Having done the first two days in one post I guess I ought to do the same for days three and four!
It was one of those odd games where the individual performances from both sides were mighty fine, but where the end result felt like being astride a Space Hopper with a slow puncture. After all that effort from Surrey with their massive one-innings total, and the equally belligerent and doughty resolve shown by Glamorgan not to succumb to pressure, the game fizzled into an inevitable draw. Not that draws are necessarily boring: the match in which Ramps got his 100th hundred was fairly entertaining until the rain brought proceedings to a close.
There were all manner of weird little injuries and setbacks throughout the four days. Meaker and Schofield both at various points appeared to be suffering from some malady and Dernbach’s unfortunate indisposition appeared to be the result of a tummy bug. There were bashed fingers on the Glamorgan side, and what at first appeared to be an assault from a wasp later turned out to be an attack of cramp! Both painful, but I’d personally take the cramp any day!
The unexpected rain that had turned up during day three greatly reduced Surrey’s chances of taking the game, as did some wonderful batting from Glamorgan. By the time the final wicket fell (in the nick of time) enabling Surrey to stick them in again, the game had all but slipped from their grasp. It’s all very well saying “just 10 good balls” but when the opposition are equally determined not to lay down and die you may as well add a zero to that number. It was a case of handshakes all round come the eve of five o’clock and the inevitable draw ensued.
The draw does Surrey no favours. It leaves them second bottom already, despite some exciting performances, and next week they will face a resurgent Middlesex who have two wins to their name already this season! Gloves are off now as far as I am concerned. I usually like Middlesex to a certain degree...but not this time. Just this once I’m actually hoping they are ritualistically and miraculously put through the grinder. Now would be a great time for Mr Arafat to find his mojo again, poor fellow. He must be wondering what he has to do to get a wicket: it’s just not happening for him at the moment. Maybe Middlesex will be the catalyst he needs.
After the cricket there was the new series of Doctor Who to look forward to, which got me thinking. Eleven Doctors: where would they play in a cricket team? Of course, the fifth Doctor – resplendent in his cricket whites – would be the obvious choice for captain, but what of the others? Can you just picture it?
Doc 1: My dear young man, that was never out! Now kindly stop bothering me and let me get on, hmmm?
Doc2: Jamie, when I say run...RUN!
Doc3: Good grief! What’s the little fellow in the white coat up to? If I can just reverse the polarity of this cricket ball...
Doc4: I say, Mr Umpire. Would you care for a jelly baby? What do you mean, bribing an umpire isn’t acceptable?!?
Doc5: Can’t stop...must dash! Speak later!
Doc6: Out?!? Out?!? What do you mean, OUT?!?
Doc7: How very splendid, Ace! A six straight off the middle of my umbrella!
Doc8: One moment! I can’t run! These shoes...they just don’t fit!
Doc9: Oi! Do you mind? There’s nothing wrong with a sonic cricket bat!
Doc10: Oh...brilliant shot! Absolutely brilliant! Well...sort of brilliant. Well...okayish. Well...actually it was rather poor, but nevermind. Alon-zi!
Doc11: Fish custard again for lunch break. Can somebody please get new caterers?
The possibilities are just endless!
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