I'M not exactly down with the kids, but I have noticed the streets of sunny Brighton are being rendered gloomy by a proliferation of angst-ridden, woe-is-me type youths.
Sounds like just any group of spotty teenagers, but these freaks call themselves EMOs and have taken their persecution complexes a stage further. They're a sort of goth 'lite'. Floppy black hair, eye make-up, maybe a piercing or two and light scratches on their forearms for that authentic 'self-harmer' look. A few slaps and a haircut might liven 'em up a bit. But I'd settle for just slapping them around a bit.
So it was a surprise to see similar expressions and loose-limbed despair on eleven chaps dressed in bright whites and old enough to know better. Step forward the vanquished Sun XI! Their starting line-up was a Who's Who of master batsmen with a reasonable chucker or two for good measure.
The Headliners XI, on the other hand, looked like a day release outing from a Royal British Legion Hospital. Only Jackson appeared to be in washboard trim and fine fettle. A lot rested on his steroid-pumped shoulders.
But cricket is a funny old game. KJ pouched an early catch and then contributed nothing more than buffet bowling and letting Scoggins off the hook with a failed 'c&b' long before his eventual 48. To round off his display, his charge to save a boundary ended with the sound of plucked hamstrings like a hamfisted harpist in a special needs orchestra.
RN, being of northern extraction, cycled to the ground with double calf strain and hamstring injuries - but fed on the pain to carry his bat for a match-winning 80, having already taken 2-17 with the cherry.
I don't think RN is human - at least not entirely. I've known him more than 16 years and never seen his house. Nor has anyone else. Turns out he lives at the Cyberdine Systems factory in Lewes and is a T-101 Terminator. He's living tissue over a titanium endo-skeleton with a built-in Alec Bedser programme. After his knock he chugged a pint of WD40 and responded to the offer of a lift home by lighting up his bionic eye and snarling: "Fuck you, asshole!" Charming! Luckily for the Liners though, he'll be back . . .
Had it not been for RN, man of the match would have been Glen Donegan. His unbeaten 60 and 4-30 was fantastic reward for a real all-round display. Bowling to a crocked KJ was just like bowling to a four-stump wicket, but they all count.
PB deserves a mention for his stylish 35: Hi, PB. fnurk!
Sounds like just any group of spotty teenagers, but these freaks call themselves EMOs and have taken their persecution complexes a stage further. They're a sort of goth 'lite'. Floppy black hair, eye make-up, maybe a piercing or two and light scratches on their forearms for that authentic 'self-harmer' look. A few slaps and a haircut might liven 'em up a bit. But I'd settle for just slapping them around a bit.
So it was a surprise to see similar expressions and loose-limbed despair on eleven chaps dressed in bright whites and old enough to know better. Step forward the vanquished Sun XI! Their starting line-up was a Who's Who of master batsmen with a reasonable chucker or two for good measure.
The Headliners XI, on the other hand, looked like a day release outing from a Royal British Legion Hospital. Only Jackson appeared to be in washboard trim and fine fettle. A lot rested on his steroid-pumped shoulders.
But cricket is a funny old game. KJ pouched an early catch and then contributed nothing more than buffet bowling and letting Scoggins off the hook with a failed 'c&b' long before his eventual 48. To round off his display, his charge to save a boundary ended with the sound of plucked hamstrings like a hamfisted harpist in a special needs orchestra.
RN, being of northern extraction, cycled to the ground with double calf strain and hamstring injuries - but fed on the pain to carry his bat for a match-winning 80, having already taken 2-17 with the cherry.
I don't think RN is human - at least not entirely. I've known him more than 16 years and never seen his house. Nor has anyone else. Turns out he lives at the Cyberdine Systems factory in Lewes and is a T-101 Terminator. He's living tissue over a titanium endo-skeleton with a built-in Alec Bedser programme. After his knock he chugged a pint of WD40 and responded to the offer of a lift home by lighting up his bionic eye and snarling: "Fuck you, asshole!" Charming! Luckily for the Liners though, he'll be back . . .
Had it not been for RN, man of the match would have been Glen Donegan. His unbeaten 60 and 4-30 was fantastic reward for a real all-round display. Bowling to a crocked KJ was just like bowling to a four-stump wicket, but they all count.
PB deserves a mention for his stylish 35: Hi, PB. fnurk!
Anyway, aside from the pisstaking and to be uncharacteristically serious, I think every player is indebted to every other player for making it one of the best days of cricket we've enjoyed in many years. And thanks to St James's Montefiore CC for the venue and Stanley and his pal for the post-match tucker. And once again huge thanks to everyone who contributed to the "We Can Beat Wilms" child cancer campaign. For some reason I can deal with adversity and chaos with stoicism - but generosity, compassion and anything to do with Molly plays havoc with a stiff upper lip!
The match details can be viewed in quite detailed detail here: http://headlinerscc.proboards82.com/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&thread=1182249882
