Author: 'ANONYMOUS' Madigan

Sloths Triumph Over League Champions

Bathampton vs Redbridge Royals; KES; 01-06-21

As the usual rag-tag assortment of locals convened on the outfield at KES, yesterday evening, they were met with a worrisome spectacle. A squad of youthful and athletic blokes in matching kit were warming up in the adjacent nets. ‘Don’t worry’ assured captain Howard, ‘they’re footballers’.

Thus ennobled, Sloths set about humiliating these cheeky young upstarts. But, from the start, it was clear this would be no push-over. With no preconceptions, emotional baggage or fear, the visitors quickly embraced the concept of hitting a shiny, round, red thing with a long, willowy, wooden thing. And, it turns out, some were rather good at it.

D’Pipe provided the first breakthrough for the home side, having first peppered the wicket with a barrage of unerring expletives. Hewes confounded both batsmen and fielders alike, with intermittent pace and spin. One ball pitched in the rough and turned at an angle that would make Shane Warne proud. SDS later dislodged the bails with a trance-inducing orb that appeared to be hovering in slow-motion.

Bonder, behind the stumps, gamely stopped the varied deliveries using everything short of his gloves. Howard scooped a fine catch, low to the ground, at silly mid-off. ‘Van-man’ Nick, Porridge and Cam all saved valuable runs, martialing the boundaries with quick feet and strong arms. But this week’s ball magnet was SDS, who’s finest moment was accidentally stopping a firm drive off his own bowling, whilst trying – but failing – to get out of the way.

All the while, the visitors kept the scoreboard ticking. Many boundaries and a willingness to scamper singles meant that this inexperienced side notched-up an impressive 122 runs. At the break, Sloths were less than certain of victory and a humiliating defeat was not out of the question.

Fortunately, though, the home side had a formidable new talent on hand to save the day. Enter W Ides, who scored erratically, yet persistently, throughout the innings. There was some debate as to whether his inclusion was appropriate. However, it was agreed the visitors could allow their better bowlers unlimited overs. So, all’s fair in love and war.

As with batting, for many of the visiting side, bowling was a novel experience. But a sportsman is a sportsman. Fresh from their recent league triumph, the visitors were up to the challenge. And, between wides and no-balls, several of these initiates were bang on the money.

Painter and Hewes provided a solid start to the Sloth response. Both hit with confidence and looked like getting off to a flying start. Hewes’ glory, however, was cut short, when he tried – but failed – to force a decent delivery over mid-off. Painter, back from a recent rebuild, overcame any lack of flexibility incurred. He knocked the ball to the boundaries every which way and gamely trundled between the sticks, before retiring.

The visitors’ chief weapon was Watson, who bowled with accuracy and pace. Others, too, caused Bond Snr to became somewhat becalmed and pinned to the crease. And when Bond Jnr replaced him, it looked as though he, too, may be stifled. But then something happened. And that something was Porridge.

In an innings of Freshmeat-esque fluency and Houston-like harrying, Luke stole the game. For someone who, allegedly, has only been playing cricket for a couple of years, Porridge displayed astonishing balance, commitment, range of strokes and sheer exuberance. It was one of the finest innings this hack has had the pleasure to record.

Cam, too, found his rhythm, gratefully accepting deliveries on his pads when a yawning gap at square leg beckoned. So, just as it looked as though Sloths may struggle to equal the visitors’ total, they raced past it with seeming ease. Or was it simply that scorer D’Pipe had added a couple of extra overs? Who’s counting anyway?

Over socially-distanced post-match beers on the pavilion terrace, Sloths asked themselves some searching questions…

  • Should a return fixture be offered, at kick-ball?
  • Does Howard know the difference between Third Man and Point?
  • What’s the correct response to a skipper asking you to field on opposite boundaries in alternate overs?
  • How many overs should there be in a twenty-over innings?

Answers, please, in indelible marker, scribbled on the windshield of the silver Winnebago parked outside The Crown, Bathford.

 

Lord Lucan, correspondent-in-absentia, Slothful Times

 

 

Hard to Stomach? Not Really

Steaming in from the Beckford End, McCauley – vice to Stump’s cap’n – was pure poetry in motion, yesterday afternoon at a sultry Lansdowne cricket club. The Sloth’s away fixture was to the Star, following their no-show earlier in the season. Sadly, for the visitors, this had replaced what would have been a league fixture for their hosts. So, the Star’s team was not at the usual extra-thirds level to which Bathampton is more accustomed.

Nonetheless, together with Frith S, MC managed to both restrict the runs and take early wickets. The first of these fell to that rarest of beasts, a held slip catch. Momentarily forgetting he had no gloves on, Bond also forgot to take evasive action. Before he knew what had hit him, the ball was lodged in his mits (or lack thereof). In fairness, this was a hell of a catch, low to the ground and at pace.

An undue amount of respect was also afforded Howard, provided he pitched the ball outside the off stump. Sadly, both for him and Sloths in general, when he failed to do this, the batsmen gleefully swatted the ball to the boundary. He too took a wicket, which was almost disallowed due to the umpire-befuddling swiftness of Stump’s reactions. At first, it was thought Stu had removed the bails but all concurred that the ball had, indeed, struck the wickets unaided.

By the 20-over drinks break, things were fairly evenly poised. However, the batsmen were now beginning to settle in. One in particular. Then, faced with a Madeye melt-down, he and his partner began to make hay. In fact, despite McCauley’s exhortations to retire, he not only made hay, he also knocked up some sileage and re-thatched a small village, scoring well in excess of 100 runs.

Frith H showed maturity and resolve in floating the ball to stem the flow. Franks, then – of course – took this a step further, using such flight as to temporarily halt in-bound traffic to Bristol Airport. And the runs piled up. Paul ‘you’ve-got-to-have’ Haith bravely essayed his flat-arm, leftie, slow bowling, sometimes to good effect and securing a vital wicket. But the (privately-funded electronic) scoreboard kept ticking and the run-tally kept mounting.

With a total in excess of 270 to reach, Sloths were heartened by a flurry of raindrops during the tea interval. Sadly, though, these soon passed and it seemed they would have to do things the hard way. Amusingly, oppo reported to Chairman Franks, during the break, that their players had been worried as they were ‘bowler-heavy’. Yikes!

Cue pace, accuracy, swing and a strong argument for Sloths’ mooted investment in protective head-wear. Having said that, the pitch was well-behaved, so too the bowlers. And openers Bond and Franks did a terrific job of keeping the strike attack at bay. With pace on the ball, once these two had their eye in, any kind of connection was apt to elicit runs. So, as with the bowling, the Sloths innings began rather well.

But then came the deluge. Sadly, this was not the hoped-for downpour to hasten a retreat to a local hostelry. No. This was a litany of mis-timed shots, held catches and removed bails. I’ll spare you the details but McCauley did affect a second temporary halt to in-bound air traffic. Top edging a ball that he would ordinarily have sent crashing into the sight screen, MC was less than pleased to see this safely pouched.

With Barnes having been quickly removed, this left Stu to steady the ship and attempt to build some sort of response. In truth, it was probably already too late. However, Stu was taking his responsibilities seriously. He’d even put himself on to bowl at the end of the Star’s innings and to good effect. Now with the bat, Stump played his characteristic straight drives but also supplemented these with some more expansive cuts, sweeps and pulls.

Friths S and H both batted with resolve and solid technique. And Haith put in an excellent stint, massacring his previous personal best score, playing a solid, watchful and creative innings. In the end, these were the ‘positives’ that cliché dictates we should take from such a drubbing. At the end of the day, going forward, when all is said and done, etc. Sloths lost. Handsomely. To a far superior side. In which there is no shame.

But weren’t the teas good? Fresh roles, fresh tomatoes, cake, crisps and – wait for it… curry! This may not be a fixture everyone will be queuing up for in the near future. But if we have to lose, it may as well be on a full stomach.

Egon Ronay, Culinary Correspondent, Slothful Times   

New Blood – Old Feuds

It was a heart-warming sight, yesterday evening, to witness the arrival of Sloth Glastonbury refugees. In scenes reminiscent of the Calais Jungle, they dragged their tired and broken limbs to the safe haven that is Sloth HQ. All appeared to have survived the various ordeals and challenges of the Pilton tour. These included (but were by no means restricted to) the partaking of D’Pipe’s nasal spray and sampling of an unidentified brown liquid. We can only hope the latter was Coke, as a mushroom-tea sponsorship could be complicated. Sadly, however, Cawley was still nowhere to be seen.

Double-agent Painter – always a welcome presence – was, on this occasion, here to represent the opposition, Offsiders. Painter clearly had divided loyalties. Hitting a commanding 25 in short order, he later dropped a catch and missed a run-out in the same ball. Also, on the missed-chances front, Howard was so distracted preparing Madeye and Gordon for a probable nick-through from Yerbury’s bowling, that he wasn’t ready to hold-on to the ensuing prod to short mid-off.

Horcrux was kept busy on the short boundary, often left to marshal half the field alone. He was berated by McCauley for sliding, instead of taking the ball one-handed and throwing-in in one motion. Luc, however, had the presence of mind to realise he was not playing international cricket and put safety first. He probably saved a good 20 runs and took a fine catch from a lofted full toss. Meanwhile, on the opposite, long boundary, Fresh – having divested himself of offspring – took a magnificent catch on the run at deep extra cover.

Tom McBoatface both opened and closed the bowling from the top end, almost concluding with a hat trick in his final over. Almost. Plaudits also to Fresh for sticking to his line and length, tumbling the wickets after several probable LBWs went by.

In the absence of Stumpchat, it was great to have another recognised wicket keeper available, in newbie James Cordon. Evidently released from interviewing duties, James had proved his worth in the Dads game and was quickly recruited to the Sloth ranks. However, he was relegated to the field and not given a bowl. No idea why. Ask the skipper.

But no matter, Cordon (oh, ‘Gordon’? – sorry, I thought he’d lost weight…) opened the batting and was thus able to show his true worth. As Notley opened his account with consecutive fours, Gordon asked the umpire at the non-striker’s end if he is always like this. ‘Not really’ came the reply. Tom was clean bowled next ball. Fresh was similarly eager to get things moving but also dismissed by a quick, full, ball that barely left the turf. Luc followed suit. So, it fell to McCauley to help Gordon build an innings.

And build they did. With both players timing their shots sweetly, they could happily pick off the singles between magnificent boundaries to keep the score ticking over. Probably the shot of the match came from McCauley: a Stumpchat-esque back-foot drive straight past the bowler, up the hill, for four. When Offsiders reintroduced one of their more intimidating strike bowlers, later in the innings, it looked as though things may take a turn. However, he over-pitched consecutive balls and these were swatted away for two sixes and a four.

Whilst Sloths had been well on target to reach the required 115 runs, they did falter somewhat towards the end. Bond’s refusal to run between the wickets led to McCauley all but self-combusting as the run rate slowed. However, Bond was simply waiting for the bad ball, which he duly dispatched to the boundary. Wickets continued to fall but both McCauley and Gordon were retired and available, if required, to finish things off.

So, did Sloths end the innings in a blaze of glory? No. Of course not. They won the game with a whimper, largely through the wide deliveries and bves of Offsiders’ lower-order bowling. So embarrassed was umpire Notley, on realising he had awarded a wide to provide the winning score, that he tried to rescind his decision. There followed an awkward hiatus. The scorer was poised with pen above paper to mark off the final run. The scoreboard operator was hovering with the remaining digit in hand. And the players looked-on, to see whether this was, indeed, the end.

It was. And, to be honest, nobody was really surprised. The damage had been done much earlier by Sloth bowlers and fielders, restricting some strong Offsider batsmen to a modest score. Coupled with the solid platform of Gordon and McCauley’s batting, Sloths would have done very poorly indeed not to secure the win. But stranger things have happened.

After the game, players were happy to help finish off left-overs from a KES jolly in the pavilion. This had spilled-over to enhance the atmosphere with a lubricated balcony full of captive spectators. One pink-shirted onlooker, apparently taking a shine to McCauley, had observed ‘Oh, he looks like me!’. To which Paul’s inevitable response was ‘In your dreams mate’. We can expect the pitch fees to be going up some time soon.

Once the good of the parish had absented themselves, Sloths were able to open the mobile bar, which was swiftly emptied. We were then treated to the musings of Sage Lodge. Jon, due to digital miscommunication, had arrived expecting to play, only to find himself twelfth man. Taking his duties seriously (and with a healthy intake of liquids), Lodge offered wise council in the form of sledging, verbal abuse and helpful advice to skipper Bond, as he singlehandedly cleared the empties.

  • So, is this the dawn of a new era, with a fresh influx of cricketing Bathampton Dads?
  • Will Bond and McCauley finally come to blows at the crease?
  • What was that mysterious light emanating from Brown’s Folly, in the gathering darkness?
  • Where does SDS keep his secret stash of cider?

Answers, please, on a discarded Sloth bat and placed in the bonfire at the next AGM…

 

Harry Carpenter; boxing correspondent; Slothful Times

A Worthy Celebration

A Sloth tour traditionally comprises two or three nights of drunken debauchery, coupled with a brace of hung-over cricketing encounters. This year, however, things were taken to a whole new level. With five days’ partying and just one fixture, the Pilton tour of 2019 seemed far more representative of true Slothdom. And what a feast of sporting excellence it turned out to be.

Having located the game as close as humanly possible to D’Pipe’s place of work (the circus tent), it was no surprise to find him absent from proceedings. Sloth Howard also needs to take a hard look at his priorities. He deemed it more important to document the collective efforts of a thousand hippies bringing attention to the plight of our planet than attend an important cricket fixture. A disciplinary hearing was later held in the backstage Theatre & Circus area. He was found not guilty on the grounds he was able to secure after-hours drinks for the chairman of the panel. Notley was also Notpresent, presumed comatose in a ditch somewhere.

But, despite these notable omissions, a star-studded line-up was fielded. This included our overseas professional, Matt Cawley. It was the same old Matt we know and love, only sporting a Brazilian and a little camper (his girlfriend and accommodation, do pay attention). Ironically, Matt appeared the least stoned we’ve seen him for years – but it was only Thursday afternoon.

SDS was captain-elect for the proceedings. Similarly in a state of near-sobriety rarely seen at Pilton, he even provided the stumps and a suitably crowd-friendly ball. Luc Horcrux was keyed up and raring to go, like a Stumpchat on amphetamine. He brought along Ringer Gio, who took up photographic duties in Ant’s absence. Madeye made the effort of appearing in semi-whites (and rather fetching rainbow shades). And that’s about it for the regular Sloths.

However, an ever-changing cast of characters made up the numbers, from be-kilted men to be-glittered ladies. The former, upholding the commando tradition, ensured that the Sloth no no-balls rule was enforced. There was even a fine stint from Ben Stokes. At first, we thought it was just a look-alike. But then he pulled off the most improbable catch – a virtual carbon copy of his recent spectacle at the World Cup. So, it must have been him.

Talking of catches, blimey were they in abundance. Madeye and Cawley both held-on to wayward strikes on the run. Luc conjured, out of nowhere, an astonishing one-handed tumbling take at backward square leg that made Stokes’ effort look quite ordinary. He also concerned himself with ensuring no young children were maimed, fending-off over-zealous shots in the direction of the burgeoning spectators. And SDS, ‘fielding’ at mid-on, nonchalantly caught the ball with one hand, whilst simultaneously photographing the event with his phone in the other.

In truth, some of the crowd may have been gathered on the boundary to take advantage of shade from the circus tent. Others may have been watching the neighbouring (sometimes enveloping) giant football match. But the exuberant stroke play, fielding acrobatics and frankly dangerous bowling did not go unnoticed by the captive onlookers.

In the end, it was hard to say who scored what, for whom and why. In truth, cricket won on the day. And if a Glastonbury-worthy finish was ever needed, Cawley delivered in style. Hooking a beamer for six, he not only cleared the boundary but also the perimeter fence. Straight into the backstage circus area. Gamely heading off to retrieve the ball, Matt was swiftly set upon by security. We think he may still be there. Or perhaps he was deported back to Brazil. Never mind, it was lovely to see him again, if only briefly.

With Cawley incarcerated and the ball missing, stumps were taken. Or, rather they weren’t. It was decided to leave them in situ as a fitting tribute to our dearly-departed ex-Sloth Matt. May he rest in Pilton.

Michael Eavis; Festivals Correspondent; Slothful Times

Time, Gentlemen, Please

A Sunday game at Priston is guaranteed to provide drama, incident, controversy and runs. Yesterday was to be no exception. But would it all end in another disappointing draw?

In adherence to recent government directives, Sloths shifted focus away from London-centric elitism. Instead, they opened with the Northern Powerhouse of McCauley and Stumpchat.  The High-speed Sloth Two (HS2) project, however, ran off the rails before it had really got going. So, a new coalition was quickly convened and normality restored.

Painter and Stump took time to assess the moss-laden wicket, boundary-defeating outfield and variable bowling. Once the pair had established themselves, however, runs ensued. Painter stretched and contorted his reconstituted frame to defy medical science, once again turning wides into boundaries. Stump went aerial with his trademark back-foot straight drives. And, in between, they rotated the strike with singles aplenty.

When you look across the pitch from the makeshift pavilion, towards Priston’s enormous cock, there is a certain timelessness to the scene. Which rather adds irony to their home games being timed, rather than limited by overs. It would be uncharitable to suggest the hosts are deliberate in taking an age to set, reset, refine and rescind their field placings. But, blimey, do they take their time.

Both Stump and Painter were firmly entrenched by the drinks break. Thereafter they set about scoring more freely, each passing fifty in short order. Fresh, all the while, was limbering up in the nets and raring to go. When Painter called for a runner, he willingly obliged. And when Jim decided enough was enough, choosing to take early retirement, Fresh was already in situ to take over. This, despite the fact the number 3 batsman was actually Bond.

But no matter. Painter’s departure seemed also to upset Stump’s equilibrium. He gave up his wicket next over, lobbing an easy catch back to the youthful (and painfully serious) bowler. As Stump took the applause for a fine innings, Painter was still reeling from the news he’d retired on 97. He hadn’t. But no-one had the heart to tell him this was just a wind-up.

All in all, Sloths reached a commanding total of 200+ runs. Priston would, no doubt, be more than happy to settle for a draw. So, the focus was to take wickets, over and above defending runs.

Howard set the standard, dropping a certain caught-and-bowled with the first ball. He then took a spectacular dive over what would have been a simple catch – had he stayed put at short mid-wicket – from the bowling of Yerbury. Stump followed suit, dropping edged balls, also from the whiley Yerbury. Madeye managed to be caught napping and out of position, having an ornithological discussion with Fresh at extra cover. How they laughed as a red kite circled above the haplessly oblivious twitcher, clutching binoculars in the clubhouse. How Ric laughed as the ball was hoisted to the precise spot left vacant by Madeye.

But wickets did fall. Yerbury was dastardly as always. Ant found line and length from the start and had the ball moving alarmingly from the pitted strip. McCauley tempered his pace, until no-balled. Resuming his full run-up, he then demolished the wickets. Franks confused the batsmen with his variable speed and flight. ‘Where’s’ Ed held a catch on his second attempt at long off to a mistimed drive from a rank full-toss. Fresh kept the batsmen pinned to the crease with full-pitched deliveries. And so on.

Proceedings had to be halted when Priston’s skipper top-edged an over-pitched ball into his own face. It was quickly apparent that this was serious. The batsman immediately said he couldn’t see anything out of the eye where the ball had struck. This situation did not improve and he was whisked away for hospital attention. We all wish him well and sincerely hope his eyesight can be fully restored.

It naturally took a while for the mood to lift, following this unfortunate interlude. Sloths also found it difficult to keep their collective feet on the jugular when Priston’s youngster took to the crease. He may be older but looks not more than 11. Eventually, the irrepressible Stu could hold back no more and stumped the little tyke. What are the chances?

Then followed Priston’s most senior member, Wilf. And what a game fellow he is. He even stole a crafty single, though struggling to make the 22 yards. Fresh showed no mercy. Wilf had to go.

One Priston batsman did make it past fifty. But he was something of a lone figure. A couple of the openers and the injured skipper also looked capable of making runs. But this was a formidable Sloth bowling attack, determined to avoid a dispiriting draw. And avoid it they did.

Convening in the ‘Ring O’ Bells’ for post-match refreshment, questions – as they so often do – abounded:

  • Should we tell Painter he really only got 70-odd runs?
  • Can Sloths manage to raise a motley crew for next season’s proposed ‘tour’?
  • Do chips and ketchup constitute a Northern Fondue?
  • Why do the Priston villagers have such an enormous cock?

Answers, please, via the comments box below…

Bill Oddie, Ornithology Correspondent, Slothful Times