It was 1992 and early May; the cricquet season had just begineth. We - CGSFB - were all set to face our Auld rivals Sir Joseph Williamson's Mathematical School Rochester or the Math School for short (or just "scum", as we were wont of calling them). As with all our games against other Kentish schools the game was scheduled for a Wednesday afternoon. 'Twas a gloomy half-caste day, it had been raining all morning, this had now ceased, but the cloud cover was still prominent and temperature had not lifted above an unseasonably cold 13 degrees centigrade.
As our school was too tight to hire a coach or minibus, 11 intrepid Bothies set off at midday from Maidstone Road, Chatham, on a 1.5 mile trek, to our Rochester rival school. Of course, en route, we prepared for the big match by stopping off at the chippie and Paki shop on Patterns Lane and stuffing our faces with fish and chips, ice polls, chocolate and numerous bottles of cheap imitation colas and lemonades (i.e. Rola Cola, Macaw, Panda Pops and Pespi). We arrived at the Math School tired from our journey and feeling sick from our feast. We changed into our whites (or creams really) and headed for a net while our skipper, Nick Hill, tossed up with the Math School toff of a capitaine. Obviously, we lost the toss and the Math School elected to bat on a lifeless wicket. Mr Gardner (or Boris) informed us that it was not the usual 25 over aside limited overs match, but a "timed match", with start being at 1.30pm and close being 6.30pm. We did not fully understand this, but soon grasped that this was real cricquet, the like of which our heroes Bothie, Goochie and Gowers played in Test Matches against the Cons and Stanis.
So, the scene is set. The Math school innings is best forgotten from the Chatham point de vue. With the pitch as dead as door knob Harmie's (Drury) pace and bounce (even at the tender age of 14, he was somewhere up around 93mph) was useless and, as he was carrying the Chatham bowling attack, by 4pm the Math had declared somewhere around 265/4.
CGSFB came out around 4.15pm and had 2 hours 15 minutes (probably about 45 overs in quick children's overs) to get the 266 needed for victoire (just a notch under 6 an over). Alternatively, they needed to bat out until 6.30pm to claim the draw. The sun was now starting to appear and the pitch was quickening up. As usual, Mr Gardner made sure that those rubbish players that were too useless to bowl, batted first (unfortunately, they were equally as poor at batting). So, with the likes of Alan Williams and Barry Walton coming in up the order, it was no surprise when with still over an hour and three quarters to bat, Chatham were 36/6. A lost cause, you may think.
"Incoming Batsman: Harmie" blasts out the PA announcer (obviously, there was no PA announcer at a 3rd year cricket match; I have just added that for effect).
Harmie, as well as being the best bowler in the team, was easily the best batsman, but down the order due to political correctness; he was a pragmatist though, even he would not be able to instigate a run chase of over 240 from somewhere around 35 overs, especially with a load of spastics still to come in. He set his stall out early, he would be putting that big size 7 down the wicket and blocking for his life. It wasn't long before Chatham were 43/7 as Barry Thomas decided that the best approach was to try and smash every ball out of the ground for 8; off he went, caught at mid wicket.
"Incoming batsman: Hoggard (Welsh/Vince)" the (fictional) PA announcer blasted out with relish.
Harmie goes up to the incoming batsman and Kurt Cobain lookalike:
"Hoggie, we need 223 off of 30 overs here; we have no chance of victoire, my good friend. Do you remember the great football film 'Escape to Victoire’ with Silvestre Stallone, Ricky Villa, Eusebio and Michael Caine playing both himself and Bobby Moore. Well, in that classic film, the allies were down 4-0 v the Nazis at half time and with great guts and determination they came back to draw the match 4-4. They were not greedy, as had they gone for the winner, they may have been got by the Nazi sucker punch on the break and lost the match. They drew the match and walked off the field and to freedom as heroes. Do you want to be heroes like Caine/Moore and Stallone? I'll be Stallone; you be Moore (with longer hair). What say my friend? Dig in; stay pragmatic; we can draw this match!"
After Harmie's great Churchillian battle speech bringing back memoires of Dunkirk, the Math School bowler approacheth the wicket: Hoggard facing his first ball.... Crack, straight drive for four. Harmie shouts to his batting colleague:
"Good shot Hoggie, but remember, we are going for the draw, so you just need to dig in and block them out for the next 95 minutes".
Next ball, Hoggard drives to a fielder in the covers:
"Yes" shouts Harmie.
A nano second letter he realises the situation and the hypocrisy of his call:
"No, go back old son."
The cloth-eared Hoggard carries on running, in comes a decent throw, the bails are taken off by the keeper and Hoggard carried on running to the dressing room “run-out”.
"Silvestre (Kempie)" exclaims the (fictional) PA, now not even bothering with the "incoming batsman". Silvestre walks to the wicket.
Harmie (now dropping the role of Escape to Victoire Silvestre Stallone; as having two Silvestres out there would be just too damn confusing) gives his little pet talk to the new batsman (dropping the Escape to Vistoire analogies that fell on death ears with the preceding batsman). Silvestre seems more receptive to Harmie's instructions. So, at approximately 4.58pm, with just over 90 minutes to bat and CGSFB now 49/7, needing over 200 to win and the last two recognised batsman out there, the game appears lost.
Silvestre and Harmie plug away. They are still there at 5.28pm, Harmie gets off the mark with a single. At 5.39pm, Silvestre gets a run. The Math are starting to get a little rattled, when at 5.47pm, Harmie gets his second and the partnership's third and final run.
There's a cry from some of the chavs (i.e. Barrys Thomas and Walton; and Jimmy Peach) from the Chatham balcony:
"What are you two idiots doing out there, you divs. We're never gonna win if you keep blocking." It seems that the morons didn't understand the concept of a timed match.
By 6.16pm, the Math were getting really desperate, their teacher/umpire's face was becoming ever redder and contorted with rage; at the other end/square leg, old Boris' smirk was growing bigger by the second. The Math had now resorted to bringing on their rubbish bowlers and tossing a few up to Harmie and Silvestre. This was to no avail, as Harmie and Silvetsre blocked, blocked and blocked again:
"No" was their only cry.
The only movements they made was to pat down the pitch after a delivery (every single delivery) and have a chat at the end of each over (about Megadrives and D-Day); both to waste a few more precious seconds. At 6.32pm the last over was bowled and our two heroes had won the day. They put on a partnership of 3 in over an hour and a half; Chatham still well over two hundred behind with 3 wickets remaining had drawn the match. They went off to rapturous applause from half a dozen of their team mates (2 or 3 of the chavs did not applaud as they thought CGSFB had lost the match and Harmie and Silvestre were culpable).
Today, some 14 years later, this story is still told in CSFSB assemblies: Harmie and Silvestre will forever be Holcombe legends....
