Nepotist v Whitchurch   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                                6 May 2007

Nepotist v Hampton Wick   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                        21 May 2007

Nepotist v Sinjuns Grammarians   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                  3 Jun 2007

Nepotist v Wellington Occasionals   (Report by Andrew "Roly" Monk)                                             10 Jun 2007

Nepotist v Old Tenisonians   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                        17 Jun 2007

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Nepotist v Whitchurch   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                                6 May 2007

DIAMOND ARE FOREVER
Walker doesn't trouble scorers but Werren takes toll

They have been collecting a toll at the northern end of Whitchurch Bridge since parliament agreed to let Robert Micklem build it and tax the public for its use in 1792. Not all of Steve Werren's jokes are quite that old but with two new Nepotists in the car the opportunity to try out old material on a new audience proved too tempting to resist and, for the seventh time in seven years, he asked the toll bridge attendant for a receipt for the 20p fare. He has a passion for the classics.

Less predictably Steven and the new recruits turned up on time, as did the rest of the squad with the exception of the skipper, who unexpectedly found himself in the pub with Mr Rik and Mick Walker, drinking orange juice and being muttered about by the locals for accidentally slamming the door to the gents.

With just five minutes left before the scheduled start of play and the level of muttering from the locals reaching pitch-fork and flaming torch levels I decided to sacrifice Mick and Rik to the heathens and jog to the ground for the toss of the coin. As predicted it came up a head, generating the kind of indecisive panic which normally seizes me when I'm asked what I'd like to order in a restaurant. I said we'd have a steak, which confused the Whitchurch skipper, until I clarified that as two of my team were about to be burned at one we might be a bit short in the field. I'd settle for a bat.

Not many men have started their Nepotist careers opening the batting and fewer still have commenced with such stunning force as Jeff Critchley who struck his fourth delivery over long-on for six. The 2007 season was off to a good start.

Critchley's muscular batting style is an effective contrast to the more creamy stroke play of his opening partner Carl Hoar and while the pair weren't exactly setting the ground alight with their rapid running between the wickets - the score was well past forty before they ran their first single - they were finding the boundaries of the small Whitchurch ground with metronomic regularity.

Critchely passed fifty and the pair posted a century stand before Hoar advanced down the pitch to play a forcing stroke through the off side. He missed the ball and was so shocked to be given out caught behind that he wandered around his crease for a few moments hoping the square leg umpire might overrule the decision and give him out stumped instead.  

His wicket, just two short of a well deserved half century, brought Walker to the crease to play one of the great Nepo innings. Hoar's dismissal on the last ball of the over relegated the burly lefthander to the non-strikers end where he confidently played a number of delightful looking shadow strokes including a few copybook forward defensives, a flowing cover drive and a neat little tuck around the corner for a theoretical one.

The Nepotists new bat, 'Fang' (named in honor of Bomber's old man and some-time Nepotist Alan 'Fang' Dale) looked a well balanced piece of willow in his expert hands and, with Critchley well set, a score in excess of 250 looked a formality. 

Critchely played a crisp stroke to a deepish extra cover and was contemplating re-marking his guard when he heard a confident 'yes' followed by the sound of galloping feet. Walker was obviously keen. Sadly Critchely didn't share his enthusiasm and after a brief mid-pitch conference it was decided that it would be best for all involved if Mick just turned around and returned to the non-strikers end. A desperate dive brought him within three feet of avoiding the rarest of dismissals but failed to save him from the lifelong shame of a diamond duck. Walker was out without facing a ball and Critchley had earned himself a nickname; 'De Beers'.

Just as everyone was recovering from the shock of Walker's dismissal a ring-tone floated up from the dressing shed, a flamboyant little tune with a lively electronic-beat and a singer who didn't feel like dancing with the mojo in the place. Merv eased himself from his chair and disappeared into the change room. The ring-tone stopped. Silence descended on the pavilion. Merv emerged muttering into the phone which was latched to his right ear. He wandered off toward the cars. Silence descended on the pavilion again. Nepotists exchanged furtive glances. Walker cleared his throat. Merv pocketed his phone and returned. For a full two minutes no one said a word.

"Merv?" said Mick.

"Yes" said Merv.

"Have you got a Scissor Sisters ring-tone?" said Mick.

"Yes" said Merv.

"Hmm" said Mick.  

Silence descended again.

In the meantime the traditional Nepo collapse was in full swing with the Lime Green and Magenta slumping from 108 for 0 to 143 for 5. Crichley was eventually dismissed for 60, Shane Aisbet for 4 and Rhyce for 10. 

Simon Sanford, resplendent in a freshly opened white business shirt, left the comfort of the pavilion verandah to rescue the innings with some lusty hitting, returning 36, and Steve Werren contributed a lively 24. The Scissor Sisters fan chipped in with 15no at the death.

The Nepos posted a very competitive 228 for 7 from their 35 overs.  

Following a serviceable tea-break and a refusal to form a team huddle around their skipper the Nepos took to the field with the Scissor Sisters fan opening the bowling with Clayton 'Monster' Cook.

It was an eventful opening spell with Merv bowling one of the openers with a ball that cut back through the gate and Clay became the first Nepo of the season to wear the wig after putting down a sharp chance from the other.

Mr Rick was brought on and after being struck for a four and a six in two balls exacted ultimate revenge, uprooting the off-stump of the Whitchurch number three with the next. Some loose bowling, streaky batting and some indifferent fielding followed - I was taken for 16 from one over - and despite a wicket from Michael 'Diamond' Walker in the over before drinks the Nepos looked in some danger of sinking without trace. Whitchurch needed just more than 8 an over from the final 15 with seven wickets in hand. 

An out and in field was adopted in an attempt to starve the batsmen of boundaries, a tactic that worked with the Whitchurch number five well caught by Carl Hoar at long-off. When the remaining opener was pouched by 'De Beers' a few overs later off the bowling of Dillon the run-chase was all but over.

Mr Rick returned to claim two late wickets to finish the day with three as Whitchurch ran out of overs still more than 30 runs short of the target. 

A lively and competitive NACA vote followed but despite Mick's diamond duck and Simon's sartorial elegance Merv and his Mardi Gras ring-tone won the day.

Back at the pub Steve Werren proved that quality new material is not beyond him when a pre-departure line-up formed at the trough in the gents at the pub. One local, obviously with a full afternoon's drinking quite literally under his belt, had set about relieving himself of this burden just as six Nepos descended on the toilets at once. Unperturbed he carried on as one by one the Nepos shuffled in beside him at the urinal, spent a penny and shuffled off to wash their hands. His seemingly inexhaustible supply was still splashing and tumbling on the porcelain when Steve, one of the first Nepos at the trough, looked up from drying his hands on the towel on the back of door.

"Bloody hell mate! Are you still here?" he said, abandoning the generally accepted public toilet code of no talking to a man when he's got his tackle out. "That's a tremendous effort."

I guess you had to be there.

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Nepotist v Hampton Wick   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                        21 May 2007

ALLEGEDLY DRUNKY
Nepos win at the Wick

Here is a list of things Paris Hilton has which Mark 'Transport' Minehan does not have; A Chihuahua named Tinkerbell, a pert bottom, a massive trust fund, half the film rights to ground-breaking documentary 'One Night in Paris', VIP entry to exclusive LA nightspot the Viper Room, a signature fragrance, a personal stylist, a friend who has been adopted by commercially successful but critically unacclaimed 'soul man' Lionel Richie.

Here is a list of things that Paris Hilton has which Mark 'Transport' Minehan also has: Pert breasts, a winning smile, an impending court date after allegedly driving under the influence of alcohol. That is all.

So that's the news. Tranny got done DUI Tuesday before last. I like to think that if our own Mark Minehan had the same level of notoriety as Paris Hilton the sub-editors at the red-tops would have had a fantastic time nailing down the front page headlines once news hit the wires that the big man had blown the bag. CANSPORT could have been splashed across page one of The Mirror in 42-point-bold-type-black. The Metro might have gone with something less creative but still incredibly eye-catching like TRANSPORT CRISIS. The Sun would almost certainly have gone all out, super-imposing Transport's face onto a picture of the PP Travel Mascot, Dougie the Chimp, plastering the graphic under the headline DRUNKEY. The Express could have buried the piece on page fifteen in favour of yet another baseless front-page expose on the death of Princess Diana (they're currently running a full sized photo of Di on the front page of the Express at least once a week - I'm not kidding. Over the next seven days take a look when you pass the news-stand. She'll be on there by next Thursday. No doubt in my mind). Back home the Sydney Morning Herald could have greeted readers with a file-photo of a clearly inebriated Transport beneath the header MAKE MINE-A-HAHN*.

Reading that again it all looks a bit libellous and casting my mind back to second year media law the matter is probably sub-judice as well. So in order to avoid litigation or, given the incredibly wide reach of these reports, endangering Tranny's shot at a fair trial let me make it clear that the police allegation has yet to be proven and may in fact be completely baseless.

What wasn't baseless ahead of the match against Hampton Wick was the assertion that anyone travelling to the ground by car was stuffed, particularly if they hadn't taken a look at the Twickenham schedule in advance. The small matter of a European Cup Rugby Final had fouled up the system west of Chiswick, leaving the car-owners beating against the tide to get to the ground on time. The more ecologically friendly travellers arrived at Hampton Wick Station on time and en masse and a quorum of nine Nepos had amassed by the time the two skippers met in the middle to discuss terms.

The Hampton Wick captain, Matt, asked after former Nepo skipper Luke Donnelly, who on occasion was known to step out for the Royals himself. Matt was somewhat surprised to hear of Funky's new found domesticity; "Married?" he said incredulously, "We just assumed that he was gay."

Declining the opportunity to toss the coin the incredulous Hampton skipper instead invited the Nepos to bat first. It was an offer which, under normal circumstances, would appear generous indeed to a captain still missing his keeper, Steve Werren, and one of his opening bowlers, Mark Minehan, but with the Nepotists' kit still touring West London in the back of Steven's van it left me with something of a dilemma.

I took the only course of action available and announced that all those who had their own gear would bat up the order.

On hearing this Paul Alexander disappeared into the change-room to rummage through the cupboards. David Stocks and Carl Hoar went out to bat, Andrew 'Chook' Henville put on his pads and smugly played a few shadow strokes with his new bat.

Paul emerged from the sheds a few overs later, the opening stand between CH and DS still unbroken, and announced that he'd be happy to bat at four, having managed to get his hands on a pair of pads and a boy's box. Ah hem. His name was inked into the book.

For much of his innings Stocker looked a bit like he was batting in platform shoes, his tentative footwork evidence of a man who hasn't picked up a bat since September last year. It was only a matter of time before he gave Michael Walker, who's lack of pad-ownership saw him languishing at nine in the batting order, a golden opportunity to shorten his own odds of having a hit by sending one of the openers back to the sheds. Walker's left hand flew from his pocket almost before the shout had passed the bowlers lips and Stocker was out LBW for 11.

Chook, who has the good fortune to own a complete set of equipment, was the next man in.

Things went well, the kit finally arrived and when drinks were taken after 21 overs the score had reached a very respectable 101 for 1.

Wandering back out to the middle Carl advised Chook to "start again". Two balls later Chook was caught at wide long on, out for 42.

Before the Marquis of Queensbury got his hands on the fight game boxing was a pretty rudimentary affair. Two blokes would stand face to face, put a foot to a line and literally trade blows until one of them couldn't get up. Paul Alexander bats like a bit like a bare-knuckle boxer. He's a bit short on finesse and technique but there's a savage beauty to the brutality with which he strikes the ball and he's more than willing to trade blows with the bowler. His innings in full went like this; dot, six, dot, six, dot, dot, six, dot, six, out. It was probably the most entertaining 24 ever made.

Jeffrey Critchley, fresh from a half century on debut, looked for all money as if form had completely deserted him and his return to the pavilion for a duck confirmed it as absent without leave.

Carl Hoar holed out a few balls later for 46 bringing to a temporary close the obligatory Nepo slump with the scoreboard now reading a less pleasing 140 for 5. It become even more less pleasing a few balls later when Steve Werren departed for 8.

Nepo debutante Jamie Hannah joined me at the crease. I'd like to say that we immediately took charge of the game. I'd like to say that we blazed the leather to all parts of the ground. I'd like to say that I managed to find the boundary on more than one occasion. I'd like to, but I can't. Instead we proceeded to knock the ball around for ones and far, far too many twos, incurring the very vocal wrath of Mark Minehan who, batting at number 11, was obviously quite keen for a hit.

He didn't get one and, with the last ball of the innings, Jamie, who it should be said can bat a bit more than a bit, knocked up the 50 partnership. With Atkinson not out 32 and Hanna unbeaten on 27 the Nepo innings finished at 217 for 6 and tea broke out.

Had we been playing 20/20 cricket Transport would have opened the bowling to the sound of "I fought the law" by the Clash (which incidentally and appropriately was first performed by Sonny Curtis and the Crickets) but we weren't and it wasn't. Fortunately Transport's bowling was decidedly more difficult to play than the three chord version of the song Joe Strummer laid down in '78 (D, G and A for those planning to thrash it out at home) and, displaying the type of control that would have been usefully deployed before he decided to get behind the wheel of his vehicle two Tuesday's ago, he kept a tight lid on the scoring. Allegedly.

The bowling from Clayton Cook at the other end was nice and tight too and it was during his second over that the Hampton batsmen finally imploded. With the scoreboard looking bereft of runs the opener played the ball directly to David Stocks in the covers and, obviously with some past knowledge of Stocker's fielding technique, immediately called for the easy single. After that something strange happened. Stocker picked up the ball cleanly and returned it waist-high and on the full to Steve Werren who had not only made ground to get behind the stumps but caught the return and neatly clipped off the bails. It was a miracle and Hampton were a wicket down.

Cook was spelled after three overs to make way for Walker who not only bowled tightly but removed the Hampton number three with a peach of a delivery that cut back off the pitch and clipped the top of off. But despite the wicket all the action was allegedly happening at fine-leg where Transport had allegedly contorted himself into a version of the belly down stretching technique which in Yoga circles is allegedly called The Cobra. Executed by the Nepotists alleged fugitive-in-residence it looked significantly more Elephant Seal than coiled serpent but it seemed to do the job, allegedly keeping the big man loose enough to bowl one final over, which allegedly included a fine caught and bowled with what was allegedly the last ball of his opening spell. Allegedly. Allegedly Transport was sent to the Banyan tree to contemplate his navel, replaced at the Northern end by Cook whose second spell brought two wickets including a nice caught and bowled and a sharp catch to Hannah in the covers. His figures; 8 overs, one maiden, two for 34. In the hunt for cheap wickets I brought myself on for an over before the drinks break, which sadly went for seven. However, as the cordial was being brought onto the ground the scoreboard read Hampton Wick 78 for 5. Things looked good. Transport uncoiled himself from the lotus position and resumed fielding a mid-off. But the game was far from over and the Wick's skipper was in dangerous form as a casual flick through the Hampton scorebook during the Nepo innings revealed. He had scored two hundreds in the previous three matches.

Jamie Hannah was wheeled into the attack and proved that he can also bowl a bit more than a bit. He worried all the Hampton batsmen with his brisk fast/medium including the skipper who was frustratingly grassed at gully. By me.

Despite the deficiencies of his captain Hannah probably prevented the game becoming a contest and ended up with the tidy figures of eight overs, 2 maidens, 1 for 29.

Chook took up the bowling at the other end and bowled well until his fifth over when he took a bit of tap from the frustratingly grassed Hampton skipper, who eventually fell a few overs later to Walker, caught Critchley for 78.

The last wicket to fall was a run out to the man they call De Beers, who it seems just can't stop running people out.

So run outs all round with the Nepos finally running out winners by 26 runs.

What followed was allegedly one of the tightest and most bitterly contested NACA votes in recent memory with Transport and Werren trading nominations for a wide range of grievances, mostly relating to Transport's claim that Werren was allegedly directly responsible for his being pulled over and breathalysed by the police. The main basis of Mark's thesis being that the police would never have pulled him over had Steven not been allegedly sitting in the passenger seat of the vehicle brazenly drinking a can of lager. The lager is alleged to have been Foster's.

After several rounds of nomination and counter nomination which seemed to go on for hours the vote was finally called with Steven Werren allegedly condemned to wear Red Velvet by the most slender of margins. Allegedly that's it.

*For the benefit of non-Australian Nepos Hahn is a premium lager from the Lion Nathan stable, popular among people who want other people to know that they've paid $8 for a bottle of beer.

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Nepotist v Sinjuns Grammarians   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                  3 Jun 2007

SWEET MELON SOURS VICTORY

A dispute over a slice of honey-dew melon has shattered the fragile truce between Nepo Club Captain, Dale Atkinson, and stand-in skipper, Merv Dillon. The pair had to be seperated by team-mates after trading insults at the tea break during Sunday's easy win over Sinjuns Grammarians.

The incident flaired after both men claimed the last slice of melon, citing captain's tea privelidges. Atkinson, who was reportedly first to the final slice, refused, in defiance of convention, to yield it to the acting captain when asked. He claimed his club captaincy superceeded Merv's authority as day-skipper and called Dillon a 'trumped up arse'. Dillon responded with a spray of his own lambasting Atkinson over the excessive length of his match-reports, before taking a swipe at him with a plastic fork. When Chairman Peter Lennon interceeded and passed judgement in Dillon's favour Atkinson licked both sides of the slice and returned it to the tray. A scuffle followed.

The row threatens to derail the Nepos unbeaten season and re-ignite the hostilities which first emerged last season when Atkinson fractured his leg fielding an errant delivery from the Nepotist's paceman. Following the fracture Atkinson was only persuaded to drop threatened legal action against both Dillon and the Club after the intervention of Colin 'Bomber' Dale, who flew from Melbourne to chair a nine hour mediation summit. It is understood the summit involved 24 bottles of Crown Lager, a bottle of Bundaberg Rum and a number of long and seemingly unrelated Bomber anecdotes, including the one where it rained quite a bit on the way to Pamplona and the one where he appeared as a contestent on Perfect Match. The latest fracas has sparked rumours that Atkinson will resume legal proceedings. Atkinson has refused to comment. Yesterday Peter Lennon dismissed suggestions the fracas will affect on-field performance: "The only time I've ever seen a tea incident affect a Nepo's performance was the day Darren Moulds ate twenty six sandwiches and a fairy cake before opening the bowling. "I think we need to put this whole incident into perspective. Roly Monk once bit off someone's finger in a dispute over a donut. By comparison this is just handbags at dawn." In London on business Bomber Dale launched a scathing attack on the pair: "It's disgraceful behaviour. They should both be ashamed of themselves. I can understand two blokes coming to blows over the last sausage roll but a piece of fruit? Poofters." Speaking from Melbourne former Club Captain Luke Donnelly said he wasn't surprised by the incident: "It's been brewing for some time. The honey-dews have been improving by the day since late April and they've really hit their peak in the last week or so. They really are a delicious melon."

The dispute has overshadowed what should have been a day to celebrate for the Nepotists who extended their unbeaten run in 2007 to three matches on the back of a magnificent maiden Nepotist century from Michael Walker. Since his debut two seasons ago many of Walker's supporters have been frustrated by his inability, and in some cases seemingly wilful refusal, to grasp the many opportunities he has been given to fulfil his obvious potential. His inability to convert starts into big scores left some questioning his commitment to the Lime Green and Magenta and lackluster bowling toward the end of last season fueled rumors of a serious drinking problem. Photographs of him leaving one of West London's seedier nightspots looking very much the worse for wear just hours before turning out to play at Highgate, where he bowled several wides before finishing his spell bowling left-arm orthodox, did little to silence the whispers. Luke Donnelly, who was skipper at the time, was heavily criticised for his failure to disipline Walker amid allegations that his own drinking demons left him lacking the moral authority to bring the errant left-hander into line. Despite returning fitter this season Walker's critics were again quick to question his commitment after he ran himself out for a diamond duck in the first match of the season and was subsequently dropped to nine in the batting order. Sinjuns was widely regarded to be his last chance to cement his place in the side. Strolling out to the flat South London deck Walker looked unburdened by the events of three weeks ago which had left him face down in the Whitchurch turf, three feet short of his ground and out without facing a ball. Memories of his diamond duck faded as he neatly clipped the first ball he faced through midwicket for two. He never looked back, driving crisply, pulling ferociously and, once past fifty, freeing up his bottom hand to clear the in-field and accelerate toward a well deserved century.

The faultless control of his innings was incongruous to the speed with which he scored, but he outpaced his more obviously agressive batting partners with elegant ease. The score was past fifty when his opening partner Clayton Cook, not renowened for classical stroke play, was dismissed for 8. The scoreboard was nudging 130 when Steve Werren fell for an entertaining 35. The numbers on the scoreboard were tumbling like the letters on the departure boards at Liverpool Street Station. Shortly after drinks Walker claimed his maiden Nepotist century with a drive through mid-on for four. Only Carl Hoar, who always looks as if he's batting within himself, was able to approach Walker's phenominal scoring rate. Watching the two of them bat together was like watching a pensioner fall down the stairs - brutal and terrifying but captivating all the same. Hoar's crisp classical style as he drove and cut the ball along the ground contrasted beautifully with the looser, more organic stroke play of Walker Sadly, Carl brought the pensioner to rest on the landing, knocking the ball down long-on's throat, bringing to an end a magnificent innings of 64 and a century partnership. Walker was finally dismissed caught and bowled from his only false shot of the day, out for 123. Not content to leave the pensioner alone Atkinson, Hardy and Henville entered the frey in the final overs, dragged the body to the top of the stairs and pushed it back down again. Just for fun.

Any time you score 273 from 35 overs you'd be forgiven for running down to the bookie's tent to place a few bob on a favourable outcome. When the first wicket to fall in defence of that total comes about as the result of a graceful Tim Hardy catch at long-off then you'd be forgiven for putting the glasses down, checking the betting slip is still in your wallet and heading down to line up behind the tent to collect. It's going to be your day. The catch came from the bowling of stand in skipper, Merv Dillon, whose captaincy proved delicate but highly effective. His field placement was astute, his changes brought wickets and he selflessly volunteered to wear the wig for much of the innings. His master stroke was the introduction into the attack of Paul Alexander, who produced a wicket with his first delivery and snuffed out any realistic hope Sinjuns had of mounting a challenge. Alexander, like so many Kiwi bowlers before him (Chris Harris, Ewan Chatfield, Scott Styrus, Craig McMillan, hang it, let's just say any Kiwi bowler with the exception of Sir Richard Hadley and Shane Bond) lacks genuine pace. However, he is never frightened to try something fresh in order to capture a wicket. On this occasion that something fresh was a half-tracker which surprised the batsman so much that he scooped it straight to point, where it was pouched by Atkinson. He followed his first wicket an over later with a second from a waist high full toss which was smartly caught by Henville at deep midwicket. Not afraid to shuffle the deck Dillon brought on a clearly confident Tim Hardy in the hunt for cheap wickets before drinks. Hardy unleashed a series of unplayable deliveries, which he followed up with some less wide deliveries, including one which was heartbreakingly put down at cover by a diving Dillon. The dropped chance was a minor blemish, which was swiftly rectified with the first delivery after the drinks break when Henville had the opposition captain caught at point by Atkinson. The Nepotist Club Captain graciously declined the opportunity to contrast his own fine fielding with that of the stand-in skipper. Rik Andrew added another scalp to his career talley to confirm the outcome, while Mark Minehan entertained the dwindling crowd with a vintage display of stretching ahead of his second and ultimately final spell. Sadly his efforts went unrewarded with wickets, but none who saw him coil his beefy frame into an exquisitely formed 'turtle greeting rock' will ever forget the day. Dillon bowled the last ball of the innings with Sinjuns still 80 runs short of the target.

The unbeaten run continues. With the Nepotists torn between punishing success and undermining authority the NACA vote was hotly contested, Walker ultimately taking Red Velvet from Merv Dillon by a vote. The official reason; prima donna sightscreen demands.

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Nepotist v Wellington Occasionals   (Report by Andrew "Roly" Monk)                                             10 Jun 2007

TRANSPORT CHARGE SAVES GENERAL MONK

In years gone by this fixture has proved something of an awe inducing experience for the younger colonial Nepos. A visit to a major English seat of learning set amidst a raft of test quality cricket pitches, Olympic sized astro turfs and Wimbledonesque grass tennis courts has prompted more than one backpacking Aussie to ask the question “With all these sporting facilities in your schools, why are you poms still shit at sport?

To counter any nervousness amongst the younger players in playing at such a top toff institution it was decided to balance the side with some experience. Thus it came to pass that Tim Hardy, Simon Hagger Challinor and Derek Lec Lec Leckenby bolstered the middle order under the guidance of Roly Monk.

The Wellington opener was in the Northern hemisphere on a cultural exchange, though the only verbal exchanges he experienced from the Nepo quicks were hardly of the cultural variety as he despatched his compatriots to all parts of the campus. Walker and Henville were at a loss as to how to bowl at him. Fortunately they had amongst them the experienced Philip Hagger who was able to put a metaphorical arm around the bowlers shoulder and impart advice gleaned from over a quarter of a century of Nepotist cricket. He explained to Chook that this whippersnapper of a batsman had shown little fondness for the backfoot shot and that a barrage of short stuff would soon find him out.

Four short pitched deliveries and twenty runs later, Chook could be heard muttering something about senile, coffin dodging Nepos not knowing a rats arse about cricket.

Fortunately for Chook, Big Maxie Walker had ignored Challinor and was doing it his way on a fast track. When he eventually flaked out in the roasting heat Daisy was able to slow things down with some quality F&G. This slowing of the scoring rate at one end was good news because at the other end runs were haemorrhaging following the introduction of Transport.

After his fifth delivery of the day had followed the previous four into the undergrowth Transport stood midpitch, teapot fashion, and declared “Now, there was nothing wrong with that delivery.” To which a now smirking Chook replied “Except it went for six, mate!” The only encouraging aspect for the Nepotist attack was that apart from the enterprising opener, none of the other batsmen could bat. Walker had seen off a couple before orchestrating a sensational direct hit run out, Daisy picked up another two, Chook snaffled one as did Roly and Oli Paterson polished off the tail. All out 177 – job done, surely?

It may come as shock to hear that the experienced Nepo pom middle order contributed only one run as they rejoined Geoff Critchley and Steve Werren back in the hutch with the score on 52 for 5. Minutes later the young gun quicks from the lower sixth had splintered Daisy’s timbers as well. The be-spectacled Daniel Vittori look-a-like stormed back to the dressing rooms chastising himself for having “lazy feet at the start of his innings”. Perhaps he should also add “missing straight deliveries” as one of his technical failings?

So who was it who was standing up to the barrage of hostile pace and crafty legspin that had accounted for the cream (or yoghurt) of the Nepo batting order? It was non other than that man Mark Minehan, aka Transport. He completely bamboozled the schoolboy rooky pace bowlers by going back to everything pitched up to him and playing all short stuff off the front foot. But his greatest shot was his forward defensive using his right leg alongside the bat instead of his left. The schoolboys could not work this out and asked ‘sir’ what on earth this chap was doing?

What he was doing was taking Nepo’s to the brink of an unlikely victory and himself to the brink of an extraordinary ton. Unfortunately, fitness began to play a part in proceedings. Transport had never batted for so long in his life - not even when all his innings were added together had he batted for so long - and the strain was beginning to show as his skin tight Nepo shirt resembled an item from a Butlins wet T shirt competition. With his score on 83 he made his first stupid mistake, he tried to play a proper defensive shot and was bowled all over the place. The ovation that greeted his return to the pavilion visibly moved the man from PP Travel as realised he had single-handedly saved the club from ignominious defeat.

The last rites were performed by Chook and the hugely impressive Mick Walker who remained undefeated on 53 as the winning runs shot through extra cover. He and Transport had added 107 for the seventh wicket, a new Nepotist record.

All that remained was for the NACA vote to be held in the dappled shade offered by the huge oak trees, planted by the Duke of Wellington himself to commemorate his own great victory against the odds back in 1815. How proud the Iron Duke would have been to see that bulldog spirit still on display and how I am sure he would have recognised a kindred spirit in Transport.

The NACA eventually went to Philip Hagger Challinor for his unfeasibly early arrival at the fixture and his wise counselling of the fast bowlers. But, to quote Arthur Wellesley after Waterloo, “It was a damn near run thing.”

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Nepotist v Old Tenisonians   (Report by Dale "Daisy" Atkinson)                                                        17 Jun 2007

BAD MATTRESS, NO SLEEP

I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. But unlike Chris Kristofferson, who according to the next line in Sunday Morning Coming Down got up for a beer before heading out to walk the streets of Tucson alone, I decided to roll over and go back to sleep. I woke again two hours later to find my head still in some distress and a rapidly developing need to relieve myself of a fair proportion of the cause. At about this time I resolved in the coming week to track down and buy a bed-pan. Four minutes later, after a series of positional experiments, I abandoned all efforts to relieve bladder pressure through non-conventional means and I was up. I stumbled down the stairs to face the day.

I called Mattress. He had promised two ringers earlier in the week but hadn't confirmed their availability before close of business Friday night. He sounded sober when he answered. I suspect that wasn't his impression of me. Fatigue and alcohol had made me a little fuzzy and I found I was having trouble speaking in coherent sentences. The problem was swiftly solved when Matt announced that he and the lads had found alternative entertainments for Sunday afternoon. I was leafing through my mental files for some appropriate adjectives to go with the expansive list of vulgar nouns which had rapidly come to mind when he let out a little chuckle and said; "Na mate, I wouldn't do that to you. We'll be there."

I had lost feeling in my left hand. Bacon and eggs don't answer any more questions than they pose on a hung-over Sunday morning and in my experience the result can be so unpredictable that a full English is probably best avoided under all but the most desperate of circumstances. The problem is that bacon and eggs are at their most attractive at exactly the time when cognitive function is at its least robust, increasing the likelihood of making an unbalanced, incoherent and ultimately self-harming decision. So, betrayed by your nose, you end up prescribing salt and fat to treat yourself for what is essentially dehydration. Now, as I write this on a muggy Wednesday morning in Westminster, I am sharp enough to identify the danger in this approach. On Sunday I wasn't. I ate bacon and eggs. It made me feel worse. Much worse.

My stomach was still at sea when the coin came down a tail but settled considerably after the Nepotists were invited to bat. Old Tenisonians, their skipper told me before he tossed the coin, like to play a time game with just the one ball shared between the teams. A few fresh vulgar nouns appeared near the surface at the time but following the result of the toss I felt a lot better about the situation and gave serious thought to entering my name in at eleven, instructing the lads to bat all afternoon and heading off to the dressing sheds for a snooze. The Nepo batting line-up certainly looked capable of keeping Tenisonians out in the field for as long as I felt the need to sleep. With the steady stroke play of Carl Hoar at one, the vintage nurdling talents of Nepo veteran Alan Stamper at four and a very waggy looking tail which included Walker, Dillon and Critchely at seven, eight and nine even the unknown quality of the new lads up the order looked incapable of scuttling a decent score and the refreshing nap it would deliver.

To ensure a steady start I paired Hoar with Mattress's mate Mike Billing, who Mattress described earlier in the week as quite handy. Handy he may well be, but the exact field of endeavor in which his handiness manifests itself and how it might assist his cricket was never made fully apparent after his dismissal in the fifth over for a duck. My nap was put on hold and I was left pondering the wisdom of trusting Matt's judgment as his other mate, Plugga, knocked the first ball he faced into the vacant midwicket region and called Carl through for a single. It looked comfortable enough but Plugga, obviously anxious to out-score Handy Mike, took off down the pitch like a wounded bull, clattering into the teenage bowler in his unnecessarily desperate scramble to successfully make his ground. It was all slightly disconcerting but I was willing to interpret the collision as a deliberate, Bomberesque assertion of dominance rather than a sign of general clumsiness.

My generosity of spirit and plans for a kip didn't see out the over. Sent back by Carl attempting a dicey single to extra cover, Plugga twanged his hamstring while turning mid pitch and only narrowly regaining his ground. Amid gales of laughter from Mattress, who was umpiring at the time, a runner was summoned. Briefly that runner was none other than the next man in, Allan 'Rampant' Stamper, but it very quickly become Carl Hoar after the opener was well caught in the covers and the two men exchanged places. I later discovered that Hoar was ultimately undone not by the Tenisonian’s opening bowler but by The Curse of Mattress, which had already accounted for Handy Mike. Mattress put the kiss of death on the Nepo opener by describing him in glowing terms to Plugga the ball before his dismissal. “This bloke always scores a hundred”, he said. Hoar went out for six.

Perhaps aware of the extreme strain his injury was placing on the Nepotists' kit, Plugga kindly negotiated the return of two pairs of pads, two thigh-pads, two pairs of gloves, two boxes and two helmets by having himself bowled for eight. The kit was replenished but the Nepotists had been reduced to three for 21. If ever a display of vintage nurdling was required, this was it. The well known quantity that is Rampant Stamper was joined by the unknown quantity of recent Nepotist signing, Peter Hodgson. I had received no word from Mattress during the week as to his relative handiness due to the fact he and Peter hadn't met. I took this as a good sign. Rampant is the kind of batsman that is always quite difficult to remove, because he knows his game and limits his playing shots to those with which he is comfortable. There is very little extravagance about his cricket but it is all the more effective for it. Peter is similar, although his array of shots is significantly broader than his senior partner's. Between them, with Peter driving and cutting crisply and Rampant working the ball around the park, they rescued the Nepotist innings, posting a century partnership before Hodgson fell agonisingly short of a thoroughly deserved ton on debut, out caught and bowled for 92.

Hodgson's dismissal brought an extremely motivated Mattress to the crease. His batting can best be described as entertaining and, on this occasion, it was certainly at its entertaining best. The first two deliveries he faced drew some rather lusty cross-bat swipes. Sadly he didn't connect with either but did manage a thick top edge from the third which flew straight up in the air. For some reason the keeper, perhaps unnerved by the swishing blade of Mattress's bat, failed to react to the edge at all, with the ball landing safely a short distance behind him. Rampant had seen enough to know he'd seen too much and very quickly called Mattress through for a single, which the young man celebrated by punching the air, acknowledging the hoots from the direction of the pavilion with a raised bat. His celebration was short-lived. He was out caught and bowled from the first ball of the next over.

With the clock showing a quarter past four and the score reading 142 for four, Michael Walker, who had spent the previous hour chuntering about slow scoring rates, was released with instructions to hit out or get out. Within a handful of deliveries he very nearly succeeded in doing both, swiping the ball straight to cover, where to his very good fortune he was grassed. Rampant was not so lucky a few balls later, when his very useful innings of 32 was brought to a close by an uncharacteristic and ill-advised bit of non-nurdling. Merv Dillon joined Walker who greeted him in the middle by clunking a six over the long-off fence and into the back garden of a terrace house owned by a Daily Mail Reader in a blue polo shirt, beige shorts, white knee length socks and sandals. DMR engaged the mid-on fielder in a long and animated discussion, which by the look of his wild gesticulations appeared to be about DMR's inability to wind up both front windows in his ’97 Rover 600 at the same time. The upshot of all this was that DMR impounded the ball and ten minutes of batting time was lost while a new ball could be found.

Walker's assault on a second consecutive half century was also making the declaration a delicate issue as he turned one more over into another one more over before bringing up his fifty and allowing his skipper to bring the innings to a close. Merv was unbeaten on 15. By this time it was just past 5pm and 224 from 43 looked a stable but enticing total provided tea could be dispensed with rapidly. After a quick appraisal of the refreshments available Mr Rik announced that due to the lack of homemade cakes a quick turn-around would not be an issue.
Surprisingly he was correct and for perhaps the first time in Nepotist history the Nepos were out on the ground before the batsmen and umpires and even managed to complete a few casual fielding drills. Shockingly Carl Hoar completed a warm-up lap.

Mr Rik and Merv opened up the innings with the old ball. Merv caused a few problems with variations of pace but it was the veteran who got the early breakthrough finding the edge of the opposition captain who was smartly caught by an explosively exuberant Plugga at first slip, who celebrated the wicket like he’d won Euromillions while peaking on ecstasy. And that was about as exciting as it got. Walker came on and nipped out the other, more dangerous looking opener with a delivery which cut back through the gate and the Old Tenisonians seemed to conclude that after that they’d probably be okay with the draw. Merv scored a run out with an underarm from the covers, Carl earned the wig for the remainder of the match by grassing a tough swirling fly-ball in the in-field and Mick cemented his place at the top of both the bowling and batting averages by taking another wicket. The Old Tenisonian skipper, now umpiring from both ends, mustered a more formidable defense from behind the stumps than he managed in front of them and his refusal to acknowledge the leg before rule cost both myself, Handy Mike and Mr Rik a number of wickets and the Nepotists the chance of pushing for victory.

Mattress, with the opportunity to mark his name down in Nepotist folk law by taking the six wickets required for victory from the last over of the day did himself a discredit by merely bowling a maiden. The match fizzed out with the opposition 166 for four from 38 overs, still 55 runs from a total they never really attempted to get. Time games are pants. Plugga was the runaway winner of the NACA vote for a list of misdemenours which included pulling a hamstring, calling for a runner, batting in boxer shorts. running down a teenage bowler and self congratulatory catch celebrations. The Nepotists are still undefeated in 2007.

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