When that dreaded word "Grade" raised its ugly head, we knew we were in trouble. We don't come across it very often but when we do, it forbodes very badly. On this occasion though, it was plural - The "Nondescripts" of Camperdown were a whole team of ex-Graders. Yikes.
It was quickly building as a complete mis-match and we even considered cancelling. We heard rumours we were in for a kicking and someone in the know who attended one of our nets sessions predicted slaughter when he heard we were playing them.
The situation seemed confirmed when our captain, Tim Carrol, rang their captain to agree on rules. He explained we have a few "quirky" rules: that you can't be out first ball and that we didn't really respect the Leg Before Wicket rule unless totally plumb. "Oh, I don't think our bowlers will like that," said the opposition captain. Turned out he was right. When the first ball of the day was bowled, it hit our opening batsman plumb on his pads - out. But the Umpire - our wicket keeper, Keith Saunders - didn't give it. (His sound reasoning being that with one of our strongest batsmen out first ball - it was likely to be a short game!) The bowler was far from pleased, visibly aggravated in fact, just as his captain had predicted. His mood deteriorated further when the same batsman tonked his second ball for four! "You could have had the good grace to block a few after being out last ball" he said. Oh dear, we thought, not only was this not going to go well, now there was bad blood.
From then on the Mad Dogs entered uncharted territory for many reasons, by which I not only mean the ground - the Mallet Street Oval in Camperdown, which really was very nice indeed.
We never really use helmets usually, except Anthony Cheshire who has never been the same after trying to play the ball once with his forehead instead of his bat. But when their second bowler - a "strawberry blonde" chap with hipster beard and a very serious expression - seemed to begin his run-up in another suburb, we started wearing helmets!
We weren't used to 50s either - usually we retire batsmen at 25 to make sure everyone gets to bat. But naturally the Nondescripts didn't want that rule either so we actually had two of our batsmen - Ed Watson and Phil Brown - reach 50 (thank god!) with Phil even approaching a century (83)! We really didn't know how to mark the milestone, quite unaccustomed to the moment as we were.
However, despite all talk of the the word "mismatch" our batting proved quite respectable - and by the end of our 35 overs we had reached 187. (I say "we", sadly I only faced one ball and was not able to use that ball to contribute to the score - although I must stress I was "not out" when our innings ended.) What we didn't know until the morning was that one of our last minute recruits - the same Phil Brown - turned out be part of the "Grade" world himself. The previous season he had played some
Grade Cricket himself! After passing 50 in 15 overs he confessed at drinks, just quietly, "I'm not actually a batsman, I'm an opening bowler".
Suddenly our confidence grew and with a couple of early wickets, the Nondescripts were still only in their 30s after ten overs. At this run rate, we thought, we had a chance of snatching victory from the jaws of an otherwise miserable defeat. In fact, when the second wicket - an edge off Anthony Pritchard's bowling - was caught by Keeper Saunders, someone even commented that what we were doing "was beginning to resemble proper cricket"! This was indeed unchartered territory for the Mad Dogs!
But then, after a quite incredible catch by Pete Stevens who took a point blank smack at mid-wicket like he had snatched a speeding bullet out of thin air, a large chap with a green helmet arrived at the crease and - in the parlance of Grid Iron - it was "game over". Once he'd taken a couple of overs to get his eye in, he began to pepper the boundaries like he was shooting game in the woods. The noise of the battered metal boundary fence began to ring in our ears seemingly perennially. Frequently players were required to vault the fence to fetch balls from under parked cars or from spectators' picnic blankets. In fact for those many people enjoying picnics around the park the on-goings had turned from probably a quite pleasant summer spectacle to something more akin to an execution. The final 15 overs were redeemed only by a stunning catch from the captain to finally remover Mr Green Helmet - but by then it was too late, the ugly damage was done. With our necks stiff from watching balls go over our head, it was doubly painful to glance at the scoreboard. By the time the Nondescripts reached their target, with ten overs and six wickets in hand, the Mad Dogs could only express a weary sigh of relief.
But given the slamming we expected at the start, it was a quite respectable scoreline in the end, and several people accounted very well for themselves, including some new recruits we hope to see again. And despite the initial controversies, there was much bonhomerie in the boozer afterwards between both Mad Dogs and Nondescripts; and talk of a return match at the end of the seasons remains alive.
(Left to right: Phil Brown, Keith Saunders, Anthony Pritchard, Yours Truly.)
