This was a day of shame and infamy that casts a dark shadow over the Hurricanes proud and glorious history.
The Vampires turned up for this FTL Cup encounter with team of amiable old buffers with beer bellies plus a 10 year old strike bowler, clearly interested only in a pleasant evening out in the Blackweir sunshine (yes – I know there wasn’t any, it’s called poetic licence). The last thing they were expecting was to run into the Hurricanes wrecking machine. The team’s elder statemen (myself and Phil), being well aware of the etiquette of the situation, tried to show their younger combrades the way by pushing a few gentle singles before easily offering up their wickets. However, such subtlety was wasted on the young tyros who saw only an opportunity to fill their boots and up their batting averages. What followed was brutal and merciless as the ball was bludgeoned frequently to the far corners of Blackweir with the frail and elderly Vampires fielders having to undertake frequent cross country treks to retrieve it. Even the 10 year old was shown no mercy by the Hurricanes bully boys. Step forward into the Hall of Shame Jaffa, Jim, COB, Lewis and Griff. If you told me that they spent their spare time mugging old ladies and torturing kittens – well, it wouldn’t surprise me, that’s all I’m saying. I soon lost track of the score – but it must surely have been well over 500?
And what of Captain Griff I hear you ask? Surely this wise and all-powerful commander would instruct his bowlers to send down some nice gentle dolly drops to enable the old codgers to have a bit of fun and rescue some dignity. But did he? Did he hell. Oh no – the Great Clunking Fist only opens up with Cyclone Clive coming in off a 30 yard run-up to send 90mph bouncers fizzing past the noses of the terrified Vampires batsmen. I’ve never felt so ashamed to call myself a Hurricane I can tell you. This would never have happened if Dave had been in charge? It wouldn’t surprise me if many of the traumatised Vampires players never take to field again and retire to their potting sheds – ‘it’s a young man’s game these days – it’s not for me’ – and the 10 year old probably cried himself to sleep and had nightmares involving Jim’s bat getting wider and wider and the ball heading straight back at him like a howitzer. Mind you I’m ashamed to say that I’m not entirely without guilt myself after bowling the youngster first ball – though in my defence I have to say that it was only by a cruel quirk of fate that I managed to bowl a delivery that was on line with the stumps.
As the shell-shocked Vampires players slunk off the field the crowd gave vent to their feelings with a volley of boos and chants of ‘Griffo Out’.
Man of the Match? Well, the only player not to join the carnage (as he didn’t get to bat) was Posh Nathan – and he clinched it when fielding by letting the ball trickle through his legs for a boundary. Well done Slogger.
- Danny