So Close – Yet So Far Away… NATIONAL CC

End of the over and a mid pitch discussion.

“The never-ending task of self improvement.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (25 May , 1803 – 27 April, 1882) American essayist, philosopher and poet.

After last weeks wash out against National CC at their Fawkner Park home, we were really looking forward to the return bout at our Como Park East oval. National are the competition pace setters having not lost a single game, but we were ready for an ambush. Why were we so confident? For a start, we had our most balanced team in for the year and secondly, we felt that we had been improving incrementally each week and were now a much better team than the one that started the season.

Strachany’s plan was that if we won the toss, we would bat so we could set a score without worrying about chasing targets and run rates etc. Just play our natural game. One thing we have been concerned with all year is that at some point in all our innings, we suffered a flat spot where the scoring rate has been painfully slow which always costs us in the final wash up – especially against the better teams. For this reason, Ricky Derons (a tail ender with a good eye) was promoted to open along side Nat “Mr Natural” Williams in order to get us off to a galloping start.

In theory it was a sound idea, as Rick is an aggressive batsman with a reasonable technique for tail ender who would happily throw the bat around without concern or fear of losing his wicket. So the potential pay off if it worked would be huge to our overall chances.

That was the theory.

The reality after Strachany won the toss and elected to bat was that Nat and Rick had to face up to some rather accurate bowling with side ways movement off the pitch which made scoring rather difficult. The two Indian lads who opened the bowling bowled a tight line with the only “loose” deliveries being very loose and being called wides. So the opportunity to free the arms up and swipe a few boundaries was not presenting itself to our openers.

The barn storming Nat "Mr Natural" Williams in full cry.

Rick and Nat put on twenty five in about ten overs when Rick fell trying to play a big shot and was bowled by Nationals pace man Ganapatineedi. I entered the fray with many negative thoughts on my mind for some odd reason. As soon as I met up with Mr Natural he informed me that there was side ways movement and it was extremely difficult to get the ball away.

I took strike and cautiously played out the over and it was jagging about awkwardly as Nat had said it was. For the next four or five overs, I found it extremely difficult to get anything more than the edge or the toe of the bat onto anything and sometimes the ball just cannoned off my pads for leg byes. I struggled to middle anything at all.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I got off the mark with a stylish leg glance off the front foot off Nationals medium pacer and skipper Jason Ivanecky for a single down to fine leg. After ten overs of this struggle, Nat succumbed while trying to play a push to leg and the ball skying straight up in the air off his leading edge. The Nationals keeper took a fine running catch at about where silly mid on would be standing.

Getting off the mark with a leg glance off the front foot. A picture of classical text book perfection (if I must say so myself!)

So after about ten overs Nat Williams and I had advanced the score by fourteen to thirty nine. My contribution off the bat was all of two. So as Richie Hounslow strode to the wicket, we had it all ahead of us. Richie was looking very determined and was intending to get stuck into the bowlers from the get go.

Richie straight away started playing some solid scoring strokes and I noticed straight away that in Richies approach there was a level of awareness displayed by a batsman that I was unfamiliar with. He was constantly asking the umpire “how many balls left in the over umpire?” and shooting the answer down the pitch to me “two balls left in the over VB…concentrate”.

Nationals brought on a leg spinner by the name of Stewart Irwin who gave the ball a lot of air and got some reasonable turn off the pitch, but his direction and length was all over the shop. He bowled a rank long hop outside leg stump that I pulled off the front foot and the ball raced away. As I turned for the second run, I saw that ball had gone some distance and was certainly four runs – but the umpire didn’t seem to know where the boundary was and apparently, neither did the National fielders and I had to be content with two even though I yelled out half way down the pitch – “come on, that’s four umpire!”.

In the next over from the leg spinner (the last before drinks), he yet again bowled a long hop outside my leg stump, and this time I clobbered the ball even harder than the first time and the ball raced away unequivocally for four runs. With one ball left before drinks, Richie Hounslow called out down the pitch “last ball VB, don’t get out now mate”. As it transpires, the leg spinner Irwin delivered yet another juicy long hop but slightly closer to my leg stump and it took all the restraint in the world to stop myself having a swish at it. It was literally asking to be thumped for a boundary, but my brain kept reminding me “don’t get out now…start again after drinks” and I gently patted the ball to short mid wicket and there was no run.

As we took drinks, I was well aware that I was fatigued and extremely thirsty as I had been batting for about thirteen overs by that stage and it was hot. I took off my helmet and called for my new S.Y.C.C. baggy blue cap. As we walked back to the centre, Richie reminded me that we had to up the ante and take on the field.

A drive through the covers.

We continued where we left off by playing some strong strokes and running sharp singles. Because of my flagging state, I missed a couple opportunities for sharp singles which I was conscious could be costly in the final wash up of the game. So I kept reminding myself, “turn over the strike to Richie and he will do the rest”.

As Richie and I started to get on top of the bowling, I suddenly noticed that the National fielders had gone really quiet and you could hear a pin drop. I thought to myself “these bastards aren’t used to being dominated – they are used to having it all their own way”. In the mean time, Richie Hounslow played a marvelous pull shot for six over square leg and other delightful strokes. I was simply turning over the strike to Richie where possible and was just as much a spectator as our lads on the sidelines to the display of class batsmanship that Richie was putting on.

I started trying to get in on the act as well, by first playing a couple of lofted drives that cleared the infield but not the boundary riders and I ran a single each time. I tried to play a cut to a shortish ball from Irwin the leg spinner, but the ball didn’t so much keep low, as run along the ground. “If he bowls one of those on the same line as the stumps and it keeps low again and I try and cut or pull it, I will be in deep trouble. I will be a candidate for bowled or LBW at this rate” I thought to myself.

Richie reminded me in between overs of my responsibility to the team to stick around with him “don’t get out now, because if you do, it will slow down the scoring rate” Richie warned. I nodded my head fully comprehending, but at the same time determined to play my part in pushing the scoring rate further along and keeping our foot on Nationals throat.

There was enough time for me to have a real scare of being run out. I played an on drive straight to mid on. I thought there was an easy single in it as I set off for the run, but half way down the pitch I realized that I had hit it too well and the ball was already in the hands of the fielder and he was about to wind up and throw at the stumps. I stepped up my pace a bit, but as the throw passed wide of the stumps I breathed a sigh of relief as if the throw was accurate, I would have been short of my ground by about a meter and a half.

Pull shot off the front foot for four runs.

By now it was the start of the thirty second over and I had been batting for nearly twenty two overs. I simply had to smash a few boundaries I felt. My eye was in, my partner was killing them, we had the measure of the bowling…the time was NOW. The leg spinner Irwin bowled a juicy full toss outside off stump – normally something to guide past gully for a single, but I tried to hoick it to square leg which was vacant – so if I connected, it would fly away for four runs. Instead I took a massive swipe and missed. I was angry at myself at having missed this golden scoring chance. The next ball was yet again a short long hop, but this time in line with my stumps. I got onto the back foot and shaped to play a pull shot through square leg when the ball did not spin, it simply did not bounce at all. It skidded through ankle height and rattled my stumps as I swished over the top of the ball.

A drive over the infield. I only got a single for this shot.

As I looked back I noticed that the keepers gloves were pushing through the stumps and that the bails had fallen forwards, not backwards. I looked to the square leg umpire wondering if perhaps he had in his exuberance knocked the bails off with his gloves before the ball bowled me. The umpire signaled to me that the ball had bowled me – which I was already aware of, but he didn’t seem to understand the nature of my query. ie: “did the keepers gloves knock down the bails first?”

It mattered not – I walked off the ground to a standing ovation from team mates with the customary “well batteds” sprinkled amongst the applause. I didn’t raise my bat in acknowledgement as I believe that a batsman needs to at least pass fifty before raising his bat. At the very least hit the winning runs in a tight contest or do something else remarkable in the quest for victory. Maybe I am old school in that regard.

I had made a painstaking twenty one which had spanned twenty one overs. My partnership with Richie Hounslow had yielded fifty one runs in just a tick over ten overs with my share of that being nineteen. We had silenced the previously chirpy Nationals fieldsmen with some attacking stroke play and some sharp running in between wickets. But the partnership could have been so much bigger – but for some horrible bounce, I could have batted on longer. That is turf cricket.

Nashi Alam passed me on the way out as he walked out to bat. Before I had even taken my pads off, Nashi was also dismissed by a ball that did not bounce by Irwin. I was starting to feel bad as I remembered Richies words “don’t get out now, because if you do, it will slow down the scoring rate”. How prophetic was he? Strachany strode out to take up the attack to the bowlers and almost immediately came to notice with an exquisite cover drive for four. It wasn’t to last, soon after Strachany was also bowled by Irwin with yet another one that did not bounce much.

Strachany smacking a boundary in style.

By this stage I was kicking myself for getting out – my dismissal had triggered a mini collapse and had indeed slowed down our scoring momentum as Richie Hounslow predicted it would. Craig Nott entered the fray to join Richie and our hopes now rested on the sixth wicket partnership. The journeyman Notty has played for clubs as diverse as Richmond, Tyabb and the Southerners – so he is a well travelled cricketer. When talking about his game, Notty always talks himself down. So beyond a padlock defense and some deft dabs, we had no idea what he could really do. He once described himself to me earlier in the season as a “nurdler”. After watching Notty and Richie set about dismantling the Nationals bowling attack, I realized nothing could be further from the truth.

Craig Nott smashing a boundary over mid wicket in typically belligerant fashion.

Richard Hounslow and Craig Nott put on seventy three for the sixth wicket in double quick time with some of the most audacious stroke play that I could have imagined. Craig Nott ripped into the Nationals bowlers with a zeal that I was sure he did not have. He smashed deliveries over the infield for boundaries and was in the end dismissed rather unluckily to a delivery that should have been called a no ball as he swatted a chest high full toss from a medium pacer down the throat of a nationals fielder who took the catch only one meter in from the fence.

As the catch was taken from the sidelines we were all jumping and waving yelling to the umpires “no ball…it was a NO BALL!!” Craig Nott had crossed to the other end and quietly asked the umpire why that chest high delivery was not called a no ball?” Nothing controversial or heated about it – but the National captain shot out “I am going to cite you for that!” Seriously, get a grip man.

Richie Hounslow pushing one to mid wicket in his majestic innings of 65 not out.

Craig Nott made an inspired twenty seven and the innings wound down soon after with Richie Hounslow finishing undefeated on sixty five out of a total of 6/185. A good total, but perhaps ten to fifteen runs short of what it should have been. A number of times in our innings the umpires and the National fielders were seemingly confused about what was and wasn’t a boundary, with the result that a number of certain four runs were not called and were thus reduced to twos or ones. We train on the ground and we knew by the distance of where the balls had finished up that they were indeed fours, but the umpires and nationals fielders were less clear about it. I do not for one second think that either party were being dishonest, but it certainly cost us at least ten to fifteen runs. It cost me two further boundaries.

The new ball was taken by Rick Derons and Alex Harris – two more different people you could ever see. Rick is in his thirties and is a quality fast bowler who gets movement off the pitch and Alex is still in high school and has no need for shaving razors. Alex bowls left arm fast medium and has a big future ahead of him.

In the first over of the innings, Rick got us off to a flying start bowling the National opener Marchant for a duck. Not long later, Alex “Bomber” Harris got in on the act and removed Singh for six by yorking the Nationals opener. Two for eight and all of a sudden we dared to dream of pulling off an upset. Very soon afterward, Bomber Harris had Nationals batsman Irwin as plumb LBW as you could ever imagine. The ball would have missed off stump and leg stump, but would have ripped out middle stump about half way up. It ended up being a huge let off for Nationals as Irwin started swinging his bat and collecting boundaries along with his partner Veeramreddy as they blazed away with a partnership of sixty one in double quick time to swing the momentum back in Nationals favour.

It was Rick Derons who got the much needed break through when he trapped Irwin LBW for thirty two and the Nationals score resting on sixty nine. Soon afterwards Richie Hounslow – a veritable one man team – trapped Veeramreddy LBW for twenty five and the score on seventy eight. Just before drinks, Richie Hounslow did it again by capturing the wicket of Ganapatineedi for fourteen and the Nationals score on ninety eight.

At drinks in comparison to our score which was two for forty two before we smashed a further one hundred and forty three in our last twenty two overs, the Nationals were ninety eight…but crucially, for the loss of five wickets. So while they were scoring quickly, they had been losing wickets too. Curiously, none of the Nationals players shared drinks with us as is the customary practice. It looked to me that they were feeling the pressure and they were keeping to themselves. Earlier all but three of their players had snubbed our mid game tea and cakes which was also curious. That is their prerogative, but it is not particularly sporting and I for one, will not be forgetting their stand offish behaviour in a hurry. At the end of the day – a team is a reflection of their captain. I don’t know what my team mates thought about this, but it certainly struck me as disrespectful to snub our hospitality.

I felt that we were one wicket away from exposing their tail. National had been winning their games all season rather easily and their tail enders had not really been exposed to a pressure run chase. So one more wicket would see them capitulate – at least that is what my perception of the state of play was.

Soon after the resumption of play National batsman Apender Gupta looked to be clearly LBW to the bowling of Richie Hounslow but the umpire was unmoved and gave it not out much to our collective disbelief. With this stroke of good luck, Gupta and Sumant Yerra proceeded to throw the bat at will and in the process had numerous lucky escapes with aerial strokes dropping either between or just over fielders. It was uncanny luck, but throughout the day, we had not dropped any catches until the charmed Gupta smashed a delivery as high as it went long. The ball seemed to sit in the air for an eternity and I actually had time to look who was under the ball. I saw Strachany and I thought to myself “good, he is one of a handful of guys in our team who is confident under a high ball and is great catch”. No sooner had I had this thought that Strachany dropped what was ultimately a very difficult catch with the ball striking him near the shoulder.

At that point, the game seemed all but over as Gupta and Yerra had ridden their luck and had brought National within sight of victory. The score was now 5/171 with only fifteen required for victory. We were dead in the water as there were still five overs left to bowl. Craig “Black” Nott who had bowled beautifully without luck then got the big wicket of Gupta…initially we appealed for LBW and the umpire raised his finger only for the ball to roll onto Gupta’s leg stump to bowl him anyway.

Six wickets down and fifteen runs still required…there was still hope that we could pull off an upset. Strachany then threw the ball almost in desperation to Alex “Bomber” Harris who had bowled well in his first spell to take a wicket, but had also been manhandled by the National batsmen as well, so it was a gutsy call by Strachany – but the correct one I thought to myself at the time. Two runs were added to the total when Bomber Harris produced a hum dinger of a Yorker to shatter the stumps of the obdurate Yerra who had made a courageous thirty five.

Through all this, our First Eleven who had won their game in heart stopping circumstances on the next oval wandered over to stand on the boundary and cheer us on. It was really heartening stuff to be supported in such a way and I will never forget the cheers and shouts of encouragement and the invincible feeling it gave me.

The score was now 7 for 173 and fourteen runs were still required for victory by Nationals. We could sense panic coursing through the National camp as what had seemed like a regulation victory a few moments ago, was now becoming a far more difficult prospect. With our collective belief up, Bomber did it again…he bowled another surgical precision yorker that uprooted Burford’s off stump.

Alex "Bomber" Harris, a wonderful opening bowler and high school student with a big future.

Euphoria! 8 for 173 and the Nationals camp was a flurry of activity with pads and protective equipment being adorned, much swearing and general disbelief at what was happening before their eyes. Strachany then replaced the exhausted Nott and bowled the next pressure packed over which the National batsmen scored five priceless runs. It was very tightly bowled over until just one loose ball was delivered and the batsman pounced by smashing it for four runs. Damn.

It was now the forty fourth and penultimate over and Alex Harris was entrusted with the ball for his last over of his second spell. Almost immediately, Bomber Harris produced yet another peach to clean bowl Raj for five and the score was now 9 for 180! Ten balls left and six runs required for victory. It was at this point that I felt like calling out to Strachany to bring everyone in to make running a single suicidal and to also throw down the gauntlet to the National tailenders to attempt a dangerous hit over the top which would probably produce a catch.

I would have only left a deep mid wicket and a deep mid on for the attempted cross batted swipe over the top. Everyone else would be brought close enough in to shut down any quick single and I also would have placed one bloke at short cover and another at short mid wicket. On top of that, without a fine leg in place, I would have instructed the keeper to stand back an extra two meters to ensure that there would be no mishap.

Instead, the field was deep attempting to cut off boundaries, but allowing the possibility to run fairly easy singles as long as they got bat onto ball. With all this tension coupled with our club mates cheering support from the sideline, I didn’t go over to Strachany as I normally would. Bomber Harris then bowled two deliveries in a row that strayed down the leg side and they were both called wides. The second one was finally called a wide after much deliberation by the umpire. Now I didn’t have any objection to these deliveries being called wide per se, but what I did find objectionable was how similar deliveries served up to me which flew untouchable down the leg side were not also called wide. The umpire was clearly feeling the pressure and went trigger happy so to speak.

The target was now four runs to win and there was still eight balls left in the innings. It was a huge moment in the game and I kept thinking, “hit the ball to me in the air and I am going to catch you. Hit it along the ground to me and I am going to run you out”. I was psyching myself up to do something big…now was the moment.

The next delivery by Bomber Harris was a thigh high full toss and the National number eleven batsman, Jason Ivanecky swung hard across the line and “thwack”! The moment it hit the middle of the bat, I had no doubt where that ball was headed. I watched the balls inevitable trajectory high, high, high over head as I had a great view from backward square leg in watching the balls trajectory clear Richie Hounslow who was stationed on the mid wicket boundary. The ball went at least ten meters over his head and nearly ended up in Williams Road.

Six runs. The wild whoops of joy from the National batsmen and team mates on the sidelines told us everything we needed to know. We had yet again managed to lose a game we were in a position to win. The very next ball National were dismissed. So, we had dismissed the top team in forty four overs and had only lost six wickets ourselves, yet we were the losing team…but not losers. We had fought it out to the end and Alex Bomber Harris had been heroic with his three quick wickets at the death to leave him with the figures of 4 for 51 and the deserved man of the match award just over the unlucky Richie Hounslow who made a glorious sixty five not out and took a miserly 2 for 16 off his nine overs.

I was nearly in tears at the end of the game at having gotten so close to pulling off a miraculous victory, but to be denied by a once in a career shot for six by the National number eleven batsman. That is cricket sometimes. We were so close to knocking off the top of the ladder team who were (and still are) unbeaten.

Next time…always next time.

Vic Nicholas
Melbourne
AUSTRALIA

...AND MORE RAIN!

“The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.”
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (February 27, 1807 – March 24, 1882) American educator and poet.

I arrived for this weeks game at Fawkner Park to the worrying scene of our players examining the pitch with the umpires in tow - never a positive sign.

As I got closer, one of the lads - Craig Nott I believe - said "you may as well turn around and go straight back home". As I got closer to teh pitch I could see that while one end weas fine and ready for play, the other end...basically a whole third of the pitch was under water from a leaking cover or simply w3ater seeping in from underneath the covers.

With a water logged pitch, there was only one place to go - and that was back home. As I drove off the rain started pelting down anyway, so our match was pretty much doomed come what may.

It was all massivley disappointing as I was so much looking forward to playing a game at Fawkner Park this season as it one of my favourite grounds with all the lovely trees that surround it - but that is looking hopeless now.

Later that afternoon, I popped around to our hjome ground to find a number of our lads drinking beer on the balcony in quite respectable sunshine - but their game had been washed out too because of the earlier heavy rains and the questionable state of the pitch.

So it was yet another weekend without play and one more weekend without a bat. My last innings seems like a distant memory now it seems that long ago.

I can appreciate that rain is good for a drought stricken land like Victoria, but I am staggered that two weekends in a row have been lost to rain. How often has that happened in drought addled Melbourne in the last decade?

Next Sunday we take on National yet again - but this time at our Como East ground. It is a pity that this week was rained out as we had our strongest line up in all season. Anyway, I hope we can pull out some surprises for National on our home turf this weekend.

As long as it isn't rained out yet again...

Vic Nicholas
Melbourne
AUSTRALIA

RAIN, RAIN...

“Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon.”
~Susan Ertz (1894 – 11 April 1985) British fiction writer and novelist

It was not just the primary producers and our drought stricken dams that needed copious quantities of rain over last weekend.

Facing a rather difficult run chase, I spent all Saturday evening pondering the permutations of how our run chase would unfold for there to be a happy outcome for the Yarras Fifth Eleven.

That annoying beast logic kept rearing its ugly head and was cause for many negative alternative outcomes to my almost blinkered belief that somehow we would negotiate this very difficult assignment.

As it started to rain late on Saturday night I started having flashbacks to the rain effected pitch that we encountered against Maccabi only a couple of weeks before. "Just great" I thought to myself. "We have a difficult run chase as it is and now we will be confronted with a blasted green top pitch to further contend with".

I slept uneasily during that Saturday night with dreams of a heroic match winning innings being thwarted by waking every now again to the sounds of extremely heavy rain pelting down outside.

Never once did I countenance the possibility of the game being washed out.

Early on Sunday morning as I was still half in the world of sleep and half conscious - I heard my mobile phone quiver signalling a text message had just come through. I picked up my mobile thinking that perhaps Rakish needed a lift again to the ground. When I looked at the message, it was from Strachany and it simply stated that all MCA matches had been declared washed out for the weekend.

"Hooray!" I thought to myself - I can go back to sleep. And that pretty much summed up a large portion of my Sunday. It was dark and gloomy outside with constant heavy rain falling - so sitting in bed when I finally awoke seemed like a good thing.

As a result, we escaped with a draw - though if I maintain the positivity, perhaps we were denied a famous victory. Who knows?

Anyway, it is now three weeks since I last had a bat under match conditions and that was something not worth cheering about from teh relative comfort of my bed.

This week we play a one day game against top placed team National at Fawkner Park - a venue I have been looking forward to playing at all season due in no small part to its wonderful Oak and Elm trees and sporting boundaries.

It is one of the most picturesque grounds in Melbourne.

More next week!

Vic Nicholas

Melbourne

AUSTRALIA

PARKDALE CC - TOIL

"I've often said: the only thing standing between me and greatness... is me."
~Woody Allen -(December 1, 1935- ) American actor, comedian and screenwriter.

It was a tough day in the field last Sunday.

So tough that even the thought of reliving it by having to write about it was enough to make me shudder. The day was not overly hot due to the fact that a merciful sea breeze swept Parkdale United’s home ground in Mordialloc.

Due to Strachany having to spend most of the weekend in Brisbane (ostensibly visiting family and friends), I was handed the captaincy reigns until Strachany arrived at the ground (direct from the airport). I was excited, scared and concerned all at the same time. It occurred to me very quickly that it is far easier to simply roll up and play as opposed to the hundreds of concerns that are the burden of the captain.

Would we have enough players to even make an eleven? The spring racing carnival and other upheavals had conspired to decimate our playing ranks. With a few ring ins and coaxing back the occasional lapsed Yarra saw us having eleven players with Strachany roping in a bloke to substitute for him until he arrived.

The idea was to bat if I won the toss, but looking at the pitch it looked like it was already crumbling and would take spin as the afternoon wore on, so after consulting Chips Pringle our veteran wily off spinner, I decided that if I won the toss I would bowl. As it transpired, I lost the toss by calling incorrectly and the Parkdale captain had no hesitation in electing to bat, so I was going to get my wish in any case.

I called the lads together ever so briefly and gave them the usual rev up before we field. It was short and to the point. I reminded the lads that one thing that we have been doing wonderfully well all season has been backing each other up in the field, with a lot of positive talk and no recriminations if anyone misfields or drops a catch. Pretty much word for word what Strachany would say, except due to the fact that batsmen were already waiting for us in the middle, much more succinct out of necessity.

I threw the ball to Cameron McKenzie-Smith to open the bowling downwind with Justin Southern to partner him. I then proceeded to set the field trying to put lads in their normal positions and try and keep things as normal as possible.

The first two overs passed with out much ado as both lads bowled a tight line. In the third over Cam dropped short, but the ball didn't get up as much as the batsman calculated it would and he miscued his pull shot which was skied in the direction of mid wicket where Rakish was located. After a few steps back with his gaze fixed skyward, the ball finally stuck in Rakish's hands much to our collective delight.

We got the early break through and I was relieved and delighted at the same time - this captaincy gig certainly has more to it than I had considered prior to Sunday. After six or seven overs (I honestly cannot remember exactly how many) I saw Strachany arrive on his scooter in style like the Fonz. I was bouyed by the sight of our captain, though to be fair, Chips Pringle - a man with extensive captaincy experience - was assisting admirably with field placings and encouragement. Soon enough Strachany was on the field and his usual chirpy self heading the cheer leading from cover.

Soon enough a game turning moment was thrust before me in the shape of a thick edge off the bat of the Parkdale opening batsman Christos Pappas as he attempted to cut a ball too close to him. The ball was literally fizzing through the air as it flew about a meter off the ground and wide to my left. I instinctively launched myself in a goal keeper type of dive and while in mid air and horizontal to the ground, I managed to get both hands to the fast moving ball and in an instant I thought to myself "got it" as the ball stuck in my clasped hands only for gravity to bring me crashing to the turf where the ball was dislodged from my grip when my left elbow jarred upon connecting with the ground.

I was really upset to state the bleedingly obvious. While none of my team mates would have thought anything of it - it would have been a blinder of a catch if I held it - I was disappointed due the fact that I have specifically been practicing taking "impossible" diving catches at training by throwing myself around diving hither and thither and taking eight or nine out of ten of the chances that come my way at training. To drop this catch when it had "stuck" in my hands was galling. It became even more galling as the afternoon wore on as Pappas proceeded to hang around like a Geoff Boycott or Chris Tavare. Barely playing a shot, rarely scoring a run, but a vital cornerstone around which the other Parkdale batsmen rallied around and created partnerships which steadily built the score as the day wore on.

Wickets were hard to come by and the score kept mounting when I dropped yet another catch - this one later in the day when the score was already beyond 200 when one of the Parkdale batsmen played a thumping hook shot off the middle of his bat which flew to me flat at a rapid rate of knots and I simply lost sight of it...not getting a look at the ball until it was too late and I didn't even get a hand to it as it bounced off my stomach just to the right of my belly button. Six inches higher and I would now be nursing broken ribs. Six inches lower and the chances of their being any future descendants of Victor James Nicholas would be remote. The only good thing that came out of it was that my stomach stopped a certain boundary.

Somewhere around this time I was involved in the play of the season so far, though I did not see any of it. Let me explain how and why. The left handed Parkdale batsman played a thunderous cut shot that was flying along the ground and seemingly destined to pass me by about two meters and career to the boundary as there was nobody behind me in my position stationed at deep point.

I launched into a desperate dive to my left and I just managed to get enough of my out stretched left hand onto the ball to parry it towards cover. The batsmen thinking that it was surely going to be four runs until my intervention, then hesitatingly set off on single to salvage something out of this fine shot.

After I got my hand on the ball, I naturally crashed to the turf and hit my head so I did not see what happened next. When I deflected the ball it ran away to cover and straight into the path of Strachany who - as ever - was alert to the situation and scooped up the ball and threw it inch perfect to our keeper Timmy Miller who whipped off the bails to run out the obdurate Pappas. Christos Pappas marathon innings of 52 stretched out over about sixty five overs of painstaking but effective batting.

While all this commotion was going on, I was laying on the ground in the starfish formation staring skywards but in a daze and seeing stars when only clouds were overhead. My first inkling that something had happened was when I heard excited whoops of joy and Strachany walking towards me to see if I was OK...I saw our boys in a huddle and the Parkdale batsman starting to troop off. Strachany's huge smile told me that something miraculous had happened and his "well done mate" confirmed it all.

I really wish at times like this that someone was filming our game with a handy-cam - but my teammates vivid narrative of what happened was just as illuminating as any action replay could ever be.

After what seemed like forever, the day drew to a close when we completed the seventy sixth - and last - over of the day with Parkdales score finally resting on 8 for 251. It was a tough day all round and as we trudged off, I knew that we would have a huge task ahead of us next Sunday in order to come away with the win. We would have to bat out of our skins to make the 252 necessary to win.

The key to the Parkdale score was a number of partnerships and about four batsmen making decent scores - that is exactly what we have to do.

I hope when I next write to you, it will be with the news that we have won.

Here's hoping!

Vic Nicholas
Melbourne
AUSTRALIA

MACCABI AJAX – VICTORY AT LAST!

The victorious Yarras Fifth Eleven. Everyone of us was exhausted when this photo was taken, but it was the sweetest victory!

“Victory is sweetest when you've known defeat.”
~Malcolm S Forbes - (August 19, 1919 – February 24, 1990) publisher of Forbes magazine.


After coming close a number of times, the mighty Yarras Fifth Eleven enjoyed a win on the weekend! Now in the after glow of a tremendous win I can bask in the glory of my teammates heroic efforts….but that would be getting way ahead of the story.

Sunday dawned cloudless and hot. Good news for our not out overnight batsmen in Penny Lane and Connair De Souza, but bad news for our bowlers who were not going to enjoy the same seam friendly conditions as Maccabi had the week before. Our score was a precarious 7/124 and after having a quick look at the rock hard pitch that resembled a road, I also sensed that we had nowhere near enough to defend.

In the opening over of the day, Conrad was softened up with a series of quick balls that were dug in short and then he fell for the sucker punch by misreading the slower ball and spooning a catch to gully for a soft dismissal without adding to his overnight score of ten. Conrad was ropeable at himself for not going on in great batting conditions.

Penny Lane setting off for the run to bring up his fifty.

It was now 8 for 124 and things were not looking too good. Enter Cameron McKenzie-Smith – a barrel chested fast bowler who looks like he indulges in wood chopping in his spare time and he wields his bat more like an axe rather than a blade. Without bothering with the triviality of getting his eye in, “Twin Cam” set about swinging his bat like a lethal weapon and crashed the Maccabi bowlers to the boundary repeatedly. All the while Penny Lane was pushing the ball around as he edged closer to his fifty.

Julian Lane acknowledging the boys cheers.

Penny Lane thumped a boundary that took him to forty nine and then soon after he guided one square and brought up his fifty. A gutsy innings that was exactly what was required under the circumstances. But it was too good to last. On fifty one, Penny was rapped on the pads, but the umpire gave it not out. The very next ball, Penny was again rapped on the pads and this time he was not so lucky as the umpires finger went up.

Penny Lanes fine knock ends as he exits the playing arena with a gutsy 51.

It was a great blow because Twin Cam was going like the clappers smashing boundary after boundary and the score was starting to mount up. As so often happens, Twin Cam fell soon after for an entertaining twenty one and we were all out for 155. I thought considering the conditions we batted in last week, it was not too bad. Penny however didn’t like our chances after experiencing the pitch first hand – “we are f**ked...the pitch is a road, it is not doing anything” was Penny’s first words upon exiting the arena.

Cameron McKenzie-Smith on the rampage during his cameo of 21.

With the day getting hotter and hotter, no hint of greenness in the pitch and an absolutely cloudless sky – I was starting to worry myself. We really couldn’t take a trick as far as conditions went and as we walked out onto the ground to take up our fielding positions, I also noticed that the outfield – in contrast to last week – was lightning fast. So not only were Maccabi going to get a benign pitch compared to the sticky dog we got, but they were also going to get a wickedly fast outfield which would aid them to score quickly. Things were really stacked against us.

Bobby Fisher bowled the first over which passed by uneventfully without any hint of movement or assistance to our bowlers. Twin Cam took the new ball with Bobby and in his first over he uprooted the off stump of the Maccabi batsman Rothschild. Just the start we needed! We geed ourselves up by reminding each other that we needed to keep taking wickets. I knew that on this pitch and with the large amount of overs left, we basically had to bowl Maccabi out in order to win the game.

The plucky little Maccabi wicket keeper Plavin (the venus fly-trap) joined Ben Jones and the two young Maccabi batsmen dug in to take the score to 1 for 24 when Bobby Fisher removed both Plavin and then Jones in a double strike to have us rocking with delight. At 3 for 29 Maccabi were not off to the start that they wanted or needed. The veteran Schneider dug in with the young tyro Fetter for a critical and frustrating partnership. Fetter playing in an orthodox manner looks every inch a future star batsman. On teh other end of the scale, Schneider seems to hold the bat backwards when he is facing up, but somehow spins it around to play with a straight bat and he frustrated our bowlers with his stonewalling. Their partnership was ended when Jason “Torvill” Endean produced a beautifully disguised slower ball to trap Schneider plumb in front with the score now 4 for 57. The next over Connair bowled pesky young Fetter with no addition to the score and it was now 5 for 57. We were half way there – surely they would capitulate now?

Maccabi dug deep yet again in the shape of father and son combination of Ian Jones and Josh Jones. The fast outfield was killing us as each time they found a gap, be it with a well placed shot or a fluky edge - it seemed to fly away for a boundary. The heat was now starting to kick in and I could see from the faces of our players that they were on the brink of total exhaustion. Maccabi were careering towards victory and there seemed little we could do to stop their victory charge as Ian and Josh Jones were batting with relative ease.

"If we can break this partnership up, then we will clean up the tail surely?" I thought to myself. But how were we going to break this partnership – they looked rock solid? Then something happened that swung the game back in our favour. I started to notice that the younger Jones was starting to struggle with the heat. He would bow down after most balls and gasp for air and his foot work became almost non existent. I thought to myself "this lad is out on his feet - it is only his duty to his dad that is keeping him going". Eventually, he could stand no more and he retired hurt and was escorted off the ground with jelly legs where he promptly collapsed under a tree with water being poured over him to try and revive him.

It was a bad break for Maccabi, but for us, it was the chance we needed. Yossi Herbst came in and departed soon after without scoring making it 6 for 98. Eli Herbst also departed for a duck and then in amongst all this carnage the Maccabi captain Ian Jones who had been holding us up was also bowled out after making a brave twenty. It was now 8 for 104. Eli Paneth came and went for a duck and it was now 9 for 104 and Maccabi were dead in the water…or were they?

Josh Jones through this whole collapse was laying flat on his back under a tree barely moving. He did not look any chance at all of coming back in to bat and we debated this amongst ourselves as each Maccabi wicket fell – “will the kid come back out again?”. With the ninth wicket he picked himself up and came back out with a runner. Jones still looked rather unsteady and we all must have thought that this was all rather token and he was not going to survive for long, but survive he did! In fact, he seemed to bat even better than earlier by flashing his bat at anything wide of his stumps and he hit a few boundaries and all of a sudden visions of the freaky ninth wicket partnership that steered Burnley home to an unlikely win in Round One certainly crossed my mind and probably a few of my team mates too.

Our bowlers had toiled magnificently in the heat and here we were one wicket away from victory and all of a sudden these guys were making a charge. I chased away the negative thoughts by thinking to myself, this Maccabi number eleven batsman is not going to survive long enough for Maccabi to pull off an improbable win – surely one good ball will get him. And that is exactly how it played out. Twin Cam was rewarded for some tight bowling by the Maccabi number eleven spooning a catch right back at him which he held. It was his third wicket and his second catch for the day. Bobby Fisher had picked up 5 for 24 in a wonderful display of line and length bowling and Torvill and Connair picked up a wicket each.

In stifling heat we only used four bowlers with each one of them bowling themselves to a stand still and in Connairs case – the point of sickness - as he had to go off after his spell briefly to get a drink as he had completely hit the wall. The bowling group were heroes in my eyes...pure guts and determination.

We were cock a hoop at having secured our first win for the year. There were heroes a plenty as you can imagine. Penny Lane for his gutsy innings, Bobby Fisher for his five wicket haul, Twin Cam McKenzie-Smith with his cameo of twenty one with the bat, three wickets with the ball and two catches in the field and many others.

On the clubhouse balcony as the boys all enjoyed a well deserved cold beer, Strachany praised the efforts of all the boys in particular his choice of this weeks man of the match Bobby Fisher. He again reserved the encouragement award for me for my efforts in throwing myself around the field like a mad man. If I felt that Strachany was being generous the week before last with his effusive praise for my fielding, then I felt he had gone to even greater lengths this time as I personally could remember at least two guys who were more inspirational in the field – Jason Endean who had patrolled the covers like a miserly cheetah and Twin Cam who had produced a couple good stops and taken two catches – one of which was a very good slips catch while he was stationed at second slip.

In any case, I was delighted to be held up as an example for fielding commitment by my captain and my teammates yet again. I still have a long way to go, but the recognition from my peers makes the hard work seem worth while. It was a tough game...we had the worst of the conditions both weeks - a seamers paradise first week while we were batting and a dead track the following week with hot conditions when we had to defend a small total.

It was a win of pure guts and determination and I am so proud of all the boys and the parts they all played. The bowlers in particular were simply heroic.

I salute them all.

Next week is a new week and yet another two day game...what further adventures does this game have in stall? We all have to wait and find out!

See you all next week!

Vic Nicholas
Melbourne

MACCABI AJAX - GREEN PITCH & CLOUDY SKIES

Playing and missing a ball going down the leg side early in my innings.

“A car hit a Jewish man. The paramedic says, "Are you comfortable?" The man says, "I make a good living."”
~Anon

This weeks game against Maccabi Ajax was always going to be somewhat out of the ordinary in a number of ways for a myriad of different reasons.

Firstly, while we were playing at home yet again, we were not playing at our usual Como Park West ground which is adjacent to the pavilion, but Como East, which while abutting Como West, is a much longer walk around to the pavilion. This necessitated setting up chairs etc on the mound on the other side of the oval. A completely unfamiliar experience unto itself, but more drama was to follow - which I will get to later.

Secondly we were playing Maccabi Ajax - a cricket club where the overwhelming majority of the players are of Jewish origin and practice the Judaic faith. This is fascinating to me as one of my great interests is Eastern European history being of Eastern European origins myself.

Maccabi Ajax started way back in 1929 as the Hakoah Cricket Club. In 1945, the club renamed itself the Ajax Cricket Club and played its home games next to the cemetary in Princess Park.1 This was logical from a demographic perspective as Carlton had a large vibrant Jewish community from the turn of the century until the mid 1960's whereby thereafter the community drifted south of the Yarra to more prosperous suburbs.2

Ajax Carnival team 1947.

Ajax competed in the Northern Suburbs Cricket Association. In the late 1950's, the club moved to Fawkner Park (following the trend of the bulk of the Carlton/Brunswick Jewish communities move south). It was in 1962 that Ajax made the move to their present home ground at Albert Park to start competing in turf competitions.3

In 1973 a sister club was formed in Doncaster with the name of Northern Maccabi Cricket Club to cater for the nascent Jewish communities growing in the Doncaster/Balwyn areas. By the mid to late1980’s the club fielded up to four senior teams and an Under 16’s team in the Eastern Suburbs cricket competition. By the mid 1990’s however, Northern Maccabi was facing the same decision as their sister club Ajax had faced thirty years earlier in that their Jewish demographic base had started to drift over to the Southern suburbs. It was in 1996 that the decision was made to merge with Ajax and form one club – Maccabi Ajax.4

So with a unique history whereby Maccabi Ajax draw their players from a particular community, they certainly stand out from the crowd. Having said that with the massive influx of immigrants from the sub continent, new Indian and Sri Lankan ethnic dominated teams are being formed and fielded in competitions across Melbourne – so the Maccabi Ajax experience is now being replicated.

Being the culturally sensitive soul that I am, I was aware in the days leading up to the game of the dietary issues faced by most of the Maccabi Ajax lads when afternoon tea was to be served. I searched around for some kosher goodies to ensure that the lads did not starve to death on account of our forgetfulness. I picked up a Glicks Challah and some cookies and that did the trick. The rest of our lads brought lots of sandwiches, but with all of them containing ham – there was never going to be any takers. My Glicks Challah however, completely disappeared as the hungry young lads from Maccabi dug in.

When I arrived at our ground earlier, there were concerned looks on the faces of our boys and on the umpires. While the covers had protected the pitch of our usual home ground at Como West, the Como East oval pitch was green and wet due to some leak in the covers. A delayed start to the game was the best we could hope for and the possibility of the game being washed out was very real as the pitch at one end was very wet and the run up dangerous.

I was happy enough to play no matter what the conditions. I just want to play all the time! How bad could a seaming green deck be? The umpires and captains agreed to monitor the pitch and the surrounds every half hour but the situation was not overly hopeful as there was dark cloud cover with no wind and sun to dry the pitch out. Eventually, around 2pm play was scheduled to get under way, but only from one end! I had never before played in a game where all the bowling would take place from end and all the batting from the other with the batsmen changing over after every over, but it was either that, or no play at all. So, we decided some cricket – even in such curtailed circumstances – was better than no cricket at all.

I was praying that we would win the toss so we could give our bowlers some favourable conditions to bowl on for a change, but as fate would have it, with a green deck looming, Strachany lost the toss and the Maccabi captain had no hesitation in putting us in to bat. “Just wonderful” I thought to myself as I padded up.

Our fifth different opening combination in as many games took strike. The veteran Brian “Happy” Hannon took strike with Sam “Fairfax” Mitchell-Head as his partner. Happy has batted for over one hundred overs combined in his three matches so far this year. We were going to need yet another stoic performance from him today to keep our innings together and “Fairfax” plays with a straight bat, so we were hopeful he could stick around as well.

As Happy faced up to the opening over, I could immediately see that this pitch was not going to do us any favours at all. The bounce from short of a length was nothing short of astonishing compared to the low decks we usually play on. By the second over of the day, disaster had already struck as the usually rock-like Happy had spooned a catch straight to square leg as he flicked one off his toes. Oh dear! I was walking out to bat half way through the second over with only four runs on the board. As I passed Happy he muttered, “don’t worry, the ball is coming through straight”. I have learnt long ago never to trust the judgment of the outgoing batsman as they are usually so angry to be out, they will never offer any really helpful advice with “the bowlers are shit” being the stock standard line.

The young bowler who had dismissed Happy went by the name of Ben Jones and he is a left armer bowling over the wicket, so I opened up my stance to be facing him almost front on to make sure I could see where he was going to be pitching the ball rather than standing too side on. It is a technique I learned more than thirty years ago watching Geoff Boycott bat when facing left armers like Geoff Dymock and it has instinctively stayed with me ever since when facing left arm bowlers.

The first delivery I let go as it fizzed past my off stump at a good height. I then blocked out the next two before pushing a ball to mid wicket for an easy single to get off the mark. That was the over and we changed ends as I now had to face up to Yossie Herbst a fast bowler with a Hassidic beard and a Yarmulke. The guy looked innocuous enough, but he then ran in and speared a delivery at my chest which I defended down the wicket with much “oohhhs” and “ahhhs” from the Maccabi fieldsmen. His next delivery was a bouncer that was heading for my face when I swiveled and hooked it down past square leg. It looked four all the way as I middled it well, but alas, the outfield was dead slow and I had to make do with two runs.

Two photos as part of a sequence of yours truly playing a hook shot for two off Herbst.

This battle went on for a number of overs as Herbst repeatedly dropped the ball short at me trying to intimidate me. Little did he know that fast bowling is not my weakness, let alone short pitched fast bowling. Some of Herbsts bouncers seemed to slow up and sit up after pitching thus seeing me get through my attempted hook shot too early a few times.

On one occasion I bottom edged an attempted hook down onto my pad. On another occasion, one of his bouncers fizzed just over my head as I ducked just in time. This test of courage went on a bit more when Herbst dropped short again, this time it was pitched on or just outside off stump and I shaped up to play a shoulder high cut so the ball would fly over the slips cordon, but the ball altered course dramatically after pitching and started to cut in sharply from outside off to now passing by my left shoulder. It was already too late to change my stroke to a hook shot, so I was left with two options; either jump out of the way and let him think I was a coward, or let the ball hit me.

I chose the latter and the ball cannoned into my back just at the very bottom of my left shoulder blade with a dull thud. The ball ricocheted away to square leg and I walked back past my stumps thinking “why the hell did I just do that?” as the searing pain started to kick in. As I showed no emotion – though everybody would have known it would have hurt like hell – I felt I had won the battle for now. I gave it a slight rub, but I quickly took guard for the next ball.

While the bumpers largely stopped, the ball was still seaming wickedly off the deck and all the bowlers bowled a sound line to exploit the conditions. I seriously could have been out at least half a dozen times in the opening half an hour. One pull shot that I again got through too quickly because of the ball holding up off the pitch, struck the back of my bat and ballooned high up in the air. My heart sank as I assumed it would go to hand, but somehow it managed to just drop behind the slips cordon and I survived.

Another time I was even luckier, a vicious out swinger by Herbst took the edge of my bat and flew waist height to first slip who was standing about sixteen or seventeen yards back. The slip fieldsman caught me, dropped me, juggled it back up, caught me again, dropped me, juggled the ball back up and then finally put me down. That was a truly lucky escape and I must say that Yossi Herbst deserved a wicket, but as often happens he missed out.

My batting partner through this ordeal – Sam “Fairfax” Mitchell-Head - was also having a tough time of it. He played and missed outside off stump, but was able to get bat onto ball with a straight bat everytime something was pitched on the stumps. Fairfax nearly contributed to his own downfall when he mistimed a pull shot to a full toss and spooned a simple catch to square leg – only for the fieldsman to fluff it. We met mid pitch at the end of the over and I told him he was lulling them into a false sense of security. The poor bugger smiled back at this dry gallows humour as we both knew that beyond hanging in there, not much else could be done.

Young Aaron Fetter was brought on in place of the hostile Herbst. Now sizing up this fourteen year old lad I was about to face, I thought to myself “surely this kid will bowl some loose stuff that I can whack away to get the scoring moving along?” How wrong could I be? His first over was as perfect as you could ask for. Every ball was pitched in the corridor of uncertainty and he allowed the pitch and the seam to do the rest. The Maccabi brains trust had noticed that I was batting a long way out of my crease to the fast men to nullify LBW’s and exaggerated seam movement, so their pint sized teenage wicket keeper – hence forth known as the “Venus Flytrap” for his ability to take the ball cleanly – stood right up to the stumps to force me back into my crease.

By the second over from Fetter, things only got worse. I managed to play out a maiden with the ball spitting off the pitch and hitting me on the ribs, another rapping me on the pads to stifled appeals and then a ripper of a ball that I shaped to get forward to, only for it to hit a divot or something and jump up towards my face. As I raised my bat instinctively, the ball hit the shoulder of the bat and ballooned to much excitement to where a silly mid off might be standing. However, much to my good fortune, nobody was placed that close and Fetter was forced to make a run for it from his follow through in an effort to complete the catch and the ball dropped only a couple of feet in front of him as he belatedly arrived.

The rest of the over continued in a similar vein and I was staggered that I had survived at all. The pitch was covered in divots made by the ball and my bat was starting to get covered in mud marks as the ball was gripping on the pitch and carrying the mud with it on it’s ascent off the pitch. In past games I never concerned myself with gardening the pitch or patting down uneven bits, but today was very different. I was feverishly trying to pat down as many divots as possible as each time the ball hit one of those freshly made divots, it would have the effect of a miniature slips cradle – some deliveries would skid through low, others would freakishly lift up off just short of a length and others would viciously seam at right angles in the most unpredictable manner.

Survival on this pitch was reduced to a game of chance. There was no skill session that could prepare me for playing on a sticky green wicket and in no way could I trust the pitch to play full blooded drives. The uncertainty was too great. So I figured that dropping the sheet anchor and just hanging around for at least another hour in the hope that the pitch might improve as the day wore on would be the only sensible thing I could do. I passed on this sentiment to Fairfax at the end of the over and he nodded his head in agreement while at the same time congratulating me on surviving the over from hell dished up by Fetter.

This is the moment where the ball has flown off the shoulder of my bat to silly mid off during "the over from hell". Note how green the pitch is in this shot.

The double bowling change brought on a young fair haired bespectacled lad by the name of Josh Jones. While capable of bowling some fine deliveries, he was not as accurate as Fetter and thus offered a little bit of respite, but not much. As happens when there is a bowling change, the batsmen often break their concentration as they mentally congratulate themselves for seeing off the better bowlers – and so it was to prove. Fairfax received a very hittable delivery which he mistimed straight to a fieldsman. After his hard work in surviving some pretty hostile and unpredictable bowling, it was a wasteful way for Sam to go. His hour long vigil at the crease yielded only four runs as if to highlight the difficulties in scoring on such a pitch.

Enter Jason “Torvill” Endean.

The man.
The myth.
The legend.

Torvill is an allrounder of immense skill who played in our Fifths all last year and his sterling performances with both bat and ball had this year earned him the Vice Captaincy of the Fourths who play on Saturdays. He had offered to help us out in this match to overcome our player shortage brought on by the Spring Racing carnival. Torvill is no “fill in” though. He was fresh from making an inspired ninety two the day before for the Fourths and boasted a season batting average of a mammoth 229.00! Clearly, the man was in the form of his life. However, this pitch was that bad, that even the mighty Jason Endean was battling for survival. He was positive and upbeat between overs – as you would expect from a guy with a 229.00 season average – but clearly the pitch was playing tricks that dissuaded even natural stroke makers like Torvill from displaying the full range of their skills.

Playing a shot to mid wicket.

I drew strength from Torvill’s confidence and started to play some more attacking strokes. I smacked a lovely cover drive that should have been four once it beat the infield, but that slow outfield kicked in again and I had to be content with a well run two. I then smashed an off drive in the air that easily cleared the mid off fieldsman, but yet again held up in the outfield, so we could run only another two. Drinks were going to be taken soon, so my plan was to make it to drinks, regroup with Torvill and then put on a sizeable partnership. My only concern was that despite having batted for about eighteen overs, I was still not “in” in cricketing terms. Normally, it takes me about four overs to get my “eye in”. For the uninitiated in cricket speak, that means that your judgment of what the ball is doing and your reactions to the pitch conditions, light and ball movement is set and you start feeling comfortable and are able to play your natural game. Today, there was no way known that I could say that even after batting for more than an hour that I had a handle on the conditions and had my “eye in”. I simply could not trust the pitch to play to any script. It seemed to have a mind of its own and rendered batsmanship to a game of stout defense and hope.

Playing a watchful defensive stroke.

With drinks now in sight and playing on my mind, Josh Jones served up a low rank full toss that was so wide that if I left it alone, it probably would have been called such. The thing is, on a pitch like this, balls that don’t pitch on the minefield are a gift almost too good to resist as scoring opportunities are so rare. As the ball floated down, I was torn in three minds…should I smash it, should I just push at it in the hope of getting a couple of runs if I beat the infield or should I take the more circumspect option and leave it alone altogether as drinks was almost here and there was not too much point in taking any unnecessary risks?

A wristy shot to square leg.

In retrospect, I should have left this horrible wide full toss altogether. Or if I was going to go for it, then smash the absolute daylights out of it. Instead, I dabbed at it and the ball hit the toe of my bat, yet still somehow flew all the way to mid off where the only person tall enough on the whole field to take the catch leapt in the air and caught it after a slight juggle. With a lesser bat, it would have just petered out in front of me, but this was one occasion where my super connecting bat did me no favours as the ball flew with laser precision to the fieldsman. If any of the other short lads from Maccabi was under it, it surely would have cleared their heads, but no, I had to pick out the tallest bloke on the field.

Stupid, stupid, STUPID!

A cut off the front foot.

I had suffered through some excellent bowling for more than an hour on a really spiteful pitch only to surrender my wicket to the worst ball I faced all day. It was a harsh lesson in concentration. I had concentrated so hard to that point to resist my natural instinct in going for big shots, yet I had thrown all my hard work away in an instant of madness.

Yet again this season, I had found a new way to bring myself undone. My innings finished on seventeen which consisted of seven singles and five twos. Of those five twos, on any normal day, at least four of them would have been fours as the outfield was dead and the ball was slowing up a lot when played along the ground.

I trudged off disconsolately knowing that I had badly let my teammates down by wasting my innings like that. Julian “Penny” Lane passed me on his way in and I told him to give them stick as I usually do. The score was now a precarious 3 for 36 and there was still much hard work to be done to climb out of this hole. The situation deteriorated even further when Jason Endean was out for seven soon after and we were teetering at 4 for 41 as Strachany entered the fray just before drinks.

“Penny” and Strachany then dug in to put on a gutsy partnership worth thirty three with Strachany scoring twenty of them with some aggressive stroke play as Penny played the straight man. Strachany was out in the same manner as the rest of us by spooning a catch when he was up and running and the score was now 5 for 74. Nashad “False” Alam then came and went quickly for one and in an awful decision, Rakish "The Rake" Kothapalli was controversially given out caught behind for three when he clearly hit the ground with his bat and not the ball.


We had now slumped to a rather precarious 7 for 79 with Conrad De Souza – surely the best number nine going around – coming in to join Julian “Penny” Lane who had had survived the collapse and even survived a dropped catch to still be there to give us some hope. The pitch was now starting to play a little better as it started to dry out and the conditions were improving. Penny and Connair saw us through to stumps with a sensible partnership worth forty five. It was not without its moments it must be said – in the final over of the day with fieldsmen crowding the bat – Conrad was dropped twice. Once at first slip and then later when he hit one firmly at silly mid on who put down the sharper chance.

We had averted disaster as the boys walked off the ground fading light with Connair on ten not out and Penny on forty three not out with our total score sitting on a far more respectable 7 for 124. Next week the boys have the opportunity to bat on and put on some more runs to put some pressure on the Maccabi batsmen. Penny particularly deserves to go on and get his half century as he batted sensibly and held our innings together when disaster was lurking around every corner. With the very capable Connair partnering him, a big partnership is not out of the question.

I am very hopeful that we can secure our first win of the season – but much hard work still needs to be done before we can even dream of that.

More next week!
Vic Nicholas
Melbourne



B Hannan c ? b B Jones 2
S Mitchell-Head c ? b J Jones 4
VJ Nicholas c ? b J Jones 17
J Endean c ? b J Jones 7
J Lane not out 43
*D Strachan c ? b E Herbst 20
N Alam c ? b E Herbst 1
R Kothapalli c ? b E Lipshatz 3
CA De Souza not out 10
CW McKenzie-Smith dnb
R Fisher dnb
Extras (0nb,7w,11b,2lb) 20

Total 7/124

Overs 55

____________________________________________________

1 Ray Montag “Ajax Cricket Club” - http://www.maccabiajaxcc.com/clubinfo/clubhistory.htm
2 Cf Carlton A History, Edited by Peter Yule. Melbourne University Press 2004.
3 Ray Montag “Ajax Cricket Club” - http://www.maccabiajaxcc.com/clubinfo/clubhistory.htm
4 Richard Lustig “Northern Maccabi Cricket Club” - http://www.maccabiajaxcc.com/clubinfo/clubhistory.htm

PARKVILLE II – THE SEQUEL

Parkville seamer Steven Healy sending one down to me as the wicket keeper and slips watch on. Brian "Happy" Hannon is backing up at the non strikers end.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.
~Proverb - attributed to T. H. Palmer 1840


Most people would argue that sequels are rarely as good as the original, and most of the time they would be correct – but today’s game could make an argument to the contrary plausible.

Due to a quirk in scheduling, we were slated to play last weekends opponent Parkville yet again. Not only that, we were playing them at our home ground – again.

Last week we meekly capitulated for seventy six and then watched Parkville pass our total with eight wickets in hand en-route to a respectable total off their forty five overs. Winning the toss and sending us in on a green top certainly aided their cause, however, our uncustomary ineptitude with the bat let us down badly.

Upon learning that we would be playing Parkville again, I could not help thinking all week about what we would do differently this time. I knew one thing for sure, I was going to be keeping an eye out for any over pitched Yorkers to avoid a repeat of last weeks freak dismissal.

Our selected team contained no less than five changes with Bobby Fisher, Sam Mitchell-Head, Conrad De Souza and Timmy Miller returning and Chris “CC” Connelly playing his first game of the year for the Fifths.

While we had lost some bowling fire power, we had gained some batting strength and regained the services of a specialist keeper in Timmy “Corky” Miller in place of the reluctantly deputizing Strachany.

Another subtle change that was going to effect me was Nat “Mr Natural” Williams intimating to me that he had a preference to opening rather than waiting around to come in at number three. I passed this info onto Strachany who admitted he was already thinking of making the change in any case. So Nat went up one in the order and I went down one. I really didn’t mind as I actually have a slight preference for number three, though to be truthful, I have come to realize that there is very little difference.

So my thinking all week was along the lines of, “if we can bat to our potential, we will be in with a big show”. I have no doubt that the other lads in the team were thinking along the same lines. While we were pole axed last week by very accurate bowling on a seam friendly pitch, Parkville themselves on an improving wicket only posted 145, though they lost only three wickets and batted in no great discomfort (other than when Harry Potter was whistling them around their ears).

This weekends match also had the special significance of being Amit Mehta’s last for the club before returning to India to work in the family business. Amit is a quiet, solid citizen and is well liked by all. I took a liking to the man from the first time I met him, so like everyone else, I was sad to see him go. Amit is always one of the first with a quiet positive word at training and after every game. I resolved that it would be a fitting send off if we could win this game for him, but fairy tales don’t always have ideal endings – so I was hopeful more than brimming with confidence.

There were so many feelings of déjà vu as I arrived at the ground and saw our lads warming up and the Parkville players also going through their pre-game routines. “Different result this week guys, different result” I thought to myself.

Strachany lost the toss yet again and we were sent in to bat…yet again! While I padded up I had a few quiet words with Amit and I am sure he was feeling emotional at the response from the lads. Today was day of payback for last weeks humiliation. At least that is what I was thinking.

Happy and Nat kicked off proceedings as I sat padded up waiting my turn. I had a morale boosting visit of a friend of mine who had specifically come along to see me play and I was keen to do well to make his long drive worth it.

The going was somewhat slow and when Nat was out bowled to Parkville seamer Healy for an uncharacteristically subdued ten in the sixteenth over, our score was only twenty six.

I charged onto the ground ready to enter the fray. I was feeling rather confident and ready to go. I met up with Happy as I arrived in the middle and he offered the following sage advice: “They are keeping low, so get on the front foot as much as possible. This bloke (Healy) swings the occasional one in too”. So keeping all that in mind, I faced up to my first delivery and as is my custom lately, the ball thudded off my pads for leg byes.

Waiting for the next delivery, bat in the air, eyes fixed on the bowler.

It was rather noticeable that the Parkville bowlers were considerably younger than ours lads. In fact, most of them looked like they had yet to start shaving. I faced up next over to the other Parkville change bowler and eventually I got a delivery angled into my problem area of my pads and lo and behold, I played a nice fore arm jab to the vacant mid on area for a single to get off the mark. It goes to show, all those leg bruising practice sessions with Happy and the bowling machine were starting to pay off.

My sole concern was when I set off for my first single, I immediately strained anew my right quadricep muscle. “Just great” I thought to myself – "this injury never seems to go away". The big positive (if there was one) is that Happy is a leisurely runner between wickets, thus it would be unlikely that I would be called through for any sharp singles.

The bowling was tight over the next couple of overs and I accumulated another two and a single all scored with the same on drive to the vacant mid on region that had hitherto been a no fly zone for me due to my technical weakness in that area. So, I was starting to feel good about the world and confident that these bowlers had no hidden tricks up their sleeve that would duly worry me.

Mid pitch discussion between overs with "Happy". I seem to be inspecting the toe of my bat, but I am actually quietly informing Happy that I have strained my quad muscle again.

What was this business of the pitch keeping low and this young chap Healy swinging the occasional one in that Happy was warning against? It was all under control as far as I could see. In fact, the only alarm had come when an errant throw from the Parkville square leg fielder smashed into my right shoulder blade as I was completing a run at the strikers end. It was a searing blow that caused me to drop my bat after making my ground. Sportingly the Parkville wicket keeper and the offending fielder came over to check if I was alright and to offer their contrition, but I could see the funny side to it all and waved them away with the words that I was OK.

The moment of impact. I am propping with pain as the ball has hit me on the shoulder blade from a wayward throw from the outfield.

Then much to my surprise, the umpires called “drinks” at the twenty over mark, not the usual twenty third over as is customary in forty five over games. This was to cost me at least another three overs of getting my eye in before playing some expansive strokes.

As I took a quick drink Strachany wondered over to Happy and I and told us (while all the while looking at me in the eye) to “push things along”. I was staggered as I was still relatively new to the crease. However, I was under no illusions he was talking to me and me only as Happy is not a big shot player and cannot change his game no matter what the circumstances.

I am not a big shot player either, preferring to stroke the ball around. The only “big” shots I possess in my armoury are the cut shot, the pull shot and the hook shot as I am essentially a back foot player. Big rain maker drives and hoicks to cow corner are simply not part of my game, but what could I do now? I mentioned my sore quad more in the hope that Strachany would understand that I was more intent on placing the ball around rather than outright brutalizing it...however, my protestations fell on deaf ears as Strachany’s next words were “it’s death or glory, go out swinging mate, it is only forty overs each today”. Later, after I was dismissed, I was to find out that it was in actual fact, a forty five over game as per normal though Strachany couldn't have known this at the time.

I was feeling rather like a sacrificial lamb at this stage and I couldn’t help thinking as I made my way back to the crease why I was being asked to throw my wicket away – because while the directive was seemingly to both batsman, there was no way that Happy would throw his wicket away for anyone no matter what the circumstances and the state of the game. Why me? I was starting to feel comfortable and I could feel a big innings coming, a good solid fifty or sixty on which to build my confidence for the rest of the season.

The first ball after drinks I duly pulled away for four runs as was my directive to play aggressively. While it was satisfying to smash a boundary from a not altogether bad ball, I was already thinking how long would I be able to keep this up before I would make a mistake? It was going to be a game of Russian Roulette, but with bat and ball instead of revolver. The next ball was not quite short enough and too close to my body to cut, but I tried to anyway and I only succeeded in bunting the ball straight down onto the pitch for no run.

The third ball was pitched invitingly about six inches outside the line of off stump at a nice length to aim a huge off drive. I had decided that as it was slightly wide of my stumps I could risk a big swipe at it as if I missed, it would likely pass harmlessly past my stumps. Moreover, as I bat a meter out of my crease, I was confident that even if by some miracle it jagged back in, it would surely bounce over my wicket. So, keeping all that in mind in the nanosecond I had to make up my mind that I was going for a big drive, I put one big stride down the wicket and swung my bat through in a huge arc. To my horror, the ball did swing in alarmingly and by playing through the line I missed and the ball somehow kept low enough that it clipped my off stump about a third of the way up.

For a bowler to pitch a delivery six or so inches outside off stump and then make it dart back in to clip off stump was world class unto itself. The fact that it also kept low so it would not harmlessly bounce over the top of the stumps was nothing short of astonishing. I congratulated the bowler after the game on his great delivery and he actually apologized with the words "it is the best ball I have ever bowled in my life". No need to apologize mate - I am still in awe.

When you consider that from the stumps to the popping crease it is nearly a meter and half. Factor in that I bat about a meter out of my crease and that the ball bounced a further meter and half in front of me when I lurched forward to drive. That would mean that the ball bounced at the very least three and half meters from the wickets and still did not bounce over the stumps as you would reasonably expect. The bowler certainly intended to bowl an inswinger, but there was no way known he could have anticipated that the ball would skid through so low and hit my off stump about half way up. Not even the top of the off stump mind you!

Simply unreal.

Playing a defensive push to cover.

Unlike other weeks, this time I was extremely angry with myself and my over optimistic shot selection. I was rendered hors de combat by a ball that was far too good to be disrespected by my overly ambitious attempt at crashing an off drive to a ball that seamed off the pitch almost sideways and kept low in the bargain.

In any normal course of events, I would have thrust my arched defensive bat with my front pad somewhere near. Even in the likely event that I played down the wrong line (it was an excellent ball after all), I most likely would have inside edged the delivery either into my pad where the ball would have probably bounced harmlessly away or if I played with the bat in front of the pad, the ball may have even squirted away to square leg and a possible single.

Either way, I would have lived to fight another day, but alas, it was not to be and I was out for a very brief innings of eight. I really did feel there were many more runs left in me this day.

In any case, after watching the bombastic stroke play of my successor, Chris “CC” Connelly, I quickly realized I was merely hors d’oeuvres to the main course served up by this leviathan’s Sunday afternoon matinee display of power hitting. Chris Connelly has been playing at South Yarra for some years, but has only in recent times started to show the latent talent that has remained hidden until now.

“CC” is about six foot three in height with huge shoulders. In height and build he reminds very much of a right handed Matthew Hayden and his short back and sides and protruding ears make CC look like a throw back to the ANZAC’s. I could easily picture him in a slouch hat and khaki in a sepia tinted photo.

Almost from the first ball he faced, CC was smacking the ball to all parts of the ground like a kid playing in his backyard. No bowler was safe from punishment as he thrust his front foot down the pitch and swung his bat like a wood choppers axe.

Chris Connelly bludgeoned his way to sixty seven in little more than about seventeen overs. There was no finessing and the innings was not chanceless by any means, but boy, did this man give the ball a serious whack. When CC hit the ball, it stayed hit and many of his best hits bounced over the boundary with ease. But for some inspired fielding by at least one of the Parkville boundary riders, CC would have scored many, many more runs. All these fireworks from a bloke who rarely even shows up to training!

Finally, Parkville introduced to the attack a young slightly built South African lad by the name of Daniel Bense as their fifth change bowler. They obviously either didn’t think much of the boys bowling, or they had not seen him bowl before, because Bense immediately sprang to notice by uprooting the obdurate Brian “Happy” Hannon’s middle stump. Happy had made a laborious thirty nine when he was finally dismissed in the thirty fifth over of the innings, but his stubborn vigil had ensured that our innings was to at least attain a level of respectability.

The hitherto unheralded Bense was bowling appreciably faster than his Parkville comrades and from a height of no more than five foot nine generated surprising speed and bounce which first unnerved, then decimated our middle order which folded before this unexpected onslaught. CC’s great knock ended when he was bowled by Bense, then hero of Round Two against Canterbury - Conrad de Souza fell LBW to Bense. The rest sadly were mown down with Sam “Fairfax” Mitchell-Head perhaps a trifle unlucky that a chest high full toss he bunted straight back to the bowler (Bense yet again) was not called a no ball and Timmy “Corky” Miller getting a thick edge on the ball en-route to his pad being given LBW (also Bense).

Only Strachany managed to avoid becoming a victim of Bense’s onslaught as he was run out for a “diamond” duck when he took on the Parkville fielders arm going for a sharp single. The Parkville man had one stump to aim at from about fifteen meters and he duly hit the target running the unfortunate Strachany out by about a meter.

Bense had finished with the remarkable figures of 7 for 17 off just short of eight overs. All that his teammates had known of him was that he was a hard hitting batsman who had scored seventy two the previous week in the fourths. It was sensational stuff, but the multi talented Bense was not finished yet on what was to prove to be an auspicious day for the youngster from Durban.

Parkville commenced their innings chasing a challenging 165 to win. A reasonable total, but probably forty or so short of what it looked like it would be when “CC” was in full flight and the score was 2 for 125. The loss of eight wickets for forty runs was a dramatic collapse that changed the momentum of the game.

Bobby Fisher and Conrad De Souza opened the bowling, but no break through came as the Parkville batsmen showed great resolve in chasing the target. The score had reached none for forty three with danger-man Andy McGregor on thirty eight doing all the scoring. I could sense that all our lads were thinking “how are we going to get a wicket here?”

In such situations, I always imagine myself taking a diving catch to lift my team mates. I want the ball to come to me every ball because I want that match defining moment to come my way. The reality is that the ball usually comes along the ground and I am required only to perform teh mundane task of saving some runs, but today, it was different.

McGregor who was looking set for a very big score was batting beautifully and had not given us a single chance when he flashed at one just wide of his off stump from the bowling of Conrad “Conair” De Souza. The ball was keeping low, so it was not really high enough to cut, so McGregor hit the ball from slightly lower than stump height getting a thickish edge which flew no more than a foot and half off the ground and dropping fast to me at gully.

I instinctively realized that the ball was about to bounce about six feet in front of me when I dived full stretch forward to get both my hands under the ball by now not much more than an inch or two above the turf. As the ball smacked into my hands, I suddenly realized that every other time in my life when I had attempted a diving catch, the ball always jolted from my hands as my elbows hit the ground, so somehow I lurched into a death roll to protect my elbows as much as possible from the full impact of landing on the ground.

As my roll ended with the ball still clasped firmly in one of my hands, I found myself looking up to the sky. I suddenly realized in a flash that perhaps the umpires might think that I had taken the catch on the bounce and thus was not celebrating because it was not out. So while still prostrate on my back I threw the ball triumphantly into the air and as I laid there watching the ball heading heaven wards, I could hear the whoops of joy from my team mates. All of the above happened inside two seconds. How my brain processed everything and in perfect synergy triggered all the correct movements and trajectory of my diving body while making mental adjustments in a flash is simply amazing. It is also living proof that I can write a lot about a little!

I got to my feet just in time to be mobbed from all directions by appreciative team mates and an overjoyed Conrad who blurted out in the magic of the moment “I could kiss you”. Not macho stuff…but under the circumstances, I completely understood, though I did shoot back “a hand shake will do Conair!” I also blurted out "my wifes going to kill me when she sees how dirty I am" as I inspected my now less than pristine whites to much accompanying laughter from the boys.

Looking around at the smiling faces of my team mates, I could see in their eyes the look of renewed hope. It was as the pundits claim “a shift in momentum”. I could feel the energy levels rise.

While I had imagined myself in the overs leading up to the key moment taking a diving catch, I had actually imagined taking a sideways diving catch. Not one where I had to dive forward to a ball that was travelling fast and not carrying. The degree of difficulty was harder than what I imagined myself doing, but if I tried to imagine myself taking such a catch as transpired, I would have doubted myself and my head would have been filled with negative thoughts of dropping a catch.

In truth, the catch itself was as a result of the long hours practicing catching at both Tuesday and Thursday training sessions (our first out doors for the year). At both sessions I participated in catching drill after catching drill until my hands were throbbing with pain and my right palm going purple from bruising. I also badly jarred two fingers, one of which I still cannot bend properly nearly a week on.

But, the practice helped. If the catch came a week earlier, I would not have caught it. I either would have let it bounce in front of me and taken it on the bounce and no one would have thought any less of me. Or if by some chance I did dive, it would have bounced out of my hands.

The value of hours of practice, in some cases painful and unpleasant, gave me one of my greatest feelings on a cricket field.

Back to the game, the in coming Parkville batsman was the redoubtable Craig Baulch who had held us up last week with a well made thirty. How Harry Potter didn’t kill him is a testament to Baulch’s ducking skills. He yet again batted well and this time he made forty five before he got too adventurous and he skied a delivery from Johnny Scurry to Chris Connelly at backward point.

In the interim however, the other junior opener was dismissed by being bowled by John Scurry in the middle of a purple patch before he was to be later man handled along with our other bowlers in the partnership of the match. With the dismissal of Baulch, Parkville were 3 for 107 and still requiring fifty nine runs in about sixteen overs. A challenging task if we could keep the pressure up.

Strachany then grabbed the wicket of Foletta leaving Parkville 4 for 112 and I am sure we all started thinking that the initiative had again tipped further in our favour. Parkville batsman Stu Mills was joined at the crease by bowling hero Danial Bense. Mills must be about six foot four tall and one hundred and twenty kilos. A veritable man mountain. He contrasted sharply with Bense who as stated earlier is about five foot nine and would have to run around the shower to get wet.

The two Parkville batsmen then set about dismantling our bowling in an assault that was as brutal as it was unexpected. Both batsmen seemed to have little trouble in not only finding the boundary, but in many cases clearing it by a long way. Mills made fifty four not out to see Parkville home, though he was dropped on at least one occasion. Bense the seven wicket hero was dismissed for a barn storming forty five which included four big sixes. One of which cleared both our boundary riders on the “fat”side of the ground (the pavilion end) when they were standing on the chalk. The ball cleared the boundary, the embankment and narrowly averted killing the scorers. The pint sized South African proved to be an inspired cricketer who is easily better than the level he was selected to play.

Parkville requiring nearly four runs an over after the loss of their fourth wicket with sixteen or so overs to play, passed our total with ten overs to spare and then continued onto the fortieth over where they finally declared with the fall of Benses wicket and the score resting on 5 for 210.

Even though we played much better than the week before, we were yet again hammered. The depth of Parkville was either astonishing or they simply have no idea what they have on their hands with some of the players playing their first or second game of the year against us.

Yet again I felt absolutely devastated to have lost. It is apparent that we are appreciably older on a per capita basis than most of our opponents, but the gulf in age between our bowlers and Parkvilles attack was stark.

At the end of the game back in the club house, Strachany kept an upbeat, positive perspective on the days events. Chris Connelly was easily man of the match for the Yarras and got to drink his hard earned free beer from the pewter goblet. The encouragement award which isn’t actually an award per se, just an honourable mention went surprisingly to me for my catch and all round effort in the field as well as my effort to keep the talk up.

I actually am not a talker on the field (though a prolific one off it), but constant encouragement is a necessity to keep spirits up on the field. Strachany is our resident cheer leader who keeps the onfield chatter going even when others tire and go quiet. I had noticed when Strachany is bowling and thus unable to be the cheer leader because of the concentration required to bowl, we go all quiet. So I stepped up to keep the chat going, particularly when Strachany was bowling.

It is one of the more unglamorous facets of the game – but everybody has to do it.

Irrespective, sitting back in the club room, I was shattered and wondering how we can get on the winners list. I also was annoyed that I had failed with the bat two weeks in a row. I need a big score and I need it soon. I am batting well, but so far the score book is not showing it. However, I know the big score will come, I just hope it comes soon.

See you all next week!

Vic Nicholas
Melbourne

N Williams b S Healy 10
B Hannanb D Bense 39
VJ Nicholas b S Healy 8
C Connellyb D Bense 67
CA De Souza lbw b D Bense 5
S Mitchell-Head c & b D Bense 3
A Mehta c DJ Marson b D Bense 0
*D Strachan run out(G Foletta)0
T Miller lbw b D Bense 1
J Scurry b D Bense 0
R Fisher not out 0
Extras (0nb,16w,8b,8lb) 32

Total 165
Overs 45