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

SLOTH HERD FLATTENS FLAT FLOCK

by our Wild Life Correspondent,
Sir Dave ‘don’t call me Mavis’ Attenborough,

Time to revisit our native herd of Sloths to see what they are up to.

It’s Tuesday evening so being creatures of mind numbing habit our group can be found engaged in communal activity at Bathampton. This is like Community Service, as most present appear to be of deviant quality except that their activity shows little communal or useful outcome.

Let’s see what happens when they encounter a flock of migrating Flats.

  • Observation 1. Despite being termed Sloths most in this group regularly imitate other creatures.
  • Observation 2. Two dominant males circle and rummage a bit, after which, the Sloth male is proclaimed to have ‘won the toss’ and judging by his massive rippling shoulders, who can argue?
  • Observation 3. Sloths Stumpchat and Maylor take the field wielding their willows with vigorous intent, scampering about with firm rippling buttocks as they squeal like excited piglets. However I digress.
  • Observation 3. Something happens and an older male appears staring at all those around him with ill concealed disgust. This looks like nothing other than a very grumpy rhinoceros who is going to have an argument but he hasn’t decided, yet, what about or with whom. Things explode within his presence.
  • Observation 4. A young dominant male then approaches but seems uncertain of his ground fearing a trap. Where is that Scottish twat who normally feeds his ire. No matter, batter, smash and bosh. Job done.
  • Observation 5. Things happen.
  • Observation 6. Amongst other things, a slightly hesitant older male appears, considers his situation, and retreats having faced only one delivery, whatever that is. However on questioning later said older Sloth professes himself entirely content with everything that has come to pass. Oh if only all Sloths could achieve that higher level of understanding, must be all those books.
  • Observation 6. Other things, followed by a general rearrangement of creatures. The Flat Flock take the field, although it appears to stay exactly where it was.
  • Observation 12. Flat Flock show great resolve and some skill but are perhaps too eager for the prize. Wickets fall despite comedy catching display by The Sloth Leader who spills relatively easy pouch (it wasn’t, most Sloths would be entirely unaware that the Ball was anywhere near them) and then takes a ludicrously difficult running backwards over the shoulder job with ease. Twatting show-off.
  • Observation 27. New herd member Warren commences his display, a thing of purposeful intent. Responding Flatters expecting simple belligerence (judging by preliminary rustling of plumage) are non-plussed by considered but insistent pressure. Stats? Nope haven’t a clue.
  • Observation 19. Meanwhile chirping amongst the herd has risen imperceptibly. Experienced observers would have expected this to be designed act in support of the herd as a whole. However, insults appear to be directly solely within the herd. Darwin would surely have written a different theory had he bothered to go the extra mile to Bathampton rather than the ruddy Galapagos, air-miles my arse, twat. In particular exhortations by a younger Sloth towards Rhino Sloth of ‘go on, do one for your wife’ seemed bewildering in it’s purpose and did not appear to please Rhino Sloth over much.
  • Obstetrics 24. Several of The Flats Flock appear to be related although it has to be said, visual similarities seemed somewhat absent. Breeding patterns of the Flats clearly mysterious. The last of said offspring a lad of tender years resisted the bowling well with an admirably straight bat until undone by quite a stiff one form the Sloth Leader. Apparently that was it.

 

THE CRICKET FACTS?

Not sure since I haven’t seen the scorebook which in any case does not seem to have any of the Sloth bowling. So, briefly –

  • a true thumping by The Sloths who made 171! (adjusted down from 181 after removal of Guiness based algorithm).
  • this set up by very rapid start made by Sloths Stumpchat and Maylor, running everything very fast, plenty of threes and even one genuine (no overthrows) all run 4.
  • nearly all batsmen contributed well
  • the response from The Flats as mentioned above, purposeful and with skill but just too many wickets falling to a good all round bowling despite young Maylor being accused of throwing and Bookman being ‘no-balled’ for adopting the ingenious tactic of delivering the ball from five feet behind the bowlers end stumps.
  • I think they were out for about 90?
  • the result received by the Flat Flock with genuine good humour in stark contrast to the humour of certain tube-mangling teams, even when the y beat us.

FINALLY THE WEEKLY QUIZ

  • if Madeye came to a conclusion in a forest would it make a sound?
  • why has Stumpchat got a birds nest on his face?
  • what is shirt?
  • and bearing in mind the alarming news of infection of ‘Bunger Maylor’ with mumps, please can we all think really hard about his testicles and pray for their deliverance?

Signing off,
Dave ‘don’t call me Mavis’ Attenborough.

Good Humour Wins the Day

One of the hallmarks of Bathampton cricket has always been the ability to laugh in the face of defeat. The home side is prone to making poor decisions and having lapses in judgement. But it knows that, in the end, we are all playing for the love of the game. Once again, last night at KES, this good-humour prevailed.

This was an absurdly high-scoring occasion. Notley finally found the 25 that had so far eluded him. McCauley, once more retired, had to be physically restrained, so desperate was he to resume his barrage at the end of the innings. However, tail-enders Yerbury and Wilf refused to yield. Not only that but they scampered some useful late runs. It was observed that these two may well have set a record for the greatest age-difference between Sloths at the crease (Wilf is, I believe, just 11 or 12 – Yerbury… I wouldn’t like to speculate…).

Like Tom before him, Luc kept looking for big scores post-25, valiantly conceding his wicket in the process. Evidently, others had done similar – since the Sloth total was a dizzying 158 – but I wasn’t there, so couldn’t comment. Newbie Paul did, however, report he’d been bowled first ball in his first innings for Bathampton. Now there’s a true Sloth in the making.

Amid the new-fangled fashion for correct batting and accurate bowling, it was refreshing to have Chairman Russ on hand to show some genuine flair. And genuinely frightening flairs. The old Franks bomb-drop was once more in evidence. And it was quite effective in upsetting the flow of Old Eds’ incendiary opener, Kit.

Fresh was on blistering form, giving Stump something to think about in the fading light. Luc, once again, gave cause for onlookers to question whether he had really not played cricket before this season. Not only did he bowl well but he was invaluable on the long boundary. There, he both saved runs and provided a continuous counterpoint to Stu’s motivational chuntering.

Pick of the crop, though, was Mr Yerbury. Taking two wickets for very few runs, Ric displayed his familiar knack for appearing innocuous but being devastating. He also held onto a vital catch in the deep. Others took wickets at rather greater expense, to-wit Messrs. Notley and McCauley.

Bathampton kept Es to around 6-an-over for the greater part of their innings. However, with 5 or so remaining, it was beginning to look as though they may prevail. Two batsmen were key to this looming upset. Both had retired, meaning that once Eds reached the end of their shortened batting line-up, these were available to finish the job.

As has been well-documented, by the end of these Tuesday encounters, the light – even on a clear evening – tends to fade, if not fail completely. Which is why, in recent games, some Sloths have been incensed by the late deployment of pace bowling. On this occasion, the main objective was to stem the runs. Quick bowling would not only be potentially dangerous but also tactically questionable. So, on came Fresh and McCauley.

Fortunately, as mentioned, the home team are a good-humoured bunch. That home team being Old Eds. Broadford kept on swinging the bat in the gloom and was happy to make 51. Kit did have a word, having  been struck by a sharply-rising ball at pace on the shoulder, but seemed otherwise unperturbed. And, in fairness, McCauley then reverted to spin.

In the end, Old Eds fell short by some 15-odd runs. It had been a valiant fight back and a cracking game. Perhaps Eds were victims of their own home rules. Had they stuck with no LBW and two overs per bowler, perhaps the outcome may have been different. Who knows? And who knows the following:

  • • Now Yerbury has revealed that he can – after all – bat, will he be put up the order?
  • • Can Mrs Russ be persuaded to run up lurid flair-inserts for the whole team?
  • • Is Wilf now grounded, having humiliated his father with the bat?
  • • Should pink balls (and, possibly, full-body armour) be made available to the team batting second?

I was going to end there but really can’t THINK OF A CONCLUSION…

Kofi Annan, fair-play correspondent, Slothful Times

Not Enough Stella – Too Much 6X

It’s always a joy to behold Freshmeat timing the ball sweetly and drawing admiring comments from the opposition. Apparently effortless was his progression to 25 runs, yesterday at KES, before making way for his eager teammates. Somewhat less aesthetic but nonetheless entertaining were the familiar improvised strokes of Franks. And then newbie Oskar showed a willingness to dig in and have a go, providing hope for the future of Slothdom.

With the ball, all three were similarly entertaining. Fresh stifled the otherwise explosive opening batsman with full-pitched and urgent deliveries. Franks’ long-hops, on this occasion, didn’t create so much devastation as hitting practice but are always a welcome diversion. And Oskar bowled too…

Just a shame, then, that all three were deputising for the shorthanded visitors, Stella. The ongoing Freshmeat-McCauley beef, therefore, took on renewed menace. Hard to say who had the upper hand here but each contrived to bowl at the other. Fresh was dropped by D’Pipe, who adhered to the new Sloth tradition of then failing to return the ball as runs were stolen. Later asked to comment, Pipe responded “Can you please move away from the vicar, so I can tell you to fuck off?”.

Maylor was outstanding, his quick and accurate deliveries matched by his boundless enthusiasm. This only marred by one drop. And that was just his bar-tending. He bowled pretty well too, taking 3 for 5.

Frith Junior-Senior (if you see what I mean) appears to have found a new gear in his bowling action. Now with genuine zip and venom, he represents a formidable strike-bowler. Junior-Junior, meanwhile, contrasted this with accurate, flighted, slow bowling that exhorted the batsmen to hit hard. They struggled, however, to connect. More cause for optimism over the longevity of Slothkind.

Painter, once again, looked at ease with the bat. He drove the well-pitched ball and stretched his reconstructed frame to fashion wide balls into boundaries. McCauley provided a solid foundation for his team to build on (you’re right, I’ve forgotten – but pretty sure he scored some runs). Bond looked commanding, playing with confidence until he was becalmed mid-innings. Hewes faced some confounding deliveries, now in lurid pink (the ball, not Rick) and was similarly stifled. And, despite the best efforts of Howard and Frith Junior-Junior, things rather ground to a halt.

Stella’s expectations of a trouncing were well-founded in view of the formidable Sloth line-up. Their score of just 113 certainly wasn’t enough to prevent a home victory. Except, it was. Bolstered by the aforementioned Sloths, Stella managed, somehow, to defend this meagre total. Still, as chairman Franks later observed, it wouldn’t do to continuously defeat such a friendly foe.

Post-match analysis, in the resurrected pavilion bar, shed little light on the whys and wherefores:

  • Should Maylor be routinely prepared with alcohol in order to enhance his bowling?
  • Could Maylor be employed full-time to run the Sloth bar?
  • Should Maylor be allowed anywhere near this or any other bar, considering his post-match performance?
  • Is Franks’ new glam-wear a cunning ploy to distract batsmen?
  • Should Fresh abandon his futile attempts to get past the planning committee?
  • Can Houston be lured back into the fold, away from his Frome idyll?
  • Can SDS possibly survive another Glastonbury?

We’ll leave it, as Queen once said, ‘in the lap of the gods’. Or, as Jonty might say, in the hands of God (though I’m not sure he’d be inclined stick his neck out just at the moment).

Tim Martin; entertainment & beverages correspondent; Slothful Times

Can We Have Our Balls Back, Please?

Few who witnessed last night’s encounter will be able to forget. The home fans went wild, whilst visitors looked on in stunned bewilderment. It was a glorious victory and one that will go down in the sporting annals. But enough about Liverpool – Barcelona…

To say the skies over Bathampton were darkening would be a gross dereliction of descriptive duties. Merely to remark it was a little parky would be an understatement of unforgiveable proportions. It was as cold as Fresh congratulating McCauley on his batting figures and as dark as Stumpchat’s mood after being caught behind. However, the pitch was true, the outfield firm and – the fact nobody could see the frigging ball notwithstanding – conditions set for a classic encounter.

For some unfathomable reason, the toss-winning skipper elected to bat second (again). Given the aforementioned paucity of daylight, this would seem a questionable strategy. With a batting line-up including McCauley, Dan O, Stumpchat, Hewes, Bond and Painter, the chances of a decent score from the host side were good. And so it proved.

In the absence of an actual scoreboard, it was never quite clear just how many had been scored. However, McCauley reprised his boundary-clearing, canal-reaching antics. Hewes displayed a remarkable lexicon of improvised strokes to prevent dot balls and turn fielders inside out. Stump played characteristically through the line. Dan O kept his head uncharacteristically over the ball to hit some beautifully controlled boundaries. Bonder was back on form, hitting with freedom and retiring in short order. And Painter was in sublime nick, driving the ball repeatedly back past the bowler with relish.

The visitors, Royal Oak, are always a game bunch and display a familiar disparity of talent/ineptitude. Talking of which, their ranks were augmented, on this occasion, by one Jim Cumpson. On seeing the arrival of said moonlighting Ram, comrade Howard seized the captaincy. The sole objective of this mutiny was to bring himself on to bowl whenever Jim appeared at the crease.

Cumpson managed to sneak onto the field unobserved during the celebration at the fall of a wicket. But to no avail. Howard, coming in off a run of such length he was out of breath by the time he reached the crease, launched a ball so lacking in lustre that it took two bounces before reaching the batsman. The next ball, however, was something else entirely. Pitched up and at pace, it took out Cumpson’s off stump.

Yerbury, once again back from alleged retirement, also struck the stumps. His unthreatening presence was, as always, confounded by his unerring accuracy and ability to move the ball both ways (or so it appeared in the gloom). McCauley’s celebration on taking the first wicket of Royal Oak’s innings wouldn’t have been out of place had he just won the Ashes. But one has to admire his commitment. The same commitment that saw him later sprint a good 20 yards to snaffle a lofted hoik at cover.

On the subject of being committed: whilst it’s possible he should be, no-one can deny the relentless enthusiasm, from behind the stumps, of Stu. Now in stereo, he and fellow-Yorshireman ‘MC’ kept up a running commentary that probably meant something to them but, to the rest of us, remained unintelligible babble. Stump took just the one ‘-ing’ on this occasion and also had the decency to miss the final delivery, from SDS. This, once again employing his super-slo-mo technique, arrived via the batsman’s pads with just enough momentum to topple the bails. Just.

Among the Royal saplings were some mighty Oaks. One emulated McCauley in launching the ball into the canal. At which point, Chairman ‘I’ll just sit this one out’ Franks offered the white ball. Nobody was quite sure who’s decision it was to accept. And even fewer had any idea as to whether this would more greatly benefit the batting or fielding side. It was duly accepted.

More controversy ensued with the revelation that Oaks’ returning retiree had come in ahead of one of their lower order. Apparently, the number 11 had said his eyesight was not good enough for the conditions. Him and half the rest of the players present. Whether or not this was an underhand tactic, it didn’t work. The big-hitting opener had not reckoned on dealing with the wiley SDS. And the rest – as they say – is history.

Whereas conventional wisdom has it that economy trumps wickets in the 20-over format, few could deny that wickets, on this occasion, won the day. There was even that rarest of beasts – a held slip-catch. This courtesy of Mr Painter, who also displayed some mean juggling skills. Honourable mention should similarly go to this week’s ball-magnet, Tom Notley, who saved a good few runs through his energetic fielding and accurate arm.

Meanwhile, Fresh prowled the boundary like a spurned lover. No doubt, he was keen to see his team mates improve their batting and bowling averages. No doubt. Frith, too, was there, looking on with stiff upper-lip and even stiffer upper-vertebrae. Considering he went head to head (or, rather, head to tail) with a Landrover Discovery, it appears that someone must be looking over him.

So there it is. A famous victory, full of incident, innuendo and indecent language (thanks Ant for some Pipe-esque use of the ‘c’ word). This is one that will be talked about for years to come. Long after some game of kickball has been forgotten. Slothdom is alive and well. It really is the gift that keeps on giving.

Any questions? Of course there bloody-well are…

  • In the rare event that Bond moves his feet sufficiently to cover the trajectory of a ball outside the crease, should this be given as a wide?
  • Should a retired batsman be allowed to return if a teammate declares himself unfit to bat beforehand?
  • Should a white ball be offered to substitute the red, in the event that it is so dark nobody knows where the question is coming from?
  • Can we demand that McCauley provides a new set of match balls, if he keeps hitting them into the canal?
  • If a visiting player decides, of his own volition, to proffer financial compensation for a gifted drink, does this constitute a commercial transaction?
  • Is it wrong for anyone other than Madeye to be drinking BOB?!

Answers, please, on a small slip of paper, placed inside a bottle and thrown into the Kennet & Avon. Thank you.

Bob Holness; Quizmaster General; Slothful Times.

All Rotork and No Trousers

In a game of limited-overs cricket, there are two schools of thought when it comes to choosing whether, having won the toss, to bat or field first. Chairman Franks had issued due warning in this regard prior to Sloths’ opening Tuesday fixture, last night at KES. However, skipper D’Pipe – under pressure from some of his more vociferous vice-captains-self-elect – chose to ignore this.

Confident the light would hold and oppo would never keep back their better (and somewhat quicker) bowlers until late in the day, Sloths elected to field. True to form, this was something of a mixed bag. Stump took three very sharp catches, standing up to bowling few would see from such close range. D’pipe was accurate and penetrating. McCauley was frankly in a class of his own. Dan O was exceptional once he found his line. SDS bamboozled the batsman with a ball that actually appeared to be in slow-motion. And so on.

However, Rotork had some big hitters within their ranks. And, in the end, it was their ability to find the boundary that made the difference. Sloths left some inviting gaps in the field and the visitors gleefully accepted. Few chances went to hand and when one ball was finally lofted towards the waiting Madeye, at deep mid-on, he decide not to risk the catch but to protect the boundary. Which, of course, he failed to do. In stark contrast, newbie Luc literally put his body on the line to prevent a strike of some ferocity that was headed towards the short boundary at deep point. In so doing, he rearranged some vital organs and – more importantly – prevented the four.

With a run-chase of 142 from 18 overs, Sloths were always going to be under pressure in the fading April light. Openers McCauley and Fresh got off to a steady start, quickly opening up as the bowling allowed. McCauley soon got his eye in and hit some much-needed boundaries to put Sloths on track for an improbable victory. All the while, though, Rotork confounded with accurate bowling and sharp fielding.

McCauley soon retired, whilst Fresh was caught behind – having been adjudged not-out the previous ball. Dan O continued the momentum, playing confidently through the line and providing possibly the shot of the match with a beautifully timed cover drive for four. Bonder gamely swung the bat but struggled to hit the big boundaries for which he clearly hoped. Stump played a straight bat as ever, hustling and harrying to keep the score ticking along. Howard did his best to do the same and looked eager to find some big hits along the way.

Rotork, however, had some key bowlers up their sleeve for the final showdown. Just as it looked as though Sloths might creep over the finish line, the visitors closed ranks and prevented anything beyond pushed singles or well-fielded drives. In the end, it was a tantalisingly close call. Some disgruntled Sloths grumbled about negative tactics from the opposition. In truth, this was merely sour grapes and frankly contrary to the spirit of the friendly game.

Sloths were well beaten on this occasion. But they can take pride in putting up a spirited fight against long odds. With D’Pipe back on song; McCauley doing his thing; ditto Fresh; and Dan O strong with both bat and ball, there is much to cheer. Perhaps what was missing last night was the likes of a Hewes or a Franks to come in mid-order and swing with abandon (and where’s Hewston?…). In any case, it was a close game and the signs are good for the season to come.

Over strictly apartheid beers after the game, questions were inevitably raised:

  • Is it wise to bat second when you know that a) the light will fade and b) the opposition will produce their top bowling under said conditions?
  • Should anyone listen to Fresh anyway?
  • Should the Madeye Shuffle be adopted to celebrate all missed catches?
  • Will there be a group discount for Sloths attending ‘Think of a Concussion’ on May 29th at the old Theatre Royal?

To which, the answers are:

  • No,
  • No,
  • Let’s hope not,
  • Don’t be ridiculous… oh, OK then.

Let’s look forward to a season full of thrills, spills, skills, mistakes and good-humour.

 

L Ron Hubbard; Self-Promotion Correspondent; Slothful Times

 

 

 

 

 

A Game of FIRSTS

firsts

(fɜːsts)
pl n
(Commerce) saleable goods of the highest quality

Sunday – our FIRST game of the season.

With few volunteers for the initial game of the season, El Capitano was scratching for a team, nothing new – Sloths hibernate and wake slowly. Franks did eventually managed to mass a full team, albeit with a few new faces and a few old ones (the new looking younger, the old, older). This therefore is our second “FIRST” of the day – Bathampton managing 11 “players” for a Sunday in April.

FIRST match for young Luc Horrux (Horrilocks? Horcrux? Horlicks?) – Luc looks a proper sloth (personality outweighing any modicum of talent) unlike some of our recent new breed of goodie-goodie “Super-Sloth” youth (all talent).

Someone who gave one, did toss and Bathampton went into bat. Another FIRST was the decision to opening with a partnership of Harding and Howard. Facing some decent bowling by (ex-Sloth, now traitor) Frith junior, Harding opted to do the sensible thing and ran out Howard, allowing some decent batsmen to the crease. FIRST run out of the season goes to Harding.

Next up was Harper, batting for the FIRST time with his new bionic eyes.  Harding soon decided traitor Firth was too much for him and wanting to spend a bit of time with the family, let one through onto the stumps. This turned out to be a brilliant decision as it finally brought Super-Sloth Paul Mac-caul-ley to bat. McCall_lee being one of the aforementioned Uber-Kinder-Sloths. Mick-Cork-Leigh then proceeded to hit 58 off 53 balls. Shocking both teams and forcing the captains to bring in the “retire at 50” rule for the safety of the game. How MuckCall-Lee got 58 is still a mystery.

Inspired by MaCauleigh’s efforts Bond then turned up the gas, smashing sixes with a regular aplomb. And though not as elegantly, more agriculturally, Bond too retired reaching his 50 of less balls than Paul Mac. (Though this could be down to the scorer – the book has Bond reaching 52 of 43 deliveries. So another FIRST, first time an old twat has out batted Uber-Kinder-Sloth on a Sunday.

As Bond was inspired by Paul Mac, Edwards likewise took from Bond. Turning the “agricultural” up a notch Tom added a quick 16 more to the total.

Luc Horli-locks baptism at the crease then followed with El Capitanio himself in partnership as “tuition”.  Franks demonstrated his full range of ground strokes, stopping short at the overhead smash, adding 33 to the score and a degree of bewilderment to young Horli-locks, who presumed he’d be playing cricket and not tennis doubles. Franks then ran himself out on the penultimate ball, allowing Paul Haith (Faith? Fraight – oh fuck it…) his FIRST ball as a sloth (but just the one).

Sloths had managed 203 of the 30 overs (quite possibly another FIRST).

The chronic slope at Bathford aided to our spinners but showed many an elder sloth up in the field, with arms and legs lacking any real co-ordination. Bowling saw the return of Kev D’Pipe, all mouth, no talent, proper Sloth. Now looking a tad more “Rusty”, Pipe partnered with Harding. The inept plumbers leaked runs (laking the necessary PTFE to do the job). Pipe going for 17 off three overs (no wickets) and Harding 17 off four overs, one wicket. Howard then showed the inept plumber-bowlers how not to leak, with three overs for 5 (1 wicket, 1 maiden). Paul Mac then promptly shat all over those figures bowling two overs, for 1 one run, 1 wicket, 1 maiden). Thankfully, Franks retired him after the two overs, again to protect the match and quite possibly any stats. Paul Haith proved keen with ball (3 overs for 6 runs, no wickets but one maiden). Yerbury too pitched in like a vicious sloth gerbil dismissing one of Bathford’s better batters with the aid of a stunned Howard – demonstrating the “always catch with body behind ball” technique which has left him with a collapsed right lung and possible cracked ribs. Tail enders were picked off mercilessly by Edwards and newcomer Luc Horli-golden-bollocks taking hist FIRST wicket, caught and bowled, so technically his FIRST catch for the team to boot. He then bowled their last batsman to finish the match.

Bathford 109 off 25 overs, all out.

Result, a team of “Firsts” for sure, how much we’d get for them is another matter.

For those with short sloth-like memories, last years’ opener versus Bathford, saw a poor draggle of nine sloths emerge from hibernation and get soundly trashed. The good Rev turning up late after a wedding, took a hattrick and then promptly was bowled for a duck, twice. (Having bowled the nine, Bathford allowed us to try again).

Match highlights: Harding family learning new vocabulary. Paul MaCackley’s parents attending to see his two overs but missing the tonk. Bonder’s smile retiring…
Footnote: new sloths, can we please have the correct spelling of your last name. New ringers: YCFOAW

Offsiders Given a Fresh Chance

The much-anticipated brush with Painter failed to matterialise as Offsiders did their best to gloss over his absence and avoid a whitewash last night at KES. Apparently, following his trip to Russia, Jim had caught a nasty dose of the Trotskys. Given his form on leaving loose stools on the outfield, perhaps this was for the best. Or was the prospect of facing-down his Sloth teammates just too daunting? (… as Putin likes to say: “When the going must get tough, the tough Moscow” …)

In the event, Offsiders managed to field eleven by calling in Danny O’s sixth-form chums. However, Sloths saw their youthfulness and raised it with a now-familiar brace of junior Friths. And what an impact the progeny of Jonty had. Samuel’s pace belied his slight frame to produce an early wicket from a straight, full ball. Harry then brought the second dismissal with a direct hit on the stumps from square of the wicket and the third, a catch from his own bowling at mid-off by – you guessed it – Frith Senior.

Later in the Offsider innings, Harry facilitated another run-out through his quick hands and accurate arm. So too Franks. Preferring not to sully his hands with a catch, he opted instead to return the ball to the bowler for an easy dismissal of the wrong-footed non-striker. Later, Franks was unable to avoid a lobbed thick edge from the bowling of Howard. Following his wicket earlier that over, this gave Howard yet another double-wicket maiden and surely makes him a contender for the Fuckworth-Lewis trophy – or, in any case, the least popular player in the team. But wait. No. That honour must surely now go to Lewis. More of which later.

Dan-O faced a barrage of abuse from his on-looking KES peers as he came on to bowl from the Paramedic End. This initially induced a couple of wides but his response was to take out the leg stump of one of Offsiders’ more threatening batsmen. And oh the sweet justice as Dan bowled a peach of a delivery to clip the bails of one of his tormentors from the next ball.

Notley took a wicket, once again, with his first ball. SDS invited all and sundry to swing across the line but never quite managed to induce the seeming inevitability of a catch. So, he too opted for the direct route, bowling somebody or other with a ball that did something or other. Or not. And so on – until no Offsider remained standing and their total had limped to a meagre 78.

Franks, in an inspired piece of captaincy, then decided it would be a wizard wheeze to generate the Sloth batting order through the power of poetry. Sadly, his sense of metre is about as good as his footwork. So, the results – though entertaining – did not necessarily scan: Frith, Frith, Frith, Dalley-Smith, Madeye, Notley, Bond. We don’t think he’ll be troubling the Nobel Literature Prize panel any time soon.

However, this provided Frith-the-Younger-Younger (Harry) an opportunity to show what he is made of. And he is made of steel. Offsiders gave no concession to Frith’s smallness of stature or tenderness of years. Instead, he faced some of the quickest bowling seen in these parts (arguably quicker than Old Ed’s much-vaunted Kit), from another of Dan-O’s compatriots. Unperturbed, Frith deployed the ‘leave’ to good effect and simply waited for friendlier deliveries, which he played with assurance and solid technique to retire, unbeaten, on 26. This surely makes Frith the youngest Sloth to retire in a 20-over game.

Offsiders were, however, causing a few problems for the Sloth batsmen. After the fall of early wickets, the run rate slowed to a near-funereal pace – until Notley, like a man possessed, took to the crease. He got off to a swift start and looked likely to score an easy 25. However, he hadn’t reckoned on facing Offsiders’ secret weapon. Freshmeat. Yes, you read that correctly. Offsiders youth policy had blown up in their faces when Dan-O’s cohorts decided it more pressing to catch a film screening than complete the game. Incredible! Not only that but they took Dan with them – Incredible 2!

So Sloths had been asked to provide a substitute fielder. Seeing who it was they had been provided with, Offsiders then took the opportunity to employ Fresh’s obvious talents as a bowler. To say this caused Notley some disgruntlement may be something of an understatement. To say he was then gratified to hit a wayward delivery to the boundary would be a serious dereliction of descriptive duty. And to say he was incensed to be dismissed next ball would be to negate one’s obligation as narrator and commentator. Let’s just say he was not best pleased. And he sent the ball once more to the boundary. Only, this time, after his wicket had been taken. He’s not been seen since.

Cue Dot-Ball-Bond to finish things off. In fairness, there were plenty of overs remaining and Bond, sensibly, wasn’t in a hurry to give up his wicket through rash impatience. Instead, he knocked-off a couple of singles, and then calmly sent the ball over the long-off boundary for the winning runs. In the end, this was an easy win but that is to take nothing away from some splendid performances, chiefly from the Frith clan (two more of whom are eagerly waiting in the wings). And Ant. And Dan –though he probably should get no credit after his disgraceful display of poor priority-setting

Questions will inevitably be asked after such an incident-laden encounter. Is it appropriate for a team short on players to bowl a substitute fielder ahead of their own men? Can a new award be instated in recognition of familial contribution (Headons vs Friths!)? And what would happen were Notley, and Gillings to be left alone in a secluded room with Lewis? And could we sell tickets?

Phil Davies, Genealogy Correspondent, Slothful Times