It’s been a long time since Sloths have witnessed Gillings holding up one end and carving out a circumspect, measured innings in the 20-over game. Only this time it wasn’t Gillings Senior, rather his dutiful offspring, Fabien. In fairness, the youngster did cream one glorious cover drive, up the hill, to embarrass two of his father’s erstwhile compatriots in the field, neither of whom got anywhere near stopping the ball. Which, at that point, was still red. (web editor footnote: I got my hand to it and stopped the boundary you twat!)

Said Gillings was part of the home side, Bathford: a mixed bag of league, non-league and never-likely-to-trouble-a-league players. And a nice bunch to boot. Well, I’ve not actually tried kicking any of them but imagine it would be enjoyable.

Sloths had opened the batting. With the ever-dependable Jimmy not in attendance, the visitors replaced him, as opener, with Tom’s touch-partner (don’t ask) James. A thoroughly nice bloke and a decent cricketer too. After a cautious start – having not held a bat in several years – James produced some lovely, genuine strokes to get the scoreboard moving.

At the other end, however, Lazarus didn’t seem to be hitting his stride. This may have had something to do with his pre-match warm up. Apparently, this had been a joint effort with Ant. And, it seems, they’d made something of a hash of things. Suffice to say, their doobie-ous efforts may have to be reefered to the committee, next AGM, so we can weed out the culprits. (web editor footnote: you twat!)

In contrast, Stump was remarkably clear-headed, producing some glorious straight drives and picking the down-hill boundary when the opportunity arose. Captain Luc showed characteristic exuberance but never quite managed to find his rhythm. His dismissal came from Bathford’s young pace bowler, who – first ball – produced a full-pitched, testicle-shrinking delivery that swung late and clipped the top of middle and off.

But the most commanding presence at the crease, this innings, was Harding. Realising the umpire was being meagre with his wide decisions, Tom chased everything, stretching to produce boundaries with the merest tip of his bat. He also marshalled his fellow batters, calling them through for singles and twos, regardless of who was running to the danger end.

Honourable mention should also be made of Ben, who valiantly took on the young quick, having the temerity to come down the wicket at him. Mind you, he didn’t actually see the ball.

And, by the end of all this, Sloths had scored some runs. But not many. Somewhere around the 100 mark, I believe.

Sloths’ bowling line-up, however, was strong. And under the Stokes-esque Horcrux regime, positivity was abroad. Luc set his field energetically, with shouts of ‘you go to mid-wicket’ (whilst pointing to square leg), etc. Meanwhile, vice-captain-elect Harding quietly repositioned everyone whilst he wasn’t looking.

With a small total to defend, the bowling needed to be tight. In the case of Lazarus, he was indeed (though his line and length weren’t – for some reason – quite what one would normally expect). Howard, Frith and Horcrux all bowled well, mostly containing the batting. However, the home team know their ground and were able to find the short, downhill boundary with anything that wasn’t quite on the money.

Ben, at long-off, threw himself around like a rag doll, stopping the ball in whatever way he could, making up for what he lacked in grace with sheer enthusiasm. Though this was sometimes rather haphazard, one mis-field elicited a chanced second run and the subsequent runout of Frith senior (on loan to Bathford). He also bowled a tidy two overs, keeping the ball well pitched-up to prevent easy runs.

Returnee James took possibly the catch of the season at slip. This to dismiss the aforementioned, entrenched Gillings. Coming off a thick edge, the ball looped and threatened to fall short of the fielder. However, James flung himself forward and to his right to scoop the ball with his fingertips, somehow managing to cling on as he hit the ground.

As the light faded – faded?… disappeared! – the ball was conveniently lost and replaced with something pink. Which may, at one point in time, have been a cricket ball. Hard to say. This was, in turn, replaced by what looked like an orange dog ball. But at least it was visible. Just.

In the dying overs, Harding bowled with astonishing accuracy to stem the runs, giving away absolutely nothing. Hewes reined-in his usual pace and was similarly disciplined. With only four runs needed for the home win, Luc called on his troops to prevent the single. Which they did.

However, they didn’t prevent the four. Oh well. It was a well-fought and enjoyable game nonetheless.

Over Prava-replacement-service Morettis at the Crown afterwards – joined by ‘Denty’ and the be-pony-tailed Bathford bowler with unnecessarily long run up, who’s probably called something or other – Sloths ruminated over the evening’s events:

• Was bowling 10 overs straight from each end a cunning tactic by the home team – or a genuine attempt to speed up the game?
• If the latter, why did they take such a Sloth-like approach to padding up?
• Is it acceptable to bowl beamers at under-16s?
• Can Luc’s granny knit the whole team sweaters?
• Or Rick’s?
• Should Sloths follow Pony-tail’s lead and try T20 on mushrooms?
• Who ate all the sausages? (Oh – I know that one…)
• If a Madigan takes two wickets and no-one is able to see it, does it happen?

Answers, please, inserted into a size-3 football with ballbearings and launched into the gloom at Bathford.

Timothy Leary, Narcotics Correspondent, Slothful Times