Wings Can't Melt in the Rain OR The Great Escape: 3s Vs Hampton Wick 5s 15/7

“Not tonight no mate, I’m cooking dinner for my mother.” Nick's reply to my text asking if he was coming to the pub on Friday was my first clue that Saturday was to be an unusual day. I was, in some ways, relieved. I didn’t want a repeat of the infamous twos-gate game last year, and Nick was furnishing me with half my team.

They all arrived, if not punctually then at least not late, to the ground, along with everyone else. I noted with alarm that Marton was not wearing his usual blue tracksuits. My spidey senses were tingling. As we went for the toss, we walked past the derelict skeleton of the old sight screen. “No covers?” the opposition skipper asked. Clearly they’d not played much div six west. The wind howled around us.

It appeared, however, that the ill omens were a figment of my beer-dried imagination. Overseas pro Files Mumigali took the new cherry and secured the opener second ball to another absolutely sensational snare from The Bucketman. He went on to get three more in a shockingly blistering opening spell. Such a shame about his availability. The cordon, full of Nick’s mates, were passionate, with Foxman in particular targeting small children with his vicious salvos of sledging. From the other end came Manan P (ed. check surname before writing it down anywhere), who had more natural variation and was bowling into the storm of the century.

The Doon replaced Manan and bowled with his typical zeal and skill. From the other end it was time for the burglar who bagged a wicket from Grandmas attic with a bouncer that the batter tried to tennis serve, only to be caught behind. We bowled well at them, with The Professor coming on after drinks with great success, for yet another 3-fer. They battled, however, and managed to add 30 for the last wicket, in no small part due to a drop from the otherwise satisfied skipper. Eventually Lewis P managed to bag the wicket with some tasteful off spin he’d modestly concealed from my attention. Fortunately, Stodd’s over was successfully smuggled in, despite his aggressive protestations against some very reasonable wides. I was disappointed to let them get as high as 138, but we chased 150 every week, for fun.

Oh, Icarus.

Manan P (ed. seriously, look it up) was volunteered by Tentaculon to face the first ball and was duly sacrificed to the wrath of the storm first ball of the innings. Out came Alex Raikes, known by fans as the sphere because he doesn't deal in edges. Second ball of the innings, the ball is delivered perfectly, on a length, perhaps just clipping the top of off. Raikes, smirking, bunted it for four through an astonished ring. He did it twice more, leaving the bemused bowler with figures of 1-17 off his first over. Bandeen wasn’t in a scoring mood and Foxman looked a million dollars for his four. Odgers looked robust, and he and Stodd added a few before Stodd succumbed to their admittedly very strong Little and Large attack. After I was adjudged LBW on 11 — which I took with my usual decorum, setting a good example for the oppo's U15s — we looked a long way from Tulsa with only a litre of fuel. 62 to get. Four wickets in hand. We batted deep, however. Nick looked typically confused about what the goal of batting was, seeming to think it was some sort of gymnastics style points system. He was 4 (7). Doon and The Professor showed more application, but were both also dismissed, leaving 29 to win, with one wicket in hand.

So strode to the crease Smiles Grumigali (no relation to the protagonist of Despicable Me). With Odgers still set, Miles managed to jam his bat down on some yorkers, while Loy continued to accumulate, unhurried. When Feral and the Worm joined us, we needed 10 to win. The sweet smell of Peter’s roll up was a timely reminder of the scent of victory. Marton and I paced, grimacing, the clouds dark above us, the tattered wreck of the sight screen billowing in the wild winds to our left. Nine, eight… The boys were on their feet now, they sensed the balance had shifted. Five … four… We stood, knowing it was inevitable as we were with two. Then they ball raced towards fine leg and it was done. It was over. We had WON. The heavens opened and rain soaked us, hiding our tears of jubilation. A rainbow sprang into view behind the club house.

We had done it.

ONWARDS.