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Clattering of the Timbers

This was the battle of Waterloo just as the Prussians arrived, a 12th round comeback knockout, the clear leader that fell at the final fence. This was all that and more because this is Fleckney!

Yes, that's right. A match that seemed to be firmly in the Duckhunters pocket ended in last minute defeat with a collapse that would make an avalanche appear a minor snow drift. Alas, we get ahead of ourselves though.

Fleckney bowled first and bowled beautifully. The opening pairing of Little Willy and The Claw took early wickets as our very gracious and amiable Nottingham opponents struggled to get a foothold in the game. Indeed their umpire also struggled with his footing after being struck a fearful blow on the leg from a full blooded drive. After a brief respite he continued and we wish him well.

Perhaps the final total of 164 might have been lower if the opening bowlers had been reintroduced but it wasn't that kind of afternoon, and such a move would have probably kyboshed the skippers late run to five wickets which included a close catch at the wicket by the vice skipper who claimed to have known all about it(mmmmmm).

The reply seemed to be going well. 39 wanted off 9 with six wickets in the hutch became 13 off 3 with 4 men standing. Then the wheels came off the Scooter Party Bandwagon in rapid fashion.

The Claw got a shooter. The skipper grabbed his bat to play the winning hand and was making the return journey after his first ball and then Will looked on in horror some moments later as the ball agonisingly rolled back onto his stumps after his defensive shot didn't quite get the job done. Three wickets in an over meant it was four wanted from the last set with only Frank and Ben O'Reilly to get it done. Two balls later the poles were disturbed for the final time and Fleckers had missed by 3.

In the final analysis the home team had looked victory in the face and ran away from it rather like the final scenes from Carry On Up The Khyber (asking your Grandparents, kids). The weather better hold for next weekend as this roving reporter will be plenty grumpy all winter if that is how the season ends. Mind you, at least my Mum didn't come up to me and say 'Quack Quack'

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