Essex v. Worcestershire at Castle Park - Day 1

Well, the weather seemed reasonable enough at 8.30 this morning: some cloud but not too dull, and a prompt start to the match at 11.00, I said to Dad as we proceeded through Castle Park.

Me and my big mouth.

As soon as we walked into the ground, paid our £15 admission and sat down, the players took the field, and the Essex batsmen were at the crease for the first ball of the day.

And then it rained.

At the first sign of a drop they were off the field, without even a ball bowled.

Had I been in the persona of Bruce Banner, I would have turned into the Incredible Hulk at that point.

Apoplectic with rage and despondency, it didn't look like the sort of weather that was going to move away either, and I braced myself for a day of watching covers coming on and going off, of umpires making inspections and further inspections, and of the whole day's play eventually being called off by teatime.

Happily however, I sought refuge (and a cup of tea) at my sister Catherine's flat, not too far away from the ground, and came back when - Hallelujah - there was a break in the weather this afternoon. Essex had already lost two quick wickets, soon to become a third when I strolled in to watch. But Worcestershire, already suffering from a weakened bowling attack with the knee injury of Simon Jones (see June 2nd blog), were further hampered when another bowler (in the starting line-up), Matthew Mason, injured a shoulder after just one over and was out for the rest of the match.

Come the late afternoon, when the fiery Kabir Ali inevitably had to be replaced, the junior bowlers weren't up to the challenge, and Mark Pettini and James Foster were able to capitalise with a stand of 114, followed later by a breeze of an innings by Ryan ten Doeschate (that's "ten Derr-Skar-ter") who notched up a fifty in no time, and with the help of the tail he had amassed 81 not out - 68 of them in boundaries.

Essex were 269-9 at the close (BBC report). All in all, a pretty good resolution to the day in view of how disastrous things appeared at first.

Catherine dropped in later on when the gates were open during the evening session (as too, she noticed, did David Elliott), but the highlight for me was Mum popping over to the outer perimeter of the ground (to give Dad his latest copy of Private Eye that came in the post), and getting a good look at what she described as the "bubble coach" for the Worcestershire team, and spending as much time at the game as cricket widows like her would want (or need) to.