After many years hosting home matches at Glass House, Bear Flat – these days – are billeted at the Odd Down playing fields. This location has all the charm of a municipal car park but does, at least, provide a flat playing area with good sight lines. The strip itself, last night, was as green as Robin Hood’s cod piece. Which made for some very unpredictable bounce.

This didn’t deter Sloth openers Jimmy and Lazarus. Jimmy hit an extraordinarily fast and fluent 25, declaring – on retirement – he could have carried on for a century, given the opportunity. Nobody was arguing with that. With dry conditions and short boundaries, fours and sixes were in evidence. However, Bear Flat’s bowling ran deep. In particular, Sloth-ringer Chris and the Silver Fox both hit the wickets too many times to allow the visitors to relax into any rhythm.

Hewes decided to take the latter on, charging – Stokes-like – down the track. On first attempt, this elicited runs. On the second, it didn’t. As Rick scoured the horizon to ascertain whether the ball had cleared the long-off boundary, his stumps were reduced to an ungainly pile of wood behind him.

Lazenby took to the middle showing signs he would not be standing for such nonsense. So eager was he that he ran out Sloths’ senior pro, SDS. Only he didn’t. Bear Flat, fortunately, had a player (ringer Chris) who actually knows the laws of cricket. Running to the non-striker’s end, SDS was well short when the stumps were broken. However, for some reason I don’t quite understand, the ball – having already been returned to the keeper – was deemed to be ‘dead’.

In the final over, SDS was trapped at the crease by some canny bowling. Lazenby threw caution to the wind on the last ball and took a suicidal run. The keeper, on this occasion, threw himself headlong in an attempt to throw down the stumps. Missing by a mile, he narrowly avoided having George land with both feet on his head.

Some other batting happened. Newby Tom looked impressive. Fresh probably got a few. Will certainly must have done. I wasn’t really paying attention.

With a relatively modest 120 runs to defend, Sloths needed to bowl accurately and field well. They did. Mostly. With one notable exception, who – fortunately – is writing this report and so will remain anonymous.

Peanut and Will both bowled exceptionally well, though occasionally their pace helped batsmen steer the ball past the eagerly-waiting fielders. George clattered the wickets during his fiery two-over spell. Fresh took a spiralling catch from Will’s bowling to remove one of Bear Flat’s big hitters. Will duly returned the compliment.

Behind the stumps. Jimmy was impressive, coping with the unpredictable bounce and (ahem) varied bowling, with calm diligence. One particularly neat take – down the leg-side from the bowling of Fresh – could have removed key-batsman ‘ringer’ Chris. However, this was adjudged to have brushed the pad only, whereas Jimmy swore there had been bat involved. Who knows?

Hewes – fielding in the deep – used his long limbs to good effect, saving many a run with whichever part of his anatomy came to hand. Or foot. In fact, all the fielding was tidy and only Bear Flat’s predilection for intermittently hitting big boundaries kept them on top of the runs.

Cue SDS, coming on to bowl with just 5 runs needed and 4 wickets remaining. First ball: wicket! (Edged to Lazenby at short square-leg? Can’t remember.) Suddenly, Sloths woke from their collective slumber. Scenting blood, they crowded the bat. Two balls later, Jimmy snaffled the thinnest of edges from Silver Fox, who – despite SDS’s failure to appeal – sportingly walked.

Double-agent Ed ‘we’ve been expecting you’ Evetts then took the crease. Surely he wouldn’t be so foolish as to hit the winning runs against his own teammates? Surely.

It’s been nice playing with you Ed.

 

Over cool-box-fresh cans of weak, Canadian lager, Sloths ruminated on the evening’s proceedings:

• Where, precisely, should a lacrosse ball be inserted, after encroaching on the field of play for the third time?
• Were Bear Flat actually trying to poison us with their pavilion’s swimming-pool flavoured water?
• Is it bad from to provide one’s own refreshment, rather than join oppo, post-match, at their local?
• Is it less bad form, when said invite came from a Sloth ringer who refused to walk?
• Can we trust the judgement of an adrenalised wicket-keeper over said batsman, who – presumably – would know whether he had, indeed, hit the ball?
• Is it unhealthy to fixate on such details when the game was well won in the end?
• And who writes this shit anyway?
• And who reads it??

 

Answers, please, on a lacrosse ball, inserted into an appropriate orifice and delivered – bodily – to Sloth HQ.

Ian Flemming, special surveillance correspondent, Slothful Times