#well. i was one of the poor unlucky bastards stuck cleaning on slow days.

[ilguna]

managers really think they know it all, huh?

[justnotcricket]

Match Report: 21/1/17

WASTCA One-Day Div 2

Fremantle Mosman Park [6/257] def Bassendean Gold [10/174]

It was like an episode of Perfect Match from the heady days of 1980′s, the panel slid back and we finally got a chance to meet Bassendean Gold.

Having asked the question, ‘On a scale of 1-10 how reliable are you to pull together 11 men and actually show up?’.

‘50/50’, they said.

With both of us one forfeit away from being out of the competition, Dexter would rate us as 110% compatible. [The robot, not the serial killers’ serial killer…] A common mentality among the working classes is that more is more, and their answer to having a healthy squad of below average cricketers was to submit two teams, and then spend the rest of the season struggling to fill one of them. Bassendean Gold stick to the bottom of the ladder like your annoying but oddly charismatic friend with no money, but always keen to hang out, tell tall stories and drink your beer.

You know the type. You want to tell them to fuck off but they are quite nice guys, so you grow to love them.

If we lost this one, it would be a travesty. Worse. We almost did.

Our selection had less of a focus on form or qualifying players, and more on including old boys from the club’s prehistory, who were already going to be in town for ‘La Nocha del Pirata’.

Pirate Night is a Day of the Dead type ritual that involves buying a lottery ticket, dressing up as a pirate, and then drinking as much free piss as possible in the two hours. It ends only after kicking on to Mojo’s and then more rum, sodomy and the lash back at Ray’s place… this is purely speculation on my part, but the image sets the tone, so rack it up to poetic license.

Knowing how these guys drink, I’m not sure that it works as a fundraiser. Maybe the loss serves as a tax write off, or conveniently shifts the out of date stock from the bar.

Daff would be back, and also another blaster from the past, Dave Barratt.

I’d seem him at training and he looked solid. Balding, but with arresting eyes nestled above his ample beard, and a nose with more personality than the plain looking girl from a Christian youth group.

Interesting character! He reminds me of someone, like a post apocalyptic spirit guide from the Mad Max franchise, or a wily villain in Sons of Anarchy.

Which I have only heard of because I let my Dad use my Netflix account, skewing my preference algorithms to dumb action films and soft porn.

Pre game. I confused the Left Bank with the Tradewinds and went to the wrong pub. What can I say?  I don’t know my shit western suburbs pubs from my shit western suburbs pubs. Unfortunately, I was the kind of wanker who only ever only ever hung out in cool places… how times have changed!

But I’m sure it was amazing. I bet Phoenix really tore the place up. Instead, I was sweeping the pitch and installing the stumps.

I’m assuming Ray won the toss and we batted.  At the start of play they only had 7. ‘Poor bastards’, I thought, knowing exactly how it must feel.

Both Murph and I were padded up and watched in envy as Dave and Steve pushed it through the gaping holes in the field.

What we wouldn’t give to be in there now. I almost felt remorse. Almost…

Over the course of the first 10 overs, Ray became increasingly apprehensive about Steve’s run rate. What if he didn’t actually get out? What if we finished our 40 overs, none for 35? We could actually lose this…

Eventually he was bowled for 14.  His highest score for the Pirates, and a relief all round.

I went in kicked it up a bit, while trying not to get myself out. There were runs to be had today, and you take them when you can get them… if only you can keep your head down and play sensibly.

We put on 49 in 7 overs until Lewis came on, my eyes lit up, and I pulled the first ball I faced from him to square leg, where it was miraculously caught, in the one of the best catches I have ever seen in a game of cricket anywhere, ever.

He’s a nice guy, but a few biscuits short of a family assortment.  Built like a brick shit house but his sledges would come out in a thin little high-pitched voice that had the strangely opposite effect of imbuing you with more confidence.

He got a hand to it as it flew over his head popping it up into the air, then over balanced, fell to the ground and with one hand out stretched, the ball landed clean in his sweaty mitt… and stuck.

Sir, I tip my hat to you… and I told him so after the match.

Dave was now on 40 and he and Murph would add 93 before the latter was trapped LBW for 36, painfully close to a 50 and 100 run partnerships for the loss of two wickets respectively.

No glassware for you!

Batsmen were now impatient to get out there, salivating at he prospect of easy runs. Darrell was pacing like a bear in a hot concrete box at the Perth Zoo.

What a difference a week makes!

Shrugger was caught behind and walked like a gentleman, I’m talking blue label Johnny Walker-esque sportsmanship.

On a triumphant return to the club, Dave finished with an elegantly made 87.  A tragedy to not make a ton being caught only 13 from it.  More than just unlucky, the superstition continues for a very good reason, not because of alternate facts, but EMPIRICAL EVIDENCE.

Shorty was stumped, but the big men of Southam and Garrett carried the bat and put on 47 to finish with 257. Ray hit a number of big 6’s to race to 34 in what felt like only a couple of over’s, and Daff made 21 not out.

Our highest total for the season, and presumably ungettable.

I think they even ran a 2... A-mazing.

Darrell was fuming not to get a bat and Ray assured him that opening with the ball, he was bound to get a 5 for today… such was the over confidence.

After Tea, predictable for it’s deliciousness, he opened the bowling with a maiden from the pavilion end, but then went for 12 each off his next two overs. This was unheard of. Usually tighter than proverbial’s proverbial, he pulled it back the next over, but then went for 21 runs off his 5th. Exercising a duty of care, Ray had to drag him for his own good, unless he hyperventilated or exploded with rage, or something. This was potentially his first ever wicketless spell for the season; we are going to have to let him open next week, or never hear the end of it. He slipped from poll position on our champion player table to behind me by 4 points.

Man, that has to hurt...

It is uncouth to speak of intra-club rivalries, and no one enjoys seeing a teammate getting absolutely thumped. Unless of course it is Glen Speering, and only when you can still win comfortably… which is the main thing!

Young Phoenix rose from the ashes of Darrell’s fire and struck from his first ball, Santorini caught by Ray. He bowled well despite the odd wide, and eventually bowled the other opener Cottrell.

Mind you, they had put on an 80 run partnership in 10 overs in the meantime, and were starting to look dangerous, as though they might not only make the runs easily, but in a short amount of time. Like cornered tigers!

Their number 3 was a specialist T20 player from the subcontinent, Chhertri Dhiral, and he blazed, crunching his 50 with barely a single.

We should have had him but I dropped him early, which would have made for a considerably shorter game, the rest of the team made only 63 runs between them.

It also didn’t help that we dropped him another two times, once by Black Eyed Steve, and then Daff did the honour. Both made up for it by buying beers, but it may have serious repercussions for selection next week.

And who would buy the beer?

Corms got more fired up at the dropped catches than I have ever seen him, and sent off batsmen with fiery barrages of expletive, before gently apologising for being unnecessarily ill mannered. It’s always the quite ones…

Dhiral went on to make 111 and the only thing that slowed him down was the slower bowling of Ray and Murph.

It’s interesting, and seemingly counter intuitive, how these changes to the dynamic of the game have flowed in from the introduction of short format cricket.

Murph's donkey drops brought catches, and Rays tempting morsels drew them out, with Shrugger doing the stumping.

We ran through the rest if them with regularity, mostly off the bowling of Shorty who finished with figures of 4 for 29 from 5 overs.

Robbed to not be left on to take his 5 for, but as fatigue set in, he started spraying them everywhere and Ray took pity on the wicket keeper.

I took the last tail-ender LBW and they were rolled for 174, the Pirates up by 83 runs.

It was a good win, we had the runs to play with, but it could easily have gone either way.

Great to have Dave in the team, and next week we look forward to having a full complement to face the unbeaten Applecross, and continue this roller-coaster ride of emotions.