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.
