GREY DAY FLAY PUTS WEEKENDERS AWAY

There is a saying that the team that drinks together, wins together.  It may
have worked for the great Leeds side of the 70s, and Man Utd of the 80s, but
the theory could not be put to the test for the Weekenders on Saturday, as
finding our way to the pub early doors proved impossible for all but the
hardened 3.  There were various reasons:

* The designated pub did not open until after the game was due to start.
* Our match manager was taking advantage of the lack of a congestion charge
at weekends and happily driving around as much of London as he could find.
* The black hole of public transport into which Barnes falls, allowing
several squad members to take in scenic views of back streets and the bushes
on the river walk.

But some things were as they should have been at the substitute pub - as
Hoggers sipped coffee and Flat threw back an orange juice, the skipper
quaffed Stella and tried to recruit the barman for the game, and failing
that the other bloke with an Aussie accent there.

Undaunted by the lack of success, our eventual ten made their way to the
ground in the drizzle, under clouds so low, you could mop your mantelpiece
with them.

Having shooed the under-tens match (featuring a South African touring side,
whose coach was discreetly asked if he wouldn't mind putting the players in
touch with us a decade hence when they turn up with a backpack to serve beer
in London) which preceded us out of the way, the skipper duly lost the toss,
and WCC were consigned to the field in a 35 overs match.

And so it began.  If catches win matches, then the Weekenders have the
potential to be right up there pushing for first-class status.  In fact, we
came up with enough catches to win several times over.  And be in with a
good shout at the Ashes to boot.

Which last word, coincidentally, was one of the few bodily appendages not
used to try to hold one of the nine catches spilled while the first wicket
partnership ran up 150+ at around eight an over.  From chests to shoulders
to knees and even the back of a certain dashing doctor, the sound of leather
on willow, then human flesh, then the wet turf, rang around Barnes like a
fetish drum 'n' bass remix.

A degree of control was restored when a couple of catches were miraculously
held, and a soggy 'enders X sought the refuge of a cup of tea, a place to
wring out the whites, and a medical dictionary to look up hypothermia.

And so to the chase - with a target of 235, the game was distant but not
totally out of reach.  A flying start was needed... But the sight of umpire
Whitehead raising the finger on Morty Vickery third ball for as plumb an lbw
as a weekender umpire will ever give, slowed our progress to a stately 0-0.

And then - the top order got going - and after 10 overs, with a cameo from
skips, and some meaty biffing from the Disco Doc and Graham, we were up with
the rate.

Sadly that was as close to parity as we would be - and with wickets falling
at regular intervals, our opponents could even afford the luxury of shelling
a couple of catches even easier than those we shelled off them - and Hoggers
was left high and dry on 75.

On the plus side, a strong debut from Richard Kim, and some fine beer
supping, and two of the team didn't drop any catches at all.  And we got to
watch a proper team screw it up with England choking in the Champions'
Trophy final...

One game left now - Mike Harvey would be delighted to have you join him down
in Kent for Boughton's peculiar topography - you know where to reach him.

For the record then:

Kensington  234-5 (35 overs)
Nayar 82, Marshall 81 partnership of 150 for 1st wkt

Gallagher 5-0-34-1, Kim 7-0-43-2, Harvey 7-1-51-0, White 2-0-19-0, Simmonds
7-0-35-1, Hargroves 7-0-31-1

WCC 167 a.o. (30.5 ov)

Vickery 0, Hogben 75*, d'Inverno 4, Hargroves 34, Kim 14, Whitehead 4,
Gallagher 0, Harvey 9, White 0, Simmonds 8

Flat