Winchmore Hill CC.

Report vs Winchmore Hill CC

Match Report
Date 19/07/26 
Oppo Essendon CC (a)
Type 40 overs
Report by Alan (PJ) Partridge
 

The O's made the late call to head to Winchmore Hill following a last-minute fixture switch. A bit like turning up at a four-star hotel only to discover 
you've actually booked the annexe. The main ground? Absolutely magnificent. Grand clubhouse. Lovely square. The sort of place where you'd expect to find 
Geoffrey Boycott quietly judging someone's forward defensive. Sadly, we were dispatched to the second pitch to face Winchmore Hill's Second Sunday XI. 
Functional. Like a Vauxhall Vectra.

The O's took the field first with Clapton and Big Al opening the bowling. Clapton produced an uncanny impression of Jimmy Anderson, if Jimmy Anderson 
had learned his trade on Hackney Marshes. Three wickets duly arrived, including a superb one-handed catch from Danno behind the stumps off of Clapton's 
bowling. Magnificent! Like watching a kingfisher snatch a fish. Big Al, meanwhile, tied up one end with all the excitement of a well-run local council 
meeting: three maidens, one wicket, just 11 runs from six overs before his shoulder cried enough. Protecting the average? I'll let the statisticians 
decide.

Winchmore Hill found another gear towards the death, although not before young Freddie Meaden bowled with genuine promise. The skipper and JBM then 
combined to tidy up the tail with four wickets between them and two more cat like catches from Danno. Clinical. Winchmore Hill finished on 250-9. 
Respectable, but not insurmountable. Like climbing Scafell Pike in decent footwear.

Now, cricket teas. The jewel in the amateur cricketing crown. Tiny sandwiches. Slices of Victoria sponge. A rogue samosa if you're lucky. Not today. 
After waiting what felt like the running time of The Great Escape, the O's were presented with... a wrap each. A wrap. Efficient? Yes. Inspiring? About 
as much as a motorway service station tuna mayo. Still, protein is protein.

Fortunately, the wraps seemed to contain some sort of performance-enhancing hummus because Elby and ABM flew out of the traps. Both passed fifty with 
style, and the O's were absolutely motoring. Requiring barely a run a ball with eight wickets intact, things were looking healthy.

Johnson suffered the misfortune of recording his second consecutive duck. Cricket can be a cruel mistress. Kaas Hussain—essentially Ansar Jr after 
someone accidentally stretched him in Photoshop—played a series of glorious attacking shots before feathering one behind. A shame, because he looked in 
frightening touch.

Just as in the first innings, experience won the day. The skipper and vice-skipper calmly guided the O's home with overs to spare, proving once again 
that old heads are worth their weight in Kookaburras. By the time the winning runs were struck it was virtually pitch black and the World Cup final had 
already begun. The lads retired to the splendid clubhouse, settled in to watch the match, and reflected on an excellent 250-run chase. Lovely stuff. Back 
of the net.

Southgate Adelaide next, if the Orient veteran's of '94' decide to play - if not Godshill.

 

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© Dave Revell