Cricket has graced Tilford Green from the beginning of time, well 1750 to be precise, shortly after Runky’s birthday. It is the quintessential example of a village green flanked the splendid Barley Mow tavern that packs in sunday onlookers bearing witness to proceedings on the field. Thirsty bathers climb up from the river Wey that gently rolls beneath a quaint medieval bridge. The slope across the pitch measures 30ft in total, adding a rustic charm to the setting.In short, this is the place that cricket was surely invented for.
The scene was set for a glorious day.
Such an occasion is always guaranteed to attract our supporters that included Spinach’s parents, Samurai and her family (Kamikazee’s intended) and Thumberlina (Merry’s Mrs). Special mention goes to Dupa who was the first to arrive to ensure no Pecker went without libations through the entirety of proceedings. Surely a shoe in to retain the Audrey Scovell award.
Savoy and Florentina hoping for another Pecker victory
A well balanced 11 eventually all arrived after a hold up on the A3 forcing stand in skipper Kwaaka to accept an enforced insertion. (Something that he would gladly repeat later in the day with pictorial evidence).
Kamikaze and Merry opened up on a deck that looked like it had spent most of June in Karachi. We made a steady start against a Tilford new ball attack that was posing some questions until a self induced runout by Kamikazee (aptly named under the circumstances) resulted in a slow motion run out with the batsman simply not bothering to try to make his ground. When the opposition asked “Why did he do that?” this correspondent was obliged to illicit the answer during the tea break- “If it’s a direct hit, fair play to them”.
The opening bowler Price who had induced the run out with a marvellous direct hit from side on the had further success clean bowling Merry, who was followed shortly after by Princess. At 49-3 in the 9th over we had some work to do.
In our ranks we now have the making of a reliable middle order, something that the Woodpeckers have been yearning for, in the likes of Mama (24), Bison (27), Cat (24) and top scorer skipper Kwaaka (32, taking on the mantle of POBsy who usually has to adopt a rearguard rescue act). Everyone got in but the introduction of pace off and two youthful leg spinners with no signs of arthritis to dim their tweaks everyone also had a ball with their name on it on a pitch that was becoming more spin friendly with every descending ray of the sun.
Spinach carefully tries to spot the most expensive classic car to target
Potty joined the fray and looked suspiciously classy, hitting the ball off to all parts, until his fate was sealed by the arrival of Snax at 10, who walked down the wicket and told him “i’ll just give you the strike”. This must have fallen on deaf ears, because he was duly obliging after driving his first delivery to mid off and called violently for a single. Potty wasn’t having any of it, standing his ground like a condemned man before entering the electric chair room, and it was only when Snax had run passed him that he realised the gravity of his predicament. He had forgotten the golden rule that when summoned, run out arguments should only commence after the event, not during it. Snax was unrepentant , having recently been commended on his running by skipper POBsy, and he almost gave the same treatment to HMS Cheffrey. We ended on 203 after 35. Tilford had shared the wickets evenly and had kept things tight on perhaps a 220 par pitch.
We stride across the green to the Barley Mow to a delightfully appointed tea tent, resplendent with tiger rolls, cakes and hot pies, accompanied by the ubiquitous Dupa jugs. The game was in the balance and it would require a spirited team effort to come home with the spoils.
Kwaaka threw the new ball to Spinach and Snax who kept the gifted openers in check without unduly troubling them, partly because the projectile was already qualifying for an exhibit at the Antiques roadshow after one over of use on an unforgiving surface. Spinach finally drew first blood with a classic pinned lbw leaving the home side handily placed at 51-1 after 10 overs.
It is at this stage of proceedings that we play our joker, Mr Epstein, who had been licking his lips (his own for a change) at the rough outside off all day long. Young’s Mcdonald was playing well however (51) and was joined by Windsor and they added 40 runs until second change Kamikazee bowled a beautiful full one to castle the half-centurion.
Kamikazee in full flow
Kwaaka, who managed proceedings beautifully during the day, swapped gloves with Mama, after spilling one off Chef with Mama then missing a stumping off our hapless Aussie talisman. But we kept the scoreboard pressure on over the next 10 overs, with pressure building on Tilford at 111-3 in the 22nd over. Chef finally got some reward for his accurate line with an lbw so plum it belonged on a peking duck. Enter Bison who came on and put in a bowling spell that was frankly faultless in line and length, producing remarkable figures of 3 for 3 off 4. He bowled full and straight when Tilford had the begging howl out for the buffett.(Sadly Potty was withheld until the 35th over.) Chef benefitted from a fine catch from Bison at mid on finishing on 2-13. Kami deserved his 3-37 after inducing an edge that could be heard in The Alma during a 5 nations game and everyone including the umpire waited in vain for him to walk. Well he didn’t, so a fingering was necessary.
Kwaak’s second forced insertion of the day
At 152-9 in the 34th over, we could afford to turn to Potty’s Bertie Bassett all sorts, and his third delivery, a stock rank long hop, did the trick to provide the coup de grace. We were victorious after fighting a war of attrition with every bowler doing his job for King and Country.
The glorious setting outside the Barley Mow in the late evening light provided a perfect backdrop to exchange pleasantries with a charming opposition in a heavenly spot. It was a far cry form the proceedings at Trent Bridge which we were blissfully unaware of where Bazball was being buried causing violent discussions on the Pecker Whatsapp.
In contrast, those of us present at Tilford will remember this day for its joyful innocence. We all came here on a summers day to a village green in the garden of England to play god’s own game with our friends. It doesn’t get better than this.
