Rickmansworth & Isambard Cricket Club

Britney Spears.  Not, perhaps, the first name to spring to mind when considering the mighty Isambard, although anyone who screeched "My f*cking pussy's hanging out" during a wardrobe malfunction should appeal to Kim-Meg, if no-one else.

But consider this: the reason everyone's favourite WASP trailer trash icon is so suitable a role model for Sunday's performance by Isambard is her well-publicised ability to meltdown at crucial moments.  Indeed, Isambard reached for the metaphorical shaver and No.1 setting no less than three times against Enfield Invicta, and so conspired to lose a match that they should have won.  In the words of Loyd Grossman, let's consider the evidence:

Toxic

Invicta's skipper won the toss and, as any sensible captain would on a blazing hot afternoon, batted.  No great surprises there.  After twenty overs, they had posted 78-3; again, no great surprises.  It was the 117 runs from the last twenty overs, for the loss of just two further wickets, which was the problem. 

Isambard proceeded to field and catch in time-honoured fashion, fumbling like Michael Jackson in the Wiggles moshpit.  Most of the visiting bowlers kept things fairly tight, with Mat Lindsay taking three wickets with his usual economy, although the home batsmen munched Mackey's medium-pace like Beth Ditto locked in a muffin factory.  With hindsight, Dave Malin's off-spin might have been a useful option, albeit with the related risk that the veteran might have required a session in an iron lung before being able to bat, due to his prior exertions.  Still, a shade under five an over on a small ground and fast outfield shouldn't have been a problem"¦..

Oops I Did It Again

"¦unless you start your reply by scoring at less than two an over for the first ten overs.  Sir Rich Gardiner batted more like a misanthropic Yorkshire wife-beater than his usual flowing style, and new boy Doug Evans also struggled to get the ball away.  It was as if Twenty20 had never happened.  19-1 from ten overs does not scintillating cricket make, and the middle-order had some rebuilding to do.  Still, there was always Roxy Bywater at No.3"¦.

Baby One More Time

"¦or not, since he was batted down the order.  Mark Wembridge at No.4 continued his run of good form with the bat, whipping the home bowlers like Max Moseley's favourite hooker.  Alas, he got little support, Richie Robinson, Lindsay and Mackey all being dismissed cheaply as Isambard slid to 67-4 in the 21^st over. 

Dave Malin played some good shots in his innings, in his quest to be the fourth Isambard player to reach the magic thousand runs.  Of course, he should have been the second to do so, almost two years ago.  In the meantime, rain, lack of availability and Roxy's ability to score shedloads of runs had conspired to ensure that both Bywater and son Adam had pipped him to that statistical post.  Dave's knock took him safely past the magic thousand, and ahead of Adam once more.  A nostalgic Isambard support duly elected Malin Snr. as man of the match.

Disco's efforts aside, the visitors seemed to stagnate; their task becoming harder than a teenage boy hiding in the Hollyoaks dressing rooms.  Eventually Adam Malin perished at 100-7, and Roxy came into bat.  At No.9.  It is not, perhaps, a tactical decision we will see Andrew Strauss repeating with KP this summer, amusing though that would be.

So could Roxy do the impossible?  Well, groin injury notwithstanding (and he's getting no sympathy here: two kids is quite enough), he gave it a bloody good go.  He and Paul McConville put on an unbeaten 59 for the ninth wicket, both swinging like a Friday night in Sheffield.  Invicta's fielders dropped more than Jordan's cleavage twenty years hence, and the home side were under some pressure.  But it was too big an ask, and Isambard failed to fulfil a promising start, ending up in something of a mess of their own making. 

Just like Britney, then.

Keith Williams