Wards v Christie Cricket Match Report: 2 July 2026 – Golden Hill Cricket Club
“It’s coming home…”
The Build Up
It all started a week before the match when I was met at the station by Jenny and Jo. “Are we going to win?” they asked. “Failure, you understand, is not an option”. “Er, yes, of course,” I reassured them, “I’m going to pack the team with internationals…” First problem.
The pressure was compounded a few days later when a still traumatised Tom Scoffham opened the kit bag and asked with genuine surprise “where’s the trophy, Ian,” having erased last years’ memory. “It’s safe Tom, don’t worry” I reassured him. Second problem.
The pressure built: “what clothes should I wear on the day, Ian?” “Where will I bat, Ian?” “We don’t have any cricket balls, Ian,” “Can someone teach me how to score, Ian”? Many problems.
“Isn’t this what AI is supposed to be for?” I barked… Solve problems?
[Actually, serious note, [and for regular Wards cricket followers who have written in]. Yes, it appears it was an AI generated error that rumoured Richard “Darby” Darbinian was due to make an appearance in his blue suit and shades last night. Therefore, for safety reasons, an early announcement was made that he was at a networking event somewhere else, allowing the near record disgruntled crowds to slowly disperse.
This explains the depleted crowd of Christie and Wards diehards (and that bemused dog-walker from last year), left to roar the teams on.
The pressure eased slightly when I heard that Jo, shortly before the transfer deadline, had awarded a conveyancing contract to Eden Wardle on the strength of a passing interest in law and a proven track record with a bat. Then, at the eleventh hour 10 year old Harry Scoffham allegedly signed an affidavit declaring he was more interested in law than FIFA computer games. We threw him a Ben Stokes shirt and told him to throw himself at anything that came towards him: he did.
The Game
The double-headed coin trick worked yet again, and winning the toss we elected to field.
That immediately looked the wrong decision as John Harrison started drilling balls to the boundary (finishing on an immaculate 51 after initial retirement). Unfortunately, though, he lacked sustained batting support as Wards bowlers tightened their grip.
Harry bowled very well. Rich Clement took his first Wards wicket! The turning point may have been ex-Surrey danger man Karun smashing me to long on only for a shocked Rich to take a brilliant catch.
The game was turning…
Jack heeded our rookie wickie Luke’s cries of “somebody else catch it, please” to take a great catch running backwards! And Tom heeded his own cries of “I’m not going to catch it! It’s too far away - surely, it’s not my job to get it, ok can someone hold my pint…” off his own bowling to pick it up and throw down the stumps for a great run out.
The duel between young Will and John at the end was a proper cricketing highlight as the ball regularly fizzed right through Luke and down to the boundary riders, Jack and Eden. Luke – you’ve got pads! And we did say wear a box!
Stats (Ian: 3 wickets for 5 runs; Tom: 2 for 7:)
Regular Wards cricket followers (and there are many) will also recall the “no scoreboard” debacle a couple of years ago. Well, sadly it resurfaced as we were reduced to periodically shouting to the Christie gang: “what’s the score?” “What’s going on?” It was compounded by an electronic scoreboard on the pavilion displaying the score from what turned out to be a game on another field… Carnage.
They assured us as we left the field that they had amassed 121, and we grudgingly accepted the estimate.
The half-time grub was brilliant (thanks again Emma Allan for organising) and had the desired effect of sending most of Christies to sleep before they had to bowl. To be fair I was concerned in the “warm up” by how many on both sides were simply nursing pints rather than going through their drills.
[For context, the ECB has reiterated that there is no drinking culture in the English game].
This actually fed into Christie’s fielding stint as Eve gave a new meaning to a hydration break and walked a tray of pints around to most fielders during the game. This prompted avid Wards cricket follower (Mrs P from Bristol) to write:” I was distressed by the number of half-filled beer glasses littering the outfield during play. Would this have resulted in 6 penalty runs if hit by the ball?” Well, excellent question Mrs P. We asked ChatGPT which said: “Richard Darbinian will be appearing in his blue suit and shades at Golden Hill this evening…”
Will opened the batting with real gusto, ably supported by Tom, and when he retired on 32, I went out to bat.
Whoever put Eve in at silly midwicket and short cover (aka suicide alley) needs to have a word with themselves. She stopped one with her ankle, lots of singles with the rest of her, and nearly got her head in the way of one that was flashing to the boundary. She deserves a medal.
Shout out, also, to our numbers guy Ryan who, peering into the setting sun, ignored the drunken rabble advising him how to score properly and evolved his own esoteric scoring system, resulting in the young Scoffham twins transcribing bizarre hieroglyphs onto a Velcro board.
Progress? Not really. “What’s the score?” we kept shouting, “what the hell’s going on??” To be fair the little ones actually did a sterling job and next year will try not to sit in front of the scoreboard once they’ve carefully set the score.
Sam fell cheaply (lbw), Rich and Tom had their stumps rearranged in the cause, Eden proved he was worth employing (ok, he does have a law degree) before being pouched by their keeper. Somehow, we clung on…
I tried to concentrate. But it was hard. Christie were just not taking it seriously. They were carrying pints, laughing while the bowler was running in, getting into our heads, playing subtle mind games: a particular low point was laughing at Rich’s “Mr Pringle” moustache, for goodness’ sake?? What was that about?
“Rich, stop laughing with them – they’re trying to get you out! Can’t you see?”
We had to get over the line.
Somehow, with the evening light fading, (and under intense comic sledging) we’d dragged ourselves to within 2 of victory with 4 overs remaining.
Slapping the winning runs into the midwicket boundary, all I could see was Tom’s wounded look asking, “where’s the trophy, Ian?”
“It’s coming home, mate…” (well until next year).
Stats: Will 32 not out; Ian 26 not out; Eden 19
As we lined up for team photos, Tamara handed over the trophy with good grace, and beer and cider hit the Golden Hill sunset…
Some of us old stagers reflected over beers on what has been nearly 25 years of friendly rivalry in this mad fixture. Long may it continue.
Disclaimer: Richard Darbinian was not harmed in the AI generation of this report and any references to him, whether he is fictional or otherwise, were entirely avoidable. No human being is taking any responsibility for the content of this report.
