A Masterclass in Mediocrity – The Wet Finale
In what can only be described as a monsoon-themed farewell tour, Steve Mac bravely won the toss and, and decided to bowl first. Because obviously, overcast skies, ankle-deep bog, and a rapidly dissolving pitch scream “let’s field for 45 overs.”
Thunder & Drizzle
Opening up was Owen Hogben, bringing pace and intent, and Tom Worthington, bringing… something slower. Owen’s first over reached a blistering 72mph, roughly the speed of a mobility scooter going downhill, but to great effect. With the batters still adjusting to the concept of moving, Owen found a lobbed chance that somehow landed in the safe-ish hands of the skipper himself, stationed at midwicket purely for moral support. One down, and obviously, the floodgates were about to open. (They didn’t.)
Tom, meanwhile, was quietly reinventing the concept of time. His deliveries were so slow that birds nested mid-flight and Judgey had time to do the Wordle between balls. Still, that didn’t stop him nabbing a stumping, thanks to Judgey’s flash-of-lightning glove work and a batter so surprised by the pace (or lack thereof) that he forgot what legs do. Tom smiled or grimaced, hard to say.
Then, in a move described by many (okay, just Owen) as “deeply offensive,” the skipper yanked Owen after three overs. Harsh. Yes, he went at 7-an-over, but they were classy 7s, thick edges, agricultural hoicks, and one that might have been legally classified as assault.
Mayhem in the Middle Overs
Tom nabbed a second wicket when the batter, clearly lookingto escape the cold, gifted one to Oscar. Remarkably, Oscar remembered he hadhands. Cue celebrations and faint disbelief.
Then came Ethan, whose tight spell was rewarded when Dan Jones finally remembered how to catch. Probably still bitter from not being handed the ball. Little Hulton were 31-3 and probably wondering if they’d turned up to the wrong match.
Enter Lewis. Oh Lewis! 6 overs of “I’m just here so I don’t get fined.” He bowled with the intensity of someone mentally booking his holiday. There was one enormous six that may now be classified as airspace interference. In his defence, he claimed Oscar dropped a catch off him. Probably true. Still dull.
Captain’s Cameo (feat. Chaos)
Then came the Steve Mac Experience™️. A spell best described as “borderline criminal". Full tosses, wides, balls that bounced three times, all wrapped up in the smug satisfaction of a man who knew he’d fluked it. Three wickets fell to this nonsense. Somewhere, a coaching manual burst into flames.
Jordy picked up a wicket too, via a full toss disguised as spin. AJ stunned the group by taking a catch. That’s not a joke. He caught something. At this point, most players assumed they were in a fever dream.
Steve’s final over? Dot. Dot. Four. Six. Four. Single.Poetry. Like the final scene in Titanic, but wetter and more painful.
Then came Skiddy Sam, whose signature delivery, theankle-snapping daisy cutter, inexplicably got a wicket. It was appalling. Butit worked. Go figure.
The Curtain Call
Fittingly, the final wicket of the season came courtesy of the club’s most elite pairing: Anuj “Dangwell” and Owen “Somehow Still Standing” Hogben. A top-edged bouncer (and we’re being very generous with the term bouncer) went to fine leg where Owen, surrounded by dropped chances and trauma, held on. Redemption. Sort of.
Dan Didn’t Bowl. Nobody Complained. We’d say it was tactical, but it’s more likely someone just lost the clipboard. Dan's been more expensive than wedding catering all year, so this was probably a kindness to us all.
The End, Finally
And then… it rained again. Heavy. Biblical. The cricket gods had seen enough, sending everyone fleeing back to Clifton for end-of-season awards, sandwiches, curry, chilli (So much food, thanks to all involved with that xx ) and deep existential reflection.
Some cried. Some laughed. Oscar dropped the buffet.
Until next year...
From your Secret Second Team Reporter
(Still not selected for the 1s. Still a scandal.)
Over. Out. Emotionally drained. Spiritually damp.