Free Foresters captain, George Bretten, who embodies the true spirit of wandering cricket and a smashing bloke to boot. 
Mark Coxon-Tenty, padding up before his mind-blowing knock of 185. Cocko - a true pleasure.
Monday, 5 July 2010
BHCC v Free Foresters - 4th July 2010 - Match Report
Our three previous matches against the Free Foresters have been both keenly fought and immaculately conducted social affairs and this season’s fixture was no different. The provenance and traditions of the Free Foresters, formed in 1856 no less, demand that we field a side capable of challenging their vast strength in depth and we invited three guests to make up the numbers as virtually half our club membership were unavailable; Mark Coxon-Tenty (Warminster & Wiltshire), Andy Trollope (Sutton Veny) and Grant Chandler (Heytesbury) all made their debuts.
A blustery mid-morning kept the clouds at bay as George Bretten, as ever resplendent in Foresters blazer, and I ambled out to a mottled wicket for the most important toss of the season. The nightmare prospect of fielding after lunch dictates that whoever calls correctly will choose to bat and as the coin came down tails I actually felt sorry for George as I condemned his delightful team to three hours plus in the field!
Mark Coxon-Tenty, (Cocko) and Mark Meadows opened up and with their contrasting styles rattled up a record stand of 235 no less. Cocko was sublime in scoring 185 of the purest runs you are ever likely to see at club level and had us all purring with a repertoire of shot and God-given timing that oozed pure class. Scoring predominantly through the ‘V’, Cocko’s rapier-like drives peppered the boundary from cover to mid-off, whilst anything shot was absolutely ‘creamed’ through mid-wicket. Playing exclusively off the front foot, even his forward defensive shots were text-book and he slowly broke the collective hearts of Sweatman and Davies who both bowled with gusto despite the onslaught.
As the field retreated ever further, Cocko retorted with a barrage of straight sixes that at least slowed the over rate as players rummaged in the bean field. Rising to my offer of £50 to anyone that scored a ton before lunch, Cocko accelerated like a runaway freight train and duly brought up his century after little more than 75 minutes at the crease. The rich applause from the Foresters fielders perhaps gave the strongest indication that we had all just witnessed something wonderful and Babington lunched at 143 for 0 after just 23 overs.
Lunch was a joy. Taken in the Log Room we started with an anti-pasti board that frankly, would have been sufficient, but the main course of cold meats and assorted beans with creamed potatoes was absolutely delicious. If this were not enough, a mountainous desert of Eton mess almost certainly finished off the Foresters who had the prospect of another long stint in the field to look forward too.
With Cocko on a mission and Meadows preserving his wicket as if his life depended on it, Bretten turned to the spin off Jaques and de Winton to try and stem the flow, but both disappeared in an absolute blur of fury from Cocko’s blade. The next ten overs went for almost a hundred runs as Cocko ran amok quickly passing 150. The Foresters, surprisingly, lost heart and seemed resigned to their fate as we screamed past 200 in the thirtieth over.
Cocko was finally stumped for 185, but let’s be honest about it, gave his wicket away when at least a double century was there for the taking. Meadows nurdled his way to fifty-odd and Nick Sinfield flicked one delightful six off his pads before holing out for 18. Jonathon Boulton at least got to the wicket, but I declared on 284 for two in an attempt to keep the game open offering the Foresters a minimum of 50 overs to get the runs.
Chris Player bowled an exemplary spell down the hill and soon had Johnson bowled off an inside edge which was due reward for his disciplined line and length. Lord Jolliffe floated up his usual dolly mixtures and after Richard Moffatt smacked him for a consecutive six and four, bowled him with a long hop that just about had the momentum to reach the stumps; Moff, disgusted, trudged off scratching his head.
Boulton’s floaters kept the game alive, but he quickly succeeded in dismissing Sweatman who mis-timed a half-tracker straight into Cocko’s buckets at mid-wicket. De Winton batted powerfully for a half century and formed a solid partnership with Simpson which took the Foresters past the 100 mark. Andy Trollope (Trolly) had taken over from at the Jolliffe-end and his skiddy medium-pacers kept the scoreboard in check; bowling with nagging accuracy and low trajectory, Trolly is always a handful even if his action is unworthy of the Dennis Lillee comparison of which he later boasted after a few pints of ale! His debut wicket was that of Simpson elegantly pouched by Jolliffe at mid-off for a hard grafted 52.
Mann made a workmanlike 30 before finally succumbing to another of Boulton’s ‘lollipops’ pulling straight to Harry Cadbury who, for the all the world looked as he had not even seen the ball hurtling towards his young head, proceeded to stick out his right hand to take the most nonchalant of catches. For one terrible moment, the world stood still and I had visions of Harry’s face being obliterated by red leather, but his reactions proved true and the nightmare vision of explaining all to his mother did not materialise!
Boulton picked up a third wicket bowling Jaques for ten before catching de Winton off Trolly and pivotal phase of the match arrived as Bretten came to the crease. With eight an over required the game remained in the balance particularly when one remembered Bretten’s century against us a few years back. Despite Mark Cadbury’s best endeavours, I needn’t have worried especially when Player knocked over Bretten during a masterful over of line and length.
The game was ours for the taking, but the fine rain soon turned into a downpour and common sense demanded that the game was aborted. We needed just one more wicket for victory although an honourable (winning) draw was perhaps a fitting result.
The game will be forever remembered for Cocko’s blistering knock, but there were other highlights too; Harry’s catch, Boulton’s relentless piss-taking of his captain, Ellis’ swallow-like fielding, Chandler’s solitary over which defies description, Babington’s five star hospitality and the lovely company of the Foresters throughout. It was a thrill to invite our three guests with whom I have played for and against over many years and their very presence meant a great deal to me personally.
A shame that the weather intervened, but a smashing day none the less where the very essence of cricket itself was the ultimate victor....
Babington House CC - 274 for 2 declared.
Free Foresters - 209 for 8.
Match Drawn.
Man of the Match - Mark Coxon-Tenty - 185.
Champagne Moment - Harry Cadbury's instinctive 'face-saving' catch.
A blustery mid-morning kept the clouds at bay as George Bretten, as ever resplendent in Foresters blazer, and I ambled out to a mottled wicket for the most important toss of the season. The nightmare prospect of fielding after lunch dictates that whoever calls correctly will choose to bat and as the coin came down tails I actually felt sorry for George as I condemned his delightful team to three hours plus in the field!
Mark Coxon-Tenty, (Cocko) and Mark Meadows opened up and with their contrasting styles rattled up a record stand of 235 no less. Cocko was sublime in scoring 185 of the purest runs you are ever likely to see at club level and had us all purring with a repertoire of shot and God-given timing that oozed pure class. Scoring predominantly through the ‘V’, Cocko’s rapier-like drives peppered the boundary from cover to mid-off, whilst anything shot was absolutely ‘creamed’ through mid-wicket. Playing exclusively off the front foot, even his forward defensive shots were text-book and he slowly broke the collective hearts of Sweatman and Davies who both bowled with gusto despite the onslaught.
As the field retreated ever further, Cocko retorted with a barrage of straight sixes that at least slowed the over rate as players rummaged in the bean field. Rising to my offer of £50 to anyone that scored a ton before lunch, Cocko accelerated like a runaway freight train and duly brought up his century after little more than 75 minutes at the crease. The rich applause from the Foresters fielders perhaps gave the strongest indication that we had all just witnessed something wonderful and Babington lunched at 143 for 0 after just 23 overs.
Lunch was a joy. Taken in the Log Room we started with an anti-pasti board that frankly, would have been sufficient, but the main course of cold meats and assorted beans with creamed potatoes was absolutely delicious. If this were not enough, a mountainous desert of Eton mess almost certainly finished off the Foresters who had the prospect of another long stint in the field to look forward too.
With Cocko on a mission and Meadows preserving his wicket as if his life depended on it, Bretten turned to the spin off Jaques and de Winton to try and stem the flow, but both disappeared in an absolute blur of fury from Cocko’s blade. The next ten overs went for almost a hundred runs as Cocko ran amok quickly passing 150. The Foresters, surprisingly, lost heart and seemed resigned to their fate as we screamed past 200 in the thirtieth over.
Cocko was finally stumped for 185, but let’s be honest about it, gave his wicket away when at least a double century was there for the taking. Meadows nurdled his way to fifty-odd and Nick Sinfield flicked one delightful six off his pads before holing out for 18. Jonathon Boulton at least got to the wicket, but I declared on 284 for two in an attempt to keep the game open offering the Foresters a minimum of 50 overs to get the runs.
Chris Player bowled an exemplary spell down the hill and soon had Johnson bowled off an inside edge which was due reward for his disciplined line and length. Lord Jolliffe floated up his usual dolly mixtures and after Richard Moffatt smacked him for a consecutive six and four, bowled him with a long hop that just about had the momentum to reach the stumps; Moff, disgusted, trudged off scratching his head.
Boulton’s floaters kept the game alive, but he quickly succeeded in dismissing Sweatman who mis-timed a half-tracker straight into Cocko’s buckets at mid-wicket. De Winton batted powerfully for a half century and formed a solid partnership with Simpson which took the Foresters past the 100 mark. Andy Trollope (Trolly) had taken over from at the Jolliffe-end and his skiddy medium-pacers kept the scoreboard in check; bowling with nagging accuracy and low trajectory, Trolly is always a handful even if his action is unworthy of the Dennis Lillee comparison of which he later boasted after a few pints of ale! His debut wicket was that of Simpson elegantly pouched by Jolliffe at mid-off for a hard grafted 52.
Mann made a workmanlike 30 before finally succumbing to another of Boulton’s ‘lollipops’ pulling straight to Harry Cadbury who, for the all the world looked as he had not even seen the ball hurtling towards his young head, proceeded to stick out his right hand to take the most nonchalant of catches. For one terrible moment, the world stood still and I had visions of Harry’s face being obliterated by red leather, but his reactions proved true and the nightmare vision of explaining all to his mother did not materialise!
Boulton picked up a third wicket bowling Jaques for ten before catching de Winton off Trolly and pivotal phase of the match arrived as Bretten came to the crease. With eight an over required the game remained in the balance particularly when one remembered Bretten’s century against us a few years back. Despite Mark Cadbury’s best endeavours, I needn’t have worried especially when Player knocked over Bretten during a masterful over of line and length.
The game was ours for the taking, but the fine rain soon turned into a downpour and common sense demanded that the game was aborted. We needed just one more wicket for victory although an honourable (winning) draw was perhaps a fitting result.
The game will be forever remembered for Cocko’s blistering knock, but there were other highlights too; Harry’s catch, Boulton’s relentless piss-taking of his captain, Ellis’ swallow-like fielding, Chandler’s solitary over which defies description, Babington’s five star hospitality and the lovely company of the Foresters throughout. It was a thrill to invite our three guests with whom I have played for and against over many years and their very presence meant a great deal to me personally.
A shame that the weather intervened, but a smashing day none the less where the very essence of cricket itself was the ultimate victor....
Babington House CC - 274 for 2 declared.
Free Foresters - 209 for 8.
Match Drawn.
Man of the Match - Mark Coxon-Tenty - 185.
Champagne Moment - Harry Cadbury's instinctive 'face-saving' catch.
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Images from The Wild Oats Match - 27th June 2010
Centurion Julian Matthews celebrating his epic innings after the match with his very proud son - a wonderful image to commemorate a glorious knock!
Only one person in this picture is German!!! Any guesses? Check out the expression on the guy to Stephie's left!!!
Rory 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' Ellis. 
A chilled Ben Tollworthy, cherubic Rory Cadbury flanked by his Mum and full time WAG - Lindsey!!!
It's the hope that killed us! Still full of optimism, but it quickly subsided....
Lord Jolliffe in fetching green chats to the Priscott family.
Andrew Standen MacDougal preparing for the match.
Rory Cadbury who bowled superbly and touched the hearts of one and all.
James MacKenzie taking on the Wendy Wimbush role in his usual suave manner.
The absolute joy that is Johnny Barran who made a six hour round trip to play. Mate -you are a star!
The usual suspects in typically laconic poses.
Nuff said!!!!
Monday, 28 June 2010
BHCC v The Wild Oats - 27th June 2010 - Match Report
Babington’s ‘Hollywood Summer’ continued with a thumping Twenty20 victory over The Wild Oats on a day of quintessential Englishness; of course we lost the footie to Germany and the hopes of a nation were crushed during ninety minutes of abject failure, but beyond that the vibrant colours of Glastonbury lit-up the West Country already basking in the most joyous of summer days and Babington was quite simply at its picture-postcard best.
We started early, still full of wide-eyed optimism, convinced the three lions would roar and I even had New Order’s ‘World in Motion’ blaring out of the Beamer on my way through the leafy lanes of Somerset. In the back seats with the roof down, my daughters and their friends were quite naturally horrified!!! Oh Christ – I really am an eighties-Dad after all!!!
Cruising down the Babington drive with the girls on their feet, it was apparent that this was going to be one of those very special days that cricketers the world over dream of; Matt Ellis was fiddling with the deckchairs still on a high from Muse’s admittedly spectacular set the previous evening, excited kids ran around in football tops and the Babington lawns were packed with roasting guests sipping Pimms and reading the papers.
What more could we ask for?
Well to win the toss for one, but Lizzie’s feeble flick of the coin came down tales and after a nudge in the right direction, The Wild Oats captain, Richard Buxton, bravely invited us to bat. Result. Julian Matthews and Stephen Priscott, both in prime form, donned the pads and got us off to a flyer even against some accurate bowling from Gouriet and Griffiths. After three whacked fours, Priscott holed out to cover and the already imperious Matthews was joined by the ever-elegant Johnny Barran who proceeded to demonstrate the coaching manual as if written by Sir Jack Hobbs himself; elbow to the angels, helmeted head immaculately still and the ball barely leaving Clive’s manicured carpet. It was something of a surprise when he too was caught swishing for one of the most stylish ten’s you will ever see!
No matter at the other end, an innings of breathtaking brilliance was unfolding. Julian Matthews is a fearless batsman who lives and dies by his Gray Nichols blade and it was as if the Gods were on his side. His savage driving sent the ball sailing deep into the bean field whilst one murderous pull landed over 20 yards into the tennis court. His knock though was not just about raw power and an exquisite cut through point demonstrated his exceptional technique; a quickish ball got big on him just outside off-stump only for Jules to rock back on his twinkling toes before sending the ball rasping to the boundary. It truly was the shot of the day and one that even had Mr. Barran purring with appreciation.
Julian cruised past fifty in a flurry of sixes whilst Andrew Standen-MacDougal thrashed hard at the other end. The tins were rattling along at ten an over before Andrew was caught for 13. Without a run to my name this season, it was a relief to get off the mark and despite playing cat and mouse with the fielders, I scratched a piss-poor 30 odd and watched green-eyed as Julian reached a deserved and memorable century. He hit seven sixes and eight fours in one of the best innings ever played on our beautiful ground and the applause he received from all and sundry following his retirement was heartfelt. Congratulations Julian, it was a pleasure to watch and thrilling that your sons were present too.....
With 182 on the board, we were never going to lose especially as we had one of the strongest bowling attacks I can ever remember. Ben Tollworthy’s four overs were superb and he beat the bat on umpteen occasions before finding an edge that sailed through a non-existence first for four. Lord Jolliffe, revelling in the early start, put it (largely) on the spot as usual, but as often is the case, it was rank half-tracker that saw the end of the dangerous looking Hunt for a quickfire 20.
Barran replaced the inexplicably wicketless Tollworthy and sent down two miserly overs of cutters, and swingers to be rewarded by the scalp of someone who is named in the scorebook as Eke! At the other end, Andrew Standen Mac. bowled with similar variety and rolled back the years with a brace including M. Buxton for a solid 28, whilst the ever smooth James MacKenzie castled Richard Buxton with a beauty.
We were fielding superbly and the chitter-chatter was genuinely amusing as Mark Cadbury in particular became ever more vocal. However, the champagne moments of the day were provided by Rory Cadbury, just twelve and with a cherubic smile that will be his Amex credit card throughout his future life, he bowled three exceptional over’s down the hill against batsman all intent on smashing him to oblivion. The sheer joy of watching Rory run to the wicket with his starlight smile etched on his young face touched us all and it was wonderful when he found E. Buxton’s feathered edge gleefully snaffled by Matt Ellis. He then knocked over Griffiths and finished with figures of 2 for 9 from his spell reminding us all of the bygone thrill of playing cricket as innocent boys.
Not to be overshadowed by his son, Mark took the ball for the last over and promptly yorked a bemused Adrian Leng with a searing deliver that would have troubled most. Normal service was quickly resumed and he was clattered for a couple of fours enabling The Wild Oats to limp past the hundred much to the disgust of the uber-competitive Ellis behind the timbers. The finished on 110 and Babington can be pleased with a thrilling performance of attacking cricket typified by an inspiring display in the field; Matthews bagged a couple of skiers and Priscott nonchalantly held on to a hard, flat skimmer on the boundary.
It really was ‘our day’ and, as we wandered over to the House, it was a delight to take our tea alongside jugs of foaming ale with the spoils already in the bag. Anticipation in the bar was palpable as our boys kicked off in South Africa, but it was not long before most of us retired to the hazy sanctuary of the lawns preferring to bask in the sun than have our souls sunk in the bar.
With the kids running hither and thither sipping Shirley Temples, the WAGs providing a dash of glamour and the bar tab rising, we all shared a truly lovely few hours hanging out under the watchful eye of the most majestic of houses telling our stories and puffing fags.
I’ve said it before, but really, guys it does not get any better than this.....
Thanks to one and all for a perfect English summer’s day......
Oh, except for the bloody football..... Tossers!
We started early, still full of wide-eyed optimism, convinced the three lions would roar and I even had New Order’s ‘World in Motion’ blaring out of the Beamer on my way through the leafy lanes of Somerset. In the back seats with the roof down, my daughters and their friends were quite naturally horrified!!! Oh Christ – I really am an eighties-Dad after all!!!
Cruising down the Babington drive with the girls on their feet, it was apparent that this was going to be one of those very special days that cricketers the world over dream of; Matt Ellis was fiddling with the deckchairs still on a high from Muse’s admittedly spectacular set the previous evening, excited kids ran around in football tops and the Babington lawns were packed with roasting guests sipping Pimms and reading the papers.
What more could we ask for?
Well to win the toss for one, but Lizzie’s feeble flick of the coin came down tales and after a nudge in the right direction, The Wild Oats captain, Richard Buxton, bravely invited us to bat. Result. Julian Matthews and Stephen Priscott, both in prime form, donned the pads and got us off to a flyer even against some accurate bowling from Gouriet and Griffiths. After three whacked fours, Priscott holed out to cover and the already imperious Matthews was joined by the ever-elegant Johnny Barran who proceeded to demonstrate the coaching manual as if written by Sir Jack Hobbs himself; elbow to the angels, helmeted head immaculately still and the ball barely leaving Clive’s manicured carpet. It was something of a surprise when he too was caught swishing for one of the most stylish ten’s you will ever see!
No matter at the other end, an innings of breathtaking brilliance was unfolding. Julian Matthews is a fearless batsman who lives and dies by his Gray Nichols blade and it was as if the Gods were on his side. His savage driving sent the ball sailing deep into the bean field whilst one murderous pull landed over 20 yards into the tennis court. His knock though was not just about raw power and an exquisite cut through point demonstrated his exceptional technique; a quickish ball got big on him just outside off-stump only for Jules to rock back on his twinkling toes before sending the ball rasping to the boundary. It truly was the shot of the day and one that even had Mr. Barran purring with appreciation.
Julian cruised past fifty in a flurry of sixes whilst Andrew Standen-MacDougal thrashed hard at the other end. The tins were rattling along at ten an over before Andrew was caught for 13. Without a run to my name this season, it was a relief to get off the mark and despite playing cat and mouse with the fielders, I scratched a piss-poor 30 odd and watched green-eyed as Julian reached a deserved and memorable century. He hit seven sixes and eight fours in one of the best innings ever played on our beautiful ground and the applause he received from all and sundry following his retirement was heartfelt. Congratulations Julian, it was a pleasure to watch and thrilling that your sons were present too.....
With 182 on the board, we were never going to lose especially as we had one of the strongest bowling attacks I can ever remember. Ben Tollworthy’s four overs were superb and he beat the bat on umpteen occasions before finding an edge that sailed through a non-existence first for four. Lord Jolliffe, revelling in the early start, put it (largely) on the spot as usual, but as often is the case, it was rank half-tracker that saw the end of the dangerous looking Hunt for a quickfire 20.
Barran replaced the inexplicably wicketless Tollworthy and sent down two miserly overs of cutters, and swingers to be rewarded by the scalp of someone who is named in the scorebook as Eke! At the other end, Andrew Standen Mac. bowled with similar variety and rolled back the years with a brace including M. Buxton for a solid 28, whilst the ever smooth James MacKenzie castled Richard Buxton with a beauty.
We were fielding superbly and the chitter-chatter was genuinely amusing as Mark Cadbury in particular became ever more vocal. However, the champagne moments of the day were provided by Rory Cadbury, just twelve and with a cherubic smile that will be his Amex credit card throughout his future life, he bowled three exceptional over’s down the hill against batsman all intent on smashing him to oblivion. The sheer joy of watching Rory run to the wicket with his starlight smile etched on his young face touched us all and it was wonderful when he found E. Buxton’s feathered edge gleefully snaffled by Matt Ellis. He then knocked over Griffiths and finished with figures of 2 for 9 from his spell reminding us all of the bygone thrill of playing cricket as innocent boys.
Not to be overshadowed by his son, Mark took the ball for the last over and promptly yorked a bemused Adrian Leng with a searing deliver that would have troubled most. Normal service was quickly resumed and he was clattered for a couple of fours enabling The Wild Oats to limp past the hundred much to the disgust of the uber-competitive Ellis behind the timbers. The finished on 110 and Babington can be pleased with a thrilling performance of attacking cricket typified by an inspiring display in the field; Matthews bagged a couple of skiers and Priscott nonchalantly held on to a hard, flat skimmer on the boundary.
It really was ‘our day’ and, as we wandered over to the House, it was a delight to take our tea alongside jugs of foaming ale with the spoils already in the bag. Anticipation in the bar was palpable as our boys kicked off in South Africa, but it was not long before most of us retired to the hazy sanctuary of the lawns preferring to bask in the sun than have our souls sunk in the bar.
With the kids running hither and thither sipping Shirley Temples, the WAGs providing a dash of glamour and the bar tab rising, we all shared a truly lovely few hours hanging out under the watchful eye of the most majestic of houses telling our stories and puffing fags.
I’ve said it before, but really, guys it does not get any better than this.....
Thanks to one and all for a perfect English summer’s day......
Oh, except for the bloody football..... Tossers!
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Sixes Tournament - 31st July 2010
The following was included in the Babington House July Enewsletter
Babington Sixes on the Lawns, Saturday 31 July
Join us for a traditionally English summer’s day! We’ll be hosting cricket sixes on the lawn, music, entertainment, BBQ and an exclusive Lolapalooza pop-up boutique for the ladies. Bespoke picnic hampers, complete with wine are available from £35. Bring a rug and enjoy a family day out!
Email cricketsixes@babingtonhouse.co.uk
Babington Sixes on the Lawns, Saturday 31 July
Join us for a traditionally English summer’s day! We’ll be hosting cricket sixes on the lawn, music, entertainment, BBQ and an exclusive Lolapalooza pop-up boutique for the ladies. Bespoke picnic hampers, complete with wine are available from £35. Bring a rug and enjoy a family day out!
Email cricketsixes@babingtonhouse.co.uk
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