The reflective cricketer, in wishing to mark in prose the milestone of a half century‘s existence of his club, could be forgiven the indulgence of basing his reminiscences around a theme such as ”My Ten Best Innings”. In my case painstaking research would reveal that for a certain J. Hook, during a playing career of, to date, some twenty six years, a total of 156 runs, give or take a snicked single, have been garnered, with the ten best innings boasting scores ranging from 5 to 15.
Hopefully, one might also apply to cricket scores the popular dictum that size isn’t everything. This thankfully applies
to Ancient Mariners’ cricket and is one of the Club’s most endearing and enduring characteristics. Where else could a non-bowling, tailend batting Journeyman, though one who could occasionally delight by accepting a snick in the slips, a slash in the gulley or most pleasingly of all the everlasting skier in the deep at square leg or mid on, hold an occasional team place over a quarter of a century?
No, the Mariner years have been years of enduring comradeship and fun both on and off the field for which I thank you all; of cricket played seriously by all to the best of their abilities without post-match recriminations or pavilion post-mortems, and of statistical memories as endless as only cricket statistics can be.
On careful reflection I sense that rather than eulogising over my hand-picked ten greatest innings it might be of more allure to those still reading this were I to recount a few, out of many, random memories. Here goes:
- ”He stoppeth one of three”
The flick of the captain’s finger between overs, suggesting a spell of fielding in the slips, was passport in the 1970s to joining Holmes (behind the stumps) and Harvey (statuesque at first slip) in trying to improve on the Mariner motto’s time-honoured ratio so fortuitously provided by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1798, and of being the young pair of legs expected to give chase as the red leather scurried towards the boundary. A small price to pay for enjoying the endless stream of inter-delivery wit and wisdom imparted by these two doyens of the game.
- What became of Bob Massie?
Maturer Mariners will recall (with some dismay) the Lord’s Test in 1972 when Bob Massie, using prodigious swing both ways, routed the English batting line-up with 16 wickets in the Test, only to disappear into obscurity the following year unable to retain even a place in his own State side.
1976 produced the Mariners’ own Massie. Enter W. Petzold who, following a meagre hard-earned 1975 analysis of 6 for 214, became suddenly unplayable in a golden 1976, routing the villages of Surrey and Sussex to return 33 for 321 (and earning his sole engraving on the Bowling Cup) only to singularly and spectacularly lose the knack in 1977 with 2 for 177! I am delighted that he, unlike Massie, was not put out to grass, being far too good company in the bar afterwards to forfeit selection.
(And some to that —- what became of Tony Dixon? As a non-member in 1996 he bowled 88 overs, took 23 wickets for 320, with best performance 5 for 72. He was then elected to the Club, and in 1997 he was entrusted with 29 fewer overs, and took two wickets for 292 — average 146.00. Surely election should not have such an alarming effect on performance. Ed.)
- Nouvelle cuisine — deja vu ·
The unfailing appearance of Plaice Veronique, year after year, at London Park Hotel Mariner dinners.
- Double x
Sartorially challenged, as Mariners down the years always seem to have been, pride of place must go to a bedraggled woollen object, extracted week after week from J. Harvey’s cricket bag like a rabbit from a magician’s hat. This crumpled yellowing sleeveless pullover, relic from bygone Charterhouse days and shrinking season by season with each annual visit to the washing machine, would adorn his upper torso and was once respectfully christened in the post-match changing room banter as “Harvey’s bra”.
(I believe that this term was first coined by Mrs. J.L. Booth — ‘Shere Molly Booth’ of beloved memory —- wife of an
original Vice—President. For many years a staunch supporter of the Mariners, and as mistress of High House at Shere a hostess in a million. Her cold steak-and-kidney pies linger in many memories. Ed.)
- Shere delight
Shere 1975 and D. Francis gliding in sylph-like (sylph-like? Ed.) from the Church end to deliver four overs of pure magic, wrapping up a spellbound Shere tail. 4-4-O-4. With characteristic modesty Francis will no doubt deny that this ever occurred!
(The writer’s recollection does not quite do justice to a remarkable performance. D. Francis‘s figures in that game
were actually: 2.4-2-0-5, and it wasn’t only the Shere tail. His victims were nos. 3, 4, 5, 10 and 11. Ed.)
- . Six!
Chasing the ball down the winding country lane at Thursley towards the pretty period cottage at the foot of the hill after another towering six in another onslaught by P. Stevenson, ammunition in the amiable six—hitting rivalry with T. Petzold and all part of the vintage years, late 1970s/early 1980s, when the Mariners swept through the villages carrying all before them. 1982 alone brought 17 victories. As for the sixes tally our own Bill Frindall’s record in the 1993 composite statistics shows for Stevenson 297, Petzold 275, and a promising 93 from young Hines. I blanch to note that the first two figures comfortably exceed my entire career run tally amassed painstakingly over 26 seasons, and I can only conclude that I still need to put some finishing touches to my batting technique.
- All washed out
Wisborough Green 1994. A notorious 2 p.m. start and the resultant predictable Mariner disarray. 2 p.m. and three
Mariners in sight. “You have brought an umpire, haven’t you?” enquired a chirpy Wisborough captain. A negative response ensued, repeated to his following enquiry about a scorer.
(The Mariners bring a scorer? Not since those distant halcyon days of Prue Holmes and Gilly Francis -— with due respect to my brother, latter-day scorer-player extraordinaire.) The mercy of the spun coin allowed us, after feigned long and due deliberation, to opt to bat. With the entire Mariner trio padded up an opening over played under an ominously threatening cloud reduced the Mariners to a parlous 2 for 2, with M. O’Meara and G. Lea already back in the pavilion musing on the fickleties of the noble game. In imminent danger of having the innings declared closed with a somewhat optimistic 2 on the board the heavens opened and washed out the game.
P.S. With the fixture having been dropped the following year I see with a wry smile that we were reinstated for 1997. But sadly the fixture had to be cancelled owing to the Mariners’ inability to raise a side. What a strange game this cricket is!
J.W.H. November 1997