What a thriller we were treated to on the sun-dappled sward of the OCG this afternoon! Outwood, all crested caps and carefully laid teas, took to batting first, bats flashing like dragonflies over a duckpond, while Falconhurst later replied with much vim, vigour, and ultimately just a few unfortunate shortfalls.

Outwood to Bat!
The innings began with a bit of a wobble — the sort of thing that might make the ladies in the deck chairs raise an eyebrow over their cucumber sandwiches. Simon Knight was back in the hutch quicker than you could say “duck à l’orange”, and young Felix Teasdale wasn’t far behind — out for a 6, caught behind off the teasing nibble of Andrew Paynter.

But then, oh my word, what a delight! The sun broke through the clouds and so did the bats of Mansur and Lucas, who laid about the Falconhurst attack with a kind of glorious abandon usually reserved for maypole dancers on midsummer’s day.

Mansur, stroking the ball with the elegance of a man writing love letters in iambic pentameter, made a magnificent unbeaten 101 — retiring not out, bless him, having surely earned a glass of something cool and fizzy. Lucas Evans was no mere supporting act — his belligerent 91, full of swagger and sixes, sent several balls hurtling into the next county, and one possibly into orbit.

Outwood finished with a robust 242 for 6 from their 35 overs, a total that looked as solid as a cricket pavilion with fresh thatch and a good biscuit tin.

Enter Falconhurst
And so the chase began — with Simon Knechtli striding out like a man late for a wedding and batting like he had a taxi waiting. He carved and clipped his way to 55, full of delightful strokes and one especially saucy pull shot that sent the square-leg umpire into a faint swoon.

But wickets, like unsupervised toddlers at a birthday party, began to tumble! Danish Ullah — oh, what a bowler! With a run-up smoother than a jazz saxophonist on a Sunday evening — nabbed 3 for 14, a spell as economical as a Scotsman in a jewellery shop and twice as deadly.

S Stevenson, with the name of a novelist and the bat of a buccaneer, fought back valiantly with a sprightly 65, and W McWhite wasn’t far behind with a swashbuckling 54. For a moment, the crowd held its breath — could they do it? Could Falconhurst pull off the great escape?

But alas, like a trifle left out in the sun, things began to wobble. Stevenson fell near the end — caught trying to hoik one into a neighbouring field — and with him, the dream faded.

Falconhurst finished agonisingly close on 237 for 8, a mere 5 runs shy of glory. Outwood’s bowlers, led by the cunning Ullah and the crafty Middleton, held their nerve as though guarding the Queen's corgis.

Man of the Match - Undoubtedly Mansur Hafeez, whose ton was silkier than a Savile Row cravat.

Final Word

And so, as the shadows lengthened and the scent of Pimm’s and linseed oil mingled on the breeze, the teams shook hands, the bails were lifted, and the spectators wandered off with that glorious satisfaction only an English summer’s cricket match can provide.