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A bit of sun and the rain holding off - good enough to start - Normandy win the toss - look at the troubled Haydons Road strip - and put us in. But where are the stumps, Jey? OK - well go and fetch them. Vintage Presidential fare. But we are not laughing at the pitch. Spongy, crusty, raddled and ulcerated, green bits and bald bits - and all neatly combed into little ridges. Shame on you Merton Council - this is lethal. You are supposed to roll it, not rake it over when it's wet. Batsmen start searching for helmets - how many have we got?
We commence. Danish, so full of runs recently, slides one to slip. Mike falls to a freakish one that veers in at right-angles off a ridge (so he tells me - I believe him). The Presidents 7-2. The batsmen report that the bowling is innocent of guile - it's only the surface to be wary of - no need to worry unduly. A couple of crisp fours from Praba bears them out - but then he pulls one that holds up on the surface to an equally crisp catch at square leg. It's 16-3 - three top men gone - but surely this is a mere blip. But no blip - Khalid soon makes it four top men gone - 16-4. Oh lordy.
Prakash painstakingly sees himself in with a couple of exaggerated forward defensives. Thus readied and steadied - the riposte. Crash - slap - bang - wallop. A lightning partnership of forty-seven for the fifth wicket, to which Tanzeel (in truth no slouch himself) has contributed three. One square six reaps havoc with the pavilion roof - and we glance beyond it to wonder exactly how the new building site behind was cleared. Another one in the same direction - but high, high, high - and higher. What's that about 32 something per second per second? - this one must surely arrive at a thousand miles an hour. How can a fielder concentrate this long? - we could have read half of Dostoevsky before it came down. But right on the boundary, right in front of us, Phil Miles does not blink. Well held. Prakash gone for 44. It's 63-5, Tanzeel still there, and the tail to come.
Tanzeel and Jey apply themselves. Slowly, slowly we build. The runs start to come. The hundred comes up - calmer waters now, Tanzeel punching boundaries, Jey rotating the singles. But a partnership of forty-five is rudely interrupted when a slow and loopy one full of length explodes vertically to smash Jey's glasses. Thank you Merton Council. Jey retires to examine his wounds. Tony Bruggemann strides confidently forth to continue his good work of the previous week - but is soon caught in two minds and at mid-off. Tanzeel underestimates young Dan Miles and departs to another good catch by Miles Senior. It's 109-7 and not enough. Ravi and Will Thorogood at the wicket. The Ravi swish soon comes into play - pop, pop, pop. Good heavens, he's running a two. They take us to 125 before Ravi is bowled. Jey returns to the fray now encased in helmet and dark glasses. Will hangs in, dogged and determined. They eke out the final overs and edge us along. After thirty-four overs it's 147 on the score-board - and opening bowler Boardman returns to deliver the last. Death or glory now, and Will finally departs going for the boundary that will see us to 150. Last man Jerry flails in pursuit of the same cause - but not to be. All out for 147 with a ball to spare - Jey bloodied but unbowed to the end.
A joint effort on the tea, which may have lacked an overall theme, but was welcome enough and disappeared rapidly. And now time to see what Normandy can do in reply. They fielded sharply enough - and their batsmen seem well organised and prepared to punish anything loose. Prakash gets one through Foot, but that is the only success of our opening salvo. It takes a fine piece of work from Danish, doubling as both wicket-keeper and square leg to run out a limping Roberts. At forty-something for two the game is in the balance. But the match turns - and it's the skipper who turns it - Praba hits the stumps twice in succession, Miles Senior and Boardman gone in two balls. It's 42-4 and then Praba and Danish combine to dismiss the dangerous-looking Morhall - a fine diving catch from Danish. We weren't sure from the boundary whether it had carried - but the men in the middle were in no doubt. It's now 51-5.
Miles Junior is felled by one from Praba that jumps at his ribs - another victim to Merton Council. Danish already seems to be everywhere at once - and now comes on to bowl. Three wickets to him, and he rounds things off with another fine catch making dozens of yards running in from the boundary. All out for eighty-four and an unexpectedly comfortable win. Some good cricket, pleasant opposition, shame about the pitch.
Laurence Worms
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