Don’t think us unkind
Words were hard to find
as Bathampton Cricketers unsigned
Battled with sloths of twisted mind

And as their bowling escaped me
And the batsman to the boundary made me

We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Is all we want to say to you
We beat the school, de dads ya ya
Their innocence will pull them through
We beat the school, de dads ha ha
Is all we want to say to you
We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Its meaningless and all that’s true

Poets, priests and architects
Cricket thanks them as rejects
Balls that scream for your submission
And no one’s batting their transmission

‘Cause when the Kestrel adds fuel
Or SDS in fact bowls you…

We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Is all we want to say to you
We beat the school, de dads ya ya
Their innocence will pull them through
We beat the school, de dads ha ha
Is all we want to say to you
We beat de school, de dads ya ya
Its meaningless and all that’s true

(Dey did do Do! Hey didn’t do da!
Tom, HRP, James and that Dan
Made a sloth look better than nathing!
Being both Sloth and dad made them pucker
but at least they qualified as sloth mother f.*&)@*

Having vowed not to play April games, due to being a proper sloth of old and acknowledgment of the “laws of hibernation” – I had missed the first three games of our season. In fact had missed nets altogether out of shear laziness, again see being an elder sloth.

Looking at Hampset / Stella as an opening fixture seemed perfect. I remembered them well as a bunch of unfit, aging, semi-alcoholic, half talented cricketers much like ourselves, if not more so. Arriving I suddenly realised that I had in all actuality, missed two seasons, three games and nets. Before me stood the “sons of Stella”, far fitter, less aged, probably tee total and talented.  Fek!

Batting, Brent and Painter opened magnificently and Captain Harding had decided to bat me 3 as a punishment (not sure who’s). I had kitted up and noted, not for the first time may I say, the club funds hadn’t purchased the long handled bat (requested at AGM’s 2019 through to 2024, pre AGM meetings and any other chance I could). Typical. Having donated my long handle bat to the club years back, it’s a sore point. The difference being that extra inch, which I have come to find makes the difference.

I batted badly mainly looking giving strike to the better batsman (everyone). And being a poor workman (cricketer) I will blame the tools. Failing to find a boundary on a pitch set for 11-year-olds, I scored a measly 6 runs off more overs and was eventually run out by umpire Frank. Who was kind enough to point out I had in fact had bat over the crease – just not grounded it. It had been about an inch above.

This ironic cruelty saved us the match as we had a depth of talent in the wings waiting for me to get out. Had we used it sooner – we may have one.

Sloths bowled well on a hard and unpredictable ground – Jimmi taking young fresh’s delivery 10 yards back and above his head. Brent and Ed bowling superbly and taking the final overs – as we were short a player. I should have gone to the nets and went for 19 no wickets.

We ended up in a tie – which although exciting, means you then go away knowing that, one run more batting, one run less bowling would have made the difference. One extra inch…

I went home and bought a sodding long handled bat.

How Many captains does it take…?

The first Sunday game of the season is often played on a soggy pitch under grey skies. But yesterday at Prior Park, the sun shone and the pristine strip was more Kolkata than Old Trafford. The hosts here were St John’s church. Which was as well, as if there were ever a day on which to enquire “more tea vicar?” this was it. It’s thirsty work, fielding in the afternoon sunshine. So, Vice-Captain Porridge advised Skipper Painter – on learning he’d won the toss – to bat first. Jim elected to field.

Opening the bowling with newbies “Ish and Bash”, one wondered whether a new kid’s TV series may be on the cards. But facing this duo certainly wasn’t childs play (see what I did there?). Ish set the standard, with pace and accuracy. Bash hooped the ball around and provided the first breakthrough, the ball nicking-through to Porridge, ever-alert behind the stumps. Ish then clattered the wickets for the second (or it may have been the other way round – I’m not Andy bloody Salzmann).

dansette player

Fielding was uncharacteristically tidy, with Ish and Madeye kept busy on the short boundary and ‘the Colonel’ (no – I’ve no idea either) James making many a run-saving stop at long-off. Kestrel took an especially impressive catch to dismiss one of St John’s more threatening batsmen, stretching for an over-pitched delivery by Dansette (just made that one up – Dan from Hampset: you’re welcome*). Kestrel then retired to the deep boundary, where he shepherded the ball over the rope to help the faltering run-rate along.

* It’s Offsiders – not Hampset [Ed] – maybe ‘Danoff’?

Joe-not-Gillings put in an impressive spell and caused St John’s opener to call for a helmet, when he bowled possibly the slowest bouncer in cricketing history. From a good length, at modest pace, the ball took off as though fired in short by an angry Freshmeat on tour (just checking you’re paying attention, Johnny). Nic ‘man-of-letters’, after a few range-finders, produced possibly the sweetest dismissal, finding the outside edge with a rising delivery off a perfect length, which was gratefully pouched by Porridge.

wild celebrations

Kestrel also caused the batsmen difficulty with the ball (and may have taken a wicket, I wasn’t paying attention). So, when Ed sauntered-in off a couple of paces, they would have been forgiven for breathing a sigh of relief. Except they couldn’t. Ed was on the money from ball one. By his own admission, he has no idea what each delivery will do, so the batsmen have no chance. A couple of quicker, straight deliveries fizzed through to the eagerly waiting Porridge. One of which was snatched, at full stretch, as Luke dived acrobatically over his right shoulder. But the wild celebrations were curtailed when the batsman vehemently denied having had anything to do with it.

After 17 overs in the field (this being a 35-over game), all concerned were relieved as drinks were announced. But nothing was forthcoming. Is St John, perhaps, the patron-saint of frugality? No matter, all had come prepared with water bottles (or – in Dansette’s case – bottles of Gem). And there was always tea to look forward to at the end of the innings. But no. Not so much as a cuppa was proffered, let-alone a cucumber sandwich. If only we’d had Jonnty on hand. He could have maybe rustled up some loaves and fishes.

to the slaughter

Was this a ploy to send a depleted batting side out to the slaughter? If it was, it sorely back-fired. With 160 runs required, openners Ish and Kestrel knocked-off well over half of these by themselves, each returning undefeated to the dry pavilion. Kestrel, in particular, expressed himself with abandon, breaking the monotony of fours with the odd six for good measure.

James looked likely to continue the rout but fell to a quick, straight delivery. Then St John deployed their secret weapon: a player so youthful as to make our Joe seem positively venerable. Porridge strode out to face, exclaiming “don’t let me get out to the Kid”. He did. Playing all round a Dalley-Smith-esque bomb drop, the resulting sharp stumping caused Luke to pause and congratulate his fellow wicket keeper before leaving the field.

proper drink?

Which left Madeye and Nic to finish the job. The former narrowly escaped annihilation from the quick right-hand that had removed James. Then the two settled in to squeak the remaining few runs via pads, edges and the occasional, accidental, legitimate shot. Job done. With plenty of overs remaining and without recourse to the masterful batting of Captain Painter.

And now – finally – a proper drink. But no! Somehow, Prior Park’s multi-million-pound facility appears not to include a bar. Or – if it does – it was not made available. Instead we were invited by oppo to join them at the Cider House in town. This is conveniently situated in the centre of Bath, amid a complicated one-way system, where parking is not an option.

Arriving on two wheels, after a not-inconsiderable detour from the route back to Bathampton, this correspondent can report there was not a cricketer in sight. Or – if there was – they must have been part of the under-21 squad. What a sad disappointment after such a glorious afternoon. Roll-on Priston, I say!

Michal Buerk, Third-World Correspondent, Slothful Times

questions remain

As always, following such a well-won contest, questions remain:

• If Porridge takes a catch in the forest and there’s no-one there to hear it – is it out?
• Should Kestrel’s 50-not-out stand if he was helped over the line by a Sloth fielder on loan?
• Do Sloths have enough musicians to put out a famine-relief charity single for St John’s? (“Do They Know It’s Tea Time At All”)?
• Will “Ish & Bash” be commissioned by Cbeebies before the end of the season?

Answers, please, on a postcard and deposited in an empty tea urn, outside St John’s Church, Widcombe.

Vs The Offsiders, 22nd April 2025

“It’s all presentation over substance, that’s what’s wrong with the world nowadays” was one Sloth’s honest review of the new seating arrangement at KES pavilion, where a well-placed bench has been removed to be replaced with horrible, life-affirming flowers and planters. Luckily, Bathampton Sloths care little for their presentation and instead focus solely on substance (some much more than others).

Presently, Sloths gathered for the first game of the 2025 season and, quite potentially, about to engage in their first substantial piece of exercise in 6 months. Creaking bodies appeared from cars and all eyes gazed wistfully at the serenity of KES playing fields, oh such potential a new season promises! HRP even did some lunges.

Sloths batted first under strict instructions to ‘get on with it, we’re only playing 16 overs each because it’ll get dark quickly’. So who better to open at this break-neck speed than pre-Baz-Ball advocate and all-round Dom Sibley fan Porridge and Jimmer likes-to-take-a-look-so-stick-me-at-4-please-Skip. The Gas Man predicted a sticky pitch ‘whatwith that rain that fell earlier’ and wouldn’t you know it, he was right! At least that’s this writer’s excuse for a slow scoring 8 over batting stint. Jimmer found his timing to sweetly clear the in-field multiple times before getting under one and finding a fielder who could catch. Not like the dolly that was dropped in the covers an over previously. In came Laurie Veal who also fell to the sticky pitch, sending a leading edge high into the sky when clipping to leg and being caught. All eyes were on The Colonel as he strode to the wicket with, basically, Babar Azam’s bat and boy did it sound good as he sent one straight down mid-wicket’s throat. He glumly returned saying “oh boy I hate cricket”, but don’t worry readers, by the end of the game his boyish enthusiasm was back declaring “all that I was thinking when fielding was, I could do this for days”. Meanwhile, Dan DD Darwin Deez and The Gas Man upped the ante with scuttling running in the muggy conditions as fielders struggled with their barrage. After a dozen attempts, the big heave connected and The Gas Man gloriously struck the first six of the season into the canal fence and duly retired with a score of 30. Brent Boult struck a few to complete the innings and, off of their 16 overs, Sloth’s set The Offsiders 104 to win.

It’s hard to be objective about the following scenario because it was almost one of the best things I have ever been a part of and would have definitely resulted in me leaping topless into the canal. Ish kicked off Sloth’s bowling season with a ripper that caught the edge and was nearly snaffled one-handed by a diving Porridge. Ish continued with pace and accuracy to repeatedly beat the edge amid “ahh’s” and “ooo’s” from the Sloth fielders. A fair few worried “eek’s” from DD at point also, who’s analysis was “it’s lucky he’s in control of his length, because there’s a distinct possibility this batter could come a cropper”. The pitch providing plenty of carry and bounce, Ish changed tactic and honed in on the stumps to remove the opening batter. Fresh bowled tidily, being taught how to keep the seam upright by Veal just as he began his first run up. The familiar high release point of HRP was back for 2025, giving up the first four of the innings but also clean bowling a batter with a swinging beauty. How better to balance the quality of Ish’s opening spell with some village-leg spin? Jimmy Jimmy’s mystery dippers brought plenty of stumping attempts and a peak-village run out opportunity missed at both ends by despairing, chuckling Sloths. The two set batters steadily accumulated singles to very well placed Sloth fielders as the light began to dramatically fade. Enter the Sloth Spin Attack! Veal brought out his bag of tricks and bamboozled a batter with the in-swinging-arm-ball-left-handed-from-around-the-wicket classic, tasty. Brent Boult continued his streak of always bagging a wicket first game of the season as a batter skied one to the newly-bearded DD at point, who caught with authoritative aplomb. In near darkness, it was a James’ double act as Painter and The Colonel twirled away, allowing few opportunities to score and Jimmer, obviously, going to ground attempting a sharp caught & bowled chance.

Restricted to 78, Sloths took the victory but a fixture with The Offsiders in the height of summer would have been a trickier task.

Over giddy pints in The George, the joys of spring cricket were shared amidst the informal formation of The Bathampton Sloths Sports-Related-Good-Ghost-Writers-Only Book Club. DD shared his thumb-width book buying parameter and the club revealed its first recommendations:

• Open by Andre Aggasi (shorter than a book about 600 Years of The Saxons)
• Penguins Stopped Play by Harry Thompson
• One Long & Beautiful Summer by Duncan Hamilton

And yes, like all book clubs, it’ll be just another excuse to drink and go to the pub.

Vs Bear Flat Dads @ Odd Down, 16th July 2024

Oh là là!

Sloths stumbled on to Odd Down playing fields with a strong sense of Déjà-vu as not onze Sloths arrived but douze! Fingers were pointed squarely at the two most intellectual and Parisian-chic Sloths for causing such a mishap. The ordre judiciaire d’Sloth sentenced Monsieur Fresh to the guillotine / to bat at number 11 for Bear Flat Dad’s and that monsieur Porridge was to open the batting on a pitch that was as soft as a summer’s eve on la Côte d’Azur.

Brent and Porridge traded singles while adjusting to the sticky conditions. Brent started to get a read of the pitch and beautifully timed a straight drive, unfortunately, straight at the bowler. “Wait on!” was his cry as the bowler successfully grabbed the ball, at village level we must always first assume it will be dropped. Nash came in determined to assert himself and duly swung wildly at his first over, perfectly missing the ball early as it pitched and then moved past him in slow motion. Once his eye was in though, he peppered the in-fielders with drives that they sensibly dodged in self-preservation but resulted in plenty of boundaries. Riccay entered and sensed the leg-side boundary being just a tickle away so he fully committed to hoick it onto the Wellsway and was cleaned bowled. JG The Doc dug in for some hard earned runs as the pitch remained a tricky surface. A fit-fresh-faced Cam strode in and immediately discovered this trickiness taking a ball straight to the couilles. He stumbled to square leg to find some solace, think happy thoughts and take some deep breaths while the actual GP down the other end paid him no attention. He later prescribed Cam a box to prevent such problems in future. BFD had new bowlers and returning bowlers show some promise but also dish out a fair amount of extras as the total mounted up. Le Sloth adolescents Archie and Laurie built a sturdy looking partnership full of well-run singles before BFD accidentally activated their secret weapon, their pièce de résistance if you will, Monsieur Fresh came into bowl against Fresh Jr. Charging down the pitch to clatter his father into Englishcombe, Lawrie spectacularly missed and was narrowly stumped to his great dismay that only a family duel can muster. HRP then swung the baguette to clobber a quick-fire 20 and The Gas Man came in determined to run hard in the final over. Off the final ball of the innings, Archie was stumped off a wide, cleverly bringing in SDS for a slap and dash to set BFD 140 to win.

The BFD openers came out determined to chase with a now sun-filled evening and the pitch drying out. But they had to be watchful to an accurate Lawrie who then entered a full Stuart Broad-esque rage as his slower ball was deemed to be a wide. Huffing and puffing back to his mark, he turned around suddenly two feet taller and unleashed an absolute jaffa that drew the edge through to Porridge. Buoyed by this, HRP took two wickets off his own accurate bowling and BFD were up the Seine without a paddle. Archie further restricted the run rate with late swinging deliveries and then Riccay at the other end shocked himself. We’ve all become accustomed to his trademark run up through the umpire and then slinging around the wicket, however, we all stood agape as he came over the wicket like a normal person, spun the ball and instantly took a wicket. A caught and bowled later in the over and Sloths were all over them like hollandaise over eggs. Porridge, enjoying this new-found spin bowling, came up to the stumps for the second over only to see Riccay return to type and suddenly start winging it as fast as he could. One in-ducker managed to miss both bat and keeper as it whispered sweet French nothings to the bails on its way past. Aggrieved, the batter decided to clobber the next delivery and middled it straight towards the non-striker’s throat who somehow managed to block it with his glove with a Neo-like dodge. The Doc showed much more interest in this man’s wrist than he did with Cam’s couilles. With everyone ok to continue, SDS and Cam toyed with the batters with their offies and moon balls (this isn’t a reference to Cam’s couilles, I wouldn’t lower myself to that). Cam took a superb caught & bowled to complement a fine fielding performance in the deep. BFD needed to up the run rate but foolishly took on Nash at mid-off for a single and had their stumps shattered by a brilliant pick up and throw. With one batter set and hell-bent on victory it was time for Monsieur Fresh to enter at 11. But once again it was spin that worked wonders as The Doc JG got one to rag off the surface, bowling Fresh round his legs as he tried to sweep the béchamel out of the ball.

A dominant win was celebrated at Odd Down’s famous French drinkery, Le Lion Rouge, with absinthes all round.

Vs Stella Select @ Hampset CC, 27th June

Sloths arrived at gusty Hampset in full festival mood. Brand new Sloth Eddie and dab-hand Gorgeous George brought the boyish enthusiasm and a brace of fresh-faced Friths brought some cricketing prowess. Captain Fresh thought, “Hmm how could I best harness this prowess? Ah yes. Sibling rivalry. Let’s pit these two nice brothers against each other, hopefully generate some ill feeling and thus they will channel their anger and resentment towards short-term cricketing greatness”. Or something along those lines, probably. By the end of the night it would be determined who was the better Frith. Secret bets were taken.

Fresh then went and lost the toss but Stellas fancied a bat, a bemused but happy Fresh lead Sloths onto the field as the wind picked up. Porridge foolishly mentioned, out loud, that he’d “done alright bowling in the nets the other night” and so was immediately promoted to open the bowling. TooGoodNash chuckled at this decision and so was told to open from the other end. Hearing Glastonbury on the wind, Porridge chose to have the tunes at his back and, with his fourth ball, rattled the middle stump of a teenager. Nash kept it tidy into the wind, throwing in a dramatic pause midway through his run-up and some of us thought he’d forgotten where he was. Eldest Frith Sam / Bob Willis whisked in and regularly beat the bat with wild swing. Eddie opened his bowling career with tidy dibblers and Twinkle-Toes Bonder was nimble behind the stumps, swiftly gathering anything down leg (which was, admittedly, downhill for him). Stellas struggled to get it off the square and then two run outs in quick succession put Sloths on top. George gathered in a throw from Nash (probably), whipped off the bails, looked longingly towards the backpedalling umpire and exclaimed “Out…? …Wasn’t it?”. How could anyone turn down such puppy dog eyes? More accurate and swinging bowling, coupled with a moment of teenage exuberance, blew away the Stella tail as stumps were toppled time and again. Harry took the Frith Bowling prize with two scalps, George bulldozed his way through a defensive stroke, Fresh nipped a couple off the seam to beat forward prods but Lawrie fancied a different approach. Somehow finding bounce back of the length, he had the batter in all sorts of trouble fending it off his body and gloving it to gully. An all round excellent Sloth fielding performance couldn’t be complete though without a dash of village-esque cricket that this reporter would be amiss to forget. Eddie on his debut, eyes fixed on the ball, clattering into a poised and stationary Harry, ready at midwicket to catch a skier. We adults can’t be letting these talented teens get too comfortable now.

With 90 to chase, Fresh enacted the Final Frith Duel and sent them out to open with explicit instructions to not be the worst Frith. Harry got off to a flyer, nearly taking out the scorers with a glorious six before peppering the short boundaries with fours. Sam had a more methodical opening spell, steering ones into gaps and keeping the scoreboard ticking along. Harry’s eyes widened at a grenade of a delivery, again he charged down to send it over the pavilion, but alas, a top edge had him caught acrobatically and he began his anxious wait to see if his 23 would crown him First Frith. Seeing a sibling sent packing, Sam upped the ante, sending two poor balls to the boundary in succession to put him within a score of the young Frith. But ah, how cricket cruel be, in an attempt to dispatch another delivery to the boundary, Sam swung all around a straight one and heard the death rattle. But had he already done enough? The book said 22 and left Sam ruing his big swing. Matt “Can’t-Bat” Cox came in at 3 and now needs a new nickname as the bowlers will all testify that the man can bat – including one soaring six over the longest boundary. Frankie Knuckles shadow batted his way to the crease with cover drives on his mind and, like an Ian Bell apparition, he duly stroked two boundaries down the hill with aesthetic aplomb. Not to be outdone, Bonder came in at 5 and won the game with a scoop! Sensing the field creeping in, Bonder went aerial over the leg slip and ran a magnificent one with bat raised.

Vs Bathford @ KES, 21st May 2024

Are you someone who thinks that 11 Sloths just isn’t enough for a game of cricket? Well, you would have been in luck this week as 15 appeared! Yes, 15. You also probably need therapy.

Bathford were the fortunate bunch to get 4 of our favourite Sloths added to their lineup on a drizzly Bathampton evening. As the extended-gaggle of Sloths stood chatting and gazing across the drizzly landscape, it was almost as if nobody thought a game of cricket was supposed to happen. Then the Bathford players emerged from the changing rooms looking like an actual team and Sloths were jolted into action.

BathfordSloth were to bat first amid the gloom, with last-minute young gun Archie opening the bowling down the hill, swinging the pink ball dangerously. Lodgey continued his miserly streak up the hill but without his trademark early Mankad warning. After bowling absolute wheels last week, Dan D’s first ball was a horrid half tracker that was skied and gobbled up by Fresh at mid-off. Bad balls get wickets, they say. The rest of his bowling was much better and, subsequently, went for lots of runs. Bathford batters set into a nice rhythm, rotating the strike nicely but never quite exploding. Fresh made the breakthrough with a beaut of an in-ducker, that he immediately said was intentional, and by the look of surprise on his face, we believed him. Jimmer worked his magic with his first ball, on that famous line and length to gently disturb the stumps. Cue the entry of some familiar faces, the newly-converted BathfordSloths TooGoodNash and RacingRiccayyy strode in through the drizzle. Keen to take the Sloth bowling downtown, they lined up with aggression in their eyes and duly delivered. Although, Riccay fell into the timeless SDS trap, trying to smack the lacquer off a dipping delivery and was caught behind. Meanwhile, Nash knocked The Gas Man off his length and so forced him to turn his aggression onto an ungrateful Colonel Mustard. The rain was really coming down now as multiple Sloths slipped around the boundary edge. BenOfTheYard was learning to time his slides perfectly after horizontally shooting past a few fence-bound fours. Another BathfordSloth, Lazarus, arrived at the crease to jeers of “everyone in the V!” and “he’s only got a cover drive!”. He obliged, of course, to cover drive his first ball and then shocked all and sundry with a well-struck pull for six, that well-struck a branch out of a tree and then continued on to well-strike the windscreen of a taxi. A concerned silence flooded the field as players went to inspect the damage and so did a very casual taxi driver. Seemingly undeterred by this new threat to his livelihood, the driver nodded at the dent and walked back to the pavilion. The owner of the car next to his had other thoughts though and, sensibly, moved his car, but then parked at cow corner. Lazarus licked his destructive lips. Nick HRP decided off his first ball to try and hit this new target, but by using his bat. Porridge shamefully whipped off the bails, as the bat-less Nick just stared at his empty, slippery hands with the bat finally landing somewhere near mid-on. 146 runs scored and has anybody noticed that it’s raining quite a lot now?

To chase down this imposing total, Porridge and Lodge were sent out to open (average strike-rate stats thankfully ignored) and found conditions tough. The ball skidded off the wicket but still with enough bounce to cause problems. Porridge, evoking the spirit of Duckett, swung for every ball outside off and, skillfully, used his edge to regularly score through third man. Lazarus was gee’d up facing a familiar foe and was back to his bowling best, just don’t tell him his figures won’t be added to the book as they were for Bathford. Don’t tell him. Lodgey went aerial to up the scoring rate and was caught, bringing in GoodWill, who definitely did up the rate with some trademark strikes. HRP bowled with added zest, beating Jimmer for pace and downing him with a strike to the box. I think Jimmer spends most of his games on the floor regardless. He recovered well and alongside Fresh they both reached 25, surviving some accurate bowling and running well. With the rain still raining, it really did just keep raining, and brows becoming more furrowed, it was down to Dan D and YardBen to get Sloths over the line and beat the weather. Some agile running was getting them closer to the target, but then in the 17th over wise heads intervened and the game was abandoned. Dan D was locked in to the chase and refused to leave the crease as all other players ran for cover in the direction of the pavilion, at least they thought it was that way in the gloom, and hands were shaken.

But had Sloths done enough to preserve their mid-week, unbeaten streak? Chasing 147 to win, after 17 overs they were 123-3 and therefore the Duckworth-Lewis calculation has them winning by 12 runs. Not that that matters of course.

vs Winsley Elite XI @ Winsley CC, 15th May 2024

Captain Bonder does not mess around. This is a competitive man. A man who strives for excellence, total commitment and, above all else, a mid-week win away at Winsley playing a friendly-non-competitive game of cricket for-a-laugh.

Sloths record away at Winsley isn’t pretty where they have to play on a Wednesday. Wednesdays are not traditionally the day of the Sloth and, therefore, it seems to have a strange effect on them. When I say effect, I mean, most of them aren’t available. Up step, Sloths of old! Mike B and Swanny, Sloth heritage claiming to have not played for years but both putting in performances that lead to talk of potential immediate retirement hereafter. 

Winsleys ground looked a picture as Sloths were led on the field by a striding Bonder. The man with a (written down) plan. Too Good Nash was to set the field as Bonder’s cunning bowling plan was enacted. One end pace, one end spin (sounds better than slow). The Winsley batters couldn’t find a rhythm as runs were hard to come by with the ever-bespokely-tinkered field placements and the bowling variety. Ish did decide to help their run rate out towards the end by aggressively chasing a ball along the boundary, reaching it and then skillfully getting his entire body out the way of it for a rare boundary. But we said we wouldn’t mention it. Jimmer found himself perfectly placed at midwicket for a catch that swirled high in the sky as a deafening silence surrounded him. Sloths were all collectively thinking, “I wonder if he’ll still find a way to fall over while catching this on if he doesn’t have to move for it?”. Don’t worry readers, he caught it and still fell, it’s Jimmer. Mike B bowled 3 overs of 5 year-marinated perfect seam-up pace that deserved a wicket and Swanny’s 2 overs for 4 runs were delivered like a Sunil Narine look-a-like. Nash’s arm ball clattered the stumps and Frank put a tricky one down leg, drawing the batter forward as Porridge collected and whipped off the bails. But the square leg ump was unmoved! The batter went to do some gardening and then glumly walked, another strange wicket to add to the collection. Winsley all out for 98 on a good, true wicket and the Sloths were in new territory. 

Bonder called for the big guns and sent in The Doc and Jimmer with strict instructions to “give it to em”. Winsley took Bonder’s approach with the bowling and had one end of fast, unplayable, spin and full, slow, bungers from the other. Sloths had to survive at one end and then make hay at the other. In a blink of an eye, Jimmer had nearly been bowled several times but also smashed his way to 25 and retirement. Porridge then joined The Doc and repeatedly stole the strike while also lowering the strike rate, a classic T20 move. A crushing blow to the box, a dropped edge and even a suspicion of a ball hitting his stumps but not dislodging the bails, Porridge somehow reached 25 alongside The Doc, leaving GoodWill to smash Sloths over the line inside 14 overs.

Over very agreeable pints, Bonder beamed and repeatedly mentioned how glad he was to win at Winsley, it was almost as if he was really glad to win at Winsley.

vs Bathampton Dad’s @ KES, 12th May 2024

Some of the greatest stories begin at the end. Teasing the reader with the impossible-seeming outcome.

Some of the wildest stories start at the end. To tease the reader. A glimpse into an impossible seeming future. Well, this story will start at the end, but with a sound. This sound can still be heard echoing around the valleys west of Bath. It was the sound of the perfect meeting of willow and leather. Willow that had spent 30 years happily growing, before being felled, dried and planed into shape. Leather that had once been a red cow somewhere and was now a vessel of pain and joy. The sound was caused as two Antipodeans did battle, Brent bowling the final ball (twice) against Trafford, the Dad’s final wicket. With 3 runs to win.

Insert rewinding noises to go back to the start of the story

Sloths batted first under glorious sunshine, Ish and Nick HRP opening with different strategies. Nick determined to play the “proper shot at the proper time” and Ish determined to have a good time resulting in a 40 run opening partnership before Luke got HRP with a straight one and Ish caught coolly by Dan D. Laurie, Porridge and (the nearly timed-out for taking an age to find some mafia-boss-hand-sized gloves) Bonder were given strict instructions to “enjoy it and have a swing”. This ruse of joy led to low scores, a lot of dots, an excellent caught & bowled to snaffle Laurie’s Dad’s son and Captain Gas Man bringing the thunder. Riccay and Stu relished the challenge, swiping slo-mo sixes before both being caught going aerial. Lodgey chopped on trying to continue the counterattack and a front-foot-defending Fresh got castled by a Gas Man special, jagging in off the seam on a length to clatter middle and leg. An appreciative nod from Fresh was greeted with a Jimmy-Anderson-esque send off from a gee’d up Gas Man, these Dad’s mean business. Tom E getting drift and turn and Dan D swinging it a mile. Mother cricket saw it just to bring them down to earth as Brent crunched a luscious straight drive for four off the final ball of the innings to set the Dads a solid target of 133.

The Dad’s chase was led by regular Sloth James “The Doc” G and a new face in Pete. Pete was in shorts and said he hadn’t played in a while, a classic lure, on further interrogation he revealed a strong cricketing past after some suspiciously Joe Root imitation cuts and dabs. Ish and a bowling StumpChat were miserly until a couple of rare wide deliveries were dispatched to the boundary. To exact his revenge, StumpChat donned the gloves, to the relief of a pummelled Bonder, whipped the bails off a gently toppling Pete and (eventually) gathered a skyed effort from The Doc. With the openers removed in quick succession the Sloths felt they had the edge but, alas, the Dad’s regrouped with Jeremy and Trafford taking on HRP and Porridge’s perfectly-decent bowling (if you ask me) to punch them above the required rate. The boundary took a beating and two’s were found as Sloth hamstrings’ pinged across the field. Mercifully, both batters retired at the same time to give the ball a rest. Riccay then ruined Craig’s nice day out with an absolute jaffa. Dan D ran him and his partner into the ground as the target approached. Two run outs and a stumped Gas Man brought the retirees back out in the final over, as a friendly tension filled the ground and all eyes locked on to Brent’s final deliveries.

A four to win it off the final ball. Trafford looked an island of calm, fielders on the boundary prepared themselves as Brent sent down a delivery on off. A swing and a miss! Sloth’s sigh a sigh of relief, for what seemed like eternity until the dreaded signal was made… a wide. Gasps all round as the players reset. Brent gathered himself, put one on a length, only for Trafford to dispatch it straight down the ground, splitting Laurie & Porridge on the rope and splitting ear drums across the field.