You know
what’s really worrying me about this Corona virus pandemic? The impact it could
have on my projected trips to East Fife against Forfar Athletic on Easter
Saturday and Airdrieonians versus Peterhead a fortnight later, especially as Jeanette
Mugabe is putting a blanket ban of gatherings consisting of more than 500
bodies. No doubt this is because of the groundswell of opposition to her
dictatorial rule and unquestioning support for the SNP sexual deviant tendency.
If she has her way and all games are postponed or played behind closed doors,
this will probably render my budget train tickets to Kirkcaldy and Airdrie
respectively, utterly useless. However, I do have a cunning plan. Mum’s the
word eh?
Like
politics, the wielding of power under the aegis of sporting administration, as
I learned during my thankless rule over the Tyneside Amateur League, is
desperately frustrating for all concerned.
Having just avoided the immediate suspension of professional sport in
England and Wales, undoubtedly the next meeting of Premier League and FA top
brass with emissaries of COBRA will be just as tense as the 3 cricket AGMs I’ve
been to over the past month. Firstly, the Midweek League’s meeting at Blue
Flames demonstrated the selfless dedication of elderly people to keeping the
spirit of recreational cricket alive; it was just a shame some of those
participants present couldn’t keep quiet when other people were talking. Their
appalling lack of manners and rude demeanour fair brought out the teacher in
me, but I relaxed when I learned the composition of the middle division will
involve visits to 5 new grounds in 2020. Let’s hope the weather is more clement
for us this year.
Next up, the
Tynemouth CC gathering took place on a dreary Wednesday night and, unlike
football pow-wows which were almost invariably an excuse for Epsilon Males to
rant incoherently on subjects they knew nothing of; this one ran smoothly and
professionally. In fact, it was properly productive and decorous. We had a
power point presentation to guide us through the successes and otherwise of the
last 12 months. On the whole it went smoothly, other than Benno quizzing Peter
Brown about the club’s expenditure on players in the manner of the Commons
Select Committee quizzing a shady backbencher about a dodgy expenses claim.
Other than
that, all the elections went through on the nod, I took my place behind the bar
and Fanta channelled his inner Greta Thurnberg by suggesting we avoid the need
to do the washing up at the end of each game, by moving to plastic plates and
cutlery, which we’ll presumably integrate into the marine eco system by
pitching them into the sea from King Eddy’s Bay on a daily basis. The priorities
for next season are sorting out the coaching and tidying up the home changers,
which often resemble a cross between Glastonbury after the festival and Bobby
Sands’ cell. Best of all were the quality hot pork and roast beef sandwiches
that Kelly produced as the post meeting buffet. There was no lamb, but a little
baldy bloke was sat sheepishly in the corner.
The gathering broke up at 8 and I headed home as I was on earlies,
looking forward to the start of the season proper on April 18th,
with a friendly against Cleethorpes the week before.
The week
after, on the Monday we endured the first snowfall of the year, I was at
Jesmond for the Northumberland CCC AGM. Some things never change; the
attendance (17) was the same as last year, and so was the message that the
county is financially sound, but aware of the need to improve on the pitch. New
coach Dan Shurben talks a good game and the first thing I did when I got home
was renew my membership; £20 for 10 days cricket is fantastic value. I’m proud
to support my county and find it incomprehensible that some clowns glory hunt,
by supporting counties they have zero connection with.
Sadly, one
sporting event I won’t have to worry about is the National Indoor Club Cricket
6-a-side Finals Day at Lords on March 29th, on account of Tynemouth
bowing out in the Northern Final against Woodlands CC from the Bradford League at
the Bolton Arena on March 8th. Having got through the two
Northumberland rounds before Christmas, hostilities resumed on February 23rd
at Chester le Street against South Shields, courtesy of a lift to the contest
from Captain Poll. I’m not a seasoned indoor fan, but after watching 3
campaigns, I must admit the Riverside is the best place I’ve seen the indoor
game played, probably because the playing area is the biggest, I’ve come across.
Unfortunately, it’s also the most popular. Squeezed for time, the contest was
reduced to 10 overs and they scored an impressive 131/3, with Sam Robson taking
a smart caught and bowled and pouching another smart catch. He made himself the
hero of our innings, with successive sixes as we made it home with 3 balls to
spare, resulting in another trip to Lancashire in search of a berth at Lords.
It’s the
third year running we’ve lost at this stage, but while the other two losses
were at Old Trafford, a certain other sporting event in the area sent us up to
Horwich, across the car park from the Reebok Stadium, or whatever it’s called
now; Bankruptcy Park probably. The other 2 losses were at the semi-final stage,
to Shropshire Grasshoppers last year and Woodlands in 2018. This setting was totally unsuited to indoor
cricket; a blue tennis court with a matting wicket taped on top in a wrongly
shaped hall that made setting a field a confusing task. We lost the toss, but
Nick Armstrong and George Harding, up from his Cheshire home in place of the
eternally reluctant indoorer Matty Brown, did the business as we assembled a
decent enough 126. Grasshoppers never once threatened and we dismissed them for
92, before a disappointing buffet of jacket spuds and wilting salad that was
far inferior to the sumptuous repast provided by Lancashire CCC at Old Trafford.
Woodlands
had a walkover to the final as their opponents couldn’t raise a team. Things
looked promising when we won the toss and Polly put them in. After 9 overs, they
were 70/3 and floundering, when they suddenly went berserk, closing on 136/3.
At 12/4 from 3 overs, we were effectively halfway down the M62, though George
and Poll had a go to get us to 62 all out. While the immediate effect was that
we were at Scotch Corner by the time Man United scored their second, the
journey back allowed us to muse on the fact that compared with last year, we’d
given a fine account of ourselves and were beaten by a side who will probably
win the tournament at Lords. The best team won.
Such
Corinthian sentiments can only mean one thing: roll on the outdoor cricket
season. Surely Corvid can’t restrict the world’s greatest game at club level?
Can it?
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