Southwick Six a Side Tournament
For the last 17 years early in June I have made my way to Northants. First as a young ringer for the Lord of the Manor as he pitted the wits of the Gentlemen 'gainst the brawn of the villagers, and more recently for the Beamers, gentlemen of wit and Braun hair curlers.
It's hard to sum up what happened this year. Even now as I attempt to find the words, I fail, emotion wracks my heaving chest.
I 'll have a go though.
Two teams, both alike, save that one was slightly better than the other. The apples and the bananas. There were, in the white corner representing the apples: Frank, Rob siddo, Mike (hart), Tom (frank's mate) Jonners and and Musso. In the other white corner were the Bananas: Smith, Davies, Tongue, Esson, Bailey and the Beast.
The six a side competition consists of two leagues, a round robin of the two produces two finalists who must play one another over the allotted 12 overs of a game. It's fast, furious, comical and hurts a lot.
The Apples, under Frank's wise tutelage, did well to win their first game. But in the stronger league they struggled agains the next two teams and although never embarrrassed were beaten twice. Musso deserves a mention for his tireless fielding.
The bananas were nothing short of rampant. In their first game they swallowed the awesome Aldous family whole, Pete taking a truly blinding C&B to send Beefy Simon whimpering back to the Pavilion.
In the second game they swept SHORTLEGS aside, posting 70 odd and then bowling them out within three overs. In the final game of the round robin they were up against the reigning Champions, Southwick Y. Bowling first we contained them to a manageable total of 69. THe bowling and fielding performance was inspiring.
Once again Pete Bailey deserves a special mention. Keeping wicket he takes a lifter full in the face, then, ten minutes later whilst bowling, he dislocates his finger. The assembled cricketers look a bit green, and some (including the skipper) are hopping from foot to foot making suitably empathetic grimaces, others are calling for the' first aider'. Meanwhile, Pete, the quiet tough guy of the Beamers, takes himself off and pops the finger back in. He then finishes his over. Scary, hard man, Pete. Don't mess.
It was at this point that I realised that this puppy was ready for a nailing, the turkey was self basting in preparation for a plucking. This was it.
The final, against CAMRA, was never going to be easy. Esson bowled another blinding over, his fouth of the day. Beasty followed, the change in pace foxing the CAMRA batsmen who incidentally had put on 101 against one side. Tongue got a lashing, Smith and Davies steadied the ship and Bailey did his bit. Richard Tongue taking a steepling catch to redeem himself.
68 to get for a win. Bailey no doubt wracked with pain got us off to a flyer before he lost his wicket. Davies picks up the mantle and justified his opening place. Smith floundered, the emotion too too much. Beast and Davies at the crease. 12 runs needed 6 balls left.
The crowd were on their feet. Who was to bowl? The pace man? NO it was the dobber! "Jesus" I cried "That's not on, we're done for". Beasty had other ideas. One to the boundary. 8 off 5. Miss, 8 of 4. 2, 6 off 3. Miss, 6 off 2. 4, 2 off 1 for a win. FOUR!!!!!!!!!!! C'mon.
An amazing team effort, truly inspired fielding, bowling and batting. We won, not through skill or luck, as there were doubtless better players there...but through commitment. Nothing got through us. No overthrouws were thrown, no backchat was heard. There was just the quiet determined vision of a team that knew they could win, and in doing so would make one man the proudest in all Northants.
I'm filling up.
It's hard to sum up what happened this year. Even now as I attempt to find the words, I fail, emotion wracks my heaving chest.
I 'll have a go though.
Two teams, both alike, save that one was slightly better than the other. The apples and the bananas. There were, in the white corner representing the apples: Frank, Rob siddo, Mike (hart), Tom (frank's mate) Jonners and and Musso. In the other white corner were the Bananas: Smith, Davies, Tongue, Esson, Bailey and the Beast.
The six a side competition consists of two leagues, a round robin of the two produces two finalists who must play one another over the allotted 12 overs of a game. It's fast, furious, comical and hurts a lot.
The Apples, under Frank's wise tutelage, did well to win their first game. But in the stronger league they struggled agains the next two teams and although never embarrrassed were beaten twice. Musso deserves a mention for his tireless fielding.
The bananas were nothing short of rampant. In their first game they swallowed the awesome Aldous family whole, Pete taking a truly blinding C&B to send Beefy Simon whimpering back to the Pavilion.
In the second game they swept SHORTLEGS aside, posting 70 odd and then bowling them out within three overs. In the final game of the round robin they were up against the reigning Champions, Southwick Y. Bowling first we contained them to a manageable total of 69. THe bowling and fielding performance was inspiring.
Once again Pete Bailey deserves a special mention. Keeping wicket he takes a lifter full in the face, then, ten minutes later whilst bowling, he dislocates his finger. The assembled cricketers look a bit green, and some (including the skipper) are hopping from foot to foot making suitably empathetic grimaces, others are calling for the' first aider'. Meanwhile, Pete, the quiet tough guy of the Beamers, takes himself off and pops the finger back in. He then finishes his over. Scary, hard man, Pete. Don't mess.
It was at this point that I realised that this puppy was ready for a nailing, the turkey was self basting in preparation for a plucking. This was it.
The final, against CAMRA, was never going to be easy. Esson bowled another blinding over, his fouth of the day. Beasty followed, the change in pace foxing the CAMRA batsmen who incidentally had put on 101 against one side. Tongue got a lashing, Smith and Davies steadied the ship and Bailey did his bit. Richard Tongue taking a steepling catch to redeem himself.
68 to get for a win. Bailey no doubt wracked with pain got us off to a flyer before he lost his wicket. Davies picks up the mantle and justified his opening place. Smith floundered, the emotion too too much. Beast and Davies at the crease. 12 runs needed 6 balls left.
The crowd were on their feet. Who was to bowl? The pace man? NO it was the dobber! "Jesus" I cried "That's not on, we're done for". Beasty had other ideas. One to the boundary. 8 off 5. Miss, 8 of 4. 2, 6 off 3. Miss, 6 off 2. 4, 2 off 1 for a win. FOUR!!!!!!!!!!! C'mon.
An amazing team effort, truly inspired fielding, bowling and batting. We won, not through skill or luck, as there were doubtless better players there...but through commitment. Nothing got through us. No overthrouws were thrown, no backchat was heard. There was just the quiet determined vision of a team that knew they could win, and in doing so would make one man the proudest in all Northants.
I'm filling up.
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