C'mon the Reg!

So, here we are at the start of a new County Championship, brought vividly to life via the magnificent BBC London ball-by-ball internet coverage. Its commentators - the splendid Mark Church and the suave J Barran esquire – as ever do their level best to make sure we don’t miss a single stroke or ball bowled in anger. And, when like today, the action is bathed in unseasonal warm weather you can simply close your eyes and imagine you’re at the Oval, accompanied by the sound of leather hitting willow...

Unfortunately I was stuck at work running the annual Grand National office sweepstake this morning so I missed the opening salvos. When I got home Michael Brown had long since departed (for a second ball duck, poor fellow) and lovely Gary Wilson – who I still maintain should have the word ‘chirpy’ forever prefixing his name had followed suit for 29.

Dad hailed me with a “your team’s down two players” and my natural reaction was to stare back with dramatically widened eyes, and then I remembered Ramps was still sidelined and felt slightly better. For a few moments at least.

I do feel sorry for Michael Brown. All those months of hard work, trying to get fit after a year on the sidelines through injury, and then out for zero. But there will no doubt be better times ahead. The same goes for all those who felt the sting of the hurty-thirties, with de Bruyn, Maynard and Davies (or Reg, Winegum and Dangerous, as they are known to the Rampants) all suffering early middle-order crisis with scores of 35, 31 & 32 respectively). Actually, de Bruyn picked up his moniker today when our own wonderful Marilyn tried to offer some encouragement with a resounding if accidental typo of “come on the Reg” instead of the more customary battle cry of “come on the ‘rey!” Well, with de Bruyn in and going well at the time it seemed likely that was who she was referring to!

Reg did show us what he was capable of, however, if we had forgotten what a tricky player he can be. Maynard too. He was ticking along nicely with the skipper when he got out. And probably the least said about the Davies run out the better. I still maintain that immediately after lunch a man’s mind – if not his stomach – is on his digestive tract. Two balls after resuming and Davies was walking back to the pavilion. A bit of a shame because, like the others, he had a decent start that he could have capitalised on. And it’s never nice being run out, regardless of whether it’s your fault or someone else’s. Not to mention downright embarrassing...

RHB, a man on a mission to lead by example, provided one of the genuine moments of pride for Surrey with a well-paced, finely executed 74. He has the talent but last year was never really going to be a vintage one. Taking on the captaincy at such a tender age was always going to be a struggle of biblical proportions first season. This year it appears he knows he has to be one of the Surrey mainstays in the absence of Ramps, which I think basically means ‘don’t give your wicket away with a rush of blood to the head’. There were very few signs of impetuosity, certainly: it seemed like an innings that was level headed and controlled. Well, up to the point when he was given out lbw...

And if your top order doesn’t quite do what it should, what then? Well, in the recent past, Surrey did have a tendency to roll over and die when six or seven down, but last year there were signs on a good few occasions that the tail was more than capable of putting up a fight. And lo – today in stepped the mighty St Gareth of Batty to stop the seemingly inexorable slither to a total some way short of 300, with a resounding 64 of his own. Mr Batty really is beginning to fill that priceless roll of all-rounder. Fingers crossed he can be as successful with the ball should the pitch begin to turn on day two.

So, with Surrey all out for 322 claiming their three bonus batting points, and Northants also on three bowling points, it really is all to play for tomorrow: a day which I have to devote to the Grand National, so my multitasking skills will really be put to the test. Between listening to the cricket and watching the racing from Aintree I shall be so distracted that were Clare Balding to pull on some pads and have a bat, nothing would surprise me!