Cold day brightened by crazy new player. Top order failed....

Ravi batted well, Gagi bowled well. Yarl found it too cold. Michael from the Wick was a great help! Mal Spiro staked his claim behind the stumps.

Winch took us close, very close. Wright scored his first run. Lips had his birthday. Mal stayed at No 9. Bob run himself out. 1st game at The Wick

We won the toss and took full advantage batting first on a flat track and amassing a imposing total. Over the years there have been many promises of new players bringing new riches to the club then turning out to be complete idiots - not on this occasion as we were treated to a proper batting display by new boy Gary. He is welcome anytime. The opposition tried to talk there way to victory with the aid of Mark politely sledging each member of the team by name whilst he whacked another boundary, but it was not enough. Game finished at 8.00pm - note to skipper NO MORE 40 over matches - 35 is our maximum. Numerous injuries were reported as a result.

Well, not one our better days.Only setting the opposition 134 to win gave the Skipper an early headache. On a dry sunny afternoon with the ball rushing to all corners it was never on, despite a few early breakthroughs including a low bending slip catch from Wright & a dolly to Lings at mid on. Not enough runs meant it was also difficult to give everyone a game. Mind you that did have one advantage of a not so smelly changing room due to an early grumpy departure from Lippitt. Tut tut.....mid season tensions surface. Mal Spiro's initiative to raise money for charity yielded £31- so all was not in vain.

As England faltered against the old enemy we completely fell apart with a dreadful batting performance scraping togther 59 runs. Tea became lunch and then a quick drink in the bar and home in time for the Six o'clock news. Highlight of the day was Clive Lawrence knocking some poor blokes helmet off when bowling a speedy delivery,

There was some late news delivered to Alan Carter on Thursday night on the eve of the tour. Our hosts advised us there would be no camp beds and to bring something to sleep on. For some reason Carter decided to keep this information to himself much to the surprise of Spiro and Kirkwood . Late that night Spiro paced round the music hall (our accommodation/bedroom/dorm) refusing to lie down on the hall floor preferring to spend the night in a chair whilst Kirwood chuntered on late into the starry night about paying £15 to sleep in such basic conditions. Yes, the tourette was off to a good start! Next day a familiar sight greeted the team. Rain. Lots of it. The locals promised good weather at 4pm - it seemed very unlikely. At the appointed hour a strange thing happened. A person dressed all in white entered the pub. The game was on! Leaving our home ( The Pigs Nose Pub) we made the short journey down the path where a local farmer had converted one of his fields into a cricket pitch.  The weather at this time seemed worse. It is difficult to explain quite how bizarre the conditions were. Imagine, if you will, playing cricket in a thick misty rain cloud. Not under it - I stress - but IN IT! Bowlers literally could not be seen running in until the last minute as they passed the umpire and appeared out of the gloom. Umpires advising the scorer of 4's and 6's did so by a loud shout to the boundary as no hand signals could be seen. Starting at 4pm we played 30 overs, lost the game, as we always do on tour, and headed back to the digs. A most enjoyable night followed with a blues band and the customary lock in till the early hours topped off with some fine singing from the local barmaids. The beer got cheaper, the jugs larger and the music louder then eventually late, late, into the night if was time to lie on the floor. This place is great!

A game played to the constant incessant background of a local band, rejected at the first round of Pop Idol. I am sorry to say this ground seems to be suffering from local vandals with the changing room broken into the previous night and having to be boarded up after our game. I say game - I mean slaughter. Advised to remove all valuables this information was not heeded by all the team with some small change reported missing. £1.50 can buy a small joint as was witnessed by Sir David as the locals puffed happily in their front gardens. Tea was the usual splendid Sri Lankan affair with pokoras available for all. On the pitch we were put into the field and suffered as Yarl amassed an imposing total. Another five catches were put down and with all fielders back on the fence these talented batsmen took us apart with sixes flying to all parts. 35 overs and 270 odd runs later it was our turn. No chance, but a useful opportunity to work on some batting averages.

We play cricket for days like these. After a run of lost games stretching back to July when it was hot and sunny Crossbats on this chilly Autumnal afternoon achieved the impossible. We won. Yes, I say again, we won. Pacific are a strong team, they trounced us back in June but this was our time. Skippers privilege is to opening the bowling at the end of the season and with the opposition chasing a mediocre target of 151 it seemed the presentations scheduled for the pub later that night would be starting early. Hypnotized by the lack of spin, balls lofted high into the setting sun then bouncing ankle length in the rain was just too much for the Pacific top order. Winch, applying similar technique the other end proved to be a masterstroke. For the first time in months we felt the tingling sensation of a possible win. It has to be noted that Pacific have the luxury of a master class player. This Aussie can keep, bowl and bat like a true pro. He is young, handsome and endowed with a considerable amount of curly hair and also has a good sledging technique. So, when you get some one of this class thrusting his pads out not daring to use his bat to Wrights"hand throwing grenade bowling" - well something has to be wrong. This was the young lads last match in England as a contracted player to Pacific so he will be taking some interesting memories of his last game back to his mates in Australia. A ball fizzed skyward. Moor Mead was deathly still. You could hear a pin drop whilst we waited to see if our new boy Laight would cling on to the catch.  Goodbye class batsman. Please leave the arena....... Meanwhile, Billy Bunter was getting stuck in thumping balls down to the fine leg boundary. The game was not ours yet. Enter Spiro. Confidence high after a sound 23 with the bat it was his time to bowl. Mr Bunter, ever true to his style, slogged the ball down to deep backward square leg and found the gut of Groves. Spiro then removed Smith next ball and a possible hat trick was on the cards. Sadly this was not to be but Crossbats closed in for the kill with Reeve polishing off the tail. A win. A great win that we can enjoy in the dark winter months.