Village Cricket At the Turn Of The 21st Century – by Dall-E & Me
We interrupt The History of The Heavy Rollers to cover a related (and soon to be overlapping) activity: Tufty Stackpole v The Children’s Society cricket matches. In the same way that we cannot entirely separate the birth of Z/Yen charity cricket matches…
…from the early development of The Heavy Rollers…
…several of the people involved in Heavy Rollers outings in the first decade of this century were friends from the Tufty Stackpole matches.
Much like the early Heavy Rollers outings, there is precious little actual evidence from the events. The odd e-mail but no photos and no contemporaneous match reports. Only memories, which might be flawed or partial. Strangely, I have very strong memories of the first Tufty match and almost none of the second. Hopefully others who participated can chime in with comments and help me to improve the pieces.
The initial shout out for the first Tufty Stackpole match came from Charles Bartlett on 29 May:
Game against ‘Tuffty Stackpole’ (I met members of this team on the TCS trek’s in China and Peru). They are a village side and take their cricket very seriously. So experience will be useful. The match is arranged to be played on Sunday 15 July at their ground at North Crawley which is near Milton Keynes
Students of historical research based on e-mail trawling will realise why this e-mail was hard to find in my archive 20+ years later – note Chas’s spelling of “Tufty”.
Anyway, I persuaded Janie that this event would make the perfect culmination for our planned mini break in Yorkshire – a couple of days at The White Swan Inn in Pickering, which we had enjoyed so much the previous year, followed by a night in Halifax seeing Mike Ward’s latest play, followed by dinner with Mike & Lottie.
It was quite a late night for us on the Saturday night in Halifax. Mike and Lottie sure know how to make guests welcome. I’m sure some especially juicy red wine will have flowed to accompany excellent beef and other culinary delights late in the evening after the show.
But that didn’t really matter, as we knew that we had time in the morning to take a breakfast at the Imperial Crown and get most of the way back down the M1 in plenty of time.
Actually we half expected to be stopping only briefly on our way home, as the weather was poor and the forecast, on Saturday, for the next day, yet poorer.
But in the morning, when I turned on the Ceefax (this was back in the days before smart phones and internet access on the fly), the simple weather chart suggested that the shoddy weather was at its worst in the North of England…and in the South of England, with the Midlands, including Beds/Bucks/Northants borders villages such as North Crawley, spared the rain and expecting sunshine.
We motored through driving rain until just after Sheffield – thereafter the weather looked promising to the point of looking like cricket weather. When we got there, we learnt that those travelling from the south had experienced similar poor weather until they got a few miles north of the M25.
Lovely village. Lovely cricket ground in the village. Great bunch of local people too. Tufty Stackpole was basically the veterans side of a “proper” village team. These people could play.
The Children’s Society team had its own weapons for that first fixture. Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks was with us, along with his uber-enthusiastic brother Martin. “Big Papa Zambezi” Jeff Tye brought his mate Biff with him:
Probably the best batsman in the county never to have played for Northamptonshire…
…said Jeff…and you don’t argue with Jeff when he’s talking up his mate.
The Children’s Society also had Charley “The Gent Malloy” Bartlett, me and a few other enthusiasts of no fixed ability.
My abiding memories of the cricket that day are quite strong.
Most of the enduring Tufty folk were there that first time: Geoff Young, Glenn Young (I think), Ian Cooper, Trevor Cooper, Nick Cooper, Trevor Stapleton, Mike Archer, Nick Church (I think) plus the gentleman who sometimes kept wicket whose name I never learnt but whom we nicknamed “Builder’s Bum” because of his appearance when wicket-keeping.
- We didn’t really have the bowling depth to put the Tufty batting line up under too much pressure. Nigel bowled well and took a couple of wickets, but in a 40 over match each bowler can only bowl 8 overs. Martin was quite useful with the ball too, but there were still 24 other overs to try and escape from;
- It didn’t help to have several fielders of my “quality” in the long grass. I think it was at that first Tufty match that I juggled a couple of would-be catches but basically spilled them, much to the chagrin of my skipper and team mates – not that I was the only fielder to spill catches;
- Martin kept encouraging his older brother, Nigel, to field closer and closer in the hope of snaffling a catch off his bowling. Frankly Martin’s bowling wasn’t really good enough to justify insanely close fielding. Eventually one came straight to Nigel at high speed, which he took, partly in self-defence but a clean catch. The bruise was visible at the back as well as the front of Nigel’s hand within seconds. Barely a wince. Brave lad;
- Tufty Stackpole made plenty. Still, we had some weaponry in the batting department, so preserved an element of hope while everyone tucked in to one of the quintessentially English summer village cricket match teas, provided by, I’m pretty sure, the Merry Wives Of Tufty Stackpole. Derry Young was almost certainly involved in that aspect;
I asked Dall-E to help me reproduce the look of such a cricket tea – indeed there I am enjoying a cuppa in a virtual village hall before a lavish spread:
- I was scheduled to bat 7 or 8, so I umpired at the start of the resumption;
- Biff was clearly a proper batsman, but he hadn’t played for ages and kept complaining to me bitterly, whenever he got down to my end, that he wasn’t timing it properly and that he was finding it all very difficult after all this time. I tried to boost Biff’s confidence by telling him, truthfully, that he was, relatively speaking, in the context of our game, batting extremely well. Also that he would get back into the swing of it as the innings progressed;
- Chas was one of the earlier wickets to fall and took over from me umpiring when the third or fourth wicket fell;
- Nigel batted one place ahead of me. Biff was still batting well and keeping us just about in the game when Nigel joined him at the crease. Nigel himself can tell you the extent to which he was able to bat normally with such a badly bruised hand. I do recall Nigel getting his eye in and then launching at least one big straight six. At that point, just for a very short while, some of us perhaps dreamt of victory. But Nigel’s attempt to replicate the six resulted in a clattering noise behind him and it was my turn to bat;
- I joined Biff and again tried to boost his confidence, which, given that he had by then scored well north of 50 and might even have been thinking of 100, he was still chastising himself for not batting as well as he used to decades earlier when he batted regularly. “Problem is”, he said, “I’m completely exhausted now. Do we have to keep running ones and twos?” My problem, of course, is that I don’t really have shots at all, so ones is probably the best you can hope for unless I take absurd risks. Biff was by now so tired that his scoring shots were not quite making it to the boundary so we did run a few twos;
- Eventually Biff played a tired shot and was out. It was an honour for me to have shared the crease with him for a while. We were still some way from the Tufty’s score and frankly we knew we didn’t have the batting to score at the requisite rate, which might have been something like 80 runs needed off 8 or 9 overs at that stage. Big Papa Zambezi Jeff joined me at the crease with the instruction, “we’re to bat for the draw”;
- This instruction was playing to my extremely limited skills as a batsman – i.e. to prevent a competent but tiring bowling attack from getting me out. It transpired that Jeff had similar skills. We frustrated the Tufty Stackpole bowlers and managed to extract some honour from that first match by not being bowled out.
Don’t ask me which North Crawley pub we all retired to after the match. It might have been The Cock Inn…
…but equally well might have been The Chequers…
…North Crawley has two pubs and the cricket club is honour bound to divide its business between the two. Over the years we certainly tried both.
We enjoyed the post-match conviviality for quite a while and revelled in raising a goodly sum for the charity. I remember that Janie and I got home quite late, ahead of punishingly early starts the next morning. We only made that mistake the once, opting to take the morning or even the whole Monday off after subsequent Tufty matches.
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