blow me down if Horsingham didn’t get it.
Second match, and a few pints later, Cowboys v Haze. Haze batted first, lost a load of wickets, maybe eight or nine, and got about 170. Despite a good start the Cowboys just about got 100.
Final match then. Horsingham v Haze under floodlights, a dangerous looking experience. Haze batted first and, to be honest I can’t remember the score, no where near as high scoring as earlier matches though on account of it being so difficult to see. Anyhow, Horsingham are batting now and need not very many from the last over. JImmer valiantly gives himself the duty of bowling it. He bowls really tight, restricts them within the total and Haze win the competition. Who’d have believed it.
There must be about six white cricket balls in the front garden of the thatched cottage and how on earth a small child didn’t get crowned while playing in the swings is a miracle. Cricket balls flying round the place narrowly missing picnicking families, joyful children and drunk people.
We all got drunk, woke up with a hangover and drove back to Bristol to play league cricket.
Happy Daze.
12/08/2012
The Sunday First Team beat Failand and Portbury by 7 wickets. The full scorecard is here.
Another Sunday, another game. Failand and Portbury 3rds away. Our brave leader had been reduced to cheerleader by virtue of a slipped gizmo in his knee which left Deano in full charge of proceedings in the middle. How would a Sunday 1st team respond to this trauma? Was there another twist to be had in this oh so damp and stuccato season. Arrival at a verdant Horse Race Lane ground in muggy conditions left Dean in no doubt as to what to do and upon winning an important toss, the Cowboys stroll nonchalantly into the field with a super strong bowling line up. I felt the omens were positive upon hearing the soulful ‘prruk prruk’ eminating without echo from a pair of ravens atop sturdy pitchside deciduous foliage, unruffled by even the merest gossamer breeze. Without fear of contradiction, it is clear to state that with a combined age of 100, the opening experienced duo of Stratto et moi is likely to be the oldest in Cowboy history. Indeed it breaks the record every time it happens.
And in the tradition of middle-aged men, miserly bowling on a bowler friendly pitch ensued. Two opening full 8 over spells left the opposition in an already below par if not desperate state, 41 for 2. Both wickets fell to Martin, placed accurately into the hands of Matt Davey at midwicket. Justin proved himself to be the oracle of one such event, but as his commentary was near seamless, something was likely to prove prophetic, though it’s realisation the very next ball was unusually immediate.
An almighty downpour amid this opening gambit left the pitch damp in the middle but still nearly dry at each crease, and when Young Robert and Matt replaced the oldsters, the pace of the bowling was notched up a gear at one end and several gearboxes at the other. Among the gentle cantankerousness displayed by one senior gentlemen of the foe, it is suggested that our not so secret weapon RT2 may well play at a higher level on a Saturday. Iggy assuredly and quickly dissuaded said senior gent from such assumptions by informing him that Rob was on the pitch at Wrington yesterday in full disheveled Cowboy condition. Indeed as if to prove it, Rob left his boots there as evidence.
A forceful and fortunate LBW shout at Matt’s end provided him with a breakthrough, the unlucky and decent no 3 batsman was triggered by a young umpire unaware of any inside edges, as were we. The talk between the slips, in gathering gloom, was that we’re more likely to die from, than catch, an edged delivery. Fortunately, Rob’s little brother Tom was behind the timbers and appeared to be seeing the ball a tad quicker and I was confident that he could save Mark from hospitalisation. In view of even Tom’s inability to dive as far as my position, I took a valiant step backwards.
RT2 dispatched the dangerous Mr. Smith with a timely full pitched fizzer, soon after another wicket in the same fashion. Matt cleaned up another and so Iggy and Old Ned Ormesher were employed in as worthy replacements so we could save a couple of overs of pace for the end. Iggy took a wicket with a sharpish lifting delivery that gloved the unwitting batter. The looping trajectory of the ball seemed to be taking it to ground until Mark stuck out his right hand and pouched it with absolute aplomb. Steve O kept one the other end fairly quiet in the face of the only concerted effort at batting attack.
The pair at the wicket prodded and poked about with an occasional good swing. Full credit goes out to Ivor Chivers of F&P who stopped the rot and remained intact in body a decent 34 not out. Despite his advancing years, he saw his side through to a low score of 113 from 40 overs. This total had been clipped by good bowling and excellent fielding particularly from Andy Chester, quiet and assured, and Justin, never quiet, fuelled by nicotine. A special mention to Tom Taylor for lithe athleticism with the gloves which was a joy to behold.
Tea would have brought a tear to the eye of many a webgimp. There are no bagettes in this enclave where the rustling pages of The Mail On Sunday is deafening. Cake is bountiful as the Cowboys ponder and predict the next couple of hours cricket.
Justin with RT2 got away to a steady start before Rob’s myopia regarding cow corner afforded him a fantastic opportunity to time a stroke beautifully down to a waiting fielder who took an effortless catch. Mark replaced Rob and didn’t last too long before being bowled by an off stump Yorker thanks mainly to a bit of a swipe across the line. The youngster hurling it was doing a decent job with briskish medium paced seamers, one of which ‘dun Justin up like a kippa’, But Justin has made steady improvements in batting confidence this year and was sticking to the task of obdurate opener.
And now a brief interlude for a playground style skipping song.
Along came Matt,
Armed with a bat, Got five runs
And that was that.
The hysterical drone of theatrical dog-fighting planes over Ashton Court gave way to the serenity that is balloons rising in the sky and at 55 for 3, there was a tiny sliver of hope for Failand. That’s how it must have appeared to them, but Tom and Justin took full control of the situation, pushing, defending and driving with an ease and calmness which rendered the onlooking batsmen-to-be redundant. They ran between the creases with no hiccups until…. Justin achieved his half century courtesy of an overthrow, the effort of which had cramped up some manner of musculature in a leg, and he had to retire. There were mandatory grumbles on the pitch from one or two Grumpy Elderly Chaps as Justin momentarily fell short of complete obligation to cricketing etiquette by not asking permission to leave the field. Tsk Tsk! He was replaced by Iggy who ably performed a fairly thankless task finishing 2 not out alongside the Boy Tom with an impressive debut 31 not out to add to his erstwhile prowess as a keeper.
Suffice to say, the Cowboys never looked stretched in a very comfortable victory which has taken them to third in a tight table. Dean has presided in captaincy with calmness and confidence. A stern test of his patience awaits next week against Carsons, but that’s next week. This week, let’s kick back and enjoy a win on a pleasant summer evening aside a quiet English country lane.
How Friendly?
The casuals are having a pre-season friendly against the Saturday Downs A Team on Wednesday 15th August at Fry’s. Kick off is at 6:30pm.
Stewards Wanted
Stewarding Superstarz needed!!!!
Skulduggery meeters and greeters are required on the gate at Berrow on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. This is to direct traffic, give site advice and sell programs.
The gate will open 8am – 2am Thursday and Friday and 8am til 4pm Saturday. shifts will be shorter the more people that get involved, 2 people at all times and you can pick your partner if that helps!
obviously people have game commitments, and we will endevour to build the rota around those.
please email your interest to Ian Higgins on ianindam@hotmail.com (Iggy from cricket)
Team Green Gibbo
04/08/2012
The Saturday Team lost to Avonside by 28 runs. The full scorecard is here.
This week Green Gibbo led the Eastonites (hence forth to be known as Team Green Gibbo) to Fry’s to take on Avonside.
On arrival at the ground and with none of the foe in sight we consulted the numerous noticeboards to find out on which pitch we would be doing battle. They said Pitch 2. Green Gibbo, being infallible, picked on the smallest child he could find next to Pitch 2 and demanded “Which team do you play for?”
“Bitton”, replied the meek infant.
“Are you playing on this pitch” continued Green Gibbo.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“My daddy told me.”
“Right lads we must be on Pitch 4” decreed Green Gibbo. After a pleasant hike over green pastures to Pitch 4 we found the rest of the Team Bitton who said that they were playing there and so Team Green Gibbo hiked back to Pitch 2. “Pathetic child” muttered Green Gibbo. The Eastonites looked at Green Gibbo in a disapproving manner, their unquestioning faith wavering as they whiffed the smell of fallibility. “How was I meant to know he was wrong” said Green Gibbo, “You are meant to be all knowing” came the reply. “Oh? And who told you that?” demanded Green Gibbo, “You did” replied Team Green Gibbo in unison.
Now firmly encamped on Pitch 2 Team Green Gibbo went to inspect the wicket and under the instruction of Garnier got on all fours to check its firmness, moistness and temperature. For the second week running there was a stiff one coming across its middle however, unlike last week, it felt warm rather than cold. Garnier looked confused and said that this signified something very important, but he couldn’t remember what. “This signifies something very import” he said in a sage like fashion.
Amongst the fresh faced Eastonites waiting for the toss was a jaded figure. It was Preece who had been up all night, with all that that entails, but now he was looking like he had just come fourth in an Olympic rowing race. “I have let everyone down, my family, the public, Team Green Gibbo, everyone, I am sorry, I have failed to inspire a generation” he said.
This week Plan A worked and Green Gibbo won the toss and put the foe into bat. Garnier and Budge opened the bowling, both plugging away bravely. Garnier was rewarded with an “aberration” from one of the foe’s umpires. However, one of the twin curses of this season reared its ugly head and Team Gibbo started to drop catches. In all Team Foe’s skipper was dropped five times on his way to 82 before being bowled by TT.
The continued lack of catching prowess was beginning to erode Garnier’s sanity and he formulated a theory that one of the trees at the far end of the ground was deliberately jumping in line with lofted chances so that the catcher was unsighted at the crucial moment. This theory was proved, in Garnier’s mind at least, when facing the other end he caught one. This was done in some style as he jumped into the air in the style of a 1960’s centre forward celebrating a goal, throwing one arm into the air above his head and returning to earth with the ball in his hand.
In the end Team Green Gibbo did well to keep the score to 183. TT bowled well again getting 2 wickets for 24 runs and Garnier got 1 wicket for 29 runs. All in all though it was not a very good fielding performance and if Team Foe’s skipper had been dismissed more cheaply they would have been in trouble.
The Tea was an insult to all cricketing teas in the English style. An oddity of booking a Pitch at Fry’s is that you have to let them make the tea and so Team Foe cannot be held responsible for their efforts. For the uninitiated the greatest crime one can commit in a cricketing tea is that the only cakes are doughnuts: they are indigestible and thus no cake for an athlete.
One of the twin curses that dogged Team Green Gibbo this season had already reared its head in this game, namely Dropped Catches. Its sibling also put in an appearance; he goes by the name of Crap Batting. Green Gibbo, fed up with being the rock of ages and the only reliable batsman this season decided to make a kinky manoeuvre and open with Kahlu.
And so Grove and Kahlu strode manfully to the crease, or at least Kahlu swaggered in the Sri Lankan style and Grove minced rather. The plan was that Kahlu would biff a few boundaries in a restrained manner and Grove would present a straight and sturdy bat; thus with a little yin and a touch of yang the required run rate would be met without wickets falling.
Kahlu was out bowled within a few overs swinging at a straight one on a slightly lethargic pitch. Preece then dragged his sickly corps to the crease but never looked at the races and was out caught and bowled cheaply. This brought a vexed Green Gibbo to the crease to once again play the captain’s innings. A few overs later with the run rate creeping up Grove said “you bat sensibly, I am going to bat like a twat”, shortly thereafter he swished lazily at one outside leg and was caught.
Tall Toole and Iggy both decided to take a leaf out of Kahlu’s book and swung at straight ones. The horrifying thing about Iggy’s dismissal was that it was his second golden duck in two matches. If he has a golden duck next week he will be the victim of a ‘Tipple Buttock’.
When TT was out to a decent low catch, which the trouble making tree could not interfere with, Team Green Gibbo were in trouble. Although the outfield was spacious and slow Team Foe had managed to hit a fair few boundaries and our brave boys were noticeably failing to reach the rope. As Team Foe guffawed Grove, who was umpiring, suggested to them that the reason for this was that they were at least three stone a man heavier than our brave boys. “Are you calling us fat?” enquired one of the foe. “I suppose I am” replied Grove. “Good point well made” replied the foe.
Retiring to square leg Grove watched the jet black clouds that had just flooded Nailsea pass a few miles to the west on their way to Bristol. Glancing down he noticed a corps lying face down in a ditch just outside the boundary. Closer inspection revealed this to be a comatose Preece. The foe refused to resuscitate him on the grounds that none of them had not brought their rubber gloves with them, they did however take the opportunity to check his pockets for loose change. Coming round Preece muttered something about Green Gibbo making laying him in green pastures.
Green Gibbo, who had been not out in his last two epic batting performances, suddenly had a mental fit and ran himself out for 45 thus shattering what remained of the cult of his infallibility.
Team Gibbo limped to on to 155 for 8 in their 40 overs.
Thus Team Gibbo had been dispatched by the foe. With better catching and a batting performance which was slightly better than complete crap things would have been different… just the same as last week.
Green Gibbo won man of the match and Garnier’s catch won the Cider Moment… exactly the same as last week.
As Team Green Gibbo relaxed with ill-deserved beer in the bar Garnier appeared somewhat hot and bothered with a hatched in his hand. “That’ll teach it; chopped the fucker down” he puffed.
Netball At Berrow
Easton Cowgirls Netball Presents
A sketch of events by the sea!!
Not playing in a football or cricket match?
Why not come along to the netball court between
12-4 Friday – Sunday:
Friday – Shoot some hoops
Enter the shooting competition, £1 a go. Cash prizes available – all welcome including kids
Saturday – See how the game is played
Women’s netball matches – over 16.
Want to enter or join a team – contact Vernie verniemason@gmail.com
It doesn’t matter what level you are! Prizes to be won
Sunday – Hangover shenanigans
Mixed netball tournament (4 men max per team) – fancy dress encouraged – over 16’s only.
Prizes to be won
If you want to be involved, enter/join a team or for more info contact Vernie
verniemason@gmail.com
Friggin’ In The Riggin’
Right you scurvy sea dogs, perform for your place at the Captains table, or be thrown overboard!
Will your act sink or swim?Has Berrow got talent?
Saturday night on board entertainment extravaganza. Berrow, Somerset. Olde England. Oooo arrrrhhhhhh.
Get your team together and make a 3 minute act: Comedy, magic, dance, drama – anything goes!
Complete this form and return ASAP, if you have extraordinary requirements then please contact to discuss as we may be able to help!
Please present yourself at the main stage at 6pm on Friday to register your arrival and go through any technicalities. The show will be on Saturday at approx 9pm.
May not be suitable for under 18s.
Friggin In The Riggin Entry Form
Mid-Week Results
01/08/2012
The Short Horns beat Pink Panthers in the Women’s Casual League. If you want to keep up woth results you can find them here.
The Cricket Team lost a very good natured (and slightly bizare) friendly against Foresets from Sussex who are touring Bristol this week.