Having experienced an unseasonal volume of drizzle during the week, it was looking like a good toss to have won from my favourite 1s skipper, Sam G. Bowling first was the call. On a green seamer who could complain. However, in an attempt to puncture their own tyres, RCC decided that 11 a side might be a bit too easy. ‘Tell you what lads, we’ll still beat you with 10’ went the ‘toss chat’. Bold, unplanned, cavalier…RCC.

Long Ditton were an odd outfit and I think I can speak for us all when I say I immediately disliked them. They did everything together and resembled a team, something which to the Roeys rabble was an alien concept. I was shocked that 11 of them didn’t do square leg. This lead to chat from the sidelines as to whether they resembled an army of ants or a shoal of sardines. Having ruled out their swimming ability and, after much debate, decided that they probably weren’t capable of carrying 50 times their own body weight, it was decided that they were in fact that team who’d only won 1 game this year. Panic over.

Onto the cricket, Jamie bowled with vigour, skill and forever (a 16 over spell I believe), and picked up a well deserved 4-fer. Other wickets were periodically picked up by Tanguy, Ron, Aravinth and a Gary Pratt esque run out from Sticky. All this meant that after a flat fielding stint, RCC would be chasing 141 on a green top.

The RCC innings started with a calmly stroked single up to mid on from Sticky. I then received a snorter from their opening bowler. At upwards of 135 clicks and surely reverse swinging, I did well to get bat on it. Having just about completed step one, their mid wicket did equally well to drop what - in everywhere across the country save perhaps the u11s game that preceded ours - would be classed as a dolly. After that I think the only chance that Long Ditton created was the one that missed Sticky’s bat by (conservative estimate) 2 yards. Unfortunately, such a miss coincided with Barry’s desire to point out a low flying parakeet, and with that, Sticky had to depart.

Waheed then strolled to the crease. Having survived an initial ‘barrage’, which as far as I could see involved several wannabe lover islanders complementing him on his arms (hardly Michael Clarke vs. Jimmy at the Gabba), Waz proceeded to dispatch their bowlers, of which there were a few, to various parts of Wandsworth. The sum of this meant that I was left to hit 8 for the win and 10 off the last over for my 50. True to form, I got 8. Jug avoidance and a win. Cheers.