I Zingari

Match Report

The battleground was set: Torry Hill, green and pleasant but soon to bear witness to leather, willow and questionable decision-making. Our opponents? The mighty I Zingari — a club with a history longer than the ground itself. A Straggler wedding in the ranks meant that I was given free rein to assemble a formidable force, issued two simple commands: arrive on time, and avoid the ale. Both were ignored.

The toss was scheduled for 10:30. With the sage words of W.G. Grace in my mind (“when you win the toss, bat”), I duly won it. Enter the umpire and the walking rulebook. Having missed the toss, he declared it invalid. Another flip, another chance… another loss. Luckily, Harry of IZ, a gentleman (and Straggler) among men, confirmed the original result stood. Crisis averted, bureaucracy satisfied.  Our openers were meant to be Pettman and Benny, but Benny was running late (shock). So Pettman and the relentlessly consistent Skinner marched out. The innings began with a Crawley-esque cover drive from Pettman — all pose, Nottingham helmet glinting. He had promised a hundred. He delivered… five.

In came I.Pullen, aura of runs about him, until he handed me his snus and phone. Wicket lost, aura gone. Then strode Ferreria, fresh from MMC duties, stash intact. What followed was a delivery of such beauty it deserved to be put in a museum: angled in, swung away, nipped back, off stump flattened. Skinner, meanwhile, was still there, defending like a legionnaire. Tribe joined him briefly (7), before retreating. Then salvation. Felton — big, broad, and bristling with runs — strode in. He and Skinner forged a partnership worthy of Ponting and Gilchrist (2002). Skinner reached a composed 50, Felton lashed the ball to every corner. Calm at last. But Skinner’s resistance ended on 66 with a caught-and-bowled that may have proved decisive. Pattinson offered a brisk cameo before Benny finally arrived. Hungover, unsteady, but armed with the Fenwick mantra: the more mead, the more runs. Reverse sweeps, scoops, and all things unholy carried him to an entertaining 38.  With the clock ticking, and a declaration pending, the final wicket fell on 231, a solid total on a wicket with something in it for all. More importantly: tea. A shout-out to my sister and mum, who produced a spread so vast Pettman couldn’t move afterwards.

Out we strode, Elliot with the new ball and thundering in, slip more like third man given the pace. Rapid, hostile, but a couple of beamers (mercifully uncalled) before a tweaked hammy ended his spell early. Felton bowled tidy stuff, but wickets were absent. Enter Falcon and Skinner. Two quick breakthroughs and the battle swung. Skinner’s first spell of eight overs went for just 19 with three wickets — unplayable stuff.  At one stage, we deployed seven slips. Not so much a cordon as a testudo. The IZ batsmen did their best impression of besieged villagers. Wickets dried up, though, so Pattinson was summoned. A few crunching blows off him, but he struck twice in reply, vital scalps in the push for victory.

Rain had softened the deck, and Evans couldn’t quite find rhythm. Still, we had them 149-8. Victory within sight. But overs were running short — uncertain timekeeping had drained precious minutes. Felton tried, before Skinner and Falcon were back on. Skinner unfortunately bowled too well; they couldn’t get anywhere near it. I cannot say quite the same for myself, but we were asking the questions. Credit to their final survivors, they managed to dig out the yorkers, miss the good ones and get something on anything straight. It was a fantastic final ten overs but unfortunately, we could not do enough to get over the line.  So, it ended with IZ finishing eight down, a valiant defence. Man of the match was G.Skinner with a wonderful 66 and 11 overs at 3-32.  A fine performance all round, a brilliant day of cricket, and one that deserved a better result. Next year, we’ll return sharper, stronger, and — with luck — victorious.