UCS Old Boys 27 July 2025

Manager Frankie Crouch

Match Drawn

SOA 203 for 8 dec (Alex Ross 36, Frankie Crouch 32*, H Khan 31*)

UCS Old Boys 194 for 7 (C North 6-1-12-3, Frankie Crouch 5-2-16-2)

It was on a day more suited to deck-chairs and lemonade than honest perspiration that the South Oxfordshire Amateurs wandered onto the green sward to do battle with the Old Gowers. The Amateurs, full of vim, vigour, and perhaps the faint aroma of bacon sandwiches, elected to bat. Alex Ross, a man who clearly regards bowlers as an inconvenient formality, set about carving 36 with the brisk efficiency of a chap trimming his hedge. Six fours and a six later, he was removed by C Rodgers, whose delivery was so unexpected that even the bowler appeared a trifle surprised.

The McGrady brothers then had their turn. Matt (21) and Alex (7) demonstrated admirable sibling symmetry: one busy accumulating, the other ensuring the scorer’s pencil didn’t wear out unnecessarily. Bharat Ramanathan (23) and Jack North (25) chipped in like house guests politely accepting second helpings, while Chris North (5) and Colin Allen (0) bustled in and out so quickly that one wondered if they had left the kettle on at home.

Just as the innings threatened to resemble a party where everyone had left early, up strode Humzah Khan (31*) and Frankie Crouch (32*). With the steadiness of two vicars at a parish raffle, they guided the Amateurs to a declaration at 203, a figure the captain confidently declared to be “about right,” which usually means “heaven help us in the field.”

The Old Gowers’ innings began in the manner of a cavalry charge. Wishal Khan blasted 38 from 19 balls, including six fours, two sixes, and several hefty blows that left small children clinging to their ice creams for dear life. Fortunately for the Amateurs, Frankie Crouch (2-16) produced a spell so miserly it could have been written by Scrooge himself, removing both openers and restoring a measure of sanity.

Enter Vinay Lohitsa, a man who appeared to have mistaken the Queen's Sports Ground for his personal practice net. With a disdainful swish here and a crisp drive there, he clattered 86 runs, decorating the boundary like a man hanging up Christmas baubles. At one stage he looked quite capable of finishing the match single-handedly, while his partners contributed the sort of scores that might politely be described as “supporting roles.”

Chris North, evidently bored of his batting misdemeanours, redeemed himself handsomely with 3 for 12. His bowling was so accurate that batsmen were left looking vaguely betrayed, as if an old friend had refused to lend them a fiver. Craig Foster and Ben McCure chipped in with wickets of their own, and gradually the Gowers’ chase began to creak and groan like a country-house staircase.

As the overs ticked away, Felix Gott (27*) and Lohitsa kept the scoreboard bubbling, but when the latter was finally prised out, the innings lost its fizz like day-old ginger beer. Despite a late cameo from the lower order, the Gowers closed on 194 for 7, a tantalising nine runs short.

In summary. A draw. There were runs, wickets, dropped catches, and the occasional moment when everyone appeared to forget the rules. In short, a perfect day’s cricket: thrilling, exasperating, and conducted with just enough eccentricity to make P. G. Wodehouse smile down from the pavilion in the sky.