Report by Daniel Mortlock:
The pre-match scene at the Blockley rec. was a study in contrasts: the Marines squad consisted of fourteen fit young men who were all keen to play and competitively throwing around a rugby ball in the blazing midday sun; FAS had a numbers advantage, with perhaps twenty nominal players in attendance, although they were competitive only the sense of trying to come up with the strongest case to sit out today's game. James Houlder joined the rugby warm-up and perhaps found his own competitive instincts aroused when one of the Marines took his top off to reveal a six-pack and huge biceps and it briefly seemed Jamie was going to respond in kind . . . but he demurred, perhaps realising that he'd have been bringing arms to a guns fight.
Given our general enthusiasm for spectating over playing, it was predictably welcome news that we wouldn't have to perform umpiring duties: fixture regular Crofty had agreed to stand the whole game; and RMCC had procured the services of an extremely officious ex-Army umpire, who was kitted out as if for a Test match in immaculate black-and-white uniform, topped off with a utility belt to which various mysterious devices were attached. These included a pair of two-way radios, one of which was ceremoniously handed to the scorer for the purpose of avoiding the whole "bowler's name!" ritual - although in the end the sound was so unclear we had to double-check the content of most transmissions by more traditional methods. A second difficulty was the almost irresistible temptation to take the piss, perhaps with fake interference from the local taxi company ("Raj, can you make a 3pm pick-up from Kingham station?") or favourite pop culture references ("Broadsword calling Danny Boy, Broadsword calling Danny Boy, over"), although our instincts that such japes would not have been appreciated were rather confirmed when said umpire informed the scorer that, as the Marines had been practicing on the square, FAS would be awarded five penalty runs.
While we didn't actually start our innings on 5/0, such runs would have been most welcome: we didn't make it to double figures until the 7th of our 30 overs as the Marines' spearhead, Ben White, emulated Jamie Dare's perfect spell of 5 overs, 5 maidens, 2/0 at Fladbury last year. Jamies Houlder and Dare then knuckled down to rescue the innings, although it was slow going: Jamie Dare scored from just one of the first 20 balls he faced. Jamie H's eventual score of 45* retired (off 45 balls) was particularly impressive given the agreed retirement score of 30 - we're so unused to playing retirements that we forgot to monitor the batters' scores - and so Jamie D can consider himself unlucky that he was called in promptly when he'd made it to 32* (off 44 balls). Mike Harrop (27* off 30 balls) and Harry Houlder (21 off 23 balls) continued the good scoring, and a boundary off the final ball of the innings took us to 150/5, a total we hoped might be competitive.
That it was not was quickly established as our combination of inconsistent bowling and tired fielding was no match for a strong Marines batting line-up. Only Jamie Dare (1/13, still bowling at top speed) and Daniel Mortlock (1/11) even went close to keeping the batters below the required rate of 5 an over; we conceded 28 wides and byes; and we put down - or just plain missed - half a dozen catches. Several of these were off the bowling of an increasingly frustrated Harry Houlder (2/33 from 3 eventful overs), who added salt to his own wounds by completing two excellent catches himself.
At the 15-over drinks break the score was 82/3, and there was some nonsense talk of still being in the game; the fact that we really weren't was demonstrated decisively as the Marines required just half their remaining allotment to complete a comfortable win. Our tragi-comic efforts were summed up rather well by the third last delivery of the game (and of the tour): Ed Crossley induced a top edge with his first delivery, the ball spiralling out towards the packed off-side cordon, where any of about three players could have caught it; but Ben Kittow wanted it, announcing "Kittow's!" and settling confidently under the ball; Ben looked calm and laser-focussed as he closed his hands around the ball . . . only for it to somehow pop out and onto the grass. Fortunately four leg-byes two balls later ended the game an facillitated our escape to Mill Dene for the end-of-tour dinner, where Crofty announced that from now on FAS and RMCC would be playing for the Baz Dare trophy - perhaps that will motivate a better performance by us in future years.