UNBELIEVABLE BATTING COLLAPSE! Josephs, out LBW for 2; Rifty, run-out for 7; Adams, clean-bowled for 0 and Jacobs, caught for 1. All we had left were the two tail-enders!
The day had started so promisingly and we were on the brink of making history: we bowled those ‘amateurs’ out for a measly 71 runs in just under two hours and it looked like the iconic silver trophy was within our grasp. The heat from the sun was sweltering as their batsmen sweated like swines trapped in a sauna and wickets tumbled in quick succession. Our supporters cheered when each batsman, from the amateurs, were dismissed – our team smiled like Cheshire Cats as they walked back to the pavilion totally dejected.
We received a rousing applause as we left the field after swiftly bowling them out. With our heads held high and chests puffed-out, we walked back to the pavilion and got ready to bat, and essentially, cruise to victory.
Lunch couldn’t come soon enough for us as Giles and Lloyd trudged off the pitch. Lunch was splendidly laid-out on the clubhouse table, but it was not the time to admire the culinary display of delights, we had a game to rescue. The team ate in silence. I watched our captain, Perry, bite into his cheese sandwich. “Bring out the Branston to liven up this blasted sandwich!” Perry’s outburst rattled us, but sure enough, a jar of Branston Pickle appeared, and the team began to heap spoonfuls into their cheese sandwiches.
Back on the pitch after lunch, Giles and Lloyd took-up their batting positions. Fifty-one runs needed to win. What happened next was like Roy of the Rovers on the cricket field: their bats connected with the ball and boundaries were swift. Giles hit 29 and Lloyd hit 22! As Perry proudly held aloft the trophy, our supporters sang ‘We are the champions’ but the team sang ‘Bring out the Branston.’
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