Woodham Mortimer Cricket Club

Don’t let the profile picture fool you. This chap is one of sophistication and charm, sporting his beloved trilby hat that compliments the twinkle in his eyes whenever he turns up for a match. No one is quite sure where our beloved Nick came from, and to this day I don’t believe we have bothered to ask. Rumour had it that he was caught sleeping in the containers one night by Nathan. Other rumours suggest that Nick is one of those forest people and after watching us through the trees for a few years he crept up to the clubhouse, stole some whites and made out to be a cricketer interested in joining. Wherever you have come from mi’lad, we are glad you have!

An ever faithful member of the club Nick is the mastermind behind the 400 new tea and coffee mugs we have stored up in various locations around the clubhouse. But that’s not the only contribution Mr Goode has made over the years. In a match against Leighton Orient in 2016 Nick hit his high score of 69* (ONE SHORT of a 70) – the cheeky chappy – Connor Hayman’s favourite number. After hitting the half-century, he retired to give the other players a game, blooming nice guy our Nick. But it’s a good job that Nick left his pads on because in the last over of the game, needing 6 runs to win, Nick found himself chucked back into the fight like one of his handbag throws. A deathly silence followed. Skipper Jeeves couldn’t look. Camera phones at the ready. Could he do it? Could he write himself into Woodham Mortimer folklore and hit a six of the last ball. It’s a good job the bowler gave him a half tracker because our dear Nick did just that, smacking the chap back past his head for maximum.

We haven’t seen our Nick hit runs much since – ever prone to the injury, like the cut finger, or bumped knee he decides to use when stopping the ball – and the unfortunate case of shock he suffered upon hitting that same very six. We wish you a speedy return to Goode Nick.

Who looks at a baby and thinks “a great name for you would be Keith.” It just doesn’t happen in this century. So much so that the statistics for baby names in 2016 saw the name Keith drop down to the bottom three, along with Gary and Jimmy. Strange that. It would appear that we are living in an age where the word Keith could very well go extinct much like the Dinosaurs. The club’s resident Dinosaur however – Peggasaurous Mitchell -  isn’t going to go down without a fight. At the current standing our Peg is the club’s most capped player (481), a marvellous achievement for the codger. Sometimes doesn’t even need a Zimmer-frame. A hearing aid wouldn’t go amiss though, just so that he could hear us shouting “Don’t pitch it there Peg!” as the ball sails over the boundary ropes for six. Alas, the OAP can pitch it where he wants, because at 481 games he is also the clubs leading wicket taker (527 - since records began). A true club legend. Yes the Club’s chairman, who resembles a striking resemblance to Boris Johnson, is a rather loveable chap. Unless of course you’re George Verlander, who absolutely despises him. Against Purleigh in 2016, Verlander, taunted by Peg’s jibes at ‘little jog George’ managed to stop a ball on the boundary with his foot. Rising triumphantly Verlander yelled “how’d you like that” at the old Vet, momentarily catching Peg off guard. But all was over as quick as Flash could say ‘Fantastic!’, because with the very next ball the batsman creamed one at the old-timer stood waiting at mid-wicket, who caught it sweetly in the palm of his wrinkled hands, bringing a smile to his face as he retorted – “well how’d you like that!!!” Verlander, defeated. And so I conclude my arch nemesis profile. A fantastic gentleman and one of the greatest players to wear the pheasant cap. HS of 107*, wicket taking machine and can stop a ball when he wants too (but not when he is on the boundary eh Peg). Lover of all things cricket, metal-music (ask Rod & Smithe) and has recently put in a request for Francis to build a playground so the youngsters can have something to do at the club. Has promised not to urinate on it, though, watch this space.   

I remember meeting Sam like it was yesterday. It was way back in the year of 2011, when in a match against a close rival we found ourselves 1 down before the game had even started. We struggled all game in the field, and were dreading the next innings of batting when all of a sudden a car broke down outside the gates. Curious, we looked over, only to see a man appear clad in full batting attire. It was our Sam, who had unfortunately broken down on his way to a fancy dress party. He was going as a batsman, his son Joel in the seat next to him, dressed like a cricket stump. We called over to him to use our phone (we don’t have a phone aha!) and soon persuaded him to go in at number 7 and fill the gap. Since then Sam hasn’t looked back, and even dresses up like a batsman every week for the twos to carry on the sacred tradition. But of course I am joking – because it’s obvious the lad can bat. Cow corner has never received so many balls. But who cares if they’re our runs as even Sam Older has a WMCC half-century to his name Jack Preston!. Yet perhaps our Sam is much more known for his bowling. Hang on I’ve just seen that Sam also has a 5-wicket haul to his name. What an absolute farce, next you’ll be telling me Dave Glasson even has a Woodham Fiver over me. This cricket game is cruel. But with fantastic figures of 5-14 against a very strong 8-man Willow Herbs side (okay 9 men) I am glad that you’re on our side Sam! The 2’s all-rounder (can I call him that?) is a vital addition to our squad, and if Joel is half the player you are then quite the village cricketer he will become, which I believe is a compliment, maybe.      

The walking, talking cricket anthology. You could get up in the morning, begin a cricket conversation with our Manu, pop off to the shops, return, run a bath, make a cuppa tea, eat your lunch, cook the dinner and fall asleep again before Manu stops talking about cricket. The lad bloody loves it. For a brief stint a few years ago (and to our ears delight) Manu left for Hatfield Pev to play in the Premier division. He must have been actually playing as, ever prone to the dodgy umpiring decision, they certainly wouldn’t of allowed him to be a match official, surely?. On one occasion Manu shot his finger up so quick that the bowler had not even turned round to appeal. And this crafty finger, trigger-happy and as quick as a gun-fighter at the O.K. Corral has of recent times been accompanied by a thick as ten bricks moustache that we all at one point thought was drawn on with permanent marker. Our Gringo doesn’t just follow trends, he sets them.

Its quite unfortunate that the other lads in the club can’t follow trends – such as scoring runs like Manu – because this geezer has buckets of them! You just can’t bowl at this guy as you will go the distance. I once see him hit a Yorker off the stumps for six down toward third man. I mean do me a favour. You could chuck a piano down at this man and by god he would play it better than Mowzart. Manuzart! I tell you – I don’t just make these up for fun you know. This season alone he has played 45 games. 45?! I didn’t even know we had 45 games. And where does his money come from for all them subs eh? Must hide it in that thick tash of his the crafty buggar. 45 games. Isnt there a local pub where you are Mr Tash? I suppose it’s a dirty job but someone has to do it, bravo for your efforts. We certainly need more players like Mr Tash. To him cricket isn’t a matter of life or death, no, its much more important than that. Rarely does a player come through our ranks that can bat bowl wicket keep and field as well as you. Just don’t put him on the boundary at OCCC, as he won’t see the ball. Fear not Mr Tash, for my dog also struggles with Red on Green colours and everyone still likes him to some extent. 

The Crabbies loving Club Captain. It’s a little known fact that, in the year of 1894 our Kev (who had just turned 20 at the time) played against the famous writer Rudyard Kipling. Kev gave Mr Kips a gentle outswinger to warm himself up – Kips stretching more than Kev in his later years on the physio table – until he steamed in from his five pace trundle and bowled Rudyard with a corking in-swinger on just the second ball of the innings. When Rudyard had returned to the pavilion and was asked how he had got out the writer muttered that it had “swung like a banana” – inspiring Kipling to base Kev on The Jungle Book’s very own King Louie, the King of the swingers.

King Louie is now the proud leader of the Woodham Wolves. Kev, the Alpha, is not one to back down from any challenge – so much so that controversy was sparked after his marriage to Louise who now found herself in a pickle. Marriage was supposed to signal the end of Kev’s cricket career and plans to retire had been formed in a proposed contract of sorts, where watching the boxset of countryfile and trips out to boot sales were on the agenda for married life. But Kev, taking the contract his new wife had drawn up and, in true wolf fashion, chewed it to pieces, picking up his Yorkshire tea box and setting off for pheasant fortress.

Sadly now, in the Autumn of his cricket career (if he was 20 in 1894 he is over 140 years old – crikey!) it appears that our skipper has a touch of forgetfulness about him. In a recent game against Havering CC, after finishing his over, the skip launched the ball over to the other side of the field as Cam, confused as ever, proceeded to retrieve it. This momentary lapse of reason has also been evident in the skip who is quite confused as to whether he is a batsman or a bowler. At this club you can’t have both and so have to choose – which makes it difficult for our Kev who has a HS of 142* with the bat and decent figures of 5-20 with the ball. Nifty. Thank god his fielding ability is below village standard or we might of lost our beloved skip – snapped up by some Premier division Club. Alas, the leader of the pack is a true role model, and with the respect and backing from all of his men they would follow him out to a badly cut wicket on any day of the season.