June 2011 Archives

Firstly, an apology. Mr Kinneir approached me this morning to observe that this double-century is not his first but his second. He has a fair point. 'The Corsham Nurdler' also denied that he "waddled" though after that making that assertion he waddled off up the pavilion steps thereby hoisting himself on his own petard.

Kinneir ended not out 268 and Santall had 53 when Byrne finally called them in this morning at 554. Under what is called, under the modern parlance, 'scoreboard pressure', Hampshire then fell in a heap. Or rather two heaps. They were 98 for 3 after Santall took the first three wickets but lost the other seven for 34 to Crawford, Charlesworth and Quaife would you believe. Second time around again they started reasonably well, making 51 for 0, but then Santall got Bowell and Remnant with consecutive balls and another heap occurred.

When the stalwart Kennedy, on 48, was adjudged lbw (umpire Webb brandishing his broad Kentish pinkie with characteristic verve) to Crawford to the last ball of the day, many in the pavilion packed up their togs not to return for three days when the Surrey match starts. One would imagine this 'contest' will be over before lunch tomorrow.

Dilys, having promised to attend, is not too distressed about that.

Hampshire have lost 15 wickets for less runs than Kinneir scored and, furthermore, against an attack without Foster and in which Field has barely bowled a ball in anger.

Kinneir squeezed the life of them like Old Ma Mostert's copper mangle.

Warwickshire have not seen anything like enough of their batting pillars Sep Kinneir and Billy Quaife this season. The old stonewallers have not got going at all. Today Kinneir did get going and how. Wiltshire's finest is 231 not out and Hampshire are heartily sick of the sight of him.

It can be hard to enjoy Kinneir's batting with his crab-like stance and waddling run and sometimes curious tendency to pat bad balls back to the bowler. But when he allows himself a little freedom he can play strokes and today, against bowlers wilting in the boiling sun, he did that. It will do his confidence, often surprisingly brittle for such an experienced player, no end of good.

Frank Stephens opened with a brisk 29 but after he fell, Charlesworth (who would be unable, in his present form, to locate a cow's arse with a banjo) went for nought and Quaife went too it was 82 for three, a poor start on a good wicket. But Kinneir's roots were down. He failed to middle only one ball all day and that was when Nellie Herd walked in front of the sight screen wearing only a skirt of carrots.

When Kinneir raised his double-century (his first) he removed his cap and raised his bat to generous applause. Then he got his head right back down again to stay in until the close. His innings was not a thing of beauty but a monument of mighty substance which has built Warwickshire a position from which they will surely win, even without Sir Frank.

Kinneir painted the background. Colour was added by Parsons, who drove gloriously for 58, and Byrne, who hit robustly, as befits an England rugby international, for 64. Even after Byrne got out at 411 for 7, Santall made 20 before stumps against bowlers panting like dogs left out all day in the sun. One wonders what state they will be in when their turn comes to bat tomorrow.

The visiting party sloped back off to their hotel after play in a state of lassitude which meant that nobody thought to wait for their scorer Frank Bacon who was left stranded at the ground. In every sense today Hampshire failed to bring home the bacon.

Frank Foster will not play against Hampshire.

Mr Foster is under the weather and has been suffering a heavy cold for some days. That, it transpires, is the reason for his lethargic performance at Gloucester. It was nothing at all to do with any late-night wassailing. Arbuthnot was talking hogwash as usual.

According to Sintard (a much more reliable source), rather than having let his team down by a wanton act of indiscipline, Mr Foster actually ventured far beyond the call of duty by leading his men on to the field despite feeling like he had collided with an omnibus. His heroism simply knows no bounds.

I do wish people would not take idle, fatuous tittle-tattle and leap to conclusions.

Byrne will captain the team against Hampshire. Foster will be missed but Hampshire are without Mead so Warwickshire should still be able to, if I may use the sporting vernacular, clean their clocks.

Much excitement was expressed amongst Warwickshire's followers in the Dissipated Kipper last evening about what the two Franks might do today on a difficult wicket. Most rather thought the Glosters would be swept away in the second innings.

Well, one Frank did his manly best and was magnificent. The other needs a jolly good talking to.

Warwickshire's last four wickets mustered only another 17 but Gloucestershire's target of 117 looked a tall order if Field and Foster were in form. Field was. He charged in and made all the batsmen, even Jessop, hop about. He took 5 for 20 and would have won his team the match with any help from the other end.

Sadly, Foster was completely out of sorts. We feared the worst when, before play, Arbuthnot confided that Frank was seen heading INTO a gentlemen's club of this parish in the early hours of this morning. Our fears were confirmed when he delivered five somnambulistic overs for 29 then gave way to Santall.

How frustrating is Mr Foster. The man is a brilliant cricketer capable of rare feats. Who can forget last year when he bowled TWO SUCCESSIVE MAIDENS to the mighty Jessop! He can bat like a God and inspire all around him yet he lets himself down so badly. Mr Foster should have a wonderful career for Warwickshire and England ahead of him. We shall see.

Even with his captain ailing, Field almost pulled off a win. With 117 to get Broad and Langdon came out with a view to get them quick and bashed 19 off the first 14 spheres before Field bowled them both to have it 22 for two. But while Warwickshire's leader stood at mid-on in a fuzz, Gloucestershire's batted his team to victory. Jessop hit 48 and when he got out to Santall, having hit the previous two balls to the cover boundary, his team needed only 29.

So another defeat for Warwickshire and one trusts that, during tomorrow's free day before Hampshire arrive at Edgbaston, Mr Ryder or Mr Cartland might have a word with Mr Foster to the effect that the captaincy of Warwickshire is a position of honour and repute and the holder of that office should treat it with the dignity it deserves.

I, meanwhile, look forward to returning to Birmingham (there's only so much swede a man can eat).The Hampshire game looks very interesting while the coming days will, I feel sure, resolve my domestic difficulties. Dilys has agreed to accompany me to Edgbaston on the third day as part of our agreement. I will then attend one of her 'meetings' the next day, July 2. So, after she has been reminded of the glory of cricket and I have had a word with her 'suffragette' friends and put them straight on a few things, life will be able to return to normal at Halford House.

Today brought something of a rarity: a grey, showery day with several interruptions to play. And something all too familiar: Warwickshire's batsmen flapping about like wet hens.

The second day ended to the triumphant gnawing of swedes with Warwickshire on the back-foot, only 98 ahead runs ahead with four wickets left. It appears that this season they will take one step forward and one step back, though that, in itself, is a large step forward after the last few rotten seasons I suppose.

They are in trouble here and need Parsons, Smith and the tail to add runs in the morning when, according to the MCC barometer which I bought Dilys last Christmas (for which, incidentally, her display of gratitude was perfunctory, to say the least), the weather will be better.

When the showers cleared just after two o'clock and Warwickshire started their second innings Mr Foster fiddled with the batting order again. Goodwin went in first and soon came out ( I like the chap but he's no opening bat). Kinneir and Charlesworth then drew in their horns to put on 79. It was slow going but quite justified as the ball bumped steeply at times and scuttled at others. When they were parted Foster went in at four to try the opposite approach but hit only one four before sending up a catch off Dennett.

Lilley batted with pluck for 34, worth many a century played on a better wicket, but when he was out at 144 for six, great care was needed by Parsons and Smith. They held out until another downpour arrived but need to show more pluck tomorrow.

Then we'll see what our two Franks can do on this wicket!

It is rather fortunate that Warwickshire can bowl a bit because their batsmen are having a ropy time of it. Dennett and Parker have caused great damage on Gloucestershire's behalf over the years and the wicket at the Spa Ground is rough but 112 all out really was a poor sort of fish.

Fortunately, Warwickshire have the mighty Field. And he - he alone - kept them in this match with some wonderful fast-bowling after tea.

Warwickshire elected to bat but immediately lost Parsons for nought and it soon became one after the other trailing back to the quaint little pavilion. The wicket bumped quite a lot but seven batsmen managed to reach double figures only to get out carelessly. Foster struck Mills for an enormous six over the canal (Jessop would have been proud of that one) but was out in the same over for 14 and it was all rather untidy.

He does tinker with the batting order, our captain. Tiger, who has been everywhere between one and nine, was at five today while Foster was down at eight. The captain is like a fisherman who cannot watch his float for more than five minutes without changing something.

Sometimes, patience can be a virtue.

When Gloucestershire got in front with only three men out and Jessop at the wicket, the cider-swilling, carrot-crunching, swede-gnawing locals were in loud voice. But Field silenced them. When Big Frank gets going he is as unstoppable as a steamroller and he flattened Gloucestershire's middle and lower order well and truly. He bowled Jessop for 22, took wickets with his eighth, 19th and 22nd balls and then shot out the tail with another three wickets in seven balls. Assisted by gathering darkness he finished with 11.1-2-29-7, having Barnett caught-and-bowled and bowling the other six.

Gloucestershire still lead by 62 though, rather a lot on a lively track. One trusts that during the day of rest tomorrow Mr Foster might gather his batsmen together and tell them to pull their socks up when the game resumes on Monday.

Jessop has recovered from a back strain and will play for Gloucestershire against Warwickshire at Gloucester, Sintard informs me.

A glorious batsman in his prime, the Croucher. My great uncle Crouching-Bear Halford saw Jessop's wonderful innings against Yorkshire at Harrogate in 1897 when he (Jessop, not uncle Crouching-Bear) scored 101 in 40 minutes and hit the ball out of the ground six times.

Warwickshire must be wary of this so-called "sweep" shot, an ugly modernity which Jessop deploys to considerable effect.

What a day's cricket to miss. It makes my blood boil.

Warwickshire beat Derbyshire by 14 runs in what was, I am informed, a contest of considerable excitement. Requiring 176 for victory, Derbyshire were 72 for one and looking set fair only for Warwickshire to show their mettle. Foster, Santall, Field and Crawford took two wickets apiece and, as Derbyshire became flustered within sight of victory, their last two men were run out. All out for 161 and a wonderful win for God's County.

Next they travel to the Spa Ground, Gloucester, to meet Grace's County. Parsons will be back. And so shall I despite a most stressful day before the beak. It was a day which proved quite unequivocally that the law of this land is an ass. An ass, I say, an ass.

I was acquitted of the charge, a quite outrageous one of course, of accessory to kidnap but my man Pickles was sent to prison for ten years and Lumley and Pike got five.

It was all utterly preposterous. Kidnap indeed! Simply for bringing a few urchins into our employ. So this is the gratitude that one is shown for trying to help young people into work.

All very bothersome.

And if I hadn't had enough trouble already, what with the stress of a court appearance and having to find new foremen at short notice and missing a jolly good day's cricket to boot, yesterday I was 'honoured' by a visit, uninvited, from the wives of Pickles, Lumley and Pike.

I explained quite fully and politely that they had my sympathy but there is really nothing I can do as their husbands are no longer in my employ. This prompted them to make quite a fuss so I invited them to leave but, rather annoyingly, Dilys came in wondering what all the noise was about and spoke to them and then, to my clear disapproval, took them into her room.

The next thing I know Munge is taking them tea. Quite frankly, I am beginning to wonder who wears the trousers in this house.

Today, after tea, I was reminded of William Blake's fine poem.

"Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat
What dread hand? And what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?"

Warwickshire, trailing by 76 on first innings, were in a spot of bother so Foster sent in Tiger Smith to open and Tiger exhibited all the courage and grandeur and strength of the noble animal of his nomenclature. On a pitch from which the ball flew and bumped lavishly for the Derbyshire pacemen he flew at them like an uncaged - and rather aggrieved - beast. He stroked the ball along the greensward and sent it far aloft as for the first time in the match bowlers took some punishment. Eighty-one handsome runs, he had, when he edged Warren to the wicket-keeper from the last ball of the day. His dismissal was a great pity for the Warwickshire devotees present but they and the Derbyshire supporters alike gave him a rousing ovation back to the pavilion.

It was so marvellous a display of batsmanship that when I returned to the hotel, I worked upon Blake's famous verse and altered it to a special version for our Tiger. I think it's rather good. See what you think.

"Tiger Tiger burning bright,
On the cricket grounds of the day;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful square cut?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the biff through mid-wicket?

And what shoulder and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy determination to dig your team out of a hole?
And when thy heart began to beat
What dread gloves? And what dread pads?

What the hammer? What the chain,
In what difficult batting conditions was thy brain?
What the bat? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly forward-defensive clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered the wicket with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made WG Grace make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
On the cricket grounds of the day:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful clout back over the bowler's head?"

The match is fascinatingly set up for tomorrow's final day. Unfortunately, I shall not be able to attend having been called before the magistrates. Some ridiculous charges of kidnap. Quite a nonsense - it is quite a legitimate way to acquire urchins.

The British justice system permitting I will be back with Warwickshire at Gloucester on the 24th.

There was a most unusual occurrence today. Rain fell.

And it was rather nice.

How strange to say that. How many times in years past we have felt bitterness and rage as our beloved game is ruined by the weather. Today, although Warwickshire's batsmen might disagree as it livened up the pitch, some precipitation was a blessing.

The nation has roasted and shrivelled in recent weeks. There have been many fires on pasture-land, the wheat is ripening too early, currant and gooseberry crops have been devastated by caterpillars, the gorse on Greenham Common caught light, a temperature of 92 degrees has been recorded in King's Lynn and everything in Munge's allotment has failed. All things considered, we need a bit of rain.

Today some came and Warwickshire's batting failed as woefully as Munge's beetroot. Appropriately, here in the heart coal-mining country, the pitch is a minefield. Dear old Warren likes bowling on those and he made the ball bump like billio, much to the delight of an audience made up, it has to be said, of some rather rough coves.

Quaife was at his most dogged and 'dug out' 31 (my little joke there, this being a mining town) but the biggest stand of the innings was 22 for the ninth wicket. That was Tiger Smith, no man braver, who ended 16 not out, and young Crawford who showed some pluck. Those two found a 'seam' of resistance (heh-heh).

By all accounts, Crawford will enjoy bowling on this pitch. He made 11, as did Goodwin and, for that matter, Charlesworth. That three players should score 11 in the same innings was the subject of much amusing conversation on the balcony. As we laughed and laughed and reminisced about scores of 11 we have seen over the years I thought of Dilys and how sad it is that all this fascinating and mirthful discourse passes over her head.

When Derby went in Foster bowled Cadman with the fourth ball but then came the rain, only the second they have had here in six weeks. But the barometer suggests an immediate return to fine weather is nigh and Warwickshire must bowl very well tomorrow to get back in the match.

The barometer did not suggest that Warwickshire must bowl very well tomorrow to get back in the match. That was my assertion.