Penn Street vs Penn Street Legends

Penn Street CC 291 (D Jones 56*, J Tollerfield 55*, J Sempill 50*, J Fryer 46; Simon Hennell 3-59) beat Penn Street Legends 166-9 (J Fryer 3-20) by 125 runs.

And so it was decreed that the first President’s Day of Matt Reavey’s tenure would be a game between PSCC and a team of Legends, players who had made a great contribution to the club, who had played with the President himself, and who – most importantly – had nothing better to do on the last Saturday of June.

From early that morning the village was a-buzz with the sound of marquee-erecting, sign-erecting, pitch-rolling, sign-breaking, sign-mending-and-re-erecting and of Matt Hewlett stalling the mower again. Once all of this good work had been completed, eyes turned to the Village Hall.

Slowly, they began to appear. Spirits of Penn Street Past, returning to the scene of their greatest triumphs.

One by one they arrived. Mark Gloyens. Tim Coombes. Bobby Fryer. Paul Goodchild. David Harrison. Simon Hennell. Toby Howick. Chris Loftus. Nick Loftus. Peter Lofty. Steve Pratt. Stuart Thompson. Every name a reminder of glories gone by and, annoyingly, none of them looking an ounce heavier than in their PSCC heydays.

In true Penn Street fashion the teams warmed up for the game with finest ales courtesy of Messrs Gloyens and Coombes, and sausage baps courtesy of Joe Gleeson and the White family oven. There then followed a series of photographs which proved that the word ‘fashion’ should not really be used anywhere near any of these people.

And then on to the game. Penn Street batted first. Again, it was as if time had stood still. All of the familiar sights and sounds were out there on the field. The Lofty bucket hat. The brilliant white wide-brimmed titfer of Loftus (C). The antalgic gait of the lesser-spotted Goodchild. Not to mention the low rumble of Bobby Fryer berating a fielder and, just occasionally, himself.

It was like the old days around the boundary, too. Throughout the Penn Street innings those ancient spirits continued to gather. Ian Jones. Ronnie Langston. Bill Spry. Jack Mendy. Mark Lander. David Bonnett. Simon Briggs. Callum Sempill. Chris Bantock. John Fotheringham. Cliff Culbert. Chris Herriott. Will Clarke. Brian Bate. Chris Wildey. What a team PSCC could still field if we hadn’t broken quite so many of them.

The rule that a batter had to retire when passing 50 came to the Legends’ aid when Tollerfield smashed his third six, but the relief must have been brief when David Adams, averaging over 300 for the season, strolled to the crease. It became genuine, though, when the wily Hennell spun one through the South African’s defences to become the first bowler this season to dismiss Adams for under 100.

Dave Jones was next man in and was soon joined by Sam Martin, as skipper Sempill completed another composed and largely chanceless half century. Indeed, Jones was forced to play an unfamiliar anchor role as the Legends brought about something which they must have remembered well from their own days in the village – the Great PSCC Batting Collapse.

Martin was the first to go, to an absolute blinder of a one handed catch by Thompson at cover off the bowling of Pratt. Chris Lovewell skiied a Hennell delivery into the grateful hands of Lofty and Jeremy Knox and then Hewlett fell in similar fashion – Chris Loftus and Pratt the catchers, Thompson and Hennell again the thankful bowlers.

Some semblance of order was restored by the welcome arrival of the diminutive figure of Asif Teja, who thoughtfully made his way to double figures before becoming the victim of what might be the world’s first ever height-ist dismissal – the umpire at the Wood End having clearly decided that if the ball hit him (Teja) anywhere below the nipples it must be a clear LBW.

What happened next might turn out to be another of the many significant innings in the history of PSCC. Jamie Fryer strode to the crease having failed to trouble the scorers in each of his three previous innings – and promptly began playing like a proper batter, stroking the ball all around the wicket and presumably giving his father some very conflicted emotions indeed.

Meanwhile, Jones had reached possibly the slowest fifty of his adult life (a whole 48 balls). He was replaced by the Secretary, who hit one lovely cover drive and then fannied about making another two runs whilst being dropped at slip, playing and missing every other ball and generally giving the game of cricket a bad name. Mercifully for the proper cricketers watching he then spooned a catch to Coombes at mid-on and departed the scene, to be replaced by the altogether more pleasing Caitlin Macken – who, in another of her many PSCC firsts, became the only woman yet to play in a President’s Day match.

With Fryer (J) on strike for the last PSCC over captain Gloyens played his master card and brought back Fryer (R) to bowl to him. We hesitate to say how this ended, but someone somehow got themselves stumped off the bowling of their dad for 46. Tea was a sumptuous feast laid on by First Lady Bronwen Reavey and a whole host of willing assistants – Jane, Julia, Annie, Jo, Tarryn, Aven, Cally, Caro and, especially, Lee, who combined catering skills with dog-wrangling ones in a way never before seen in the village. Suitably replete, the players eventually waddled back out for the second innings.

Even shorn of the services of the indisposed Pete Jupp and of the President himself (believed to have become stuck inside a blue blazer on the hottest day of the year) the Legends boasted a formidable batting line-up. PSCC would have had cause to fear them even if most of their fielders were not by now weighed down by about eight different kinds of sandwich, at least nine different cakes and a magnificent cheeseboard.

Openers Harrison and Thompson looked calm and assured against the PSCC opening attack, perhaps reassured by a curious tactic which seemed to amount to “let’s bowl at their hips. Left-handers must hate that” and steady, rather than rapid progress, was made.

Harrison was then the victim of one of the more unusual dismissals seen at Penn Street. Receiving one of those nice deliveries on his hips from Hewlett, he flicked it around the corner as he must have done a thousand times in his distinguished career. Unfortunately, the ball encountered the Secretary, who was apparently ambling aimlessly back to the comfort of the Village Hall and that cheeseboard. He stuck out his left hand and was as astonished as anyone to find a ball land in it rather than another slice of delicious Dolcelatte.

Thereafter run-scoring became trickier for the Legends. Coombes decided to employ the unusual tactic of removing his glasses when facing one of the quickest bowlers PSCC has had and was pinned LBW by Adams. Nick Loftus defended doughtily but he and Thompson both fell to Fryer (J) in quick succession. Chris Loftus and Pratt began to rebuild the innings but the latter eventually fell to a catch off the bowling of Teja.

If ever there was a time for a captain’s innings it was now, and Gloyens duly obliged. Resolute in the face of all the sledging he was getting from the square leg umpire he made a creditable effort to bring his side back into the game but was ultimately beaten by the extra bounce of Knox and a good catch from Tollerfield.

At this point Captain Sempill decided to show some mercy and introduce the Secretary into the attack. Any connection between this and the fact that Lofty’s innings of 16 was made entirely in boundaries is not at all coincidental and the batter is to be commended for walking when Fryer (J) took an excellent catch at slip, as the bowler was too deaf and blind to realise that he (Lofty) was out.

Chris Loftus was still there and still playing beautifully, calmly, almost insouciantly as he made his way to an untroubled 38. When he sliced a Lovewell delivery into the waiting hands of Hewlett (who caught it) it was as much of a surprise to the fielding side as it was to him.

Fryer (R) then arrived at the crease, just in time to see Fryer (J) beat Hennell’s defences and pick up a well-deserved third wicket. That produced the sight of Howick being wheeled to the crease on a trolley, claiming to be ‘gone in the hamstrings’. Battle then commenced between the two Fryers, as the younger attempted to play Zeus to the elder’s Cronus and gain his revenge for the first innings. It was not to be and time ran out with the Legends behind on the scorebook but still with wickets and reputations intact.

The day ended as such days should, with speeches, presentations and food and drink galore. John, Cam and the team from the Squirrel kept everyone watered in the heat by running a pop-up bar, Cally as usual kept score immaculately and still found time to act as photographer, Ray gamely operated the scoreboard despite the searing heat and the Secretary’s cooking didn’t kill anyone. All in all it was a wonderful day all around. We should do it again in 2025.