Mystics versus Broadclyst at Killerton House, 1st August 2010
With hangovers, strained muscles and bad backs, the starting eleven for the mystics was the strongest on show of the 2010 tour. Captain Jim threw enough of his Tonnage around to convince the oppo to field first and Pete and I opened the batting. The batsmen batted, bowlers bowled, Chris Healey hacked, mumbled and grumbled. This continued till late afternoon.
Once the match was over the three Cooks meandered their way to the centre. With no more than a bat and ball the forty-five minutes of 'Cook family cricket'(c) produced the most spellbinding of the day's cricket. Chris had the ball in hand, slipped-disc Matt wielding the bat with Sam stood behind the stumps looking into the wide yonder.
Chris began proceedings by bowling an armball at Matt's ankles. Matt backed-away to hit the ball straight. Chris returned to bowl an arm-ball slightly outside the off-stump. Matt cut the ball hard into the ground. No run. Sam was now looking ever more intently into the distant nowhere. Oblivious to the happenings around him, Chris varied things slightly by floating his arm-ball gently at the stumps. Matt, however, was not to be outfoxed by the straight-one and pushed hard to mid-off, his feet were moving fast and precisely. Next, Chris fired in an even straighter arm-ball - straighter than all previous arm-balls.
Matt was expecting a straight ball but nothing quite as straight as was delivered. An inside edge ran gently to fine-leg. The crowd, though, was in a state of confusion for they assumed the day's play to be over and were politely chatting amongst themselves. I too lost myself in the chatter on several occasions but was still glancing back to the action in the centre to witness Chris' masterly display of arm-ball variations. Tuning in and out of the action I could grasp the seriousness of Matt's injury which forced him to all but miss the league game the previous day for when he charged Chris to smash him over his head I could swear his smile was in fact a grimace of agony. Or when he violently threw himself at a wide arm-ball, he collected himself too smartly as if he felt there was ignominy in injury.
Behind me began a discourse on gin. I turned to imbibe what I could of the conversation - Ernie, the runner beans in G&T are a winner! - and lost sight of the titanic battle taking place on the square. Matt was now bowling - bad back an'all - to Chris and Sam, still behind the stumps, was now refocusing on an unlocateable distant. Matt's gothic-grotesque leg-spin bowling was comfortably played by Chris who brutally punished full, short, wide and straight bowling. No delivery was met with a defensive shot so Sam was coaxed gently back to the everyday world to bowl at Chris.
The first beamer Sam bowled was met with surprise by Chris - it was a straight one. The next two beamers were wide outside the offstump and swinging even further away. Matt was struggling standing-up to the wicket and was now fielding some fifteen yards in front of the boundary sporting a helmet and armguard. Sam was not paying attention to the changes and charged in and let-rip an astonishing long-hop lacking any sense of direction and control. Sam was making use of all the club's facilities: the square, outfield and on occasion the prepared wicket. Such variations in line and length proved too much for batsmen, keeper and eventually bowler who walked off the playing area with no word uttered between them just a tacit acceptance that nothing had been resolved in this short battle.