Episode 39: On Facing The New Ball In Life

Welcome back to The Sunday Service!

This week, we hear the latest tales from the Parish XI as the match is called off for a 'incident of the non-striker's end'.

We also hear the continuation of our newest feature of the Service, 'Cricket in Three with WG', thanks to WG Rumblepants.

We hear the first Reading from Mr Gompertz, as he consults two passages from The Good Book in his Lesson on 'Seeing Off The New Ball In Life'.

And, finally, the congregation are in good form this week, so listen out for a couple of cricket-themed hymns!

And finally, our good friends at Newberry Cricket have another terrific competition, this week giving away their brand new 360 cricket shoes.

Check out all of their top equipment here

To enter, just answer the question correctly and send it in to:

- sundayservicecricket@gmail.com

- Twitter / X - sundayservice22

Transcript

SPEAKER_02 0:26

Hello everyone, and thank you for joining us on the Sunday service. It has been another busy week in the parish, and we're all hurting after our brave boys gave their all but came up short, leaving a nation dreaming of what might have been. And I'm not talking about the Ashes series or the Test Series against New Zealand. Oh no! I'm talking about the World Cup Association football. And to think this afternoon we could have been settling down in the village hall to watch England in the World Cup final. Although, given some of the behaviour during the semi-final, perhaps it's for the best that we're not. Nevertheless, the old man would have been leading the singing of that, I have no doubt. Wouldn't you, Churchy?

SPEAKER_04 1:12

Don't cry for me, Argentina. The truth is I never left you. Very, very disappointing young George. And like you, I am not talking about the Ashes series, but Harry, Jude, Declan, etc. You can now return home knowing knowing England are looking for a new test match coach, and the sale of barbecues and lager have gone through the roof.

SPEAKER_02 1:42

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sunday service. Oh yes, we are back, and as I said, it has been another busy cricketing week. I now feel much more settled in the parish, and have put some of my own personal touches to Gravenley Cottage, making it feel much more homely. My signed photo of Graham Gooch is the first thing you see when you enter the cottage, and my Nassa Hussein bedspread and pillowcases now adorn my bed. I joined members of the parish for the watching of the World Cup semi-final, and all I will say is that I learnt some rather colourful new words from members of the Women's Institute when Argentina scored their winning goal. Anyway, how was your week been Churchy?

SPEAKER_04 2:37

Extremely busy my week's been, young George. Monday was all about paperwork and trying to get my stopcock to work. Tuesday I was on the Motorways of England, and Wednesday I visited the parish of Nottinghamshire to watch Surreyshire's T20 quarter final against the outlaws of, of course, Nottingham. May I just say the River Trent, where I sat for a while, has some very big ducks. After the game I drove back on deserted motorways listening to the World Cup semi-final. Thursday I was still trying to fix my stopcock. And Friday I was at the Oval Shire for Women's T twenty Finals Day, which was a magnificent occasion. And yesterday was a day of rest, British Open watching, and men's T20 Finals Day watching. Now, before we find out what's on today's service, will you all be upstanding, please, for our first hymn, All Things Bright and Beautiful, where George and myself will sing the first lines in a double capacity. All things bright and beautiful. All things and small.

SPEAKER_02 4:22

WG RumblePants is back with Cricketin' 3 with WG. And I shall be reading from a passage of the good book for today's lesson about seeing off the new ball of life.

SPEAKER_04 4:35

And thanks to our friends at Newbury Cricket, we have our competition where you can win another piece of magnificent cricketing equipment, namely their 360 cricket boots. And don't forget you can get in touch with us. Just email SundayserviceCricket at gmail.com or tweet at Sundayservice22.

SPEAKER_02 4:55

So lots to get through, so let's get started with church's Sunday Sermon.

SPEAKER_04 5:24

I trust your cricketing week has been No Wait. Would you please be upstanding and bow your heads for a moment's silence for our association football team as another World Cup dream is no more, has ceased to be, has missed the ball and kicked a bucket, and we will all have to wait another four years before we can say it's coming home. Thank you. It has been an extremely busy week in the parish. Monday was spent at Boycott Vicarage, cleaning, tidying, doing paperwork, inspecting my bush. I'm afraid to say Sir Geoffrey's batter started to wilt in the heat, causing even more giggling, and making my parish visit. Young Mr. Gomberts popped in to go through the parish diary, and I informed him I would be away in Nottinghamshire on Wednesday for Surrey's T 20 quarter final. A look of panic crossed his face, and he told me I had better see Ted in the Badgers Googly about his plans for the Association Football World Cup semi-final on Wednesday evening. So I made my way to see Ted and found the Badgers Googly closed with a sign on the door saying, Not open until Wednesday due to renovations. I knocked on the door and after five minutes of waiting, Ted's head appeared from an upstairs window. I asked him what was happening, and he told me it was all a big surprise for the parish. I told him there would be no surprises without my say-so, and he came down to let me in. What greeted me was, to say the least, a surprise. In the middle of the Badger's Googly was a hot tub, and the pub had seemingly been split in two. On one side were cardboard cutouts of Henry VIII, Winston Churchill, Bruce Forsyth, Bobby Moore, Dame Thorahead, and W. G. Grace. On the other side were many cardboard cutouts of Madonna, through the various stages of her pop career, including the naughty ones, and a massive hand with God written on it. I asked Ted what he was thinking, and he told me one side was great at British icons, and the other side were, and to use his words, cardboard cutouts of that cheating genius who knocked us out of the 86 World Cup using a hand. Ted told me he would allow parishioners to throw rotten fruit at the cardboard cutouts of Madonna whilst watching the game, and they could buy the rotten fruit from behind the bar with all proceeds going towards the parish birdbath. I asked him why there was a hot tub in the middle of the pub, and he told me it was for the ladies of the WI, who had told him they would like nothing more than to be sitting in a hot tub whilst watching Jude Bellingham. I think they might have said watching in a hot tub with Jude Bellingham, but I wasn't going to quibble. I did tell him that his efforts were excellent, but the throwing of fruit at Madonna was not something I could allow, and he somewhat reluctantly said he would put the cardboard cutouts of Madonna away. I left Ted muttering to himself something about me being no fun, and I retired to bed. Tuesday was spent doing my cricketing stats and hearing Mr. Gompert's first reading from the Good Book and his musical idea for the choir, namely a reworking of Madonna's Papa Don't Preach. You will hear his first reading in a moment, and I did ask him why he'd chosen Madonna, and he told me, and these are his words, not mine, because of that cheating genius that knocked us out of the 1986 World Cup using a hand. I just smiled and said that sounded wonderful. Wednesday was a very long day. I left the parish early and drove to the homeland of Robin Hood and Little John for Surreyshire's T twenty quarter final. I arrived early and sat on the banks of the River Trent and watched the enormous ducks on the river. I then made my way to Trent Bridge and witnessed a pulsating encounter which saw it all come down to the last over. Surreyshire had been in control of the game, but it was the outlaws who eventually won, propelling themselves to finals day in Birminghamshire on Saturday. I wandered back to the Honda Civic circa 2013 and found the roads of England empty. It seemed everybody was indoors watching the football, and I must admit, I listened to the game upon the Honda Civic state-of-the-art wireless system. When Anthony Gordon scored, I was so caught up I missed my junction, adding an hour and a half to the journey, and so I heard Argentina score two late goals and the dream was over for another year. I returned to the parish in the early hours of Thursday morning, fearing somebody may have gone on the rampage with frustration. My money was on Mrs. Watts and Mrs. Bartholomew. But all was peaceful apart from I did notice a cardboard cutout of Madonna during her Vogue stage sticking out of the parish pond. Thursday morning, young Mr. Gomberts popped in for a cup of tea and told me all had passed off without incident in the Badgers googly during the football. He said the Parish Eleven took a particular liking to the cardboard cutout of Dame Thora Heard, and he said the only moment of crisis was when Mrs. Watts attempted to jump into the hot tub, slipped on takeoff, and got a long John's caught on Ted's hand of God and was left dangling in a slightly precarious pose. Anyway, he said everyone was extremely well behaved and Ted was very happy with how the evening went. Friday, I made my way to the Oval Shire for the women's T twenty Finals Day. The opening semi-final was between Surreyshire and the Blaze, and congratulations to the Blaze on a magnificent occasion which saw them lift the trophy on Friday evening. The Parish Eleven were due to be playing the Greengrocers of Great Gurgling on Saturday, but sadly Mr. Gomberts had received a call from their captain on Friday saying a batch of plums in Great Gurgling had caused there to be an outbreak of what he described problems of the non-strikers end, and they would have to rearrange the fixture. I decided that we would have a next session anyway and some fielding practice. Young Mr. Gomberts set up some cones on the parish green, and the eleven were put through their paces. Sexy Rex worked very hard on his glove work, which meant he missed every single catch. I hit two him and then spent the afternoon taping his gloves because it worked for Jack Russell. Mr. Jackson was particularly lively during fielding practice, but does need to work on his pick-up and throw. He gets to the ball quite quickly, but it does then take him a while to bend and pick the ball up, and due to his poor eyesight, his throws tend to go anywhere except at their intended target. In fact, we had to apologise to Mrs. Peters, as Mr. Jackson unleashed one particularly errant throw and knocked her off her bike. She was fine, but she did say to Mr. Jackson, hit the keeper's gloves. We retired to the Badgers Googly, which I am pleased to say looked back to normal, and Ted said he was refusing to put the England-France game on because nobody remembers anybody who comes third or fourth. Wise words from Ted, so we all watched the men's final of the T twenty instead, which seemed a much better idea. So, my friends, a busy and momentous week once again. In a moment you will hear Mr. Gompert's first reading from the good book, and then his musical reworking of Madonna's Papa Don't Preach. I notice, Ted, you have brought your cutout of Madonna going through her American pie phrase with you today, and it is a pleasure to have her here at the service. And Mr. Smith, it is nice to see Bruce Forsyth alongside you this morning. So, my cricketing friends, have an excellent and solid week, and for anybody who is interested, the final round of the open will be on in the Badgers Googly this afternoon. Until next Sunday, bat well everybody. Bat very, very well.

SPEAKER_02 14:38

As one of the greatest all-rounders to ever play the game, a longer tribute will be coming next weekend. But until then, here is Churchy reading a passage from the autobiography of Sigarfield Sobers, detailing the moment he walked off the pitch with Malcolm Nash, having just hit him for six sixes in a row. The first player to ever achieve this feat.

SPEAKER_04 15:04

And as Malcolm and I walked across the field from the dressing rooms towards the interview room together, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Malcolm smiling to himself. I asked him what he was smiling about. I want you to understand that I'm with you, he replied. I don't mind that I'm at the wrong end. I'm in the record books with you.

SPEAKER_02 15:24

Thank you, Churchy, and we will hear more about the great man next Sunday.

SPEAKER_04 15:30

And now it's time for Cricketin Three with WG, and all I have to say is take it away, WG.

SPEAKER_03 15:40

Hello everyone, just Rumble here, and welcome back to Cricket in Three with WG. My number one this week is the mistaken captain, Major Nigel Harvey Bennett, and Surrey's famous 1946 bulls up. Ladies and gentlemen, settle in for one of Cricket's finest post-war farces. It's 1946. The war is over. The oval has been used as a prisoner of war camp, and Surrey are trying to get their house in order. Their first choice captain, Monty Garland Wells, drops out after a family bereavement. The committee decides the man for the job is the dashing Major Leo Bennett, a well known club cricketer with a proper reputation. Enter stage left, or rather through the pavilion door, Major Nigel Harvey Bennett, different Major, different Bennett. This one had played exactly three second eleven games back in nineteen thirty six and otherwise did his cricket at club level. He had pumped in simply to renew his membership. The pavilion clerk sees the name, the secretary and chairman are conveniently together, and someone says the immortal words Ah, Major Bennett, just a chap we've been looking for. How about captaining Surrey this summer? Nigel, presumably wondering if he'd wandered into someone else's dream, said yes. And so began the season of the accidental captain. He had never played a first class match in his life. Now he was leading a side that included Alec Bedser and a young Jim Laker. He batted gamely enough, a fine seventy nine against Kent and three other fifties, finishing with six hundred and eighty eight runs at sixteen. But on the field he was, in the immortal words of one critic, utterly lost. Classic moments included asking the new boy Laker to open the bowling. I'm an off spinner skip, said Laker. Yes, replied Bennett. But you bowl quick too, don't you? A seething Alf Gover eventually grabbed the ball himself. Another time the new captain rolled the shiny new ball back along the ground from cover point, blissfully unaware that one was supposed to preserve its polish. Beds' verdict was characteristically blunt. We soon found out he wasn't much good. Surrey finished eleventh, their worst position ever at the time. By the end of the season the experiment was quietly ended, and Errol Holmes was recalled as captain. Nigel Bennett returned to club cricket and obscurity, while the man they actually wanted, Leo Bennett, later played a few games for Northamptonshire. And that in one glorious administrative howler is how Nigel Harvey Bennett became the only man in cricket history to be appointed a county captain because someone got the wrong Major Bennett. My number two this week is the humble cricket groundsman. It's worth remembering that the most important person at any cricket ground is not the captain, not the coach, and certainly not the chap in the commentary box who's forgotten his sandwiches again. No, it's the humble groundsman. They arrive while the rest of us are still deciding whether to have one more cup of tea. While we're still in our pajamas, they're already out in the half light, pushing that roller up and down like someone trying to iron a very large, very green shirt. There's no crowd to cheer them when they get the stripes perfectly straight, no slow motion replay of a particularly neat bit of scarifying. They just do it, and then they go and have a cup of tea of their own, which is almost certainly in a flask and has been since nineteen eighty seven. They're the only person at the club who knows exactly how much water that pitch needs, the captain thinks he knows, the club chairman definitely thinks he knows, but only the groundsman actually does. And when they get it wrong, which, let's be honest, happens about as often as Geoffrey Boycott giving the batsman the benefit of the doubt, they don't blame the weather or the soil or the fact that someone left the covers off in two thousand nine. They just nod and start again. Rain, they treat it as a personal insult. You'll see them out there in a monsoon dragging those covers like they're trying to put a duvet on an angry bull. Other people run for shelter. Groundsmen run towards the square with the grim determination of someone who knows that if the wicket gets wet, tomorrow's play will be sponsored by the phrase It's doing a bit. And at the end of the day when the last spectator has gone home and the players are already in the bar telling each other how well they batted, the groundsman's still out there, with a fork and a bucket of loam, repairing the damage we've all caused. So the next time you see that beautifully striped square, or a pitch that's doing just enough, but not too much, raise a quiet glass to the man or woman with the mower. They may not get their name on the honours board, but without them there wouldn't be a board to put names on. And my number three this week is club cricket, the real heartbeat of the game. It's sometimes said that the heart of English cricket is Test cricket, or perhaps the County Championship, but I'd argue that's not quite right. The real heartbeat of the game is heard every Saturday afternoon on club pitches across the country. Club cricket is one of the few places where a teenager opening the bowling can share a dressing room with someone who's been playing since Boycott had hair. The accountant, the teacher, the farmer, the student. They all simply become teammates for an afternoon. The score matters, of course it does, but not as much as the friendships. Nobody remembers every league table from ten years ago. They remember the impossible catch. The hundred scored against all expectations. The tea that somehow featured six different varieties of cake, and the story is told over a pint afterwards. In an age of franchises, television contracts and ever shorter formats, Club Cricket quietly carries on. It produces county players, introduces thousands to the game for the first time, and gives aging broken down cricketers like Churchy a reason to keep turning up every weekend. Perhaps that's why club cricket matters so much, is where cricket stops being a spectacle and becomes a community. And as long as there are village greens, volunteers marking the boundary, and someone reminding the umpire that tea is ready. The game in this country will always have a healthy future. And that's my cricket in three with WG this week.

SPEAKER_04 22:10

Thank you to WG, and he will of course be back next week. And now, young Mr. Gomperts will read from the good book.

SPEAKER_02 22:27

If I may start with some parish announcements. Firstly, my sympathies for the Parish Eleven who had their game called off this week, although I'm informed that you made good use of your afternoon and conducted a training session. On an unrelated note, I wish a speedy recovery to Mr. Hardings, who suffered a broken nose after he misjudged a high catch and with his hands shielding his eyes from the sun, was unable to see the ball until it was too late. Thank you to those who partook in my first windsurfing lesson. We had a lot of fun and have made a good start, although, if I may suggest, the two-piece worn by Mrs. Watts may have been fashionable, but it wasn't particularly suitable to the activity. Wetsuits now must be worn until you are capable of staying on the board for more than ten seconds without falling in. And finally, thank you to Ted and everyone in the parish for making me feel so welcome at the Badgers Googly. Given the circumstances of England playing in a World Cup semi-final, everybody was very well behaved, and given that England have now lost, I hope that Mr. Peters won't have to maintain his superstition of watching every match in just his boxes. As you may be aware, I am new to the parish. I am opening the batting, so to speak, in this new chapter of my life. I've taken my guard, assessed the field, and now I'm ready to play myself in. I must be careful, however, not to give my wicket away, yet conscious to score runs when the opportunity arises. Facing the new ball is one of the most difficult skills in cricket, and metaphorically speaking, that is true of life as well. When you are in a new environment, there will be difficult moments. There will be moments that ask questions of your technique, your mentality, your commitment. But every week that passes, every over you face, it gets easier, and you become more comfortable, more experienced as you get your eye in. And once you've seen off the new ball, you can really make your mark. I now invite you to get out your edition of The Good Book, which you can find in the pockets on the back of the pew in front of you. And today's reading, if you would like to follow along, comes from edition 1992, page 42, and it talks about the mentality of seeing off the new ball. It is the call for tone and style which interests me, for in the context of England performances in recent seasons, it is character and not style that was the requirement. The two are not synonymous, though it has often seemed to me that in England style is mistaken for character. By character I mean metal a combination of ability, mental toughness, and judgment. Style is apparent, and it has a place in, amongst other things, the art in the art of batting, and in fashion and in good manners. Nevertheless, when inner reserves are required, it is character and not style which sees one through. So, each new chapter of life requires you to dig in, to see off the opening bowlers, to wear off the lacquer. You might have to wear a few, and have the bruises to show for it, but from there on in, you can make the most of it. We turn to examples of young Glenn Phillips and young Darrell Mitchell of New Zealand. Young Mitchell was hit fourteen times on the hand, arm, body, and head before he raised his bat for his sixth test entry at the Bridge of Trent last month. Young Phillips dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged out the way of the incoming missiles of young Joffra Archer for a full hour before the close of play. He even decided to make matters more challenging for himself by calling for sun protecting glasses midway through. Unfortunately, his theory of if I can't see you, you can't see me didn't work, and he was hit on the helmet next ball. Yet, he stayed put, and was rewarded the next day with his maiden test century. It is clear to see, therefore, that the key to seeing off the new ball of life is that no matter how challenging the situation becomes, you must stay put. So let us return to literature as I read another verse from the Good Book. This is from The Book of Bradman, Chapter 2, Innings One. The skies were grey, and the pitch was covered not. The ball bouncedeth according neither to the line nor the length on which it pitched. Come hither, I said unto my batting partner. These next few overs are going to hurteth quite a lot. We must protect our wicket as if a newborn child. Thou shalt get hit many times over, but these bruises will be victory scars. As the first bull from the bowler's hand was delivered unto me, I kneweth it was going to hurt. And then the bull hit me on my body, and lo, it hurt quite a lot. But as I let out a shriek and clenched my teeth, for the pain subsided not, I heard a voice from Mother Cricket. She told me, Fear not, for every blow you receive in honorable fashion will be paid back twofold in runs when the ball is old. And so I knew. Once we survived the initial onslaught, the runs would floweth. And lo, floweth they did. Here endeth the reading. The Book of Bradman also shows us the importance of getting through the initial tough period. You may get hurt, he mentions, but in time you will be stronger. The runs will floweth, to borrow his phrasing. The longer you're out there, the easier it will become. And whilst it may seem difficult to remember this at the time, I promise that if you get through the opening spell, you will see it for yourself as you cash in. So remember, don't rub it. Just turn around and re-scratch your mark. In the Book of Bradman, most apparent was the trust and belief in Mother Cricket, so I invite you now to join me as we bow our heads in prayer. Dearest Mother Crickets, we thank you for providing our Parish Eleven with blue skies and a shining sun. Unfortunately, we were unable to use said conditions due to a case of dodgy plums. We thank you nonetheless for providing the facilities on which we practised, although due to our own faults, we remain no better than we were before. In swingers and googlies, Amen. Just before we sing our next hymn, a reminder, as Mr. Church mentioned, that the final round of the open is on in the Badgers Googly. Thank you for hosting, Ted. Allow me to finish with one final quote from Alison Utley in 1948. He said, Cricket and church were alike holy. The flight of the ball, the swift, graceful movements of the men, the swing of the bat, were as full of praise as the hymns we sang. So please stand as we sing our next hymn, Amazing Grace.

SPEAKER_00 31:00

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SPEAKER_02 31:41

So thanks to our friends at Newbury Cricket, it's competition time. We have a pair of 360 cricket shoes to give away. Now do you like these, don't you, Church?

SPEAKER_04 31:51

I most certainly do, young George. Comfortable, cool, and I do like the option of having either pimples, which I suffer from in my younger days, or spikes. Just a reminder, a pair of Newbury 360 shoes up for grabs, and all you have to do is answer the cricketing question. If you get it right, your name goes in the hat, and if your name is pulled out of the hat, you win the pair of 360 boots. So it's very simple. Here is last week's question. So Pakistan arrive, or may or most be here, I think, for the test series against England. We have no idea who will be captaining England or coaching England, but Pakistan do have a new test captain. The question was, who is that? The answer was Babazam. So if you sent that answer in, your name goes in the hat. So here is this week's question. Tammy Beaumont retired from international cricket at the end of the Lord's Test. But what was her highest test score? If you think you know the answer to that one, just email SundayserviceCricket at gmail.com or tweet at Sundayservice22. And our friends at Newbury have released an official Sunday service discount code. You can now use the discount code Sundayservice15 and get 15% off goods at www.newbury.co.uk, excluding Bispoke Bats. So why not treat yourself to some premium gear and quality willow?

SPEAKER_02 33:19

The sun is low and the shadows are long. That can only mean one thing. It's stumps for this episode of the Sunday service. We will be back together next Sunday, July 26th. So get that date in your download diary. And don't forget you can still get any cricketing woes off your chest by emailing us at SundayserviceCricket at gmail.com or tweeting at Sundayservice22.

SPEAKER_04 33:46

So thank you all for listening. If you like what you've heard, please rate and review us, as it really helps others find the podcast, because as I always say, we want us to join together and be one big, happy cricketing family. Thank you to WG Rumblepants and, of course, young Mr. Gomperts for his beautiful reading. And thank you to our friends at Newbury Cricket for all their support and their magnificent competition prize.

SPEAKER_02 34:13

Until next Sunday, this has been a George Gomperts and Mark Church Production. Have a magnificent cricketing week, everybody. And remember, we have another chance in four years' time.

SPEAKER_04 34:26

Wise words, young George. Wise words. Goodbye.