Could you write a better script?

Written by Tony Hammatt

7-5-2-1. No, not the code for the lock on the Totteridge nets, but Bipin Prabhu's bowling figures. Leverstock's opening batsmen were akin to rodents under the stare of a cobra. A new kind of lockdown. Able Ashul joined in, too, eight overs for just thirteen runs. On these miserly metronomic masters has the 3s unbeaten run been based.

Eventually, Leverstock's number 4 began to blast away, five fours and three sixes in a battling 62. Then Ronak Shah came to the party, slicing through the middle and tail, an impressive 6 - 32, JK chipping in with a couple of his own, both clean bowled.

123 to win seemed a straightforward target, more so at 97 for 2, JK with a lovely maiden half century, JP for once taking the minor role to the minor Grewal with 22.

However, bowler Saleem ignited a Leverstock dream.

Chatter started to matter.

Suddenly, 3s wickets started to fall...and fall again. Leg befores and clean bowling led to us needing 8 for victory as Ronak came in 6 wickets down, looking to see out the game and pick up where he left off with the ball. Alas, he could not resist playing an ugly heave to get caught at mid on. No Ronak you did not "have to go for it"!

Bipin arrived, assuring Skip that he "will play it out". He did exactly that, to be fair. With 3 to win, JR tickled one down to fine leg, but a misfield prompted a call for a second run. Bipin was busy hyping himself up to block out the over and had carried on running down the pitch, unaware of the ball's whereabouts and Skip hadn't seen Bipin!

A run out. 2 to win. One wicket left. We were 97-2. Now 121-9. I hate this game.

Last man Ashul arrived in the middle. Captain Jug-Raj, a picture of composure, at least from where the scorer was sat, toe-ended a ball up in the air, towards the boundary and the winning runs.

And yet, it was caught...

...And then it was dropped.

In a fit, perhaps, of Broad-like fury at himself, the fielder hurled it furiously from grass to middle in an attempt to run out the scampering Skip or the ashen-faced Ashul. What followed was perhaps a local demonstration of a summer's end ritual folk dance, or, and I think I can trust my eyes, still, the ball zipping through three sets of legs akimbo for the second and final run. Roars of relief and celebration from the 3s camp.

A further set of thirty victory points breathlessly secured, the team set off, grinning and barely believing, to the fridge at The Ridge for cooling drinks.

A lovely Leverstock surrounding, occasion, hospitality and great spirit.