Smallhythe at home, for the shield, they won (again)

Mark, Garth, and Luke in the foreground. In the background, the skipper prepares for his speech.

I know Nobby and Robin are big guys, but those brick piers seems to be deflecting alarmingly. 

Robin prepares to head off with that shield. Or give a rendition of 'Mule Train' [Google it].

Smallhythe stand entranced by their captain. Those shadows were shorter when he started.

Robin catches one of 'em slipping off, or dozing off.

Looking back from the Atha, the sun sets over the Down.

I did offer to help him across the road. He mumbled something about glass hamstrings and liabilities.

Twenty Twenty, Cornfield Casuals, they won

The lovely Andrew, laughing at AD's dilemma: diet coke, zero max, or the full-fat original version?

Luke: these crisp things, how'd they work again?
AD: Dunno, but I'm right peckish m'self.
Geoff looks on in despair.

Left to right:
What has Geoff got in that bag on his back? Answers on a postcard.
Rich has a luggage malfunction.
AD (20/20 skipper) looks on. How can I squeeze a win out of this lot, they can't even steer their kitbags?
What has Luke got in that bag on his back?
Neal's got his kit, and some shopping from Sainsburys by the look of it.

Rich's bag's back on track, little does he know that Luke and Luke's bag are now in there.

Bethersden, away, match won by Bethersden

The view, towards Ashford, the pavilion and scoreboard.

The view, towards Tenterden, The Bull Inn

The skipper considers his options, batting-wise, and quickly realises the limitations of what he has to work with. AD records those limitations in the scorebook. 

Their pavilion has catering facilities, showers, an electric scoreboard, and was opened by Colin Cowdrey, opening bat and captain of Kent and England. Ours was opened by Sergeant Shultz, designed by the architects responsible for Stalag 13, and has two leaking urinals and a wc no-one dares to use.

Mr Naughtie's new umpires jacket. If we were good enough with needle and thread, we'd've changed the ACO to ASBO. Headline: No ton for Naughton as he gets a nought on the scorebook.

Headline: Ahh-shame. Rich holes out for a duck. Here he's about 1% of the way through donning his protective equipment. He makes Robocop look exposed when he's finished.

Neal prepares to flay himself in. One six bounced in the road, narrowly missed a bus, and went bouncing off into the estate. Sadly there wasn't any of that sound that reminds us of our boyhood, the crash and tinkle of shattered greenhouse glazing.

Crowhurst, home, match drawn

Stumps. Crease. Cracks. Big cracks. Plumber's arse-size cracks.

The other end. Looks good from here...

...but here's the scale model of the Grand Canyon.

Nobby talks us through his last one hundred and eighty: "I was on the oche, and when I let the first one  go I knew it was heading straight for the treble twenty..."

The Beautifully Balanced Mr Vinall, or BBMV, as he's known.

It this was a shop window...
...it'd be a charity shop, right?

Cornfield Casuals, T20, away, match won by Cornfield Casuals

There's a cricket match in the background. In the foreground are the Captain, and the Vice Captain Captain in charge of Vice. 

Steve looks quite happy, while Phil's head's in his hands. Phil was a fantastic player, making a simple game look simpler still. Knee repair cream, that's what's kneeded (sorry).

Everywhere you look! Neal keeps score, behind lines of coke, Rich removes something, possibly some sort of surgical appliance or dope-test avoidance kit, Max prepares to run the old man's knees into the ground. The skipper looks happy with how things are going, not something we're used to.

Neal's line of coke gets longer, but is straighter than the boundary line/

Motty stubs out his fag before going out to bat. He didn't have to. Our big hope of quick runs was back in the hutch without scoring, caught (substitute fielder). Substitute fielder as in the wife of one of their players standing in while he nipped back to the office.

Gills Green, Home, match won by Gills Green

Currently on the top of the kitbag, soon to be on eBay

Of course I'll give you a lift home. But me and Rich have devised a cunning plan first. Mr B O'S, who had me going good and proper when he drove off.

Otters starts donning the wicket-keeping kit. The bandages, pills and potions have already been applied.

Organised loafing? Look at all the action in this shot! Yeah. Well. Maybe organised loafing's a fair description.

Mark the Younger, busy with the scorebook, and looking pretty relaxed, considering the poor bloke got a platinum duck.