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In the wake of the Holland
debacle, the Scotland game was an absolute must win for England. They had
nothing to gain, everything to lose.
The phrase ‘out of your
league’ is a metaphor everyone understands when applied to hypothetical
romantic liaisons, but it can also be more literal.
There are no leagues in
international cricket, though we can guess how they’d stack up if there were.
Division 1 would be the top eight full ICC members. Division 2 would be
Zimbabwe and Bangladesh, plus a select group of ‘Associate Nations who’ve made
full members look stupid’ – Ireland, Afghanistan, Holland.
Scotland would be in
Division 3, with the bulk of the Associate Nations, striving for promotion to
the ‘make full members look stupid’ brigade.
(The rest of the leagues
would be made up of the Affiliate Nations, countries you can’t quite believe
actually play cricket at all: Estonia, Morocco, Sweden, and, perhaps most
improbably, The Falkland Islands.)
Anyway, Scotland were
playing a side a good few leagues above them, with nothing to lose and
everything to prove.
Not a dissimilar scenario,
just on a different scale, to The National Village Cup, the early rounds of
which are effectively a series of Heffalump traps for the better clubs to
avoid.
This year we were drawn
against Tichborne Park. We’ve played them before, and know them as a pleasant
bunch with a lovely ground. We also know that they are much better than us.
Their seconds play at our level, but their first team are Southern Premier II.
Which is out of our league in a distinctly non-metaphorical way.
After a shaky start, with
one opener bowled behind his legs and the other subjected to a run call that
would have tested a cheetah with a launch catapult (yes, me – what gave it
away?) we settled down to a respectable 150, young Ben making amends with a
jug-avoiding 48.
Giant-killing possibilities
didn’t even cross our minds. Until they had a bit of a wobble: a simple
caught-and-bowled, a thick edge, the next guy clean bowled for a golden. At
12-3, the slightest ripple of belief could almost be felt running round their
enormous outfield.
It dissipated fairly quickly,
that enormous outfield put to efficient use as they knocked off the runs before
drinks with a minimum of fuss and no further loss.
Scotland won’t have really
thought they had a sniff, especially not when they were set 170 in 20 overs.
But there can’t have been too many people, on either side, who didn’t
experience a little flicker in the stomach when Michael Leask was smashing
Tredwell around The Granite City on his way to 42 from 16 balls.
In both cases, at either end
of cricket’s spectrum, the clear favourites prevailed comfortably, as everyone
knew they would. But in both, for just the briefest of moments, it looked like
it might get interesting.
- ends 482 words -
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