Somerset v Glamorgan, Royal London One-Day Cup match report

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Sam writes:

It rained on the drive from Cornwall to Somerset. We had left our 18-month old son at home, and brought along our 34-year-old friend instead. He turned out to be slightly lower maintenance.

The seating rules were not clear, so we plonked ourselves behind the bowler’s arm underneath the new pavilion.

Taunton has a lot of pavilions.

Before leaving the house, my wife had asked if I had washed the strawberries. I said yes. Mistake number one. As noon approached, she turned to me and said ‘Well done on washing the strawberries’. I told her I hadn’t actually washed them. Mistake number two. A mini argument ensued. I decided to sulk by not eating my lunch until 2pm.

Our friend suggested we “do a circuit”. My wife didn’t know what that meant. We explained the concept of doing a circuit. We left it until the break between innings. Mistake number three.

There were lots of pictures of Ian Botham and Sir Viv Richards on the walls. “How are we going to cope when Sir Viv Richards dies?” I asked. Nobody seemed to know.

We visited the shop to buy a mini cricket set for our son, then the bookshop to pick up a cricket-themed romance novel for £1.


I discovered a programme from the 1992 England v Pakistan Test at Edgbaston. I once owned that programme, aged seven. Leafing through, it brought back some overwhelming emotions. If I had a therapist, I would have been straight on the phone to him.

I had brought along some Waitrose Country Slices, to much ridicule. “They look vile,” my friend said. All the more for me, I thought gleefully. I ate all six.

In the afternoon we started feeling sleepy and went in search of refreshment. I ordered a latte and discovered a tea bag hidden inside. “That can’t be right”, I said. Nobody seemed to know.

Marcus Trescothick was wandering around the perimeter. “Must be nice to walk around like you own the place,” my wife said.

Back in Cornwall, we went for a curry. We skipped starters and poppadoms. I had prawn saag and lemon rice. My wife offered to drive the rest of the way home so I could have another pint.

We finished the day scrolling through YouTube trying to find footage of that time Gareth Batty and Peter Trego had a fight. We couldn’t find it. We ended up watching a video of Jade Dernbach showing off the contents of his kitbag.

Send your match reports to If it’s a professional match, on no account mention the cricket itself. If it’s an amateur match, feel free to go into excruciating detail.


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  1. As ever, I am full of sh questions.

    Why is the concern about coping when Sir Viv dies not extend to Ian Botham’s hypothetical but inevitable future death?

    Is it related to the fact that only the ‘Master Blaster’ has been granted his full honorific in the match report?

  2. Nice words as usual, Sam. Interconnected, smart words, as our leader of the opposition would no doubt describe them.

    I wonder, however, if you are mistaken on the matter of Marcus Trescothick orbiting the perimeter. I would counter that, due to a combination of legendary status and substantial mass, it is in fact the entire ground that rotates around the great Banger?

    I had no idea you lived in Cornwall. This would make Tauntontown your first class cricket home, would it not? It’s a far shorter drive than seeing the youbears would entail.

    By the way, your wife sounds like a keeper. Maybe it’s the massive gloves she likes to wear.

  3. Top stuff Sam.

    It’s worth pointing out that Sam Jr is clearly a test-standard batsmen of the future, maybe one of the all-time greats. His foot movement is immaculate, pushing forward to the pitch of the ball, almost certainly with an on-drive in mind. Four runs looks a certainty. I’ve rarely seen such perfect execution of what is a very difficult technique, especially in a toddler.

    Still needs a bit of work from the waist up, of course. If I were him I’d tend to look at the ball a bit more, and possibly show more of the face of the bat to the bowler. Hand positioning is unorthodox, but it can be worked around if that’s what works for him. There’s also a small gap between bat and head that could leave him exposed if the ball nips back a fraction.

    Nonetheless, he’s made a fine start, and you should be very proud of your coaching to date Sam.

    1. I’d give the youngster credit for developing an innovative technique for batting on a pitch with that much grass on it, Bert; the lad’s clearing looking to play the ball as late as possible and with soft hands, to deal with some extravagent lateral movement.

  4. Superb match report, Sam.

    Does your wife have a name, other than “my wife”? Perhaps she ticked a box for no publicity, hence your reticence. She sounds like a smashing lass, offering to drive so that you could have another pint.

    A “cricket-themed romance novel for £1” is a terrific bargain. Unless the book is complete rubbish, of course, in which case it is a waste of £1 and several minutes if not hours of one’s life. We really do need a book review from you as part of our due diligence on the matter; you understand my point I’m sure.

    1. I’m confused. Does that mean you’re both married to the same person, despite the fact that Ged isn’t married?

      1. Ged is married.

        To Daisy.

        We liberally scatter our names (albeit pseudonyms) around this site and indeed other places.

        I’m pretty sure that my wife (Daisy) is not the person Sam refers to as “my wife” when he writes,

      2. The last time I described Daisy as “your wife”, you corrected me and said you weren’t married.

        I know that’s several years ago, but what could possibly have happened between then and now that means she is somehow magically “your wife”? I mean come on Ged, I’m not an idiot or anything. People don’t suddenly start being “your wife” one day.

      3. You got married! Congratulations, marvellous news and all that. Did you get the ice cream chisel I sent? It was the last one in B&Q and I knew you’d both love it. No? But I addressed it to Ged, c/o Waitrose Posh Food Counter, St Johns Wood, London. I thought that would be sure to reach you.

        Did you wear a dress?

    2. I have had plaudits for books I haven’t even written. This is due to the fact I have the same name as a successful writer of cricket books. I don’t protest too much. I wonder if he gets more than my annual c. £21.50 in PLR. I cash this fee and spend it on a glass of red at Lord’s.

      1. £21.50 per annum in royalties? You were lucky.

        A glass of red for £21.50 at Lord’s? You cheapskate – surely you deserve better than mere house red.

      2. I suspect I will be bringing along a bottle of Pinotage next year if I’m successful with my MCCC SA test and ODI tickets. My father-in-law is across from the Cape and my cricket chum is South African, so set for good company if that comes to fruition. Biltong set for another rarity in Lord’s fare along with eels apparently.

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