Absolutely Plumb
Created | Updated Jul 5, 2008
The Cavendish Cavaliers Take to the
Field
A year or so ago, with a little help from a group of friends, I made a
rather good video clip for
the Aviators. As a bit of fun, one of the lads suggested I thank the
Cavendish Cavaliers in the credits at the end of the piece. The
Cavaliers weren't a real team, but we rather liked to pretend we
were.
If only we'd known where that daft idea would lead.
I blame Kev, mostly, for the events of the last month or so. Kev and
I go back so far that I can still picture him in his Cub Scout cap,
woggle and neckerchief. We got married on a school trip to a church
at the age of 13, and it was only after my partner grew impatient that
we we were forced to annul our union 17 years later. In the
intervening years, our close-knit group of schoolfriends were kept
together by the institution that was Sacred Sunday. Any time that
anyone was home from work or Uni, they knew they could visit a certain
Irish pub on Torquay harbourside and we'd be there, led in the
drinking by the irrepressible Kev. As we matured, our get-togethers
began to be replaced by an even better idea. A short walk from Kev's
house, there is a small park hidden from view from the road by a
hedge, and it's easily missed by casual visitors who tend to picnic in
a larger one further down the road. Not only is the green a great
suntrap and a lovely spot for a barbecue, but it also has a thin strip
of astroturf laid out for cricket practice. We call it the Secret
Green, for obvious reasons, and a forecast of sunny weekend weather
will usually see a few of us gathering there for a bite and a bit of
cricket. Kev's boundless enthusiasm for parks and sunny days lured me
into the dangerous delusion that I was a rather good cricketer with
impeccable technique and a range of flamboyant shots. I'm not. I can
whack a tennis ball a fair distance, but so can most nine-year
olds.
I don't just blame Kev, of course. I blame Chip as well. Chip is my
younger cousin, and he's not the kind of guy to do things by
half-measures. After he came to his first Secret Green barbecue last
spring, he decided that we really should be playing a bit of
proper cricket with a hard ball instead of a flyaround
windball, got a few of us to chip in a bit for gear and bought a
club's worth of equipment. Suddenly, we had pads and gloves - both
batsman and wicketkeeper versions - proper stumps, regulation cricket
balls, the lot. It was all starting to look a bit serious, and we
even mooted the idea of playing a game against a local team. It was
only when we started to try to play properly that we realised what a
ridiculous idea that was.
We organised a practice session at the Secret Green and invited
everyone we knew who either liked cricket or eating. The turnout was
pretty poor, and at least half of the six people who came were lured
purely by the offer of free sandwiches. We puffed around the field
for a bit, decided that we were better at eating sandwiches than
playing cricket, made the Aviators video and went home. And that,
more or less, was the end of the 2007 season for us, and the idea of
getting an actual team together was forgotten.
It's only when we fast-forward to early June 2008 that I can even
begin to hold myself responsible. My ability to wield the willow wand
had been greatly exaggerated in my mind over the winter, and I was
desperate to crack a few balls around again. I also have a ridiculous
amount of faith in stupid ideas, and when Kev organised a day on the
Secret Green in celebration of his birthday, my mind went into
overdrive. From nowhere, the idea of forming the Cavendish Cavaliers
was reborn. In one flustered weekend, I appointed Chip as my
vice-captain, asked my Grandad to be our Club President on the
occasion of his 75th birthday, and emailed a whole load of local
clubs. A week later, I was seen robbing Kev's birthday guests of
twenty pound notes to pay for embroidered shirts and caps. My brother
designed us a nifty logo, and I made up a Latin motto, Inefficax
Fidens, which roughly translates as 'nobly incompetent'. We've
also, somewhat predictably in this era, set up a Facebook group, a
Cavendish
Cavaliers Justgiving page to raise money for Cricket Without
Boundaries, and are in the process of getting ourselves listed
on the ECB website. We've even made the local newspaper:
Give us a game! That's the plea from a newly formed
cricket club looking for a few social friendlies. The Cavendish
Cavaliers are a group of pals whose enthusiasm for the game probably
outweighs their ability!
- Herald
Express, 25 June 2008.
The 'probably' was rather kind, I thought.
Most disturbingly, we also have a game lined up. The Shaldon
Optimists responded very quickly to my email and challenged us to a
Twenty20 game on Thursday 10 July, an offer I hastily accepted. Their
captain assures me that we will definitely last the 20 overs, and I
can see where the team's name comes from. Given the players at my
disposal, I'm considering renaming the team the Cavendish Pessimists,
just for balance.
Now, of course, reality has sunk in. Getting people to play in
principle is quite easy; tying them down to a date far trickier, and I
find myself four players short with, as I write, just a fortnight to
go. That's without even considering that we'll need to provide a
scorer and umpire, and that I'm the only person I know who knows how
to do either. The quote for our kit shot up, and it took some serious
haggling and a reduction in our order for me to get the price down to
a level that wouldn't threaten my upcoming wedding. I've also
realised that I haven't got a clue where to place fielders, and the
only tactic I've come up with so far is to send in our worst batsman
first to lull the opposition into a false sense of security. It's
tougher than it looks, and I wonder if Michael Vaughan has to worry
about which of his players' wives will insist that a dinner party is
more important than 'a silly cricket match'.
Even so, I can't wait. I think the Cavaliers, in principle, are
exactly what I believe sport should be about; we aren't in the
slightest bit bothered about being any good, as long as we have a
great day out and have a few laughs along the way. I was never good
enough at cricket to join a proper team, so becoming captain of one
would be impossible in normal circumstances - unless, of course, I
created my own. It's a way of acting out my cricketing dreams, in a
way. The same applies for all the lads, so I've decided that if a
paying member wants to bowl, keep wicket or open the batting, he will
be allowed to. It may not bring us any success, but we'll always
enjoy the game first and foremost.
Match reports will follow, presuming I can face writing them. Wish us luck!
