Bank of England V Crossbats The Next Generation

Bank of England late August what a treat!

Crossbats new and old assemble at the handsome grounds and were greeted with the comforting sight of covers protecting the pitch from some earlier torrential downpours.

Wright was first to arrive immediately putting some physiological pressure on the oppo skipper about the promised late afternoon sunshine and excellent drainage facilities. Crossbats veteran Rapley was next to arrive with (40 years Mr Rapley’s junior) Mr Sookdeo.

Crossbats has become a place where new talent is spotted and nurtured with Collier pushing for a spot in Hampton Wicks 6th Eleven and now the exciting news that Sookdeo had a trial next week with Surrey.

For the last few weeks pitch inspections have pushed the angry mob, Gumbley, Rapley and Ross to the edge of their short tempers. Crossbats waited patiently whilst our hosts went through the usual ritual of looking at the skies then pressing their feet to the ground.

Finally it was game on, toss won, Wright was in no mood to chase the usual meagre total the Bank may have tried to post and also showed consideration for his premier fast bowler DK, who was nursing a serve hangover and was busy using the Banks toilets.

Crossbats elected to bat.

With Sookdeo whispering wise words of wisdom in Skippers ear the young and old started cautiously but soon had what I suspect is a record opening partnership of 163 for posted on the scoreboard.

Sookdeo finally perished on 89 and needing to push on Mr Rapley entered the fray. Stout French cricket defence followed. No runs. Next over Wright pushes a single. Rapley back on strike. Sensing there was no more time to waste, Mr Rapley settled himself. Bowler approaches. Now there have been many excuses over the years for loosing ones wicket. Allegedly, this is what happened according to Mr Rapley. Quote: “As the bowler ran in the helmet slipped over my eyes, I was plunged into darkness, so flayed the bat and hoped for the best.”

Result, ball skied in air, out caught.

Next in Carter. Again, a few sighters, for a sightless man, and one scampered single. Next over he attempted his world famous sweep of middle stump. Not used to the damp slippery conditions he lost his footing and lay sprawled on the ground flapping like a fish pulled out of water. The ball still en route to the stumps, Carter tried to first kick the ball, missed, and then resorted to fisting it away with his hand. Massive appeal. Before the umpire could compute the sequence of events the batsman had already got back onto his feet and was on his way. A first for Crossbats. Out “handled ball”

Harshil next in pumped a quick four and with tea and the rain clouds fast approaching it was time to declare.

Crockford, unable to hold back, stuffed numerous cream scones into his portly frame oblivious to any late afternoon exercise he may be required to deliver.

Bank set about their target with some unusual gusto, picking out Crockford at will, and reaping the rewards. As the afternoon wore on Crossbats managed to peg them back with a mixture of tight bowling and expensive “buy a wicket” tosh.

As darkness fell you could hear a pin drop as Bank edged towards their target. It came down in the end to the final ball and two runs needed. The final ball was slapped to the mid wicket boundary for four runs and at 8pm, in pitch darkness, it was handshakes all round and the end of a great game of cricket full of drama.