Are you an A* Club Member? Then its time to take your cricket GCSE

You can turn your papers over....Now

It’s been a while, and we know that sports fans all over the world have been left disappointed by the lack of updates on the blog but F&C have had to don their vintage whites and take to the field of play.

Not for them the joys of the side-lines – mixing expert punditry with all our yester-years. It’s that ‘Great Availability Crisis’ time of the year – a plague that sweeps the land in a society that has its priorities all wrong.

Higher up the pyramid there’s a club pro and a clutch of twenty some-things going places (and places they are not going – like B&Q) – but as we drift down to the village the backbones (can you have 2?) of the team are juniors and the forty-fifty-sixty some-things.

For availability committees everywhere May and June, before the Uni boys are back sees the national game face its biggest threat: GCSEs.

Yes the media studies course work is finished but there are three exams and the last one is just before the longest day. Yes ‘the future’ will be available for selection as the nights start to draw in.

While the country faces an obesity crisis its fresh faces are spending the days when the sun sets at 9pm to revise their press release drafting skills (by playing on their x-boxes) – when they could be playing cricket. This is a crucial point in talent pipeline, many drift away– 5, 6 or 7 years of Friday night coaching lost forever.

The answer – Exams in March – or at the very least finishing before the 3^rd Saturday in April.

A more radical alternative – a Cricket GCSE. Course work mainly, but exams on the laws, history, catering, ground work and leadership skills – with the A* grade restricted to those players who have sent a text to the Skippers by Tuesday.

You can almost see the questions on paper.

Question 1: ‘You need 14 points to avoid relegation in a rain affected TACS Cheshire Cricket league game, what do you do on winning the toss?’ (12 Marks)

No dumbing down there, in fact that might be an A level question

Question 2: ‘Unreliable Dave Show Pony is willing to play in the season’s last game as you push for promotion, he’s a complete arse but can bat 3 and bowl 15 overs – you have 11 regulars available what do you do?’ (12 marks)

That’s a tough one, or is it.

Question 3: ‘The ball is lofted towards the outfield and hits a stray cow on the full and is caught by a fielder. You are umpiring and the skipper is on 46. What do you do?’  (2 marks)

That’s easier.

Question 4: ‘Who was the first wicket-keeper to 200 test dismissals?’ (2 Marks)

That’s a gimmie. Oh come on, surely you know that?

Question 5: ‘The batsman hooks and the ball hits his visor. The bails are dislodged and you find that his false teeth have come out and dislodged a bail. Is he out?’ (2 marks).

You might be touching full marks here.

So there you go. If you have made yourself available for every Saturday – you have 70 out of 70 on course alone – and the questions above can turn you’re a grade into an A*.

So how did you do?

Answers (1) who knows (2) stick with the guys that got you there (3) it’s a four, no really it’s a four, brace yourself for an onslaught from the oppo (4) Godfrey Evans (5) he’s out

Certificate in the post.

Selection. Shedding Light on a Dark Art

Our latest blog is dedicated to 'The Chef' who this week has stood down as Chair of Selectors after 43 years* of unbroken service.

Farmyard and Crofter report from up in the roof...

It will come as no surprise to you that Farmyard and Crofter have found a way into the roof space of the club bar undetected – and from their vantage point above the ceiling tiles listen in on the inner sanctum of the weekly selection committee.

Like many aspects of the village game it doesn’t really do what it says on the tin – but we like to call our availability and emergency recruitment review group ‘The Selection Committee’.

Sounds good doesn’t it.

It is a closed group that loves to dive into the big issues, every week after net practice, known to only a select few within the club.

The Committee is made up of the 1st & 2nd XI captains, the Skip of the Sunday Sloggers and the midweek Thrashers XI Commander.

In charge of the negotiations, the deliberations, the bartering and analysis – bearing comparison with your  Kofi Annans, your Bank KI Moons and your Boutros Boutros-Ghalis - is the COS or Chairman of Selectors.

He’s Mr Casting Vote when the weekly disagreements reach an impasse - but takes his role so seriously that he attends with laptop in hand, homemade availability spread sheet contained therein and with his club colours cravat matching his blazer – and you can see a pipe popping out of the breast pocket signalling the hours he spends contemplating the task ahead. He’s the Thinker – but he’s also an enforcer.

So up in the roof, silent and unnoticed we look down on a thinning head of hair, a mane or two of silver and a Sunday skip who surely must be dyeing it at his age for that jet back look.

In ideal circumstances the meeting would contain very little discussion. The batters are all averaging over 40, the bowlers appear to be taking wickets at will and no playing member would dare to take a family holiday to a destination beyond commuting distance between April & September as competition is so hot.

Yes that would be selection.

In reality, however, the village selection is a tortured affair whereby the 1st XI skipper opens with the line-up he desires for Saturday and the other members spend the next hour or so telling him why he can't have what he wants.

Holidays, hip replacements and parents asking is 12 really is old enough to play first XI cricket all intervene.

The Committee then scratches around for suitable players who can drive, are not too hung over to stand up unaided at 1pm on a Saturday and  who has a pair of white(ish) trousers?

At this point he COS might intervene – has he paid last year’s subs yet?

Up in the roof we can still hear the sound of ball on astro, bat on ball, and then velcro preceding the slam of pads into the kit bag. These last minute efforts to impress are in vain now – as the young bucks bring a cage fighting vibe to practice – it’s too late. The selectors are indoors and repeating one of the few morale boosting phrase of the night.

“We’ll squeeze few more from that barrel”

When the 1st XI is settled it is left to the 2nd team skipper to pick up the pieces. Selection moves into a search phase. How on Earth will he get 11?

He already has his stalwarts pencilled in… Himself, maybe his vice- captain, the guy who will only play 2's because of personality clash issues…..

So that’s…let me check, 3. Good start and its only Tuesday.

It is now that the laptop of the Chairman of Selectors comes into its own. Within the depths of its 512K of RAM it holds the telephone numbers of everyone who has represented the club since 1975 and of every parent who has produced male offspring within 15 miles of the ground since 1988.

"Yes, I know that Henry moved to Stornoway in 1992 but he might be down visiting his gran"

"Yes I know Wobbles lost a leg in an unfortunate accident with a hay bailer in 1998 but they do wonderful things with titanium these days and he can sell raffle tickets like there’s no tomorrow.”

"Yes Angry Pete’s tag might get in the way of his pads, but his probation officer is keen to keep him busy”

And what do you know? 50 minutes later (or as we measure selection Committee time 3 Cheshire Cats later), options are exhausted and the 2nd XI Captain is proud that he only had 2 TBCs on his sheet.

When he goes to work on Wednesday he will take more notice of all males who appear to be able to effectively place one foot in front of the other and he vows to ask probing questions at The Raj Tandoori, The Indian Palace & The Taj Mahal when he "pops in" for a takeaway on Wednesday, Thursday & Friday.

“Any of you guys fancy a game Saturday?”

The Sunday XI is a more sedate affair as the Captain has a wealth of exclusive contacts in his little black book and some of his guys "can only play on a Sunday".

He fills his sheet with an assured professionalism that makes the Saturday captains wince and he inwardly believes that if he were to play on a Saturday the league title would be secured by mid-June.

The Midweek Thrashers XI are also fairly easy to assemble. They comprise of the young Bucks who can run around a bit and the Mongoose swinging glory hunters who watch too much IPL. They yearn for coloured kit with obscure numbers and names on the back and music to greet their every action.

So After nearly 2 hours of verbal jousting the door of the meeting room (usually the away team changing room away from flapping ears) is flung open. Its decision time. The time to let everyone know their fate.

There are different ways of relaying the news. The Firsts’ skipper, a la Chamberlain clutching a piece of paper, appears with a flurry and pins it to the notice board. Why tell everyone in person when they can gather round and find out they are dropped surrounded by their mates?

For others there is new technology – the tweet – for those ‘on the spectrum’ its initials in alphabetical order. Alternatively it’s the text message – starts ‘you are selected’ but with no news of the rest of the team – so you are left wondering…

‘Have I strong armed my way into a classy XI or will I be riding into Bunbury with The Desperados?’

Sometimes, if practice drags on you might be around to get ‘the nod’ or the ‘silent pointed finger’. This lets you know that you are in – but just like the text you hear no more.

Selected on form?  Unlikely

Full driving licence?  Can’t do any harm   

One thing for sure, by the time the Committee have exited the car park plans are unravelling.

‘I thought you meant next week, got a wedding Saturday’.

Then later in the week it’s the ‘ Sorry Skip , I'm not available , something has come up" phone call which usually and most inconveniently comes on Friday evening or Saturday morning...

That’s when the real work starts. 

*43 years is based on adding up all the meetings

Wisdom of the Ages: Reclaiming Sports Psychology

Now here on the blog we are at an age when certain things get them going. A difficult age, in training for being grumpy old men, railing against the mad and the bad world we live in – and in our sights this week ….Sports Psychology.

For those who have been around long enough to remember a time when cricket gloves had green spikes the last thirty years have seen great changes. These have reached down to touch the game on the Village Green.

For those of a certain generation there is an instinctive pull toward the sepia tinted good old days – but many changes have been for the better: Junior coaching and participation, the rise of the Women’s game, funding and grants, the opportunities provided by social media and perhaps the best of the lot - the increasing use of end of season beer festivals for fund-raising.

The influence of the game, good and bad, at the top percolates down: pre-match drills, sponsored kit (sometimes with a player’s name on it) and people trying things they have seen on the TV – a dilscoop or a switch hit – a slow bouncer or a sliding stop - there’s little doubt that the standard of ground fielding has improved, even at village level.

But for all its ability to imitate the game at higher levels the Villager holds out against one thing - the rise of sports psychology. In many ways the Villager pushes back against the golden rules of this increasingly prominent discipline. The Villager remains decidedly old school in the ‘between the ears’ department and quite rightly so.

It’s not that the Villager doesn’t recognise that it’s a thinking man’s game –the Villager has this particular t-shirt - in fact he is part of the movement that pretty much invented sports psychology, but like all good ideas it’s been dressed up, made over, re-packaged and marketed as something you need to pay £125 an hour for.

So what is it?

Common sense.

Yes, that’s not what you need to answer the question. That is the answer to the question.

Around about 0.0001%of sports psychologists DNA differs from that of management consultants. What holds them together is their time together at the University of the Bleeding Obvious and ability to re-format common sense into a power-point –and have the brass neck to try and flog it as insight and wisdom.

For those who are at risk of being reeled in here’s what some of those sports psychology terms mean in everyday Village parlance – and just think of the money you are saving….

‘Positive Images’ or ‘Visualistion’ is, in simple terms, thinking about things going well.

Well blow me down with a gentle breeze from behind the off-spinners left shoulder. It’s what we do all week. That full length mirror hasn’t seen many catch the shoulder of the bat during the week. We dream, we are Village Cricketers. It’s all we have.

Next!

 ‘Power’ or ‘Cue’ words seek to address your ‘inner critic’ but as we know your main critic is the Skipper, not yourself – and for the experienced Villager they know that talk is cheap. A good example is the distain they show for that increasingly common phrase that has emerged from junior cricket ‘Wicket coming’. A phrase with a statistically significant relationship with the opposition being 145-1 off 32.

‘Focus’ sometimes called ‘Present Focus’ is what we used to call concentration: Why do you need to think about ‘focus’ when the skipper is already all over it?

Typical skipper focus phrase, directed to his chortling fielders:  ‘will you lot bloody concentrate’.

For the individual player the there is no shortage of opportunities to regret your lack of focus – or more accurately concentration: The returning batsman so often repeats one of those super accurate Village insights:  ‘I don’t know what I was thinking about’. 

Yes focus is concentration   Focus is central to sports psychology and apparently essential to success – but the Villager at heart is driven by impulse, a love for the game and a short-lived shot at glory every Saturday or Sunday – or both if they are single.

‘Chunking Goals’ is when you focus (that word again) on your immediate target or break things down into a sequence of tasks. This is when the skipper says ‘Pitch it up’ repeatedly or the other batsman shouts ‘yes, no, get back’ as he focuses on his immediate target – not being run out. Classic Villager ‘chunking’ would go like this for a batsman at the non-striker’s end.

(a) This guy’s quick (b) ask ump how many balls to go (c) find opportunity to encourage partner to dig in (d) start to back up less (e) stay put.

Another key point is (apparently) ‘knowing what you need to focus on’. Firstly there’s not forgetting your kit, then the list of jobs to do on arrival, then there is turning the urn on, then there’s nipping home at tea to pick up the wife and then there’s the playing bit. So for the villager it’s an easy one to answer - ‘pretty much everything and I am not even the skip’.

So there it is in a nutshell. The obvious for the oblivious.

Just add it to the list of things you don’t need like a chest guard or being told that you shouldn’t have played that shot…

So what’s the alternative?

In a word.

Nets

Follow your dreams, they know the way (what like Sat Nav?)

If only talking (or tweeting) a good game translated into runs, wickets and scoreboard pressure.

But while his best days are behind him the true Villager is resolute in not just talking a good game, he has big plans for all aspects of his cricketing life, his team and his club. They say a man is not old until regrets replace his dreams - and the true Villager is a dreamer and for many the dream is a proper pre-season tour. It might not stretch to Barbados in March but there is some guy a the club who has been arranging a trip to some four team tournament  in Majorca for the last 10 years…and was there ever a better time to look to sunnier climes?  

With the next low pressure system clattering in and the flood waters gently lapping against the TV cabinet the village cricketer isn't doing the sensible thing like calling the insurance company or the local builder . He is dreaming of the pre-season tour.

His plans will not be knocked off course by some triple vortex Atlantic superstorm.

‘I’ve played in worse’

His gear is in the loft, safe and dry. He’s even looking forward to scraping the moss from the artificial wicket at this month’s working party if the flood waters subside. He’ll use the opportunity to meet up with team mates not seen since September and dream.

‘This time next year we’ll be in…..’
 

Well the scale of the pre-season tour varies.

Your County side packs up bags and bags of new matching sponsored kit and is driven to the airport on the team coach, from where they speed south to Johannesburg or Capetown for warm weather training and a knockabout on flat tracks against various tired District XI s

The clubs that nestle in the heart of footballer’s wives territory might jet away and grab some cricket in the West Indies –  having to work hard to avoid the distraction of all-inclusive cocktails,  sea fishing trips and the inevitable "Who can do the best Freddie?" nocturnal pedalo competition.

The Villager dreams of La Manga but – as per last year - have booked themselves into a one night DB&B break under the guise of a bonding/golfing trip that for vague sporting reasons includes a brewery tour.

These excursions have replaced the 5 games in 5 days (with no rest day) tours of the 1980's due to the fact that they have all grown old at the same time and the youth of today (who could easily cope with such a hectic physical schedule) don't travel further than their wi-fi coverage – and the dreaded Xbox has replaced late night card and darts games.

All this said the clamour amongst the clubs stalwarts and inner management circle to be part of these trips was momentous. Holiday requests are placed at work and if the boss is not forthcoming it is no coincidence that an estranged but dear old relative passed away just at the same time to enable special compassionate leave for the funeral. Yes good old great Uncle Alf, slipping this mortal coil on time every time - third weekend in March.

It is on the tour that hopes and dreams of our VI's for the forthcoming season are vocalised along with classic tales of glories past whilst partaking of many late night beers and even an impromptu game of Kwik Cricket in the car park. The season's first "in jokes" are developed, new nicknames given and stories of not so youthful exuberance are passed into folklore.

"Remember the trip to see Crazy Mick's house in Hampshire and not being allowed out of the car even when we were bursting for the loo?!"

"Remember the chairman falling asleep at the foot of the hotel stairs or on the toilet after the ill-advised mass consumption of Leffe?!"

"Remember being sooo drunk that we were asked to leave a Yates' wine lodge for playing an imaginary game of cricket in the bar when the bowler insisted on coming off his long run?!"

This bonding is essential for the Village Idiot as it steels the members and gives them 36 hours of joy prior to the long slog that is yet another season strapped to the Relegation Rollercoaster.

As a concession to the sporting nature of the Village Idiot’s pre-season, there still has to be a little exercise, even nowadays, on any tour. This may come in the guise of a gentle stroll after breakfast to work off that 3rd sausage at breakfast and a round of golf.

This will be this year's first expedition into the sporting arena for most of our ageing Village Idiots and is the catalyst to set the competitive juices flowing once more. Many hold and swing their clubs in an identical fashion to their Gray Nic or Mongoose and in July or August would be delighted to see the ball disappear over the trees at extra cover.  In golf though, that is a bad thing.

Golf is not a game that one can excel at when doing it just once a year (much like the 20/20 cup cricket, where a fleeting and traditional preliminary round exit beckons). There are members of the tour party who have completed their clandestine preparation on the range or with on course lessons as they take a golfing victory to be the first important step towards topping the averages in September.

Such seriousness is frowned upon in VI circles – as we have heard before taking it too seriously is as much a sin as tanking. Middle of the road respectability is a good place to be.

Let’s be honest you want to share the great joy the party when the "pro" gets the yips on 17 & 18 and thus gifts victory (and the coveted prize of 3 Top Flite balls) to the self-confessed hacker who was only playing "to be sociable" or simply ‘to have a weekend away’

So, the pre-season tour, even at Villager level, has completed its vital function. It has got the players out of hibernation and had got them talking to each other. The greyhounds have glimpsed the hare- or perhaps more realistically the mutts have found the cupboard open and gorged themselves on winalot.

They have played a little sport, they have drank a lot of beer and they can see that the light has, once again, been switched on at the end of the close season tunnel (thanks to the electricity board who have been working round the clock)

The long Winter may yet have another sting in the tail with the book being open as to how many inches of snow will be covering the outfield on the 1st Saturday of April but our VI, thanks to the pre-season tour, is turning his mind to balmy evenings in June as opposed to barmy ones in February….

And then the prospect of a pre-season cricket excursion rears its head. The Sunday skipper has e-mailed the Committee as they meet. Pre-season game on offer just over the border in North Wales. The sun block is going in the bag right now.

If you could pick just one player....

You are talking one of the greatest: Malcolm Marshall

There have been strong words exchanged in the score hut over the last week. The Atlantic gales rattling the timbers have drowned out the heated debate as Farmyard and Crofter have failed to find consensus on which of the greats they think could cut it at village level?

It’s a big question. From the history of the game which one player would you add to your list of eligible players to be submitted to the league by 1 April?

Now for Wisden picking their 5 players of the last century it’s pretty easy – it’s primarily about playing. ICC world ranking (so we are told) are based on an algorithm (that’s a complicated sum type thing) so must be right …..but for the Villager it’s more complicated.

Your ideal player needs to contribute with bat and ball – so ideally an all-rounder or at the very least a proven ability to chip in, be a partnership breaker or ‘be a useful bowling option’.

Being a big character is another asset. Unlike the ECB the Village Dressing Room cannot just manage egos, it thrives on them.  Most importantly we need a man that ‘is a great laugh’ and ‘doesn’t take himself too seriously’ and most of all ‘is a good club man’ and the watermark that runs through the paper we write these rules on?

It’s one of the Villages commandments.  You could write it on the dressing room wall.

‘If you give it out you have got to be able to take it.’

Its 6 hours on a Saturday for us, there’s no tour bus, no team hotel, no breakfast briefing – we want to pack it all, have a beer and go home.  Just keep the language decent in front of the kids, try to have the correct change for subs and you are in.

So you can play, you have a personality and you can take a bit of stick, but you will need to contribute off the field. That outfield doesn’t cut itself – although the two people that do cut it will point out that most Village players think it does.

Now being a John Deere sit on mower accredited maintenance engineer is probably asking too much – but if we can trust you on the roller or with the scarifier then that’s a big help.  So while Flintoff ticks almost every box can you let him loose on the roller following the pedalo incident?

If the technical stuff isn’t your strength – can you turn on the charm in the raffle ticket sales department? Or could you be the man to man the barbeque at the beer festival (or you may have a significant other who is willing and able?)

Australia’s Matthew Haydn has published his own recipe books –and if it wasn’t for a lack of bowling he’d be nudging our top ten on this basis alone –and appearing on The Bake Off hasn’t done Michael Vaughn’s Village Index rating any harm.   

Coaching (loosely defined) is another asset - are you the man or woman to control 45 kids on  a Friday night who have just celebrated breaking up for half term with an espresso and a can of red bull?

So you are starting to get the picture – we need a maintenance man, a renaissance man, a polymath and a good laugh who isn’t going to leave the barbeque needing Red Adair to come out of retirement

We know you can play sunshine…but do you know someone who knows someone who can sort out the guttering?  

So a great bloke whose a great player. In that order.

So the arguing has to stop…here’s Crofter’s Quintet – five men on his all-time list, and he starts with his favourite player of all-time. A man who uttered the greatest cricket quote of all time, the greatest sports quote of all time, the greatest quote of all time.

‘I'll tell you what pressure is. Pressure is a Messerschmitt up your arse. Playing cricket is not.’

It goes without saying that if you can fly a Mosquito under enemy fire then you could probably master the sit on mower. An all-rounder, a massive character, Crofter thinks it hard to look past Keith Miller as your fantasy pick. So he’s a definite in Crofter’s quintet.

So who else? Fans of the blog will know that Farmyard and Crofter get misty eyed about the 80s and those big name players, especially the Windies. One thing the Villager really loves is turning up with some serious pace in the team – but who to pick?  That’s a tough one – but add in a bit of batting, a willingness to play when injured and a man with a record that’s never been bettered – you have to think of the late great Malcolm Marshall.  

One of the all-time greats who famously displayed a quality of playing on when injured – one hand in plaster, the other holding the bat.

From the same era Crofter thinks you’d have to have Sir Viv – doubts remain about his skills in the raffle ticket sales department – but has any player been as feared by the opposition? Would any team not be improved by that swagger? Top fielding skills, occasional bowling and batting in a slot all Village teams struggle to fill – 3.

Also up there – legendary fundraiser, hell raiser, wine expert and all-rounder Sir Ian Botham. Obviously a risk that he’d ask you to walk from Lands’ end to John o Groats in the off season – but a bottle or two of his 2008 Botham Merrill Willis Cab Sav for post-match re-hydration is a winner. He’s a definite.

So who makes up the final slot in Crofter’s quintet – well we know that a Club needs to be frugal with its money and you need some grit – so we turn our heads East to Yorkshire and look to see if there is a player with good availability and embodies another of our golden rules.

You just don’t retire.

An example to the juniors with six hour nets – a man custom built to ensure you use up all your overs. It has to be the legendary Fred Boycott who captained the all-conquering Pudsey Plodders back in 1958 and 1959 and has gone from block to block ever since. Whether Fred would take the step down to our level – who knows – but he is in this top 5.

So there you go – Miller, Marshall, Richards, Botham and Boycott (F).

We’ll see what Farmyard’s list looks like in due course

The Great British Bake Off and Walking With Dinosaurs

As our world has evolved rapidly in recent times there are many species that have become endangered to the point of extinction. As a result of what man calls "progress" we see things that we once took for granted drift towards extinction –consigned to memory and mythology.
The Black Rhino (DICEROUS BICORNIS) with its brute strength and savage beauty has a worldwide population of less than 5000. Hunted to the brink of extinction, according to the Daily Mirror way back in 1961 by "man's folly, greed & neglect". Recent success in conservation is heartening but a lot of work remains to bring the population up to even a fraction of what it once was.

Man’s folly. It also applies to an increasingly rare sight of The Tea Lady (TEALADIUS FANTASTICUS) – as numbers dwindle at the pavilions of the Wheatsheaf County.

Unlike your average village slogger (CRICKTUS IGNORANTE) which is essentially a pack animal Tea Ladies can be solitary or operate as part of a group due to their high level of social skills. But now they are increasingly rare, while the Great British Bake Off becomes a national institution, a home-made Victoria sponge on match day is now rarer than a Black Rhino saying how happy they are with the customer service at Npower.

It’s a lot more COSTCO than GBBO these days.

It’s not that they are not around anymore – occasional sightings are still reported – and they remain easy to identify, fiercely protective of their territory, outwardly jovial but not to be crossed over the strength of the tea or the availability of jam other than strawberry – and ready to strike – a cobra coiled waiting to hear a certain phrase, usually from a younger player daring to start a sentence with ‘have we not got…’

Fleet of foot and dexterous she is more than a match for the pack in white meandering to their weekly the feeding ground to devour sandwiches of various flavours, sausages, quiche (its Cheshire after all), strange cold pasta accompanied by salad and the obligatory bowls of cherry tomatoes and sliced onion. These guys are not looking to hand out Michelin stars but no one can doubt their commitment their favourite sort of cuisine.

As they  feign good manners and then push in at the very front saying ‘Opposition first guys’ you can hear the regular trade mark cries of delight. Simple creatures in their natural habitat.

‘I do love a good pork pie’ This phrase is often accompanied by Crickitus Ignorate holding the pork quarter up to the light like the man from Del Monte would an Orange .

‘Drumsticks!’ and he’s misty eyed looking at the tea lady like a man who’s watched Toy Story 3 on the eve of taking his son to Uni for the first time.

‘Much better than your lousy effort last week [insert team members name]’

There is always mayonnaise – this is provided primarily to give someone a chance to ask if we have any salad cream and for their card to be marked accordingly.

For those with a sweet tooth Tealadius Fantasticus produces delicious homemade varieties of scone served with clotted cream, cake (Lemon Drizzle & the aforementioned Victoria Sponge are in the Pantheon) and ideally the kind of flapjacks used by Polar explorers to help them to 10,000 calories a day - with a the added bonus of a few sultanas that, for the Villager is one of his five a day (among the other four are spring onion crisps flavoured crisps).

For you average villager it’s essentially quality ballast. The tea is integral to the experience – it’s cultural, ceremonial and calorific.

What other sport could see its nutrition have a pork pie as its centrepiece?

But maybe these days are numbered unless Walking with Dinosaurs becomes Baking with Dinosaurs.

We didn’t help with the washing up, we left our plates outside and took offence when we asked for 4 sugars and were given one (for our own good). Maybe we just haven’t evolved quickly enough and the world has moved on.

Are the halcyon days behind us? Are the flapjacks and scones that provided the foundation of the nation slipping into history?

At the selection meeting one of the major dilemmas the committee has to face is not "will he slot in nicely at 4?" But "do you think he would do a tea?”

Post meeting, the player is told , he will slope away home with the heavy heart of a man condemned to the gallows as he ponders how he’s really going to man up to such a big job.

If he’s one of the younger players his devotion to the game means that he is, perhaps unlikely to enjoy regular female company – but if Mum is nearby he is not quite on his own. But while he’s watched the Bear Grylls box set and thinks he could cut it on a desert island, the truth is he doesn’t know a frosting on a cake from a frosty morning.  

If he’s further on in his life he might be able to wangle wife/girlfriend help which he will shamelessly abuse by saying those tell-tale weasel words ‘I did most of it myself’.

From this point the tea solution goes one of two ways.... There is the No Expense Spared "I'm only doing one this season" Tea.

Purchased sandwich platters with party sized cakes and buckets of biscuits. Chicken legs bulk bought and cooked on the morning of the game alongside 300 party sausage rolls and accompanied with numerous bowls of prepared green salad stripped from the shelves of the supermarket as a last minute concession to the healthy eater. If melons are two for one in Morrison’s he might add something healthy. He might just pass muster with a throw the kitchen sink at it approach. If in doubt, increase your portions.


Alternatively there is the "They won't ask me again after this effort" or "I'm not going over the £35 budget" Tea. The signs that we are getting one of these is the sighting of 6 French sticks that you need to cut yourself and bags of crisps that stay in the bags for serving.


Jammy dodgers are then washed down with black tea because the pillock because he didn’t even buy the milk.

So how do we cling on to the last remnants of the golden age of cricket teas? Can we wind back the clock?

We can sweet talk and try to establish a relationship between ‘volunteering’ and little Johnny getting picked, we can start a national campaign, get Tea Ladies on some sort of endangered list and get Greenpeace to chain themselves to something (out of the batsman’s vision). We need to a strategy to avoid extinction, we need to look after them, nurture them and most importantly create an environment that matches their high standards. Now we have never known a village club that has listed the purchase of cleaning products on their annual accounts, but re-population probably needs a few antibacterial sprays being bought – and used. The alternative..

…and this is going to shock some people.

We could give it a go ourselves.

The world has moved on. We need to evolve or die. When you say Ladies now the word that follows is Team not Teas.  A woman’s place is on the field.

So if you are ready, grab your Hairy Bikers cookbook and we’ll begin.

CORRECTIONS and CLARIFICATIONS

In a previous blog we referred to Collis King and the 1975 world cup final. We had of course nodded off during the committee meeting and not noticed that you tube had jumped forward to the 1979 final. Thanks to an eagle eyed fan who corrected us. As well as signed photo of Farmyard and Crofter he also asked us to publish a picture of the vehicle he drives to away matches in. It’s called Roxy - amazing how life imitate art sometimes.