Tony Medlock writes:
"I was looking forward to this weekend for a number of reasons. I was playing the first round of the men's handicap at my tennis club, Finchley Manor, there was the Sundown Specials summer party in the evening and of course the game on Sunday.

It all went wrong for me when, serving the first point of the tennis match, I pulled a calf muscle. Not only could I not complete the match, I would not be able to play on cricket on Sunday. Bugger!

The cricket club do was, however, a roaring success. By the end of the night we had many roaring drunks. Many thanks to all those that worked hard to create a great do. To list a few, Ann, Rachel, Karen, Daisy, Paulo and Mark.

Anyway, as I was not playing I have handed over the match report duty to Andy Vernon. Over to you V for the cricketing events of the day"

"At least Malcolm Nash didn't go home"

During Sunday's encounter with Belmont, probably when I should have been concentrating on the game, I started to think about why I enjoy playing for the Sundowners so much. What would be the ideal match? The type of game that fires your enthusiasm, that makes you want to play week after week.

I thought about playing with a strong team of 11 players, beneath clear blue skies with temperatures in the mid-seventies against good quality, friendly and, most importantly, honest opposition who, despite losing in the final over of a high scoring contest, stay behind in the bar afterwards long enough to buy plenty of teams on our football cards - but not so long that they become annoying.

Once they have left, the remaining Sundowners and friends would chat happily, supping beer lovingly served by a busty beauty behind the bar. Ahh.

Sadly, Sunday was the complete opposite. The Sundowners were rocked by the news that we would be without key all-rounder Tony Medlock, the sheer bulk of your usual correspondent's not inconsiderable frame having finally taken its toll on his calf muscle. And that, despite valiant efforts, no late replacement could be found. We were down to 10 men but so were the opposition.

The conditions at the start of the game were horrible. Low dark clouds rolled in bringing with them a Scotch Mist type of rain that wasn't sufficient to stop play but still managed to soak the outfield making fielding conditions dreadful. It was with these conditions in mind that skipper for the day, Steve Golding, in consultation with a group of senior pros, instructed chief tosser Smiler to field first if the oppo skipper (of whom much more later) called incorrectly - which he did.

The game started with the returning Dom racing down the hill. If you've missed the news elsewhere on this site Dom became a father on Monday and dedicated his first ball to his newly born son, Milo. Let's just say it wasn't the best delivery in the Pilgrim household this week.

That soon changed though as, in tandem with Dave Cattell bowling from the Richard Bathard end, runs were hard to come by and wickets started to tumble. First to go was opener Hershmann for three clean bowled by Pilgrim.

He was quickly followed by Marcy caught behind the stumps by Mick Lazarus McGowan. The other opener, Feigenbaum, had reached 30 when he pulled Pilgrim to mid wicket where Dave Reed held a well taken catch. A sign of things to come happened with the very next ball. The "remarkably keen" yet, to be frank, irritating and cocky 14-year-old Cole was struck low on the pad about a foot inside the crease and bang in front of the stumps. "Not out," said their umpire. "Oh come on!" was Dom's creditably reserved response.

After some classy-looking shots, Cole was Belmont's best batsman, he departed, caught behind for Dom's fourth wicket, gallantly walking.

Skipper Golds, having bowled Dom into the ground, then turned to Mark Naisbitt. Clearly bouyed by his popularity amongst the middle aged divorcee community at the party the night before, Naisbitt confidently meandered down the hill to bowl his first ball of the day.

Remarkably, it was a dot ball. I say remarkably because of what happened next. Wide, four, four, wide, four, four, two (the last ball held up in the wet conditions just short of the boundary). Whilst Golds was pondering how to break the news to him that perhaps another over at this stage would be ill-advised, Mark stormed off muttering something about, "I can't play", "my knee", "this bandage".

All his team mates stood agog as he blazed towards the dressing room. We were down to nine. "At least Malcolm Nash didn't go home," Paul Ferdenzi observed quite loudly.

In the field of employment relations, experienced conciliators often employ the tactic of allowing more hot-headed parties a cooling off period when negotiations are going horribly wrong. A similar period was required by Naisbitt who returned, head slightly bowed, after an over of reflection and soul-searching in the dressing room.

Belmont's captain, a B Green esquire, had been hitting the ball well albeit as the sole beneficiary of the "over of shame". Nevertheless, when he was on about 30 odd, he was out caught McGowan bowled Golding. He had tried to cut from just outside the off stump but instead bottom edged it and McGowan took a "fantastic" catch.

Instead of walking off like any other dismissed batsman he stood there shaking his head at the umpire and saying "no no no" and indicating to all who would care to listen that he hadn't hit it. Two overs later clearly shaken by the ferocity of the comments coming from the Specials he tried weasling out of it by admitting that he did indeed hit it but thought that it must have bounced before arriving in Mick's gloves.

Bad enough that he feels himself above the laws of the game but then by attempting to ingratiate himself by being smarmy and chummy he put himself in the category of "beneath contempt".

To make matters even worse he then proceeded to coach the bunch of school children and no-hopers who made up Belmont's lower order through the remainder of the game. Eventually he was out clean bowled by Cattell who bowled a marathon 18.2 overs up the hill taking three for 43. Belmont were eventually all out for 143.

After a hearty tea (were there more sandwiches this week or was one of our chief eaters missing?) Herlihy and this week's correspondent took up the challenge of reaching Belmont's target.

The first half hour or so was somewhat ropey. I couldn't really hit the ball and when I did I lobbed a mistimed cut straight at young Master Cole. The poor boy dropped it. I continued to play and miss but was being reassured by Smiler's words of encouragement:"terrible shot, what's he doing?" he whispered to umpire Naisbitt.

Eventually though things started to turn around and the ball hit the middle of the bat and the runs started to flow. It was during one of Smiler's less well-called singles that I felt a twinge in my hamstring which meant that running was becoming very painful.

A runner was called into action. Regular readers of this column may recall Tony Medlock's observations on my athleticism around the field and bearing this in mind may regard the fact that the person chosen to do my legwork was Paulo Manzi bordered on gamesmanship. (I refer the reader to our code of ethics).

For those who don't know him, Paulo is young and like greased lightning. His speed could have been my downfall though in this particular context as running with Smiler takes years of experience.

When he hits the ball well Smiler always puts his head down and shouts "two" or, on occasion, "three" regardless of where the ball goes. The inexperienced athlete can often be halfway back for the second run only to find Smiler resting on his bat at the other end shouting "NO! Just the one."

The scoreboard kept ticking over until both Smiler and I reached our 50s. My first of the year, Smiler's second in two weeks. According to Mark mine was the worst 50 he'd seen since Dave Brettle's last.

Eventually, and with about 10 overs remaining, I scored the winning run - a streaky single just wide of point. That summed it up really. In the end we won by 10 wickets, I finished with 66no and Smiler 68no.

On to the days winners and losers:

The Winners:
Dom Pilgrim. After a week in which cricket might, on the surface, have appeared a little less important, Dom ripped into Belmont with five for 42 off 13 overs.

Dave Cattell - a mammoth stint up the hill rewarded by three for 48.

Me, for my highest score for the Sundowners in 13 years of trying.

Smiler for another tremendous effort. Not out again. He's scored 149 unbeaten runs since his last dismissal.

The Losers:
Belmont. The laws of the game are there for a purpose and if you ride roughshod over them and still lose by 10 wickets then you deserve all you get.

Mrs Tailor, who sometime last night will have had to renew acquaintances with her husband, Ringo. Ringo's performance in the bar and later in Oliver's was something to behold. Fuelled by an afternoon on the Cobra, Ringo fair burst into the bar and for all the world appeared to be doing an impersonation of Johnny Morris impersonating a bunch of chimpanzees during a particularly rowdy tea party. Hope all's well, Mrs T

Mark Naisbitt - His bowling figures 1 - 0 - 24 - 0. Not the best.

Tony "I'm not the slightest bit hungry but I'll just have this pork pie" Medlock. No game this week following injury at that home for social climbers - Finchley Manor. Hopefully, he'll be back next week to resume his correspondent's duties

Paulo Manzi - Having to run for me for about an hour, not batting and being about an hour and half late for a prior engagement.

NOTE: Specials have not won by 10 wickets since 17 May 1986 at Bow Lane, when they crushed the Red Lion and Pineapple. Mark Naisbitt (3 for 8) and Tony Medlock (4 for 0) bowled them out for 54. Richard Bathard top scored with 27 that day...