Ivor Thurston reports on the very latest Bays news.
Well, as I perched atop that Matterhorn of a Cotswold mountain, made of nothing more than Wensleydale Cheese oolitic limestone, my mind wandered back on hammered-in spiked cricket boots to the haze of the early days of the Bays, when the sun shone just a little brighter than it does today. (Well not today as it’s bloody dazzling!)
Of course it didn’t really, but it certainly seemed that way; a time when a cricket shirt meant a white buttoned shirt for work. The idea of a custom-made shirt for a club player would bring the ‘normal’ cricketer out in a palsied cold sweat at the thought of the necessary readies needed for such an abomination. What multi-coloured romper suits or pyjamas for the modern game would do, only heavens knows!
Indeed, I remember the ‘battle of the trousers’ some quarter of a century ago, when the Bays were away from home, changing in a dilapidated, heavily splintered floored wooden pavilion. The conversation strayed inevitably to the dangerous area of trousers, or more precisely flannels and their respective merits. Age of course came into consideration and immediately a contest began as to who sported the oldest pair. One player boasted some Gower strides, another Boycott and so on until the ‘trump card’ was played (if that’s appropriate for a trouser competition). ‘I’m wearing Barrington’s,’ a voice from the corner divulged somewhat smugly. Of course old Ken was plying his trade in the fifties and sixties, meaning these heavy, uncomfortable, porcupine quill infested, itchy beasts were at least 35 to forty years old. They’d been acquired I was told, at a jumble sale for the rip-off (trouser pun) price of 50p or so. Ten shillings in its day, a crisp brown one – worth much less in today’s Noddy money though. There is sadly no blue plaque there now to commemorate this little-known battle.
And so I feel I must move delicately on to modern lightweight boots that offer as much protection for the toes of the intrepid batsman as a dainty ballerina’s shoe. Why has it all gone so sadly awry? Is it all the advertising, is it the unsubstantiated promises to the youth of today, when at school by know-it-all pedagogues (nb Mr Pritchard) or is it the torpor of a country in terminal decline?
Well dear reader, I’ll let you into a secret, ‘I’ll be buggered if I know.’
In fact, the less I think about such violations the better, for all concerned, that is, as I don’t want to bring my speargun out again under any circumstances whatsoever. That trident ? brought so innocently home on an old turbo-prop Britannia in the early seventies, as hand luggage no less, went as fast as anything Neptune himself could launch and you certainly wouldn’t want that blessed thing fizzing past your ear at table 117, which is of course laden with Ale from the Abbot in the peaceful garden of The Royal George. (I must make an effort to make my sentences shorter or some pedagogue will have a snipe – not the bird I hasten to add)
So, to the game without further prevarication:
Match report by Colonel Mustard (still isolating with his phone with NHS app carefully hidden in his pocket & to ensure total safety – switched off hours earlier)
Bayshill v Walsall Heath
Nobster won the spin and the Bays were put in to bat in a 35 over match with temperatures nearly matching.
No less than 7 – yes seven Red Kites massed over the ground in tribute to the svelt Bays players. A pied wagtail made a tentative appearance, but decided against crashing the party, due to the heavy duty presence of a brace of warlike Chinooks thundering overhead, Smaug or Fafnir like.
After 4 overs, Chris (virtual pipe smoker) was uncharacteristically clean bowled for just 7 with the score on 16. Van Dyke didn’t trouble the scorer, before Pritchard (beaver whisperer) fell for 21 – his age, or at least so he said. Another wicket fell and with the score on 56, Steve Liley entered the scene. Pierce added a few more boundaries before leaving on 34 with a creditable 6 fours and a juicy six.
Steve Liley then put on 43 with Sean Price before being caught by Chuck. Some may say it was chipped (see Mr. P), but here it was clearly a thunderbolt and the catch a modern day miracle. Liley went for 28 with four sumptuous fours of the highest calibre (please don’t argue with that). Price continued to frustrate the bowlers and eventually carried his bat for 30, with half his runs coming off his last 8 balls having faced 71.
Michael Harding whacked an exciting 22 off just 19 with 3 fours and an off/side six. Chris (Hawkeye) Thorp hit a great four before the innings concluded for 158. Stevens should be commended for his figures of 4 for 23 off 7.
Tea was taken in the brilliant sunshine and humidity. Bays spectators enjoying the wonderful scene even if the team had not posted an adequate score.
Walsall Heath CC began with the assuredness of a team knowing they’re going to win and put the Bays to the sword.
Armstrong was lucky not to be given first ball LBW and went on to make 38, when the score had climbed to 63.
Horner took a good catch off Nobby the Nobster’s bowling. Dunn was second to fall to Michael Harding for 16, with only 2 more runs to the total.
With the match wrapped up, Tom Liley dismissed Nunns for 19, arguably the best ball of the day. It did everything – in out round about and the bail dribbled off. Just 14 were now needed. Chris Thorp then dismissed Gorton for a quacker after Steve Liley removed his bails so quickly he didn’t see it or even feel it.
25 overs and it was over. Walsall Heath enjoyed their win, but the Bays weren’t perhaps as far behind as the score book suggests.
The Bays had a drink with the visitors before retiring to the Plough in Prestbury to lick their wounds.
Bayshill 158/7
Pritchard 21/31 5&0
Pierce 34/32 6&1
Liley S 28/31 4&0
Price S 30*/71 5&0
Harding M 22/19 3&1
Stevens 7/3/23/4
Walsall Heath 160/4
Armstrong 38/31 5&2
Hewlitt 58/46 13&0
Pierce 5/2/10/1
Extra Report by Life Time President (name withheld to protect him & his family)
Bayshill Virtual Pipe Smoking Latest
The small but tightly organised BVPS held a virtual committee meeting earlier in the week to clear up some unfounded rumours on the Club’s activities and indeed origin.
Chaired by the long deceased Rene Magritte, the meeting got off to a lively start. Currently, there are but two paid up members of the club + the chairman, but even so a heated debate followed.
The chair ? informed the committee that Vincent Van Gogh had originally been lined up to guide the club in its early years. A great misunderstanding on his part sadly. Indeed he painted his chair and a pipe, as his thank you to the club. When informed that Renee had usurped him, he chopped off his lug hole flapper in a furious tantrum. Naturally, this led to his immediate expulsion from the club, for bringing it into disrepute. Renee then painted his tribute to the club, which remains today as its symbol of virtuality. Good old Renee!
Tres bon mon fils!