Unfortunately Charley The Gent could not join us this year, so we added a late substitute to the group of five – Jonny “Twophones” Hurst, a friend of mine from NewsRevue. As part of his initiation into the Heavy Roller clan, Jonny & I spent some hours together during the Ireland test match a couple of weeks earlier.
The other four of us were me, Daisy, Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks and Harish “Harsha Ghoble” Gohil.
But before all of that, my now traditional stop off in Leamington for some medicinal tennis with the good doctors of that town.
Not just tennis, but a very pleasant lunch, after a very entertaining tennis match that was a close-fought affair. Five of us (four players plus Janie) sat down and the time flew by, such that I started to worry that we’d get no food and/or be late for dinner.
By the time Janie and I had done the picnic shopping, located our lovely digs in Moseley and unpacked, it was more or less time to meet Harish and Nigel for dinner. (Jonny chose to join us at the ground the next morning).
Early start for me as there was a picnic to pull together. Then a 25 minute stroll to the ground for me and Daisy. Bit of a queue, but not too bad at 10:15. We guessed that 5 or 10 minutes earlier the next day would be easier yet. We were right.
Daisy enjoyed photographing the pre match hullabaloo and our reaction to it.
Daisy also likes to photograph people behind the Eric Hollies Stand. Those people don’t seem to mind.
Who knew that Lord Farquaad and Princess Fiona were test cricket fans?
The weather was glorious and the cricket was captivating throughout our time at Edgbaston – indeed the whole match was a cracker.
We were all exhausted at the end of Day One, so went back to our respective diggings and regrouped the next morning.
Saturday 17 June 2023 – Day Two
Daisy took some more pictures during the lunch interval of Day Two.
She also persuaded our mystery lunchtime visitor to take a picture of us…
…then Ged took a picture of the mystery visitor with the Nigel, Daisy and Harish. All the while, Jonny Twophones was off on some mystery mission of his own.
Sam, who was said “mystery guest” wrote up his (apparently) terrifying experience on King Cricket, linked here and below:
In the matter of having a picture of all five of us rollers, Harish put matters right, photographically, with the following five-face selfie – very deft:
Of course it was not the same without Chas, but it was still a monumental Heavy Rollers occasion, with great company, good food and amazing cricket, lovely cricket.
The first Ashes Test, it was. The match started on a Thursday this year (it was a Wednesday start last year), so I put my name down for just the first two days of the test.
On the Wednesday, I went up early so that I might have a two-hour music lesson with Ian Pittaway. I normally have my lessons with him by Skype; just occasionally having a face-to-face lesson.
On Skype, Ian looks like this:
…but this time, in real life, he looked more like this…
…so much so that I thought I’d gone to the wrong door at first.
Anyway, it was a good lesson and I was also able to cement some of the tips and techniques we discussed as I had more time than I find at home, while up at Edgbaston, to practice .
On to the Eaton Hotel, where a late lunchtime snack was to prove a problematic ask, so I wandered off to the local TGIF for a starter, a coffee and some reading.
This year we have been joined by Peter and Matthew – family friends of Nigel and Viv from Australia. Really good company, well-humoured guys, they seemed to slip seamlessly into the somewhat quirky group that is The Heavy Rollers. Only Harish absented himself from the Wednesday evening feast – he was coming up to Edgbaston on the morning of the match.
I arranged to meet the lads at their hotel, the Plough and Harrow, at 9:30 with a view to walking with Peter and Matthew to the ground.
Day One: 1 August 2019
I enjoyed a delicious and efficiently-served breakfast of kippers at The Eaton, then wandered down to the Plough and Harrow to find an irritable table of Rollers and Guest-Rollers awaiting their breakfast. They had been waiting for nigh-on an hour when I arrived.
Slowly and not altogether surely, one-by-one, their breakfasts arrived. Mercifully, Peter and Matthew were among the first to be served,so we were able to skedaddle around five-to ten, arriving at the ground and getting through security just in time to witness the toss.
The others, arriving by car, were also in reasonable time for the cricket though not the toss. We spent a great deal of time wondering how difficult it can possibly be for a hotel kitchen to churn out breakfasts at some sort of reasonable pace.
Jimmy Anderson was not able to do anything at reasonable pace that morning either – after four tidy overs he went off, never to be seen bowling again – at least, never in that match.
The other England bowlers set about their enhanced roles well; at one point having the Aussies 8 down for not much more than 120. Then Smith and Siddle went about staging a match-turning recovery. I blame Charles, who said he likes Siddle because he plays for Essex and that he wanted to see Siddle score a few. Turncoat. (Charley, I mean, not Siddle).
The picnic was a Dot “Mrs Malloy” special, with enough sandwiches to feed a small army and a great deal of non-perishable food which came in very handy on the Friday (and no doubt beyond).
Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub Me, Matthew, Peter, Chas, Nick & Harish
For reasons known only to himself, Nigel stood aside when a kindly bloke behind us offered to take our photo at stumps that day.
Matthew, Peter and I walked back; I parted company with them at St George’s Church to save a bit of time, as we had agreed to all meet in the Plough and Harrow bar for a couple of jars.
Over those jars, it transpired that Peter and his good lady had taken their honeymoon in Vanuatu, so we spent some time swapping Vanuatu trivia stories over drinks, which was better than another hot topic – bemoaning British and Australian politics.
Day Two: Friday 2 August 2019
I enjoyed an English breakfast, efficiently and effectively served, checked out of the The Eaton and walked to the ground alone today. I discovered all of the others in their seats around 10:40. No doubt they had gone down to breakfast in the Plough and Harrow at 6:30 in the morning or some such.
Our seats, directly opposite in The Raglan Stand, offer an excellent view of the shenanigans from an ideal distance. Several strolls all around the ground, including the back of the Hollies, reinforced my view that my ideal spectator experience is the very opposite of the Eric Hollies.
I did offer Peter and Matthew an opportunity to choose their own Ogblog pseudonyms, but, like most people, they were foolish enough to leave that matter up to me. Hence “Papa Pete Blong Vila” and “Boe Blong Pete” were born. More on them and all of us should appear on King Cricket, eventually.
Dumbo (my car) rode like the wind, but had to do so the long way round due to a closure on the M40. Thank goodness for the sat nav, which turned me round and sent me through Birmingham and the M6 South at the very start of my journey, otherwise the extra 20-25 minutes that the detour entailed might have been an extra hour plus in traffic jams.
Well played, Dumbo
I thought I’d left England in a good position at stumps on Day two, which I had. But in my absence it all unravelled in the next two-three days. Only Australians, neutrals or mentally strong England fans should click here for the scorecard and cricinfo resources on this match.
31 July 2018 – The Day I Forgot That I Hadn’t Forgotten The Tickets
The plan was to have a quiet morning finishing off work bits before setting off towards Birmingham for three nights and three days of Heavy Roller cricketing joy…
…but we all know what tends to happen to that sort of plan.
So I ran around like crazy that morning, fitting in two client meetings, getting my packing done and shovelling down some lunch. Still I managed to leave home at a reasonable hour to avoid the traffic and get to Brum in time to shower, change and join up with the lads.
As I drove past the Warwick junction of the M40, I had a horrible brain flash. The utter conviction I had, earlier in the day, that Chas has the tickets this year, morphed into a distinct memory of Chas handing me an Essex CCC ticket wallet.
“But that must have been my Chelmsford ticket,” I thought, until my memory distinctly remembered the sight of Edgbaston tickets in an Essex ticket wallet. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I had been an idiot not looking in my ticket draw when packing…even though, in truth, I could not recall seeing those tickets in that draw in my recent ticket trawls for Lord’s matches and the like.
I remember you…not
I decided that I simply needed to fess up to Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett on arrival and we’d work out how I might get replacement tickets issued. I cannot be the first “gentleman with waning powers of memory” to travel to an Edgbaston test without his tickets, so there must be some sort of reissuing procedure and I knew Chas would have his ticket records with him.
I called Chas on arrival – he and The Boy Malloy had just gone down to the bar to meet Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks. Chas’s immediate reaction was that he had all the tickets in his care, including mine, as is usually the case…
…then he went on the same memory journey as I had travelled…he did remember handing me an Essex wallet and he did remember separating out tickets for me, for some reason…
…anyway, by the time I had showered and got to the Plough And Harrow Bar to join the lads, Chas had checked the ticket situation and discovered that he had them all.
We then both realised that the memory flash of Chas giving me my tickets in advance was from last year, when Daisy and I travelled up the night before and had pre-arranged to join the others at the ground for the start of the West Indies day/nighter:
Did the lads give me a ribbing for sort of forgetting my tickets…or rather for forgetting that I hadn’t forgotten my tickets?
Yes.
I tried to counter-rib by suggesting that they had forgotten to book Colbeh, stymieing our dinner plans, but that didn’t work. In fact, it is just as well that I saw Azlan from Colbeh as I walked past, as he said he was pretty full that night so I did genuinely make a booking that might just have saved our evening plans. Chapeau to Azlan for remembering my name from last year and the year before.
Anyway, this year’s pre-match dinner at Colbeh comprised me, Chas and Nigel. The Boy Malloy had arranged to meet up with a friend at the Birmingham Cosy Club, the name of which drew a similar “oo er missus” type reaction from Chas and Nigel to that of the burghers of Leicestershire CCC, when I announced a similar meet up in Leicester a few weeks ago:
The Colbeh Three (as Chas, Nigel and I should now be known) had a superb meal again this season at Colbeh. It is a joy to see how well that place is doing, Nigel and I having been early customers there a couple of years ago when it first opened. I think the food might still be getting better and better. When I got home, Daisy asked me if I had thanked Azlan for recommending the book The Saffron Tales to her, from which she has taken much pleasure and adapted several recipes. I admitted I hadn’t…
…until now. Thanks, Azlan.
Match Day One – On Making The Most Of Plenty: Copious Mrs Malloy Sandwiches c/w England’s Run Scoring
After a hearty breakfast based on kippers, I chose to walk directly from my digs at the Eaton Hotel to the ground. It is a lovely 45 minute walk across Edgbaston.
Ticket scanning and security is so well organised at Edgbaston these days; I was in the ground around 10:30 and heard the toss as I was entering the stand.
I was the first of our group to arrive, but there were quite a few people already seated in our block. Then a young man came along and sat in one of our seats. I said, “excuse me, that cannot be your seat”.
“Yes it is”, exclaimed the young man, “look!” He showed me his ticket. Block 06, Row A, Seat 5.
“You should be in Block 6”, I said, “this is Block 7”.
“No it isn’t”, said a few people seated around me, “this is Block 6”. I really was starting to worry about waning powers now, but turned around and saw, clearly on the wall behind me, the big “7” sign that indicates Block 7.
“It really is Block 7”, I said. “See the sign…”
…then one or two other people chimed in, “of course this is Block 7”.
But for some reason, perhaps an errant steward, perhaps group-think amongst several unconnected parties of people, 15 to 20 people got up and relocated to the real Block 6.
I had a good chortle with a few of the real Block 7 residents about that one.
Then I took the photograph below.
Before The Start On Day One
Then I started to wonder whether the others were ever going to show up; they are usually so keen to get to the ground in good time. Eventually show up they did; slightly frazzled/later than intended. Something about a wrong turn.
Heavy laden, they were, with a picnic fit for Heavy Rollers. Mrs Malloy had gone wild with the sandwiches this year: corned beef with mustard and smoked ham ones for the meat eaters, quorn chicken for the veggies, cheese for everyone and egg mayonnaise for everyone other than me.
Mrs Malloy had also gone wild with her gold-ink sandwich-pack labelling pen, to symbolise the impending golden anniversary of the Malloys.
We ascertained that Those Were The Days by Mary Hopkin was number one in the charts when the Malloys hitched; likewise when Harsha Ghoble was born. Very apt.
…but I digress again.
While we tucked in to the picnic for several hours, England seemed to be tucking in to the Indian bowling quite nicely too.
They say that history doesn’t repeat itself but it does rhyme. In a strange echo of the Charley The Gent run out from 2004, Joe Root was run out, while attempting a second run, by Virat Kohli, soon after tea. That incident and the rest of the day one highlights can be seen on this short reel:
Meanwhile, as England’s fortunes rapidly declined, Charley The Gent was insisting that we finish all the sandwiches today, withholding snacks and sweetmeats for the remaining days. “I have to be able to report to her that all the sandwiches went”, said Charley.
They all went. We were stuffed. We did not eat that evening. We simply met in the Plough and Harrow bar for a couple of glasses. We concluded that, although Charley hadn’t thrown away any sandwiches, England might well have thrown away the match in that last session.
Match Day Two – More On History Not Repeating Itself But Rhyming
After breakfast (I went full English today after last night’s dietary abstinence), again I walked to the ground directly from my hotel.
…which mentions a particular address in Edgbaston, Fairlawn on Westbourne Road, as the home of Pelota, an early form of lawn tennis that most resembled the version that took hold and was possibly the first of that kind.
Fairlawn Or Forelorn?
No longer is there a commemorative plaque and I wasn’t expecting late 20th century modern build flats either; I was expecting a somewhat distressed-looking Victorian villa, much like some of the neighbouring houses, which are mostly used as low key residential care homes or sheltered housing these days. Oh well; I’ve seen it now.
The lads arrived in good time today – no wrong turn.
Charley was a little sheepish; he’d been ticked off by Mrs Malloy for force-feeding us with infeasible quantities of sandwiches. She hadn’t honestly expected us to get through them all, she just wanted each of us to have plenty of choice.
“Can’t win”, said Charley, presumably in the matter of pleasing Mrs Malloy but perhaps he was thinking about the cricket match too.
We snacked while India seemed to establish their innings, until Sam Curran had other ideas and the match swung back to England until Kohli and the tail had yet other ideas…you get the idea.
It all reminded me a little of a couple of the excellent matches I have seen recently between Middlesex and Warwickshire; one at Edgbaston last year…
…with there respective missuses, sitting right at the front of the block before the walkway we needed to use to get out of our Raglan Stand. The others must have walked past them obliviously several times. I stopped and chatted with the Tufties a while and alerted the other Rollers (especially Charley) on my return, enabling him to join the Tufties for a while later in the day.
…bit the dust when The Boy Malloy announced that he doesn’t like Indian food and a search to discover whether Mr Idly has other options revealed very poor recent reviews.
I did some extensive research and due diligence (didn’t these guys used to pay me to do this sort of thing, albeit on slightly bigger and more important procurement matters?) to uncover El Borracho De Oro (subsequently defunked) within spitting distance of the Plough & Harrow. With some difficulty, I managed to book it on-line so we were sorted.
While I was concentrating on all that, England’s fortunes slid again and by the end of Day two we were, one again, convinced that India had the edge.
Here is the ECB short highlights reel from that day:
El Borracho De Oro proved to be a good choice for dinner; the only shortcoming being the music noise. Also for future reference, the portion sizes were a little smaller than we expected so we possibly should have ordered more tapas – we’ll know for next time. It was very reasonably priced for its quality.
Apart from Charley disappearing back to the hotel to sort out an errant duplicate payment that wasn’t and Harsha disappearing to pick up on some work malarkey, it was a very cohesive, convivial and enjoyable evening.
Day Three – A Wonderful Day Of Test Cricket Leaving The Match Finely In The Balance
Back to the kippers for breakfast today, then I left my electricals and Benjy The Baritone Ukulele in the safe hands of Roberto at the Eaton before walking, for the last time this trip, to the ground.
Again the lads were in good time; indeed they got to the ground ahead of me this time. All except for Harsha, who had to deal with his business crisis before coming to the ground. I thought that might be the last we’d see of him, but in fact he turned up about 10 minutes into the day’s play. After a short committee meeting, we decided that he could participate in that day’s prediction game anyway, despite the additional inside knowledge that 10 minutes of play provides.
It didn’t help Harsha.
In fact, I was the biggest winner of the day; actually I showed positive on each of the three days – that might be a first.
Again the match tilted one way and then the other. Despair before lunch as England collapsed. Some respite after lunch as Curran tried to get England to a defensible score. Then joy as India collapsed. Then an impending sense of doom as India recovered somewhat late in the day, leaving the match perilously poised at the end of the day – probably just tilting in India’s favour.
Here is the ECB short highlights reel for Day three:
Chas kindly dropped me at my hotel to help speed me on my way – Daisy had invited some people over for dinner, although they all knew I would be back late. So we said our fond Heavy Roller farewells in the Eaton Hotel car park.
The Epilogue
It took me just under two hours to get back to Noddyland, where the dinner with Deni and Tony was only just underway, so I could shower and catch up with starters before joining the group for the main meal. Daisy has some pictures and I’ll report that separately.
London was sweltering – far hotter/muggier than Brum.
The next morning, Daisy and I did battle on the tennis court first thing. I gave it 120% and needed to do so in order to overcome a very keen Daisy. She felt that she ought to be able to beat me after I had sat around for three days watching cricket, eating and drinking. But I’m made of stern stuff.
As soon as we got home, just before the cricket started, Daisy kindly offered to do my washing from the trip, including the tennis kit in which I had just played. “Just pile it in front of the washing machine, ” she said.
When she came to the pile, she exclaimed, “urgh, what the hell is this? This is disgusting. What have you done?”
I wondered what on earth was the matter. I stepped in to find her holding my recently-worn briefs at arms length. “Have you wet yourself or something?”, she asked.
“No, I’ve just played an hour of rigorous tennis against you in sweltering heat, that’s all. You don’t normally do my washing and you certainly don’t normally see my sweaty undies before they have dried off a bit.”
“I don’t sweat like that”, said Daisy. I wondered whether to offer a short biology lesson but decided against.
Then we watched the cricket match pan out. If I gave the tennis 120%, then Ben Stokes must have given England 150%.
“I wonder whether Ben Stokes gets GBH of the earhole from his missus in the matter of his sweaty briefs”, I thought to myself, before deciding that “GBH of the earhole” was an unfortunate phrase in Ben Stokes’s context.
Just thought this bit of writing captured much of our experiences over our collective cricket-watching years
Chas responded:
The writer’s piece was wonderful and it made my emotions bubble up again! I believe he was absolutely spot on with the analysis of Stokes bowling, the brilliance, the commitment and the ‘gut renching’ dedication to win, no matter of the pain his body was suffering – because it was for the team – definitely some comparison to Freddie!
My major disappointment was not being there on Saturday to see and witness this fabulous and emotional win by England!!
Here is the ECB short highlights reel for the final day; those 90 minutes I witnessed on the TV rather than live:
After a super meal at Colbeh – reported here – and a good night’s sleep at the Eaton Hotel, Daisy and I would have been fit and ready to walk to Edgbaston for an 11:00 start…
…but this was a day/night test match, so instead I arranged to have a music lesson with Ian Pittaway in Stourbridge. It bucketed down with rain on the way to Stourbridge, which made me wonder whether Edgbaston would be fit for cricket by 14:00, but I needn’t have worried. Day/Night One of the match turned out to be a very sunny although slightly chilly affair.
Daisy and I walked to the ground in dry, improving weather. Security was tight but well organised this year, so we joined the others at about 13:40. The others were Charley The Gent Malloy, The Boy Malloy, Nigel “Father Barry” and Harsha Goble.
Mrs Malloy had made a splendid picnic for us all, consisting mostly of an extremely plentiful supply of big bap sandwiches. Chas went into major-domo mode, insisting that we tuck in at regular intervals, saying:
“I cannot report back to Dot that any of these sandwiches remained uneaten.”
The weather forecast for Day Two was not so special – indeed it was obvious that the weather would close in sometime between 19:00 and 20:00 and there would then be no further play that day.
Daisy, Nigel and I went over to Chas and Nick’s hotel on that Day two morning, hatching a plan that we should eat relatively light at the ground that day with a view to eating a good meal together in Colbeh to make up for the session of cricket that we looked likely to lose. If the weather by chance relented, we could always stay at the ground and eat from the selection of increasingly interesting and decent food outlets at Edgbaston these days.
Daisy captures the look of the pink ball on the big screen
Harsha had, unfortunately, needed to return to London for a funeral on the Friday, but was expecting to arrive back at Edgbaston around 19:00.
The rain arrived as expected around 19:30. We had redirected Harsha towards the “dining at Colbeh rather than watching the rain come down” plan.
Much better than sitting at Edgbaston watching the rain
In truth, it was great to have the opportunity to have a meal together and “chew the fat” after the cricket – this aspect (which would normally be absent for a day/night match) is the biggest down side to such match timing…the colder evenings being less of an issue, although…
…Day Three did turn out to be a chilly day.
Daisy and I walked to the ground all three days; Day Three being the most pleasant walking conditions of the three – sunny but a tad cooler than Day One.
We saw an interesting sight on the way to the ground:
An Ethiopian Orthodox Service at St Georges Church on a Saturday
It looked half service, half church fete.
Dawid Malan fielding right in front of us…I don’t think he spotted me!
There was some freezing cold business with lads behind us clearly not dressed for the occasion and divesting themselves of what little clothing they had
Members of the Mexican community behind the Eric Hollies Stand looked more suitably dressed for a chilly day/night match…
…members of the Flintstone community behind the Eric Hollies Stand less so.
The others bailed out before the end of the match, as Chas, Nick and Harish were travelling home that night and Nigel wanted a lift back to the hotel.
We’d all had a good time – three days had just flown by.
Daisy and I stuck it out until the last ball – the first time I had ever seen a whole first class match, let alone a test:
Close to the last moments of the game
Gosh it was cold by the end; we thought about bailing out a couple of times, but then a wicket would fall. We walked back to the Eaton Hotel that night to warm ourselves up, which worked rather well.
A very one-sided match but also a very enjoyable few days.
I started to suspect that all would in fact be well when Chas wrote, 10 days or so before the event:
“I need to see how my first car drive goes on Saturday, I also need to talk to ‘Razor’ and ‘Knuckles’ both Essex members as they offered to take my tickets off me…if I didn’t recover in time – let me see how the drive goes over the weekend and how they respond to the disappointment.”
I replied:
Razor and Knuckles sound like absolutely delightful company; indeed possibly preferable to the original candidates for the roles…
A week later, it became clear that Razor and Knuckles were set to remain in their Essex lairs; Chas again:
To confirm I’ll be bringing some 1st day food up with me on Wednesday. Dot’s happy to provide some sandwiches – corn beef and mustard on soft white and egg mayonnaise on soft white. I have some other stuff (old favourites) and some (new stuff) that looks ok, too!
In fact, Dot’s first day sandwich feast also included heaps of ham on brown and cheese on brown too. We struggled…in a good way, saving most of the other less perishable delicacies (Harish and I had also brought quite a few of those) for the later days.
So, the night before the match it was just me and Nigel dining and at the hotel, as reported here. Chas and Nick “The Boy Malloy” turned up very early on the morning of the match (Nigel and I were still at breakfast). Nigel and I had planned to walk to the ground; Nick and Chas were cabbing it. Harish was a little delayed in traffic, but, still keen to walk, ambled to the ground on his own that morning.
We were all at the ground in time for the toss. Nigel was smarting a bit, in part because the walk was perhaps a bit much for his knees, in part through the indignity of having his minimally-concealed Shiraz-in-a-flask seized at the gate.
I had determined in any case to enjoy the Edgbaston cricket dry during the day again this year, making space for a glass or two in the evening.
The three days of cricket were wonderful. At the end of day one we were all unsure whether England had scored enough runs. At the end of day two we were sure they hadn’t and that Pakistan were close to total control. At the end of day three we knew that England had all-but wrested control back from Pakistan.
We played our traditional sweepstake game all three days; this year, unusually, Harish swept the board, especially on one of the days. I wanted him tested for performance enhancing substances but Harish mysteriously failed to turn up for the tests.
Harish and I were keen to walk to and from the hotel each morning and evening. After that first morning, Nigel bowed out of the walk until the Friday evening. On one of our walks, I think it was Friday morning, Harish and I had a very interesting chat about music. We schemed a tabla/ukulele jam for next time but struggled to work out whether some of Harish’s favourite tabla rhythms could possibly work with western tunes, which are usually relentlessly 4/4 or occasionally 3/4 time signatures.
With thanks to the waitress for taking the picture
I tried the slow-cooked lamb shank this time, while Nigel and Chas shared the full works of grills. Harish tried one of the vegetarian stews. Again, all the trimmings were wonderful, not least the amazing aubergine and mango sauce (not really a chutney, or at least not a sour chutney), which was new to me because, as we were proudly informed by the (other) son who looked after us this time, that sauce is his mother’s own recipe. To paraphrase Nigel’s eloquent recollection in the comments section from our previous visit, that makes it our sort of place.
On the Friday, all of us but Nigel headed home after the day’s play; in Harish’s and my case via the hotel, which had kindly offered safe custody to our vehicles, baggage and (in my case) Benjy the Baritone Ukulele. Nigel swore on the way home that he wouldn’t eat a thing that evening after three days of feasting and it seems he kept his word – Nigel’s subsequent e-mail report:
My plans for a quiet evening on Friday were ruined by Sharon and Kev’s engagement celebration in the hotel function suite, that really did feel like it was taking place in the next room. After the three day grazing, I took the unsolicited advice barely audible from a Ukulele shaped bag suggesting it wouldn’t harm that big bloke to miss a meal or two. That thing does have attitude.
In short, the whole trip was a great success. It’s a bit difficult to explain how or why spending several days with old friends doing so little can be so satisfying and relaxing, but it is. I guess the whole idea of five day cricket is hard to explain to the uninitiated. Nigel again, writing on the Sunday morning, just before the start of Day Five:
We have once again enjoyed a fascinating Test match, which only really began to be resolved during the last session. Into the fifth day and it is still compelling. It would be impossible to explain that to the Georgian Cabbie, seen to register disbelief at Charles’ response to “who won?” at the end of day one.
Big Papa Zambezi Jeff Tye presenting me with my Heavy Roller shirt– thanks to Charley The Gent Malloy for the image – grabbed from his vid.
I have been encouraged to write up this particular Heavy Rollers visit now, in December 2021, as King Cricket and his partner in crime Dan Liebke have arrived at this test match in their podcast series, The Ridiculous Ashes. This test is Series Three, Episode Three – click here or below:
I haven’t listened to that podcast yet – my plan is to write up The Heavy Rollers experience and then listen.
For reasons I don’t quite understand, I have no photographs from 2009 in the “Charley The Gent” collection – just a video of Big Papa Zambezi Jeff Tye handing out the Heavy Rollers shirts on the morning of the first day:
It might just be that the photos from that year never reached me and therefore are omitted from what I thought was a canonical collection. If Charley furnishes me with photos in the fulness of time, have no fear, they will find there way to this piece.
My log records that it was a bumper year for Heavy Rollers, attendance-wise. Ashes years tended to be like that. Here is the Heavy Roll call (did you see what I did there?):
Big “Papa Zambezi” Jeff Tye;
Nigel “Father Barry”;
Charley The Gent Malloy;
The Boy Malloy;
Harsha Ghoble;
Biff;
Tufty Geoff Young;
David “Peel” Steed;
Dan “Peel” Steed;
Ged Ladd.
Others might well be able to chip in with additional memories, but my recollections of this one are slight and a bit idiosyncratic.
The Night Before – 29 July 2009
On arrival the night before (29th July), I recall that there was a bit of a scramble for the “better rooms” at Harborne Hall, although by that year (our second at the venue) I had concluded that the larger rooms at the top of the old building had some disadvantages to them such that my own preference was for a well-located slightly smaller room. I thus avoided the potentially contentious debate by deferring to my elders while still getting what I wanted.
I’m fairly sure it was this year, 2009, when I ran into my friend Maz (Marianne Tudor-Craig) at Harborne Hall, which, at that time, was still a VSO training & conference venue and Maz was still a VSO-nik at that time. It was strange seeing her in that setting while I was having a cricket break with my mates.
Day One – 30 July 2009
Obviously the single most important event of the day is captured on video for all to see – here’s the link again if you missed it above:
The rest of Day One was a bit of an anti-climax, certainly cricket-wise, as it rained for much of the day. I’m pretty sure that The Steeds would have smuggled in some wine boxes disguised as picnic-bag chillers and a fine picnic to go with it too.
I recall that nephew Paul “Belmonte” was at the ground that day and joined us for a while during one of the many rain breaks.
I also recall that, at one point, I was so “mentally unoccupied” while wandering around in a rain break that I allowed a young blond Npower saleswoman persuade me to change energy suppliers on a promise of, I blush to admit it, £200 off my energy bills for switching. Npower retained my business for several years after that.
In the absence of a 2009 photo in our maroon-coloured shirts, here is a picture of eight of us (only Biff and Tufty Geoff missing) from the previous year in the same place (Priory Stand front row) in our dark-coloured shirts:
Day Two – 31 July 2009 – Ridiculous Moment Of The Match
Forget whatever Alex “King Cricket” Bowden and Dan Liebke tell you in Series 3, Episode 3 of The Ridiculous Ashes, the most ridiculous moment of the match was around our seats at the start of Day Two.
By this stage of our proceedings, Charley “The Gent” was curating a fair bit of the Day Two picnic. As is Chas’s way, he was busying himself sorting out the contents of several bags of goodies at the start of play.
Despite several of us saying to Chas that the day’s play was about to begin, Chas was looking down in his bags when Graham Onions took a wicket with the first ball of the day.
Chas was disappointed missing that ball, but then returned to busying himself with his bags.
Despite several of us warning Chas that Onions was running up to bowl his second delivery, Chas continued busying himself, eyes down inside the bags…
…missing the fall of Michael Hussey for a primary – the second ball of the day.
Naturally Chas then gave the game his undivided attention for the attempted hat-trick ball and several subsequent deliveries of the ordinary variety.
We got plenty of play to see on the second day, although the mood of excitement was lessened because the weather forecast for Day Three was shocking, so (even during the exciting Day Two) there was a sense that the match was inevitably destined to be a draw.
I do hope I can supplement this piece with memories from other Heavy Rollers.
Where did we eat the night before the match? And the evening after Day One? I don’t think we played at all that year, but maybe we did. Hopefully the hive mind of the Heavy Rollers will help.
Charles Bartlett in action, me umpiring. It’s Chas’s photo, thanks Chas, but clearly he didn’t take it!
A few of us were clearly taking it seriously that year. The diary and e-mail correspondence suggests that we had a net on 27 May at Lord’s – me Chas, Matt and Adam Hinks:
Just a note to remind you all that we are netting this evening. See you at HQ Indoor School in whites just before 18:00.
Adam – FYI – I’ve bought and am bringing my helmet after our last net together! Although, having seen Mr Flynn on Friday, I’m not sure I’ll be trying to hook the head-high stuff anyway!!
Chas typically complained about aches and pains the next day:
Great being at Lords last night, but am I the only one suffering from multitude of aches and pains from the cricket net?
And he calls me a wuss.
The planned 10 June net was cancelled by Lord’s; the diary says that we had a net with bowling machine 15 July (presumably the rescheduled gig.) I think that was just me, Chas and Matt, after which both of them claimed that they didn’t much like the bowling machine, so I don’t think we did that again. But the machine experience got me SO ready for battle. I think Moses (Hallam Moseley) was the coach that day. Either him or Jamie Thorpe, whose left-arm bowling when without the machine tended to cause me all sorts of problems.
A large Z/Yen contingent sallied forth to Brentwood in Essex, late July, to contest the new Bartlett-Harris Cricket Trophy. A Charles Bartlett Invitation XI (curiously similar to the old Children’s Society team) took on an Ian Harris Invitation XI (not discernibly different from the Z/Yen team of old). Z/Yen’s highlight of the day must have been Monique’s superb batting. But before that the lowlight of the day must have been the opening batting partnership between Messrs Harris and Mainelli; that managed to send any spectator who remained awake to sleep. Stick to the day job, fellas. But things were very different in the field, when those two teamed up for Ian Harris to take a sharp catch off the bowling of Michael – the first time he had ever bowled in his life. Ian also took several wickets with his moon-balls, including both Bartletts (father and son) in the same over. So perhaps Messrs Harris and Mainelli might choose to give up the day job in favour of cricket after all. As is so often the case, Ian’s team came second, but in any case The Children’s Society always wins, on this occasion to the tune of several hundred pounds raised towards that good cause. And a really good time was had by all; players and spectators alike.
I composed much but not all of a lengthy report on this match, from build up to part way through the first innings. Then I must have run out of ideas or steam. It builds on the style of the 2006 Tufty Stackpole report, which Charles Bartlett likes a lot.
The usual Heavy Rollers gig is Edgbaston, of course, but this year there was to be no test match in Brum.
Indeed, there has been much musing and debate since June 2007 as to whether this outing comprises a Heavy Rollers event or not.
In short, it does as far as I am concerned.
The evening before the match started, we were supposed to have a net at Old Trafford. Charles had arranged it all. The Old Trafford lot had been reluctant at first, priority for test match teams, can’t have oiks in the same nets as international players, blah blah. But when Chas explained that it was our tradition to net at Edgbaston the night before the match (based on a sample of one previous occasion, the year before, negotiated through similar reluctance), someone at Old Trafford was daft enough to relent and take our booking…but was then too polite to tell anyone to keep the place was open for us.
Result – disappointment the night before – only consolation being an amazing meal at Yang Sing (yes, my idea, yes, I know what I am doing, Chinese food-wise) for the four of us who had ventured that far north. Given the fuss-pot group involved: Nick, Harish, Charles and “me-no-fuss-pot” , the Yang Sing team worked wonders with a feast with plenty of food for all to enjoy.
The first day at the test was a day to watch England batting pretty well. Chas was still fidgeting about the net; I suggested that our best chance of real redress (i.e. a net) was to try and get them to allow us a net the next morning before the start of play. So we went to see the indoor school people and managed to find a suitably apologetic and sympathetic lady. She agreed that we had been seriously inconvenienced, to the extent that merely getting our money back was not adequate; she also managed to arrange for us to have our net at 9:00 am, before play the next day. She even arranged for us to have a parking space at Old Trafford when the inevitable question came up. Yes, Chas could then leave the car at Old Trafford all day. Quite a result.
So in the end, we were able to drive into old Trafford for Day two of the test early in the morning, as if we owned the place. Into the nets and let the fun commence. Around the time I came to have my bat, a small posse of West Indian stars turned up in the adjoining net. I especially remember Ravi Rampaul bowling to Shiv Chanderpaul. I also remember having to encourage the heavy roller guys to bowl at me rather than rubbernecking at the adjoining nets.
Whether Shiv Chanderpaul rubbernecked to observe my technique I couldn’t say, as naturally I was concentrating hard on my batting – watching the ball all the time, all the way. But Shiv did make a 50 that day, so I suspect he picked up a few ideas through observation in those nets.
The day got weirder once we were in our seats. Someone behind us spent more or less the whole day on his feet in a Borat mankini. He and his mates were also doing some strange business, passing around a whole cooked chicken while singing its praises. And of course the inevitable Old Trafford beer snakes etc., as was the case Day One.
I also ran into Mike Redfern and a bunch of his mates from the Red Bat Cricket Collective. I noticed the Red Bat shirts walking past us and stopped the guys, asking them if they were by any chance still in touch with Mike. “We sure are – he’s sitting over there with us”, was the reply. Really nice to see him again.
Of course we went home at the end of Day Two (driving off into the sunset straight from the ground), but the test remained weird after we left Manchester, with a streaker incident the next day. Strangely, that incident was recently (at the time of writing, December 2015) reminisced about on King Cricket – here.
The Beechwood Garden and Roller. With thanks to Charles Bartlett for this picture.
It relates to a conversation I had with my next door neighbour.
The door to the next room was wide open. At first I thought my neighbour was engaged in conversation with someone – perhaps in the room but unseen by me, perhaps on his mobile phone. As I put the key into the lock of my door, he yelled out, unmistakably at me, “hello young fella. We’re neighbours, mate”.
‘Young fella’ is an endearing moniker once you get to my age. (These days only stewards at Lord’s and front of house staff at the Wigmore Hall still seem to use it for me.)
I took a couple of steps back and greeted my neighbour. He was certainly alone in the room and as far as I could tell had not been talking to anyone other than himself before I arrived.
He was bare chested – a strange sight in an old Victorian house/hotel in that Midlands City in spring – indeed I was going to my room to get an extra layer for the evening. He was drinking a can of lager.
“Sorry mate, I’m a bit pissed”, he said. It was 18:30 – probably par for his course.
“No problem”, I replied, “why not? You enjoy yourself.”
“That’s the spirit”, said my neighbour, “you going out for the evening?”
“That’s right”, I said.
“Well you have a good time, mate”, said my neighbour.
“And you have a good evening too”, I replied.
“That’s the spirit, mate”, he hollered after me as I scuttled the few steps along the corridor, quickly opened up the door to my room, grabbed my jersey, locked up again and fled for the evening.
different from the Z/Yen team of old). Z/Yen’s highlight of the day must have been Monique’s superb batting. But before that the lowlight of the day must have been the opening batting partnership between Messrs Harris and Mainelli; that managed to send any spectator who remained awake to sleep. Stick to the day job, fellas. But things were very different in the field, when those two teamed up for Ian Harris to take a sharp catch off the bowling of Michael – the first time he had ever bowled in his life. Ian also took several wickets with his moon-balls, including both Bartletts (father and son) in the same over. So perhaps Messrs Harris and Mainelli might choose to give up the day job in favour of cricket after all. As is so often the case, Ian’s team came second, but in any case The Children’s Society always wins, on this occasion to the tune of several hundred pounds raised towards that good cause. And a really good time was had by all; players and spectators alike.
