2001 SEASON

1 Ton from a land down under

                His hard hit 104, helped the visitors post a rapidly compiled 191, with both Jim (40) and Billy (22) sharing fifty plus partnerships with him.

                 Catford’s response was stinted by penetrative spells from Playtex Timms and Danglers Moyse, who will be sadly missed when he inevitably dies from some form of horribly debilitating disease. With our hosts rocking at 35 for 3, Bill turned the screw even more by introducing Leaguey Clements and the ‘All seeing / bowl me at the death skip’ Wilsdon. This change, not surprisingly was to the batsmen’s pleasure and soon the ball was being dispatched to all parts of the ground.

                   Incredibly Jim made the vital breakthrough, presumably because the batsman had been lulled into a vegetative state, by the ease at which they had been able to score and was completely baffled by the one delivery in 36 that headed in the vague direction of the stumps.  Not for the first time the pressure-cooker atmosphere got to Chris and the late arriving Spud was called into action to stem the flow of runs that were giving Catford the scent of victory.

                     With Catford’s task becoming more desperate, they foolishly chanced their luck on attempting quick singles, in an attempt to maintain the run chase. Not once, nay twice, they suffered the inevitable conclusion  of taking on Billy Randall. Grazing menacingly in the covers, he swooped majestically throwing down the wicket to all but finish Catford’s hopes.          

Crusaders put to the sword at Wilsonians

               The opposition’s bowling was anything but threatening, but as in the past, we failed to give a good account of ourselves. The batting line up was heavily weighted to the top order, but with only Timmo making a reasonable contribution, the tail was cruelly exposed and our innings terminated at 108.

 Lack-lustre Crusaders lose again

 A weakened team, starved of the talents of Moyse, Timms and Wilsdon came within seven runs of beating a young exuberant Bexleyheath side in Sunday’s game at YMCA. Bill won the toss and asked Bexleyheath to bat, but he was let down by his bowlers, as neither Richard or Jim bowled with enough control to trouble the early batsmen. The lack of a recognisable fifth bowler (similar to England’s lack of a third/fourth/fifth bowler) and some fairly lethargic fielding allowed Bexleyheath to accumulate runs in a steady if not spectacular manner, finally reaching 172-6 from their allotted overs. Peter Hine was the pick of the attack, regularly beating the bat and taking the well deserved wickets of their two heaviest scorers.

 Our response stuttered, with both openers returned to the pavilion cheaply. There then followed a fruitful stand of 55 between Chuckles and Mark Hockings. Mr Hockings had previously asked no more from the scorer, than the recording of his name and the details of his demise, but he found this weeks bowling fare far more to his liking. All the valiant work from this pair was unfortunately undone, with the loss of five wickets for the addition of only 9 runs. The tail wagged dutifully to put us in touch with the target, until Spud lost all self-control with a McMahonesque attempt to hoist the ball over long-on, ending with the ball being comfortably pocketed.

 Crusaders still without win.  

With persistent rain and gloomy skies, it was a minor miracle that we were able to complete our fixture with the Old Boys, but like the previous week we were unable to convert our chance of a season’s first win to fruition. Andy Pollock made a long awaited debut and partnered GT with the new ball. Timmo bowled particularly well getting sharp lift from a pitch that had been used the previous day. Andy experienced problems with his footing and was a little wayward. In truth we may just as well have started with Bill. We were reduced to ten men early in the game, as Andy had forgotten his 3.00 appointment at the manicurist and had to leave for some cuticle repair work.

Chris was brought into the attack, as we struggled to make any impression on the opening pair and despite bowling the occasional pearler, too much of his bowling was a free hit to the leg side. He is obviously a far more effective bowler at the death. God only knows why Bill does not use him where he is at his most menacing. Spud eventually split the openers, with a thin edge being well held by Neil behind the stumps, but Old C’s were well on the way to a good score. From then to the declaration, a recalled Timmo and Spud took a bit of hammer, as the incoming batsmen were able to throw caution to the wind. It could all have been so different if we had’nt picked this particular week to play Musical Statues. The music was never turned on, which meant our fielders were held in suspended animation, while our oppo lofted teasing chances high into the sky. An overhead catch from Chuckles, at point, gave Spud his third wicket and brought about the close of the innings at 175-3.

Richard and Gordy gave us the sort of start that nobody expected, defending resolutely and hitting anything loose to good effect. Both favoured the aerial route, which left frustrated bowlers cursing their luck, but enabled us to maintain the necessary scoring rate. Gord was finally dismissed for 41, to a ball that kept a little low, (there were not many of those) and unfortunately our response petered out. With the need to restrict scoring, Old C’s introduced some ‘bodyline’ style bowling. Despite two late sixes from Spud we were unable to overhaul the target and our effort finished six runs short at 169-5.

Get in there !!!

The Season’s run of poor form came to an end in emphatic style, as The Club recorded a six wicket victory at Hurst Green. For the first hour of play that result appeared as likely as a Chris Wilsdon fifty, but a battling team effort turned a probable thrashing into unlikely triumph. Bill won the toss and elected to field, in glorious baking sunshine, on a pitch that could have graced a County Ground.

In a little over eighteen overs, many of our assembled eleven were wondering why we there, as the Hurst Green number 1 despatched just about anything and everything that was delivered to him. He was second out for 105 from a total of 142, to a chest-bruising catch from John Greggains, from the bowling of Richard. The combined seven over tally from GT and Wilsy had leaked a monstrous 80 runs and even the reliable line and length bowling of Moysey had been taken to the cleaners. It all could have been so different if difficult catching chances to Jim and Darren had been taken earlier in the proceedings. However, with both openers returned to the pavilion, we found the remaining batsmen far more to our liking, with Spud weaving his twirly magic to claim 7-50, while the other two batsmen were so desperate not to become his eighth and ninth victims, that they ran themselves out. The only blot on a significant come back, was the reluctance of a home bat to walk for an obvious caught behind and even more so, the Umpire’s decision not to show him the way to the pavilion. Moysey proved that he would be no good if we were ever involved in any form of sudden death bowl-out, completing a whole over of total inaccuracy against a cardboard cut out batsman. Hurst Green managed to lose their last 8 wickets for 78 runs and closed at 220.

Strangely, withstanding our fairly awful batting displays this year to date, there was a real air of optimism that we were capable of meeting the target. Gord and The Aussie gave us the perfect base, surviving some uncomfortable moments early on , to record another century partnership. Gord was first out to a mis-timed pull, that was athletically caught by a fielder who had no right to make such a catch. Richard, who had batted in a similar, if not quite so circumspect manner, to Hurst Green’s centurion, was joined by the woefully out of form GT. Some of the Timms of old returned in a brief sortee, that was cut short by a sharp run-out and after brief visits to the crease from Chris and Jim (Oh dear), Spud made his way to the middle. The Hurst Green keeper was trying desperately to psyche Richard into throwing his wicket away, but was then reduced to’ throwing his toys out of the pram’, as The Aussie managed to bisect the boundary fielders, without ever offering a chance. His proportion of the strike was reduced, with the offer of a regular first ball of the over single, but Spud was able to keep up with the required rate, with an array of ugly hoicks and deft nurdles. Richard recorded his second ton of the season, near to the end of play, as thirty runs were taken from the last 17 balls to complete a sweet victory. Humble as ever we thanked our opposition for a fine game and retired to the Royal George for a full-scale gloat.

Whatever happened to the Youth Squad.?

I n the mid-eighties Crusaders Cricket Club underwent a massive change in order to survive. Founder player Darren Moyse, himself a sprightly teenager, introduced the various talents of his young friends and a club that was struggling to field a side was able to flourish into what it is today. Those vibrant young men dragged the club into the nineties, but today they are a sad testament to what they once represented. Who were they ? I hear you ask.

There is Darren Moyse (or maybe was-he could be dead by the time this article comes to print), a former pace bowler, now a virtual husk of a man, ravaged by a mystery illness brought on by the excesses of a hedonistic lifestyle.

Mark Paine, balding raspberry, formerly a fluent opening bat, now looking more likely to compete against Tanni Grey in a wheel-chair race.

Half-a-foot Lewis, still holder of the highest season aggregate runs, is another that will not be able to ask for a runner, for fear that the opposition may discover his injury was carried into the game.

Not much is known of the whereabouts of Messrs. Grater (still tying his shoe on the pub steps probably) or PC Gibson of The Yard, both regular features of the famous Crusader tail.

Finally there is Chris Wilsdon, possibly the only one of the squad to begin his career with a trolley-load of ailments, but bizarrely he has come to terms with some and in reverse to his colleagues, he actually appears to be in improving health.

Thank goodness some of those old-stagers, that the Youth Squad were supposed to replace,have maintained the lead in their pencils, to enable the survival of The Club.

Score-book chaos as no one knows who won !!! 

The wonders of modern day computers fell foul (allegedly) to the failings of it’s user, as Spud was tried and apportioned responsibility for wiping all records of Sunday’s fixture at Greenwich Park. It seems that with the merest click of the mouse, Richard’s fine 74 was expunged and in a bizarre Richard I pub garden auction, his tally was purchased by Skipper Bill, whose lack of natural run scoring must surely lead to a premature return to the Golf Course. The short story of proceedings is that for a second consecutive week we surged through the two hundred run mark.

Apparently Gord and Richard shared another ton stand for the first wicket and after that everyone (except Bill) gave a worthwhile contribution. I did receive a complaint that the ‘Dot ball Kid’ was up to his tricks again, running out that fine communicator in the middle, when he preferred to protect his average, rather than improve the team’s score.

The Parkers proved inadequate with the bat, as Moysey ripped through the top order, allowing Bill to toss up some finger rolls and vol-au-vents. Even this late tea failed to ignite their batting flame and the game as a contest drifted to a non-event. Injury to Chris (eye to hand co-ordination not so good with his new eyes), deprived Bill of an obvious bowling option, but fortunately for him, he was able to rely on, the little seen of late Laughing Salsarina and the debut on the ‘Main Stage’ of The Hamsteado.

John took some time to recapture yesteryear’s glories, but was soon extracting both swing through the air and movement off the pitch. Hammo from the Tennis Court end was a picture of rhythmical elegance and was rewarded for his wobbling, with a maiden Club wicket.

Murmuring’s about the late hour and a particular need for Moysey to drink Young’s Ordinary, prompted the return of the aforementioned to close proceedings. As usual we saw off our hosts, who were as sorry in the drinking stakes as they were in the arena.

GORDON SCHULTZ - WHERE ARE YOU ????

Our projected fixture in the shadow of the Grain Power Station, against a very ‘local’ Cooling outfit, fell victim to the ‘Next Generation Breeding Festival’, which aims to keep this back-water of rural Kent as close-knit as a Mohair jumper.

All but Gordon managed to find the ground, so we decided to adjourn to The Horseshoe and Castle in nearby Cooling for refreshment. Some thirty minutes later, Gordon reversed into the pub Car Park, not as we thought, because he had been directed there from the ground, but by pure fluke, he had decided to ask directions to it. He had apparently confused the fixture, with a visit to Bletchingley and had inadvertently visited three Summer Fairs and the local Vicar’s Garden Party en route. The quality of the Ale on offer, looked like tempting some to a lengthy afternoon session, to make up for the lack of Cricket. Particularly disappointing was Bill’s success in luring Tubby Clark from premature retirement especially for the game.

Carr homes in on runs record.

 Another display of ruthless hard-hitting from the Antipodean, was rather over-shadowed by the dual nipple-tweaking exploits of T.M.F.N.E.T., whose early hours antics in the Canary Wharf area, will undoubtedly feature in a future Channel 5 Fly on the Wall Documentary. The Beer Festival Quartet incurred the wrath of a short-memoried skipper, by sampling the delights of the Harvey’s at the glorious Toastmaster’s, for rather too much of the afternoon, thus we started batting with a very much reduced compliment of players.

Richard and Gord however, continued to forge what has become the most consistent opening partnership for the Club, with a free-scoring stand of 82 and although the run rate was reduced dramatically with Gord’s dismissal for 35, we still had enough in the hutch to reach the 200 mark for a third successive game. Richard’s 87 took his aggregate for the season to 483, needing only 154 to pass Raspberry Lewis’s all-time Club record. Makker found a small window in his hectic orgy dominated calendar, to rattle 14, Simply played with his normal grace for 20 and Billy anchored us to the declaration with an unbeaten 15. The disgraced foursome of Moyse, Wilsdon, Braithwaite and GRRReggains were suitably chastised in Nigel Hatch style, occupying the last four rungs of the batting line-up.

Blue Bell Hill showed no inclination to chase the target, with Moyse and Timms regularly beating the bat. Even the absolute toss that Bill calls bowling was insufficient to tease the batsmen into life. Bill did finally break through, with Moysey taking the catch at Mid-off and for a time BBH got to grips with the friendly fare that was on offer. Tit-bits were delivered by both Makker and TC Greggains to ensure that the required run rate of about ten an over was maintained, but the game had long since drifted into a non-event.

Chris was finally allowed to skulk in from his shamed position in the deep and helped himself to three wickets, the last of which brought the hugely admired Nigel to the wicket. Always a jovial chap, he had earlier further enhanced his popularity, by laughing maniacally every time his bowling was despatched to the far corners of the ground. As this happened on a regular basis, barely a minute could pass without a manic chuckle interruption. Fortunately the torture was brought to a close and we did not have to endure a similar reaction, to Nigel’s inability to hit the ball.