High, Ho, Leeds and Broomfield
Leeds and Broomfield CC are a step closer to an immortality defined by their status as a village cricket club
What is it that makes village cricket quite so special?
As players, friends and family boarded a coach departing the Great Danes hotel at 8am, bleary eyed, not yet awake enough to feel excitement or sense anticipation, some of this merry band may well have pointed to what lay ahead as the answer to our question.
Leeds and Broomfield were departing to Norfolk, Ashmanhaugh & Barton Wanderers Cricket Club, some 150 miles away and far exceeding their usual Sunday pilgrimage. They were in search of something special. For Leeds and Broomfield were only two more wins away from a final in the National Village Competition that will be played at Lord’s. The Home of Cricket.
But in fact, what makes village cricket special is that it was about even more than that. More than a splendid setting to play a final. Leeds were in search of a page in their club’s history and a tale to tell.
Within a village community, whether gathered at the local pub or strolling across the pleasant pastures seen, sharing a tale is a pass time in which everyone indulges. A village so tightly bound as Leeds hears tales and stories retold and shared again at the dinner table, in the pub or school playground.
A quarter final in a National Cup, with the opportunity to play at Lord’s, could become a moment and a tale never to be extinguished in the collective village memory, an ember that would forever flicker amongst a community that is intimately connected to the cricket club.
So in the hearts and minds of these players and their travelling supporters, Sunday was about continuing this journey to what is in effect, immortality.
Immortality, because when you play for a village cricket club like Leeds and Broomfield, touring the rolling hills of Kent’s countryside, playing in front of grazing sheep, fetching cricket balls from trees within boundaries, rotting slip cradles propped against groundsman sheds and hand rollers not rolled since the days of Thatcher, this odyssey of sacrificed Sundays was now only two more wins away from an occasion solely conjured in the infantile land of dreams.
How have Leeds managed such a feat?
Early on in this Voneus Village Cup journey, Leeds realised they'd have to find a way to play that gave them energy on Sundays - they certainly wouldn't have much left of their own to offer up after 100 overs in the dirt and £100 in the pub on Saturday. What was required was a freedom of expression, a willingness to dare and enjoy trying new things. This idea of taking in energy from one another has really taken hold. They've left room for "wow" in their style of play and if it doesn't work out, they're ok with that too.
If you’re going to sacrifice your whole weekend to don the unwashed whites, at some point you want to enjoy it. If you’re enjoying it, you’ll probably go alright.
And so it was onboard the coach that the players sensed the size of the occasion but retained a confidence they were entitled to. Max Aitken, one of Leeds’ standout players and ‘Player of the Round’ two weeks prior, tells me he was “very nervous, but also felt slightly invincible for some reason. Like I just felt that we’d get it done”.
Whilst Skipper Ed Scrivens strode to the middle, moments away from settling early nerves with the first small victory, calling the toss correctly and electing to bat, supporters were beginning to settle in and to settle down. The beauty of a day of cricket is that you don’t have to strap in. It gently heats and warms before it simmers then begins to boil. Mind you, settling down for the Leeds support isn’t that easy when you’re already a bottle of vino down at midday.
Aggression has been key to early Leeds momentum in previous rounds of the National Cup. Therefore at 12-2 then 40-3 after 10.2 overs, following excellent opening spells from Canadian international Ayush Verma and J Everett, there could have been murmurs from the sidelines that perhaps this wasn’t going to be Leeds’ day.
What makes village cricket special at these moments then? When the shackles are back on? When the pressure and intensity ramp up and all of a sudden your Sunday isn’t as fun as it was at 9am on the coach, with tinnies of Foster’s being cracked and Callippo’s for breakfast? Maybe it’s that you never, ever know what version of a player is going to turn up.
Enter George Davis.
There’s a line in the recent Dune film where Gurney says to Paul about the Harkonnen “your eyes…I need to see it in your eyes. You’ve not met Harkonnen, I have. They’re not human, they're BRUTAL”. For readers who’ve not met George Davis, I have. At times he isn’t human. Just ask Lashings.
Vitally though, at his core the towering Davis is a mightily talented batsman with an acute understanding of how to navigate different situations and a real awareness of his ability to dominate. Davis dabbed, stroked then smashed his way to 83 off 86 balls. Ably assisted by the calming, metronomic presence of James Mitchinson, a 128-run partnership helped Leeds recover to 168-4 and with contributions made throughout the tail a total of 222 was there to defend.
Onlookers have commented that throughout Leeds’ rebuild there was an omnipresent feeling of a nail biter forming. Have another pint then Good Sir? We’re going down to the wire here.
At the halfway point the feeling was that they’d done very well to put themselves in a strong position. A large, slow outfield combined with a bowling attack capable of constricting and suffocating meant they knew they had what it took but it would probably be tight.
This mentality points to an incredible faith Leeds have in their ability to restrict those middle overs. Phil Semmens (jet) and Owen Matthews (specialist) have that invaluable ability to hit the same area ball after ball. Skipper Scrivens can set a field to it and wicket keeper Chris Davis can make you feel claustrophobic up to the stumps.
Leeds took wickets often enough in the opening 20 overs but Ashmanhaugh accumulated at good speed. When, at 108-4 at the beginning of the 21st over (including three Xander Schnauffeles from Chris behind the sticks), Scrivens dismissed Vurma thanks to a wonderful catch from Aitken, the pendulum swung convincingly towards Leeds, Winviz giving them the nod.
Leeds did indeed constrict and suffocate from here. Ashmanhaugh, 153-5 needing 69 off the final 10 overs, were only able to add 19 in the next 4.3 overs before a rain delay interrupted play.
Monte McCague, skipper for Leeds in the previous round and remarkable ability both in front of and behind a bar, made amends for a rare low score with the bat by delivering with the ball now. The start of his fifth over, the 38th of the 40-over game, saw Ashmanhaugh reduced from 191-6 to 191-8, two in two, and requiring 31 from the next 14 balls.
Friends and family streaming the game on YouTube sent messages of elation to the club WhatsApp group, fans arose from the pavilion benches to roar in delight. The game was done, no?
Alas, cricket doesn’t work like this. The fat lady hath not sung. Like Mooen’s test career, this wasn’t over yet. Beeden was offered a six by Clarry (Claz) McCague rather than an early beer after catching the ball inside the rope, then lobbing it for six, all for reasons yet to be confirmed. Claz has been approached for comment but has yet to respond. The next ball was sent to the long-on boundary for four. Oh baby, it was game back on.
Claz, seemingly shaken by the absurdity of his actions, began the next over with two wides, a dot and a four. The boundary adding to the adulation of the home crowd and costing Aitken three ligaments in his shoulder from a dive in vein.
Why is village cricket so special we should ask again? Because whether at Headingley or a village club in Norfolk adrenaline still courses through the veins, each boundary or wicket is still met with a roar or a flinching moment of despair, everything still seems on the line. It’s not the Ashes, but at this point on Sunday it was now more important than the urn could ever be.
An entire day unfurls before your eyes after hours of investment, it becomes a deafening crescendo as the shadows extend across the outfield and the wind picks up. After an 8am coach departure, everything remains in the balance 11 hours later. Tired bodies chase every ball and minds tick with plans and strategies to wrestle victory into their possession, to continue towards immortality.
A lengthy break in play to deal with Max’s shoulder was probably what the young all-rounder Claz needed, time to recall that Sundays are known by Leeds as ‘Skills Sundays’, a day to practice your craft. A slower ball cutter castled Mulhall first ball after the break and Leeds were back on track. Well bowled, young man.
In the end it was a combination of both McCague’s who wrapped up the game and sent everyone into raptures. Monte with 5 -33. The victory dance in the changing room could be heard through the Frogbox as all of that tension, all of those nerves were released in celebration of an effort that had unified a whole village, not just the 11 blokes on the pitch.
The coach home was obscene. News the M11 was shut, adding to their journey time, was celebrated like the final wicket. Scrivens said “the best news I’d ever had by miles”. George Davis, the first innings hero responded to the announcement “we’re going to need 100 beers”. Bottles of Captain Morgan came and went, karaoke filled the stuffy coach air, 150 miles of unadulterated scenes. Village cricket means you can play like today's superstars and celebrate like the rogue legends of yesteryear.
This quarter-final victory was an effort of favours, gestures and good will that got Leeds to Norfolk and took a group of supporters with them. Now, in that same vein, they need another set of favours, because they’re travelling to Truro for their quarter final. Notoriously awful to get to, on a weekend of train strikes, players and supporters alike are figuring out that journey on 30th July. But on offer is another opportunity to add to this tale. Success will be defined and measured by time spent riding that high and time spent together in the pub, reliving and retelling the victory. Time spent re-watching key moments back on the YouTube stream. Time spent planning and plotting their next journey.
Leeds are one win from Lord’s. Two wins from immortality.