For anyone who loves to watch the Masters golf tournament in April each year, there is comfort in the familiar scenes of the same course each year; the blend of hot pink Rhododendrons, warm sunshine and ancient trees provide the perfect backdrop for an elite sporting event. Barnes Common has, in many ways, become The Peckers’ "Augusta". There is the same expectation that every year, you know what you will get: fierce competition, moments of brilliance, a Pobsy speech or two, 3 casks of ale, and at least one person losing their shit in the middle.

This was the 1st Woodpeckers match in October; a risky strategy. Still, the cricket Gods and a highly unpredictable global weather pattern had blessed us with 23 degrees in October.

We assembled at Barnes Common via a network of Lime bikes and Ubers, thanks to ongoing rail worker strike action. The format of the day was still in discussion despite a 45-minute Zoom meeting held the previous day with team captains, which established we should sort it out on the day. We settled on a format of 2 innings of 100 ball format. Pobsy displayed two hot pink Kookaburras to be used for the day and instructed us all to assemble in our teams to decide the toss via boat race. Now, for the second year on the trot, this process to determine the team batting first, a boat race, would have consequences, with a few members "taxing out to the runway a little early".

It’s a fitting way to start, and a great way to re-introduce the Peckers

Team 1, The Greasy Pirates/Chefs, led by Chef and Greasy, lined up face to face with Team 2, The Mangy Rodents, led by Cat and Kwakka. Pobs provided a reintroduction to every player present, origins of nickname, etc, executed in 6 minutes? This was unexpectedly quick. Chef led out strong against a rather pathetic Kwakka, and it looked like a sure win for the greasy Chefs until Twinkle completely turned the race around in the middle order and enabled Horse (attending exclusively for the boat race) to deliver the winning finish.

So it was the Mangy Rodents to bat first, Opening with a CATOTTO ( Cat and Otto) partnership. The traditional rule of "try and hit your 1st ball for 6" was adopted in various ways. Still, Cat set a tempo for the day with an impressive legside smash/flick/thunder bastard into the Barnes Common deep undergrowth, a familiar environment for many peckers. At the other end, Otto started with promise but was felled by a Cyoungy Yorker, and the greasy chefs had their 1st wicket. Cat continued to take the game by the scruff of the neck, exhibiting the reverse sweep on several occasions with success now joined at the crease by the debutant - Ferndog ( Friend of Degsy, our newest pecker, what an addition).

Cat celebrates his fine knock whilst Novichok really want to show his appreciation

The traditionally slow to stationary Barnes pitch was living up to its billing in October, and the greasy chefs adopted slow bowling to extract just the right level of frustration from the mangy rodents. This resulted in some quick wickets of Ferndog and Twinkle falling to Millhouse, and Kamikaze stumped and caught both for 6, bringing gun batter and Number 1 draft pick Trash to the crease. Ready to kick to the next gear, the Mangy Rodents were hemmed back again by the guile of Chef, having Cat stumped for a glorious 30. The middle order of Trash and Kwakka could not get going, and both fell to the deceiving medium cutters of Butternut for 9 runs each; the mangy rodents were on the ropes. The rear-guard action came in the form of a Groundskeeper Willy/ Smeagol and Cannon adding some respectability to the lower order, Smeagol in particular finessing 27 runs. However, the rate of wickets lost was driving a concern if the rodents would see out all 100 balls. Cannon and Smeagol were back in the shed; Novichok and Degsy saw the rodents home to a respectable 137.

Before we could get to the main event - Greasy's Paella, the Greasy chefs had to bat their 1st innings.

Opening up with Kamikaze and Butternut against an Otto and Cannon attack, the 1st few wickets to fall would be evidence of a level of cricket which shows up occasionally at the Peckers-Peckers. Firstly to run out Kamikaze with a one-handed pickup and throw down of the stumps from Dobbie, sublime by any standards. 2 overs later, Butternut edged a ball from Otto, snaffled, one-handed by a diving Ferndog, quite magnificent.

These 2 early wickets were followed by another 2 of Potter and Millhouse, another scalp for Otto and a wicket for Novichok. This gave the Mangy rodents a false sense of confidence, 4 wickets down and seemingly into the middle order.

Greasy batting one-handed owed to a slicing incident found a technique to club 36 runs before retiring

This combined with the fantastic Paella that followed, the net contribution from this woodpecker was outstanding. Cyoungy followed Greasy, piling on the runs, straight and correct, before falling to the groundskeeper for 32. This brought Moley to the wicket, whose form has rarely wobbled in 2023, and the same was true this time, eventually retiring for a solid 44. The momentum was now squarely with the greasy Chefs who amassed 161, with Tiddles, Westy and Chef adding runs at the tail.

Half-time, Greasy Chefs with a 24-run lead. There are many things that see the Peckers stand out one of the greatest cricket clubs the game has to offer but perhaps the most notable is our total commitment to doing things properly. We commit to the club’s culture of nicknames, familiarity, a middle to lower order batting collapse, consumption and every now and then periods of ‘proper cricket’. The Peckers Peckers was no exception, and this was highlighted with our match tea. Many clubs might have adopted a BYOB or served up mediocre sandwiches with a couple of tepid tinnies. We on the other hand, led by the Greasy Publican, erected a vast gas powered paella dish and three cases of delectable Flower Pots ale. As the first game ended, we encircled the dish, with many a Pecker keen to settle his munchies. Silence ensued as we feasted away in what was to be one of the last ‘summer’ days of the year.

The Absolute Legend Greasy working his magic on a Prawn, Chorizo and Chicken Paella that was delicious

As per tradition, the batting orders from the previous games were reversed as Dobbie and Novichok took the crease to represent the Mangy Rodents. Novichok was keen to score some runs for fear of finishing his season with an average of 0. Thankfully he did and the pair got their team off to a good start before Westy bowled Doby and sent him back to the Paella

GK Smeagol was soon to follow after a wild swing and a miss saw him stumped from Kamikaze’s bowling and things started to look desperate for the Mangy Rodents until co-skipper Kwakka came and showed his worth knocking a quick and much needed 26 onto the total. Trash hit a big six and four before he too was dismissed by Chefrey’s deceptive bowling. Thankfully the Mangy Rodents still had some class to rely on. Novichok was still at the crease and slapped 26 on to the score along with a much needed 18 from Twinkle and 17* from Ferndog. It is at this point my memory becomes rather inexplicably foggy and the motor skills of the scorer must have also became rather impaired with two overs and a couple of other batting and bowling stats missing from the book. Alas there is no matter for that, as although I am struggling to remember specifics, I do fondly recall the laughter, merriment and debauchery that echoed around the ground. The Mangy Rodents supposedly finished on 117.

It was now the turn of the Greasy Pirates/Chefs. Westy opened and gave the team the strong start they so hoped for. He heaved the ball around for a string of 4s and 6s before retiring on 36

Tiddles in particular admiration for Westy’s Beefy 36

Chef and Tiddles were less impressive both being caught for relatively few runs. The usually reliable Mole was hitting well until being spectacularly run out by TOB. Greasy’s one handed guard didn’t serve him as well as it did in the first game but luckily Cyoungy took to the crease and held things together, playing some ‘proper cricket’, albeit a tad slow for the 100 ball format and then in came Milhouse….

For those of you not accustomed to the Peckers Peckers I must inform you that without fail a customary meltdown occurs at some point in the game. In the past bats have flown, hard words have been spoken and grudges have been held due to decisions that arise at the yearly gathering on Barnes Common. This year, the new whipper snapper Millhouse was the one to take Umberidge with the umpire’s decision. He went after a bunger and was caught, triggered and told walk…except he didn’t. Tiddle’s finger stayed up but Millhouse stayed where he was. He tried insisting it was a free hit, his furrowed brow deepening as Trash’s cackle reverberated around the boundary. Tiddles held his ground and eventually Millhouse made the long journey back to the bags pausing once or twice to stare at the hysterical Mangy Rodents. If you succumb to meltdown, don’t expect sympathy! Potter finished off the game and scored the run needed to bring The Greasy/Pirate Chefs their victory. The revelries of the day continued long into the night as a descent of Woodpeckers made their way to the Coach and Horses

At midnight it was Deggsy’s birthday so we celebrated with a cake, a song and some shots

Not a shred of evidence was to be found of our excursion at Barnes Common, not even so much as a beer cap and in the words of Otto ‘‘whilst leaving no traces should be expected, after such chaos it’s not often quite so complete and careful’’. As I sit now and contemplate the day, I think of two things: the first is the wonderful family and belonging one has in the Woodpeckers. The greetings, care, and interest we have in each other are truly unique to this club. Upon arriving at Barnes Common I felt a sense of warmth fill me in the knowledge that for one more afternoon of the year I’d be able to forget about the monotony of the usual day and relish in the ‘good times’ with my cricketing chums. The other is the assurance and knowledge that we are a club that is here to stay. A club that seemingly goes from strength to strength. A club where we don’t take ourselves seriously and instead laugh together at the absurdities of life. A club, one hopes, that is for life. The echoes of ‘winter well’ were heard in the pub as one by one we said our goodbyes and looked forward to the seasons ahead. As ever there is one man we must thank more than any else for this. Patrick, the club would be nothing like it is without you. We are enormously grateful for all you do and couldn’t hope for a better man at the helm. Thank you!