Rickmansworth & Isambard Cricket Club

Never in the field of Isambard CC history have so many pathetic cricketers owed so much to so few. By the “few”, I mean Dave “Roxy” Bywater, who holds more ICC records than Lindsay Lohan received offers of “protection” from diesel dykes during her recent incarceration. And he’s also the skipper fantastic of our humble club and a top bloke to boot.

Roxy is to Isambard what heroin is to Pete Doherty, what scalp cement is to Jedward or what pubic hair-removal is to Lady Gaga – absolutely essential in order to operate in public.

So it was with immense dismay that Isambard’s faithful (those who could be bothered turning up, and/or not “straining their backs.” You know who you are Paul Bailey and Mat Lindsay) attempted to give Roxy a brilliant send-off against a mostly pre-pubescent Dulwich Development XI.

After winning the toss Roxy decided to bat, being forced to open with Mark Wembridge as usual opener Sir Rich Gardiner was “running late”.

The pair batted solidly, with Roxy punishing anything full, short or in between – his straight six that slammed into the top of the sidescreen will live long in the memories of those who witnessed it, and his pulling was as crisp as ever.

Roxy was a little lucky, to say the least, when on about 25 when he was hit plumb in front by a 14-year-old’s quicker one (45mph or thereabouts). Ignoring Keith Williams’ pre-match suggestion to “fire him out”, umpire Matt Smith convincingly suggested that the ball was missing off stump. If it was missing off stump, then Cheryl Cole can sing and Simon Cowell is straight.

Neverthless the partnership almost lasted until the drinks break, but on 42 Roxy played around an inswinger and was bowled, with the score on 83. Had the great man reached fifty, it would have been his seventh consecutive half century for Isambard – if that’s not consistency, then Ashley Cole looks good in white Y-fronts and Jordan married Alex Reid for love.

Wembridge was joined at the crease by Paul McConville, who was also playing his final match for Isambard before he heads down to Australia. Batting above his usual five or six (“Do I have to bat at number three? Can’t I come in later when the bowlers are shit?” he asked), McConville got off to a cracking start, thrashing a couple of boundaries to leg before being bowled by an inswinging yorker for 9.

From there the Isambard innings went downhill, but not before The Artist Formerly Known As Pete Brooks played the shot of the day, cleverly knocking the ball from the knee-roll of his pad up into the air, whereupon he gave it a mighty heave to leg for a single.

When Wembridge finally fell for 66 with seven overs to go, it seemed that Isambard was set for a final thrash. But Sir Rich was run out without facing a delivery when he ended up standing at the same end as Isambard debutant Amer Malik following a “yes, no!” semi-run off Malik’s skied pull shot.

From there it got worse, and like Peter Crouch in the back of a taxi in Madrid, Isambard’s lower order was blown away in mere minutes, leaving Malik to mop up the mess. And similar to Peter Crouch, Malik pulled a muscle going for a quick one, requiring a runner to attend the wicket.

Four ducks were registered in the scorebook – Gavin Kallmann, debutant and Mexican international cricketer Senor Dave Thomas, Matt Smith and Paul Gregan – leaving Malik not out on 22 with a painful hamstring and the total at 146 from 39.5 overs.

The tea was not the best we have experienced, with its anaemic pizza slices and cheese and salad sandwiches tasting somewhat like a cholera patient’s underwear.  However, Isambard’s cricket was sparkling, with Sir Rich picking up 2-16 and Paul McConville 1-29, leaving the hosts reeling on 34-3. Then came the inevitable match-winning partnership, with two Dulwich youngsters putting on 86 for the fourth wicket.

Admittedly, considering some of the LBW shouts that were turned down, the pair must have felt luckier than Catholic priest in a room full of choir boys – the appeal off Matt Smith’s bowling from a ball that was going to obliterate all three stumps was almost laughable in its denial.

With only 27 to get, Dulwich almost royally screwed up the run chase, losing three quick wickets, the first of which was sparked by a cracking Kallmann catch at point. With lightning fast reflexes, the big South African threw both hands at the ball only to find that it stuck in his mitts, much to the disbelief of the batsman (and the fielding side). Naturally, the wicket came from Roxy’s bowling.  The skipper ended up having a hand in five of the six dismissals, taking a Benaud-esque 2-22 and three catches at cover, the last of which almost broke his finger.

Even in defeat, Isambard gave their all, with Matt Smith offering a fine display of scrotal fielding, of which Keith Williams has been known to provide the odd masterclass.  Fielding at mid-off, Smith threw himself in the way of a cracking drive, only to see – and feel – the ball careen into his soon-to-be swollen testicles. Smith rolled around on the ground for a few minutes, ignoring the sniggers of his team mates (“Is that what misshaped the ball?” Paul Gregan quipped of the crooked leather pill) and eventually recovering his composure.

But it wasn’t enough, and Dulwich ran out winners by four wickets, with just under eight overs to spare.

The final thought of the day must go to Smith, who penned a charming and apt soliloquy on Roxy’s impact on the club: “As always, Roxy exhibited the qualities that made him such a great Isambard skipper: generous with his praise and encouragement; sparing with his criticism; gave everyone a chance to get involved; and of course dominated with both bat and ball.  A legend.”

Of all the players that Isambard has lost over the past few years, none will be more greatly felt than that of Dave “Roxy” Bywater.  Best of luck, mate.  We’ll miss you.