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Scoreboard Confessional: A Dutch Special featuring Tarick Weber
- Thread starter Neil Pickup
- Start date
Neil Pickup
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Friday, April 29th
Loperamide Hydrochloride. Most effective relief should you be suffering from – how should I phrase this – irregular personal hygiene patterns. I've hardly been bothered by my intestinal functions for the last 54 hours... Anyhow, enough of the workings of my digestive tract and back to our summer game.
Tuesday evening's downpour accounted for both the net session that night and the following day's visit to Millfield, where my Loperamide-fuelled body was slated for umpiring duties. With a Thursday free from cricketing distractions, today brought the first bat-on-ball action of the new term as I enjoyed an AB de Villiers masterclass at the ARG before training with the Under 10s, 11s, 12s and 13s – who did their level best to out-misfield the Windies as the kids combined to hit a single stump from twenty yards four times in half an hour (three of the times from 9-year-olds) whilst also contriving to miss underarms from distances varying between four yards and six inches. At least their catching was decent, and I discovered that I'm not capable of speaking and catching at the same time.
Before the mists closed in for the night, nonetheless, we managed forty minutes of nets which demonstrated almost nothing, apart from the fact that Luke can now bowl massive inswingers, and that I really need to find a way to deal with the curious phenomenon whereby once a child picks up a cricket bat, his brain switches off. Further to the end of last Friday's entry, I think I've picked the wrong God – Wednesday's Under 14 opener clashes with several school games and an Under 12 cup clash. One of them's going to fall by the wayside alongside Sunday's U11 game (not enough players) and Monday's U12 game (Honiton can't field a team). The joys of the May Bank Holiday.
Ah well, University nets at Topsham tomorrow morning. Might even have to have a bat, and test my new V500 out...
Loperamide Hydrochloride. Most effective relief should you be suffering from – how should I phrase this – irregular personal hygiene patterns. I've hardly been bothered by my intestinal functions for the last 54 hours... Anyhow, enough of the workings of my digestive tract and back to our summer game.
Tuesday evening's downpour accounted for both the net session that night and the following day's visit to Millfield, where my Loperamide-fuelled body was slated for umpiring duties. With a Thursday free from cricketing distractions, today brought the first bat-on-ball action of the new term as I enjoyed an AB de Villiers masterclass at the ARG before training with the Under 10s, 11s, 12s and 13s – who did their level best to out-misfield the Windies as the kids combined to hit a single stump from twenty yards four times in half an hour (three of the times from 9-year-olds) whilst also contriving to miss underarms from distances varying between four yards and six inches. At least their catching was decent, and I discovered that I'm not capable of speaking and catching at the same time.
Before the mists closed in for the night, nonetheless, we managed forty minutes of nets which demonstrated almost nothing, apart from the fact that Luke can now bowl massive inswingers, and that I really need to find a way to deal with the curious phenomenon whereby once a child picks up a cricket bat, his brain switches off. Further to the end of last Friday's entry, I think I've picked the wrong God – Wednesday's Under 14 opener clashes with several school games and an Under 12 cup clash. One of them's going to fall by the wayside alongside Sunday's U11 game (not enough players) and Monday's U12 game (Honiton can't field a team). The joys of the May Bank Holiday.
Ah well, University nets at Topsham tomorrow morning. Might even have to have a bat, and test my new V500 out...
Neil Pickup
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Sunday, May 1st
April is behind us, and finally the skies are beginning to show signs of more clemency than was offered in the last handful of days – we've actually managed some genuine outdoor action, with varying results. The bizarre nature of Exeter's public transport system meant that it was both cheaper and quicker to take a train rather than a bus to travel the five miles from my house down to the nearby small town of Topsham, where Exeter University's cricket facilities are located, for a Development Squad net session. Frustratingly, I was called by the team captain on the walk from Topsham station to the ground – with the offer of a lift...
Topsham originally developed as the port for Exeter, as Exeter's Quays were originally inaccessible because of the nature of the tidal range of the Exe estuary. After canalisation, Exeter is now accessible from the Atlantic ocean, and Topsham's dock function is today almost exclusively leisure-related. Exeter University's new ground lies at the eastern end of the town, nestling snugly underneath the six lanes of the Birmingham-bound motorway, the M5. This unusual setting provides an incessant background rumbling from the passing cars, caravans and HGVs, and whilst arguably a distraction, it can also provide welcome respite for spectators during particularly torpid matches, with the pursuit of “guess the next supermarket lorry” often a highlight.
Supermarket lorries or not, nonetheless it was the site of my first physical exertions of the week. Whilst I maintain that the vast majority of nets in this country are not built to a height designed to encourage flighted leg-spin, on the occasions that ball didn't rebound off the bar at the front of the net roof, I found a reasonable length, turn and bounce as well as provoking multiple kamikaze charges only for the batsmen to be deceived in the air (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) leading to playing-and-missing. As for the long-awaited bat? I've still got as much flair as I've ever had, if not more. Having unfurled an array of balletic scamperings cross-crease that lead, almost without exception, to edges of varying degrees of thickness through the third man region, I was bowled twice by that most devilish of deliveries – the “pitched up and straight one”.
There was better fortune, however, as I signed off by middling the vice-captain with and almighty smear over where midwicket would have been. I swear that it would have been six on any ground in the world. Okay, any ground in Devon. Fielding followed, and whilst we confirmed that there's nothing wrong with my underarms, nor my catching, my overarms are still on the weak side of woeful. That resulted in plenty of punishment press-ups – which I found myself actually able to do without issue for the first time in my life. Not sure when my body underwent the requisite physical transformation to be able to do that, but I'm not complaining...
Today was a little less strenuous on my part, as a return to Topsham saw me spend six hours sitting in a scorebox watching the University 2nd XI destroy their counterparts from Cardiff. In terms of statistical intrigue, Cardiff's number four batsman – playing his first game for the team – amassed five runs from 42 balls as the Welsh team failed miserably to keep to the asking rate of 5.1 per over, Exeter's 254 for 8 proving comprehensively more than enough – Cardiff capitulated for 88 in the 38th over of fifty. With Bath II already thrashed, Gloucestershire II losing to Cardiff, only Bournemouth seem an obstacle for the seconds' progress.
Back at the Pickup residence, it's time for a long, long lie-in tomorrow morning – May Bank Holiday means no 9am French class. Beautiful.
April is behind us, and finally the skies are beginning to show signs of more clemency than was offered in the last handful of days – we've actually managed some genuine outdoor action, with varying results. The bizarre nature of Exeter's public transport system meant that it was both cheaper and quicker to take a train rather than a bus to travel the five miles from my house down to the nearby small town of Topsham, where Exeter University's cricket facilities are located, for a Development Squad net session. Frustratingly, I was called by the team captain on the walk from Topsham station to the ground – with the offer of a lift...
Topsham originally developed as the port for Exeter, as Exeter's Quays were originally inaccessible because of the nature of the tidal range of the Exe estuary. After canalisation, Exeter is now accessible from the Atlantic ocean, and Topsham's dock function is today almost exclusively leisure-related. Exeter University's new ground lies at the eastern end of the town, nestling snugly underneath the six lanes of the Birmingham-bound motorway, the M5. This unusual setting provides an incessant background rumbling from the passing cars, caravans and HGVs, and whilst arguably a distraction, it can also provide welcome respite for spectators during particularly torpid matches, with the pursuit of “guess the next supermarket lorry” often a highlight.
Supermarket lorries or not, nonetheless it was the site of my first physical exertions of the week. Whilst I maintain that the vast majority of nets in this country are not built to a height designed to encourage flighted leg-spin, on the occasions that ball didn't rebound off the bar at the front of the net roof, I found a reasonable length, turn and bounce as well as provoking multiple kamikaze charges only for the batsmen to be deceived in the air (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) leading to playing-and-missing. As for the long-awaited bat? I've still got as much flair as I've ever had, if not more. Having unfurled an array of balletic scamperings cross-crease that lead, almost without exception, to edges of varying degrees of thickness through the third man region, I was bowled twice by that most devilish of deliveries – the “pitched up and straight one”.
There was better fortune, however, as I signed off by middling the vice-captain with and almighty smear over where midwicket would have been. I swear that it would have been six on any ground in the world. Okay, any ground in Devon. Fielding followed, and whilst we confirmed that there's nothing wrong with my underarms, nor my catching, my overarms are still on the weak side of woeful. That resulted in plenty of punishment press-ups – which I found myself actually able to do without issue for the first time in my life. Not sure when my body underwent the requisite physical transformation to be able to do that, but I'm not complaining...
Today was a little less strenuous on my part, as a return to Topsham saw me spend six hours sitting in a scorebox watching the University 2nd XI destroy their counterparts from Cardiff. In terms of statistical intrigue, Cardiff's number four batsman – playing his first game for the team – amassed five runs from 42 balls as the Welsh team failed miserably to keep to the asking rate of 5.1 per over, Exeter's 254 for 8 proving comprehensively more than enough – Cardiff capitulated for 88 in the 38th over of fifty. With Bath II already thrashed, Gloucestershire II losing to Cardiff, only Bournemouth seem an obstacle for the seconds' progress.
Back at the Pickup residence, it's time for a long, long lie-in tomorrow morning – May Bank Holiday means no 9am French class. Beautiful.
Neil Pickup
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No double-barrels anywhere to be seen - J.Lanswood was the culprit - playing as someone said "my housemate's a decent batsman". (Insert family fortunes noise here).
chris.hinton
International Captain
i like it
Neil Pickup
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Wednesday, May 4th
As Scoreboard Confessional regulars will know, today was scheduled to bring the opening game of the Under 14 league season, at home to Thorverton, as well as the travails I had experienced in attempting to find eleven fit and available players. Nonetheless, the missing was accomplished on Monday evening - only to find on Tuesday that Thorverton couldn't field an eleven, and another batch of phone calls was needed to convey the information to the players.
Tuesday afternoon's sports coaching at Whipton middle school espoused American football – or the tag version thereof, at least – as another sport I'm utterly unable to play to any standard. I'm not sure whether falling face-first as my shoes decided to stop gripping the turf, getting skinned by a four-foot tall ten year old or being instructed what to do by eleven-year-old Corey was the most personally demeaning. Still, all in a good cause.
Getting home after five, I now had to find a way to get out to Topsham with the usual lift options either with cars filled to capacity, or not going in the first place. Checking the train times at 5.23pm, I discovered the 1726 from St. James' Park – promptly slamming my computer shut and sprinting down Well Street to the station, clothes still mud-stained from my quarterback experience. Starting with four woeful half-trackers, I wondered why I bothered.
Still, it all came reasonably good in the end and whilst I still provided too many balls either angling down leg side or ridiculously short, for the most part I found “good areas” and, more importantly for my personal confidence, I got my wrong-un and top-spinner coming out passably and properly pitched. Mark Boucher getting a Test wicket hasn't harmed my self-belief, either.
Events were further complicated this afternoon when I was reminded by Canford School that the University 4ths were playing them tomorrow, rather than next week. That led to a “moderately embarrassed” phone call to the team captain explaining the facts and, suitably time-constrained in terms of selectorial options, I'm in the team.
What price an unbeaten hundred? Okay, ten?
As Scoreboard Confessional regulars will know, today was scheduled to bring the opening game of the Under 14 league season, at home to Thorverton, as well as the travails I had experienced in attempting to find eleven fit and available players. Nonetheless, the missing was accomplished on Monday evening - only to find on Tuesday that Thorverton couldn't field an eleven, and another batch of phone calls was needed to convey the information to the players.
Tuesday afternoon's sports coaching at Whipton middle school espoused American football – or the tag version thereof, at least – as another sport I'm utterly unable to play to any standard. I'm not sure whether falling face-first as my shoes decided to stop gripping the turf, getting skinned by a four-foot tall ten year old or being instructed what to do by eleven-year-old Corey was the most personally demeaning. Still, all in a good cause.
Getting home after five, I now had to find a way to get out to Topsham with the usual lift options either with cars filled to capacity, or not going in the first place. Checking the train times at 5.23pm, I discovered the 1726 from St. James' Park – promptly slamming my computer shut and sprinting down Well Street to the station, clothes still mud-stained from my quarterback experience. Starting with four woeful half-trackers, I wondered why I bothered.
Still, it all came reasonably good in the end and whilst I still provided too many balls either angling down leg side or ridiculously short, for the most part I found “good areas” and, more importantly for my personal confidence, I got my wrong-un and top-spinner coming out passably and properly pitched. Mark Boucher getting a Test wicket hasn't harmed my self-belief, either.
Events were further complicated this afternoon when I was reminded by Canford School that the University 4ths were playing them tomorrow, rather than next week. That led to a “moderately embarrassed” phone call to the team captain explaining the facts and, suitably time-constrained in terms of selectorial options, I'm in the team.
What price an unbeaten hundred? Okay, ten?
Neil Pickup
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Saturday, May 7th
Some days have omens. Others have a semblance of foreshadowing. Some more make it blatantly obvious that even the thought process suggesting that you got out of bed in the morning was the first error of many. Thursday was one of the latter.
Granted, the alarm clock did go off on time and I did manage to make my breakfast without covering the kitchen floor with Coco Pops, milk and orange juice, but that was about as good as it got. I couldn't find my polling card, resulting in voting in the general, county and city elections taking around three times longer than it ought to have before my housemate experienced watch-related issues resulting in our behind significantly late for our 9am statistics lecture. Having turned up for that, it didn't actually happen as our lecturer didn't bother turning up – and then I had french...
Still, come a quarter to twelve and we were ready to leave for Canford – or, more accurately, ten of us were ready to leave for Canford and one of us was still twenty minutes from campus, before we realised that the next stop would need to be the petrol station on Union Road. Onto the A30 it was then, before Honiton where the A35 awaited – or not, as it proved when Anthony decided that autopilot onto the A303 was a better idea (I may have been navigating, but I thought I could rely on him to follow the road signs – nonetheless I made doubly sure of every junction throughout our 18-extra-mile diversion (or “scenic route” via Chard and Crewkerne). Things weren't particularly helped when I attempted a shortcut through the middle of Dorchester only to find a housing estate, however.
Still, we only ended up arriving five minutes later than the other two team cars, having suffered their own mishaps in finding their way between the A31 turnoff and Canford School itself. As for the actual game? Well, the less said, the better. Our top order couldn't get the ball off the square, and our middle and lower order couldn't stay in. Having limped to 72-2, our number three's dismissal precipitated a cataclysmic implosion as number five made four off two balls, number six made four off four balls and then I strode to the wicket.
My first ball from Canford's fourth change off-spinner pitched on middle and leg as I propped forward to watch it skid down leg side. The second hit a similar length, a little outside off stump and I pushed forward again, missed, and heard my stumps being disturbed as the Exonian capitulation gathered pace on its way to 111 all out. Defending that required tight bowling, which wasn't in the offing – seven, eight and nine-run overs rapidly extinguished any thoughts of an Exeter comeback as the spiral towards defeat was only brightened by a hole-out to deep mid-off against our spinner and my own efforts in the field.
It sounds positive when I phrase it like that, doesn't it? It wasn't. Chasing a virtually lost cause down to the midwicket boundary, my spikes entered into a disagreement with the turf with regards to a matter of grip and promptly lost, heavily. The result was a quite spectacular forward/sideways roll and a doubly-grazed knee in addition to much amusement all round, before I brought an end to the game as the third ball of my only over was smeared over square leg.
It won't surprise you to know that the return journey also comprised a wrong turning, whereupon I both pointed out instantly that we were headed toward Southampton, before rectifying the aberration at the next possible opportunity. At least the Tories got whipped.
Friday at least was an improvement, as junior nets passed problem-free and I was able to spend twenty minutes working with ten-year-old Henry on his front foot play, and lessening the dominance of his bottom hand. The progress was somewhat lessened when his mate Giles whacked him in the ribcage thanks to the vindictive nature of the end of the matting... if only I could actually do myself what I coach in others, as shown up by a particularly woeful net session this morning when my footwork, timing, shot selection, head position and everything else were even more wrong than usual.
Believe me, that takes something.
Some days have omens. Others have a semblance of foreshadowing. Some more make it blatantly obvious that even the thought process suggesting that you got out of bed in the morning was the first error of many. Thursday was one of the latter.
Granted, the alarm clock did go off on time and I did manage to make my breakfast without covering the kitchen floor with Coco Pops, milk and orange juice, but that was about as good as it got. I couldn't find my polling card, resulting in voting in the general, county and city elections taking around three times longer than it ought to have before my housemate experienced watch-related issues resulting in our behind significantly late for our 9am statistics lecture. Having turned up for that, it didn't actually happen as our lecturer didn't bother turning up – and then I had french...
Still, come a quarter to twelve and we were ready to leave for Canford – or, more accurately, ten of us were ready to leave for Canford and one of us was still twenty minutes from campus, before we realised that the next stop would need to be the petrol station on Union Road. Onto the A30 it was then, before Honiton where the A35 awaited – or not, as it proved when Anthony decided that autopilot onto the A303 was a better idea (I may have been navigating, but I thought I could rely on him to follow the road signs – nonetheless I made doubly sure of every junction throughout our 18-extra-mile diversion (or “scenic route” via Chard and Crewkerne). Things weren't particularly helped when I attempted a shortcut through the middle of Dorchester only to find a housing estate, however.
Still, we only ended up arriving five minutes later than the other two team cars, having suffered their own mishaps in finding their way between the A31 turnoff and Canford School itself. As for the actual game? Well, the less said, the better. Our top order couldn't get the ball off the square, and our middle and lower order couldn't stay in. Having limped to 72-2, our number three's dismissal precipitated a cataclysmic implosion as number five made four off two balls, number six made four off four balls and then I strode to the wicket.
My first ball from Canford's fourth change off-spinner pitched on middle and leg as I propped forward to watch it skid down leg side. The second hit a similar length, a little outside off stump and I pushed forward again, missed, and heard my stumps being disturbed as the Exonian capitulation gathered pace on its way to 111 all out. Defending that required tight bowling, which wasn't in the offing – seven, eight and nine-run overs rapidly extinguished any thoughts of an Exeter comeback as the spiral towards defeat was only brightened by a hole-out to deep mid-off against our spinner and my own efforts in the field.
It sounds positive when I phrase it like that, doesn't it? It wasn't. Chasing a virtually lost cause down to the midwicket boundary, my spikes entered into a disagreement with the turf with regards to a matter of grip and promptly lost, heavily. The result was a quite spectacular forward/sideways roll and a doubly-grazed knee in addition to much amusement all round, before I brought an end to the game as the third ball of my only over was smeared over square leg.
It won't surprise you to know that the return journey also comprised a wrong turning, whereupon I both pointed out instantly that we were headed toward Southampton, before rectifying the aberration at the next possible opportunity. At least the Tories got whipped.
Friday at least was an improvement, as junior nets passed problem-free and I was able to spend twenty minutes working with ten-year-old Henry on his front foot play, and lessening the dominance of his bottom hand. The progress was somewhat lessened when his mate Giles whacked him in the ribcage thanks to the vindictive nature of the end of the matting... if only I could actually do myself what I coach in others, as shown up by a particularly woeful net session this morning when my footwork, timing, shot selection, head position and everything else were even more wrong than usual.
Believe me, that takes something.
Neil Pickup
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Monday, May 9th
Well, we're up and running. Three junior games played, and two victories, although Sunday morning was a little bit of a downer .After an hour's painting of the gates and turnstiles at St. James' Park, the Under 11s (and 10s, and 9s) graced the County Ground to take on Sandford. Half an hour later, I was thinking that it may have been a better idea to stick to the paintbrushes and fence strippers – three for three after seven overs is the sort of score that I only expected to see come the Bangladeshi Test series. Whilst our batsmen were quite happily hitting the balls, there was unfortunately a little less content running between the wickets – it helped if there were two or even three available before we tried the singles.
Sandford's change bowlers were at least a little less miserly, as a combination of wides, no balls (both the double-bounce and non-bounce varieties) and Merrick's eventual 21 allowed us to drag ourselves to sixty before we contrived to spray an array of deliveries down either side of the wicket. Giles recorded an impressive 3-1-5-2, somewhat atoning for his unbeaten 38-ball four, but I certainly know what we're working on at practice on Friday. Running between t'wickets.
The thirteens, meanwhile, made a much better first of their trip to Axminster, recovering well after the Axminster opening batsman struck an impressive 40*and making impressively light work of a 105-run chase despite a tentative start. As Axminster's backup bowling erred in length, Exeter's middle order were able to play their shots and six an over for the last ten overs was achieved with little discomfort.
The best summary I can provide came from the mouth of Tim, Axminster's opening bowler and captain, bowling the seventeenth over – where fourteen were needed. The first ball, on a good length, was dismissively flicked through the leg side by Pete, our number four batsman. “A shot and a half”, as the bowler confirmed, cut the target down to ten before the next delivery, slightly shorter, was clubbed over midwicket on its way to the fence.
“Sh*t”.
The target, now single figures, was accomplished from the last delivery of that over as Pete slashed a wide half-volley over slip to the third-man boundary to set the title chase rolling. As the winning runs were hit, Exeter's Under 12s were busy setting their Championship stall out as they outplayed last year's U11 champions Whimple at the County Ground. The double's on!
Well, we're up and running. Three junior games played, and two victories, although Sunday morning was a little bit of a downer .After an hour's painting of the gates and turnstiles at St. James' Park, the Under 11s (and 10s, and 9s) graced the County Ground to take on Sandford. Half an hour later, I was thinking that it may have been a better idea to stick to the paintbrushes and fence strippers – three for three after seven overs is the sort of score that I only expected to see come the Bangladeshi Test series. Whilst our batsmen were quite happily hitting the balls, there was unfortunately a little less content running between the wickets – it helped if there were two or even three available before we tried the singles.
Sandford's change bowlers were at least a little less miserly, as a combination of wides, no balls (both the double-bounce and non-bounce varieties) and Merrick's eventual 21 allowed us to drag ourselves to sixty before we contrived to spray an array of deliveries down either side of the wicket. Giles recorded an impressive 3-1-5-2, somewhat atoning for his unbeaten 38-ball four, but I certainly know what we're working on at practice on Friday. Running between t'wickets.
The thirteens, meanwhile, made a much better first of their trip to Axminster, recovering well after the Axminster opening batsman struck an impressive 40*and making impressively light work of a 105-run chase despite a tentative start. As Axminster's backup bowling erred in length, Exeter's middle order were able to play their shots and six an over for the last ten overs was achieved with little discomfort.
The best summary I can provide came from the mouth of Tim, Axminster's opening bowler and captain, bowling the seventeenth over – where fourteen were needed. The first ball, on a good length, was dismissively flicked through the leg side by Pete, our number four batsman. “A shot and a half”, as the bowler confirmed, cut the target down to ten before the next delivery, slightly shorter, was clubbed over midwicket on its way to the fence.
“Sh*t”.
The target, now single figures, was accomplished from the last delivery of that over as Pete slashed a wide half-volley over slip to the third-man boundary to set the title chase rolling. As the winning runs were hit, Exeter's Under 12s were busy setting their Championship stall out as they outplayed last year's U11 champions Whimple at the County Ground. The double's on!
Neil Pickup
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Wednesday, May 11th
Yes, I'm aware that Monday's entry read like a rush-job of a match report, without proof reading and entirely lacking in incisive comment and humour beyond reporting the lowest-common-denominator humour of bad language. That's because that's what it was – past midnight, brain not desperately in gear, two matches to relate – resulting with incoherent babble. My personal favourite being the part where I used “imprssive” twice in the space of five words. Ho hum.
We're now one match onwards and I'm in sufficient position to be able to relay the events of Tuesday (and non-events of today) without turning in the sort of dirge that an eleven year old would think twice about handing in. My afternoon out in Bristol proved beyond all reasonable doubt that were Exeter University “B” to defy all odds and qualify for the televised stages of University Challenge, then a slaughter would be in order. I'm immensely grateful for the provision of Question 37, “Which island, to the east of St. Kitts, was the site of Brian Lara's World Record innings in 1994 and 2004?” I'm also pretty proud of the fact that I remember where the river Irrawaddy was (it's in Burma/Myanmar).
General knowledge guesswork aside, my Under 14 charges assembled at Whipslade Park in Clyst St Mary to take on Countess Wear in the opening game of the league – a game that needed a big points haul if we were to mark ourselves out as title contenders – and whilst I was minibus-bound on the M5, that mission was accomplished.
As I have no intention of wandering back down Match Report Alley, it's suffice to say that they made 82-7 before we accounted for that in second gear with nine wickets remaining and three overs to spare to record 27 points (out of a possible 30). My general late arrival allowed me to enjoy what has become a rare commodity in my summers – time to sit, free from a white coat, batting order or set of Duckworth/Lewis tables, and be immersed in a summer evening by a cricket match.
It's intriguing how you can travel for two minutes beyond a town like Axminster, or five past a major city like Exeter itself, and find yourself stranded, cut off from 21st century society. Axminster's ground is near-silent beyond the activity of sheep in the nearby fields, and Countess Wear idyllic looking out towards Dartmoor and the low, near-setting evening sun. Immersion, nonetheless, only lasts for so long and before too long I was considering the phenomena of attitude in cricket.
An afternoon phone call today informing me of another fixture-list-related flamingo-up allowed me another evening's ruminations on the subject. Yeah, I probably should have revised as I've got a French Oral on Monday, but there's still four full days yet. I did tidy my room, though. In truth, it was a though that struck me during Monday's visit to Axminster as I noticed the general behaviour (well, I guess comportement would carry the sense of the idea better, plus it would assuage my nagging conscious regarding that Oral) of the Axminster players as their grip on the game gradually disappeared over midwicket.
I've seen teams get angry, get abusive and generally get dragged down as a game slides away to another defeat – rudderless and uninspired (looking back from a personal aspect, I don't recall actually playing in a team who, erm, pulled a Champions Trophy – we generally got mullered long before it got close), but I have to admit that the conduct (there y'are, another synonym – now I just need to cut down on the brackets) of the Axminster players was excellent.
Expletives aside (and even that was good-humoured), it was unremittingly positive and generally an excellent atmosphere on the pitch; support, encouragement, advice and smiles. It's often the case that the better players can be detached and aloof or overbearing, but again Axminster were an exception. Their opening batsman reacted with good grace, in addition to the understandable disappointment, of bowling an over containing three no-balls (two without bouncing, one bouncing too often) to go alongside the obvious delight and enjoyment of his earlier innings. I found myself giving advice to them as well as to our batsmen as the innings wore onwards – which for someone as insanely over-competitive as I am really is noteworthy.
It's certainly something I'll watch more closely as the season progresses, and I'm a little disappointed to miss out on the Under 12s' visit to the same ground later in the season – as it clashes with an Under 14 match. Still, it's time to go to bed I feel – my sleep patterns are in a state of deep disrepair and I'm being woken forcefully via smoke alarm tomorrow morning to do some Stats revision. Could be worse, could be a West Indies fan – or Ian Bradshaw, Daren Powell or Corey Collymore.
Yes, I'm aware that Monday's entry read like a rush-job of a match report, without proof reading and entirely lacking in incisive comment and humour beyond reporting the lowest-common-denominator humour of bad language. That's because that's what it was – past midnight, brain not desperately in gear, two matches to relate – resulting with incoherent babble. My personal favourite being the part where I used “imprssive” twice in the space of five words. Ho hum.
We're now one match onwards and I'm in sufficient position to be able to relay the events of Tuesday (and non-events of today) without turning in the sort of dirge that an eleven year old would think twice about handing in. My afternoon out in Bristol proved beyond all reasonable doubt that were Exeter University “B” to defy all odds and qualify for the televised stages of University Challenge, then a slaughter would be in order. I'm immensely grateful for the provision of Question 37, “Which island, to the east of St. Kitts, was the site of Brian Lara's World Record innings in 1994 and 2004?” I'm also pretty proud of the fact that I remember where the river Irrawaddy was (it's in Burma/Myanmar).
General knowledge guesswork aside, my Under 14 charges assembled at Whipslade Park in Clyst St Mary to take on Countess Wear in the opening game of the league – a game that needed a big points haul if we were to mark ourselves out as title contenders – and whilst I was minibus-bound on the M5, that mission was accomplished.
As I have no intention of wandering back down Match Report Alley, it's suffice to say that they made 82-7 before we accounted for that in second gear with nine wickets remaining and three overs to spare to record 27 points (out of a possible 30). My general late arrival allowed me to enjoy what has become a rare commodity in my summers – time to sit, free from a white coat, batting order or set of Duckworth/Lewis tables, and be immersed in a summer evening by a cricket match.
It's intriguing how you can travel for two minutes beyond a town like Axminster, or five past a major city like Exeter itself, and find yourself stranded, cut off from 21st century society. Axminster's ground is near-silent beyond the activity of sheep in the nearby fields, and Countess Wear idyllic looking out towards Dartmoor and the low, near-setting evening sun. Immersion, nonetheless, only lasts for so long and before too long I was considering the phenomena of attitude in cricket.
An afternoon phone call today informing me of another fixture-list-related flamingo-up allowed me another evening's ruminations on the subject. Yeah, I probably should have revised as I've got a French Oral on Monday, but there's still four full days yet. I did tidy my room, though. In truth, it was a though that struck me during Monday's visit to Axminster as I noticed the general behaviour (well, I guess comportement would carry the sense of the idea better, plus it would assuage my nagging conscious regarding that Oral) of the Axminster players as their grip on the game gradually disappeared over midwicket.
I've seen teams get angry, get abusive and generally get dragged down as a game slides away to another defeat – rudderless and uninspired (looking back from a personal aspect, I don't recall actually playing in a team who, erm, pulled a Champions Trophy – we generally got mullered long before it got close), but I have to admit that the conduct (there y'are, another synonym – now I just need to cut down on the brackets) of the Axminster players was excellent.
Expletives aside (and even that was good-humoured), it was unremittingly positive and generally an excellent atmosphere on the pitch; support, encouragement, advice and smiles. It's often the case that the better players can be detached and aloof or overbearing, but again Axminster were an exception. Their opening batsman reacted with good grace, in addition to the understandable disappointment, of bowling an over containing three no-balls (two without bouncing, one bouncing too often) to go alongside the obvious delight and enjoyment of his earlier innings. I found myself giving advice to them as well as to our batsmen as the innings wore onwards – which for someone as insanely over-competitive as I am really is noteworthy.
It's certainly something I'll watch more closely as the season progresses, and I'm a little disappointed to miss out on the Under 12s' visit to the same ground later in the season – as it clashes with an Under 14 match. Still, it's time to go to bed I feel – my sleep patterns are in a state of deep disrepair and I'm being woken forcefully via smoke alarm tomorrow morning to do some Stats revision. Could be worse, could be a West Indies fan – or Ian Bradshaw, Daren Powell or Corey Collymore.
Neil Pickup
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Tuesday, May 17th
It's been an intriguing week. Little came from Friday's junior nets due to that ever-present bugbear that is the coach to player ratio being prohibitively large as to mean that there wasn't enough time to produce anything more lasting than my best one-liner of the season to date as we discussed fielding positions. “What about third leg”, came the suggestion – “that's not a fielding position, that's a disability”. Hmm, maybe you needed to have been there...
Saturday's nets were an improvement on last week's spectacular incompetence, as I was only defeated twice as well as unfurling a few expansive cover drives – even finding the middle of the bat. I even bowled somebody immediately after a minor modification in my bowling action that seemed to rectify what can best be termed the “grenade” issue whereby the ball takes an inordinately long time to get to the other end of the wicket, via the underside of a passing aircraft. I'm trying to bring my bowling arm down and bowl more round-arm as I think it's getting to a near past-perpendicular extent, constricting the general momentum. Still, it's a case of wait-and-see if that wasn't just a one-off at nets tonight before I get too excited.
The weather put paid to the Under 11s' visit to Alphington, before I received a phone call asking me to captain the University fourth XI at Thorverton... in the process discovering that we were without wicketkeeper for the game. Meeting the rest of the team pre-game, the hopeful enquiry, “right, who fancies keeping?” was met with silence, followed by resignation to the idea that I was going to get to do it – so first time captaincy, first time wicket-keeping. Lovely. Still, at least we found the ground without difficulties.
The pre-game warm up made it painfully obvious that I was unable to take high balls, but the rest was okay(ish) – we resolved to bat first if possible, make 200 and then perform a Gloucestershire-style strangulation exercise whilst I stood back and did my utmost to get head, body, backside, legs, feet and possibly even hands on the ball to keep byes below double digits. Despite losing the toss, Thorverton were quite content to field first – allowing me to get a little more glovework practice under my belt.
Operation 200 proved successful as a brilliant century from our opening batsman, and what can only be termed an Afridi-esque innings from our number five – before scoring, he skied the ball a huge distance and three Thorverton fielders looked at one another then allowed the ball to drop in between them. Four sixes and 57 runs later, they had paid for it and a solid all-round bowling and fielding performance was sufficient to ensure a 73-run victory – I even kept the bye tally down to eight. I just hope we have a proper wickie for Wednesday's trip to Blundell's School in Tiverton!
The Under 12 team then travelled to the idyllic village of Kenn in the Haldon Hills, and recorded one of the most one-sided cricket games I've ever seen, recording 168-3 from twenty overs – plus a multitude of wides and six-bouncing no-balls) before bowling out the opposition (with a second-string, rotated bowling line-up) for 33 (28 extras, and one boundary off a thick outside edge from Kenn's number ten). Thirty points, and the league title bid is well and truly on.
Time for nets.
It's been an intriguing week. Little came from Friday's junior nets due to that ever-present bugbear that is the coach to player ratio being prohibitively large as to mean that there wasn't enough time to produce anything more lasting than my best one-liner of the season to date as we discussed fielding positions. “What about third leg”, came the suggestion – “that's not a fielding position, that's a disability”. Hmm, maybe you needed to have been there...
Saturday's nets were an improvement on last week's spectacular incompetence, as I was only defeated twice as well as unfurling a few expansive cover drives – even finding the middle of the bat. I even bowled somebody immediately after a minor modification in my bowling action that seemed to rectify what can best be termed the “grenade” issue whereby the ball takes an inordinately long time to get to the other end of the wicket, via the underside of a passing aircraft. I'm trying to bring my bowling arm down and bowl more round-arm as I think it's getting to a near past-perpendicular extent, constricting the general momentum. Still, it's a case of wait-and-see if that wasn't just a one-off at nets tonight before I get too excited.
The weather put paid to the Under 11s' visit to Alphington, before I received a phone call asking me to captain the University fourth XI at Thorverton... in the process discovering that we were without wicketkeeper for the game. Meeting the rest of the team pre-game, the hopeful enquiry, “right, who fancies keeping?” was met with silence, followed by resignation to the idea that I was going to get to do it – so first time captaincy, first time wicket-keeping. Lovely. Still, at least we found the ground without difficulties.
The pre-game warm up made it painfully obvious that I was unable to take high balls, but the rest was okay(ish) – we resolved to bat first if possible, make 200 and then perform a Gloucestershire-style strangulation exercise whilst I stood back and did my utmost to get head, body, backside, legs, feet and possibly even hands on the ball to keep byes below double digits. Despite losing the toss, Thorverton were quite content to field first – allowing me to get a little more glovework practice under my belt.
Operation 200 proved successful as a brilliant century from our opening batsman, and what can only be termed an Afridi-esque innings from our number five – before scoring, he skied the ball a huge distance and three Thorverton fielders looked at one another then allowed the ball to drop in between them. Four sixes and 57 runs later, they had paid for it and a solid all-round bowling and fielding performance was sufficient to ensure a 73-run victory – I even kept the bye tally down to eight. I just hope we have a proper wickie for Wednesday's trip to Blundell's School in Tiverton!
The Under 12 team then travelled to the idyllic village of Kenn in the Haldon Hills, and recorded one of the most one-sided cricket games I've ever seen, recording 168-3 from twenty overs – plus a multitude of wides and six-bouncing no-balls) before bowling out the opposition (with a second-string, rotated bowling line-up) for 33 (28 extras, and one boundary off a thick outside edge from Kenn's number ten). Thirty points, and the league title bid is well and truly on.
Time for nets.
superkingdave
Hall of Fame Member
good stuff Neil, keep it up, good job wicketkeeping
regarding the U-12's big win, i remember in the U-13's at school once we scored about 320-2 and bowled the opposition out for 22!
regarding the U-12's big win, i remember in the U-13's at school once we scored about 320-2 and bowled the opposition out for 22!
Neil Pickup
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Thursday, May 26th
Long time no write – and truth be told, long time no sunshine. The English summer is, at present, doing its level best to conform with every stereotypical story told of the mother country. Windy, leaden grey, rare cloudbreaks, humidity plus rainstorms left, right and centre. It doesn't seem that a day has gone by without a meteorological intervention of some kind – to the extent that from seventeen scheduled East Devon Junior matches, we've played six.
My unbeaten record as captain lasted all of three days and one match, as arriving at Blundell's school I discovered that instead of playing the second XI – as arranged, or so I thought – we found ourselves up against the first XI, complete with Somerset Academy player. In the end, we considerably exceeded my (admittedly low) expectations, making 226-4 from our forty overs. Unfortunately, we were a little bit light on bowlers – to the extent where we couldn't prevent Blundell's from scoring at more than seven or eight an over.
Bringing myself on after drinks with the score at 168-2 proved somewhat fruitless to boot, as my sole over cost 17 runs – including one towering six over midwicket into the school chapel. My yell of “catch it” and the ball sailed twenty-five feet over the fielder at least lifted the monotony somewhat – at least Wednesday wasn't a complete loss, as the Under 13s crushed Ottery St Mary by eight wickets.
Friday saw the annual cricket varsity match – which unsurprisingly, given the current climate, was rain-affected. Seeing as the University first XI play at the top level of University cricket in the UK, the Duckworth/Lewis method needed to be used to revise the targets – at which point I discovered just how few people in this country know a) how it works, b) the rational behind it or c) how to work it.
That left me to do the calculating and explaining, only partially aided by the terribly-written and grossly user-unfriendly piece of DOS-based kit that's the official ICC D/L calculation software. Fingers crossed, however, that the rain's had its fill and we can get back into the action tonight and over the weekend – and also into some competently-written blogging.
Long time no write – and truth be told, long time no sunshine. The English summer is, at present, doing its level best to conform with every stereotypical story told of the mother country. Windy, leaden grey, rare cloudbreaks, humidity plus rainstorms left, right and centre. It doesn't seem that a day has gone by without a meteorological intervention of some kind – to the extent that from seventeen scheduled East Devon Junior matches, we've played six.
My unbeaten record as captain lasted all of three days and one match, as arriving at Blundell's school I discovered that instead of playing the second XI – as arranged, or so I thought – we found ourselves up against the first XI, complete with Somerset Academy player. In the end, we considerably exceeded my (admittedly low) expectations, making 226-4 from our forty overs. Unfortunately, we were a little bit light on bowlers – to the extent where we couldn't prevent Blundell's from scoring at more than seven or eight an over.
Bringing myself on after drinks with the score at 168-2 proved somewhat fruitless to boot, as my sole over cost 17 runs – including one towering six over midwicket into the school chapel. My yell of “catch it” and the ball sailed twenty-five feet over the fielder at least lifted the monotony somewhat – at least Wednesday wasn't a complete loss, as the Under 13s crushed Ottery St Mary by eight wickets.
Friday saw the annual cricket varsity match – which unsurprisingly, given the current climate, was rain-affected. Seeing as the University first XI play at the top level of University cricket in the UK, the Duckworth/Lewis method needed to be used to revise the targets – at which point I discovered just how few people in this country know a) how it works, b) the rational behind it or c) how to work it.
That left me to do the calculating and explaining, only partially aided by the terribly-written and grossly user-unfriendly piece of DOS-based kit that's the official ICC D/L calculation software. Fingers crossed, however, that the rain's had its fill and we can get back into the action tonight and over the weekend – and also into some competently-written blogging.
vic_orthdox
Global Moderator
Duckworth Lewis...I'm not sold on its use in club standard games. Remember playing a match where the opposition was set 5 an over over 39 overs (already rain affected), and then the opposition was 2/10 after 4 overs, and rain hit and reduced it to 23 overs or something like that, and set them 8.5 an over for the rest of the game. The possibility of a club side going at such a rate is much less than that of an international side. And it wasn't as though the opposition were completely out of it at 2 for, but suddenly they were after rain.
Neil Pickup
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It's not commercially available.chekmeout said:
Neil Pickup
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Friday May 27th
The East Devon Junior league never ceases to throw up cricketing oddities, and the two games over the last two days have been no exception – with variations on an appealing theme across yesterday's trip to Honiton and today's match with Bradninch Girls. At Honiton, in a match significantly disrupted by a particularly noisy football presentation evening at the adjoining clubhouse, Exeter accumulated 111-1 on an exceptionally slow and grassy outfield before Honiton reached 78-4 in reply with an over remaining, having scored the majority through third man.
The first ball of the final over was hit back at the bowler, whose fingertips helped it on its way into the stumps amidst a strangled noise from somewhere – a noise that I was quite happy to take as an appeal, as my finger shot up. That pleased the opposition no end... The rest of the over then brought a smart diving catch as our mid on ended up on his backside, before our captain held on smartly at slip the following ball and some more finger exercise from myself brought about an LBW and hat-trick.
Tonight, against a truly appalling Bradninch side who managed four off the bat in twenty overs, we saw the opposite whereby our opening batsman was trapped plum in front of the wicket, but nobody bothered to appeal. I was also very nearly decapitated standing at (short) square leg in the final over when another innocuous long hop was viciously pulled in the direction of my head – my reactions fortunately proving enough to avoid any contact. Moment of the day came when I made a specific point about footwork for the pull shot to Giles (back-and-across), and then saw the next ball scream through midwicket for four. Coaching's wonderful when it works.
The East Devon Junior league never ceases to throw up cricketing oddities, and the two games over the last two days have been no exception – with variations on an appealing theme across yesterday's trip to Honiton and today's match with Bradninch Girls. At Honiton, in a match significantly disrupted by a particularly noisy football presentation evening at the adjoining clubhouse, Exeter accumulated 111-1 on an exceptionally slow and grassy outfield before Honiton reached 78-4 in reply with an over remaining, having scored the majority through third man.
The first ball of the final over was hit back at the bowler, whose fingertips helped it on its way into the stumps amidst a strangled noise from somewhere – a noise that I was quite happy to take as an appeal, as my finger shot up. That pleased the opposition no end... The rest of the over then brought a smart diving catch as our mid on ended up on his backside, before our captain held on smartly at slip the following ball and some more finger exercise from myself brought about an LBW and hat-trick.
Tonight, against a truly appalling Bradninch side who managed four off the bat in twenty overs, we saw the opposite whereby our opening batsman was trapped plum in front of the wicket, but nobody bothered to appeal. I was also very nearly decapitated standing at (short) square leg in the final over when another innocuous long hop was viciously pulled in the direction of my head – my reactions fortunately proving enough to avoid any contact. Moment of the day came when I made a specific point about footwork for the pull shot to Giles (back-and-across), and then saw the next ball scream through midwicket for four. Coaching's wonderful when it works.
superkingdave
Hall of Fame Member
what was the score in the second match Neil?
Neil Pickup
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Exeter 157-2, Bradninch 45-6 (mainly extras when we bowled our 8- and 9-year olds)