[Editor’s note: our correspondent, Southgate Emerald, arrived a little late, as you will read, but our intrepid “photographer”, Janet, took this picture of the Brown Trousers warming up.  Would those of a modest or nervous disposition, please turn away now.]

 

 

This picture is by Janet, who shouldn’t really be encouraging us to publish topless pictures at MTWD.  The remainder of this article, including the pictures, are by Southgate Emerald

 

Getting there

 

There are things in life that confirm the precedence of hope over expectation. Foremost among them booting up Park Road from Baker Street at the start of the season. Close behind careering up the Waterfall Road after leaving the F1 lap qualifying W6 through Palmers Green for the first Southgate fixture.

 

 

Being there

 

In this context “my” first Southgate fixture. It would have been Saturday but “hey whadda ‘bout those Crusaders?” as the Yanks might say. I missed the first three quarters of an hour due to putting up Bhoy # 2’s cot with my father in law henceforth Big Al. Big Al knows cots and cricket. Compton stand? I knew Compton etc.  He’s a good father in law and he doesn’t mind me being Irish. The cricket thing volunteered voluntarily (as you do) helped.  He still can’t quite believe it.  I guess it’s a bit like having a Brazilian son in law who likes ice hockey.  It happens but it’s rare.

 

 

Arrival and a Surrey greeting

 

 We made it up and the lady ticket gadgie said in response to my non verbal gurning “yep Smith’s gone lbw”. We learned Gentle had also departed but Ace and Compo at the crease. Bumbling along okski at this stage. We sat in the Waterfall due to presence of lily skinned infants and my meeting with the most knowledgeable and miserable cricket fan I know my Sarf Lahndon mate Peter.  Miserable Peter. He moans for England and Lord knows his moaning has accompanied across storied oceans and torrid deserts. Born sandy devotional? Not ‘alf mate.  He knows his stuff. But he’s Surrey. Mwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah ha ha ha ha ha. 

 

 

It’s a Siberian summer, folks

 

Ace and Compo were clipping along nicely with Ace parking Doshi back to the Lambeth Kennington borders for a couple.   Southgate looked as always impeccable although atmospherics got a little muggy. Someone told me in the pavilion that Siberia had gone one down to Holland in the World Cup. Yes Siberia. No typo. I asked how Kamtchatka were faring and legged it. 

 

 

 

Pavilion pundits – let’s hope they know more about cricket than they do about football and/or geography

 

Rikki Clarke pops over the ropes for a ice cream

 

Back at the cricket the ice cream gadgies were raking it in (especially when Rikki Clarke got at ‘em).  .

 

 

 

Crusaders in search of the holy ale

 

Our own blossoming partnership was broken when Compo chipped one back to Doshi (who presumably had time to put his fag out to pouch it).   Catastrophe beckoned with the Scottster needlessly run out perhaps by Shah’s call through, although I had my head in my ale so couldn’t be sure

 

Catastrophe knocks for Middlesex but can’t come in

 

Catastrophe rapped the door a good lash when Eee o wine popped one up to the Frank and W.   That left us 129-5 and catastrophe was rattling at the back door trying to get in especially as Scotty was up next.  Readers, I think, know my views on Benbo, but I bet all and sundry thought he wouldn’t last 5 then 10 then 20 then I put my credit card behind the bar and write this from an internet caff. 

 

Hats off to the guy.  He anchored us for the rest of the innings after Ace holed out.  Wickets fell routinely thereafter with Big Al reckoning 40-50 light. Miserable Pete merely smirked. He assured us the brown bonnets were mince. 

 

 

Catastrophe arrives for Surrey

 

Excuse me but mwaaaaah ha ha ha. Correct. Although the openers were brisk enough it all went Pete Tong after Newman (who is in no way pretentious or posturing) fell low down to Scotty and then Hutton taking a god like genius catch to dismiss Batty. We were sucking diesel.  Rikki ka ka ka ka ka Clarke was run out superbly and 3 wickets were down for 1 run. Miserable Pete was vindicated. Big Al was muttering not in my day.    If passages of play change games they oughta have caught the stage to Deadwood (or Penge) then and there [Editor’s note: Penge is more Kent than Surrey, I believe].  Home and hosed save to say Brown batted well and might, just might, have caused us mither.  Styris and Pepsi picked up nice wickets and the balance of the dismissals 4 bowlers 2 wickets each and 2 run outs took the sting off the sun burn.

 

In summary

 

Cracking performance all round. Big ups to Ben Scott. I am not his biggest fan but bat and gloves were outstanding today.   Respect to the Mexicans who turned up in fair old numbers.     Thanks to Big Al for putting up the cot.  Thanks to Miserable Pete for getting it bang on. Thanks to Gentle for a catch I will bore my kids to within an inch of their lives with. 

 

Finally all this without Joyce Rymps and Richo.  Wherefore now Crues?

 

Lastly a question for the great unwashed – Keegan back at 9 que pasa? And a word to the wise: Richard Clinton is not the most mannerly individual you could ever meet. Taps nose knowingly.

 

 

 

Brown trues lick wounds – are those green-vested gentlemen probation officers by chance?