Joe-Joe's Reports

GREETINGS: Hey my Sisters brothers! I want to start by stating that this was far and away the BEST REUNION YET!!!!!! To see my beloved sisters and brothers in one place again was indeed something to behold and is beyond awesome! The genuine camaraderie between good hearted brothers is the stuff of legends, and to see the older generation show us all how to grow old disgracefully was a sight for sore eyes.

Today I wake up saddened that I’m not amongst you all. Typical with life is that we don’t fully appreciate everything until it’s gone!!! But this reunion was special, topped off by winning the cricket and then eating and dancing the night away. I want to go back to Saturday! Every year we muse how thick and fast the reunions are, and we slightly complain that time goes too quickly, but I for one want the next reunion to speed up and happen as quickly as possible! Yes, as you all know, I have been badgered to do another one! Also ………. there’s a great chance it will be a combined one with Ipswich Girls!!!!! Yes!!!! Girls!!!!!! They have not had a reunion and the headmaster is keen for us to do a joint one!!! Now that would be something right!!!

I want to thank everyone who attended and brought their unique personalities honed on the fields of Woolvo. Can I ask those who took pictures/videos to post everything on both sites. Love every single one of YOU and see you next year. And love to Tanja Sadler for being the best umpire in the Sadler tradition.

MATCH REPORT: Well well!! What can I tell you! I’m happy to report that the class of 75 - aided and abetted by a Mötley Crüe of all sorts - conspired brilliantly to trounce the opposition and give them a long-deserved hiding!! Hooray hooray hooray! Where do I start to construct this historical story of epic proportion? Recent movies such as "Avatar" and" Odysseus" have nothing on the folklore that was created yesterday afternoon - in the salubrious settings of the great Woolverstone Hall! To a man, we stretched our rapidly deteriorating sinews to disproportionate levels, motivated by the lessons learnt on the sporting fields of the pulsating Church Field, The Pavilion, The Perimeter, The Grassy Knoll behind the Balustrades and Pin Mill.

We arrived carrying some injured soldiers, namely our one of our star players: Master Wayne Benite, and yours truly. But we had in our midst the inimitable Sir Nick English! We knew 40 years ago that he was a master supreme batsman, and we were about to find out whether his prowess had diminished, but judging by his cherubic youthful looks and his not lost cheeky banter, we held faith. We were once again led by our wily master tactician: the Machiavellian scribe David McAdam Freud. His simple but cunning plan was to let the opposition bat first and then to chase whatever score was gained, but to do so by earmarking our 4 top batsmen and encourage them to get 25 runs each, and for the ensuing batsmen to run themselves out if they found themselves playing test cricket instead of 20/20! And this would enable us to be able to put back in our 4 more than capable batsmen to rack up some more scores. But, as you well know, with all plans there is always a fly in the ointment. That came in the shape of the ever incorrigible Sir Frank Stuckey. Yes I know, no one is surprised! And in quick fashion we ascertained that our four master batsmen were: Sir Simon Fry, Sir David McAdam Freud, Sir Nick English and Master Wayne Benite. We were quite confident that our plan would work.

The game began. We had some great bowling combinations, lead by Master David Newman and the master of all trades: Sir David McAdam Freud. We agreed that having close fielding to the plate would be at odds with our aeging limbs, with none of us being able to scurry around the field as the young hares we once was. So we put everyone on the boundary to limit them scoring fours and sixes. It worked,and we reduced them to getting 140. Our front two bowlers were aided handsomely by newbies master Giles Mumford and the shockingly brilliant Sir Kevin Astley, who had never played cricket and made those of us who had increasingly irritated by the naturalness or how the supreme sportsman acquitted himself! And the less said about Masters Garfield Hackett's and Ben Volpeliere's atrocious bowling, which at times in their aim resembled the trajectory of a blind person ....

So now we knew that we had to get 140 runs rapidly. We put in our master batsmen Sirs Nick English and Simon Fry, and everything was going perfect. They quickly racked up a healthy score and after three overs we hit an impressive 30 runs, therefore getting 10 runs an over, well above the 5 runs per over we needed. Unfortunately at some point Sir English in his haste to get to 25 got out at 21. But we had no fear when Sir McAdam Freud took to the crease and continued the perfect plan with aplomb. Our redoubtable Sir Fry reached the hallowed 25 runs in about four minutes flat and then had to retire per the rules! Now at some point, and I’m at a loss how he did it, the impish Sir Frank managed to twist my arm to put him as the number 4 batsman, convincing me that he would hasten the proceedings in an even faster rate and keep us in tune to the master plan.

Did he f*^k!!!!! Not only did our run rate rapidly decline, but he blatantly refused direct orders from our captain and an increasingly exasperated yours truly, and at one stage I was literally screaming at him (much to the bemusement of the opposition) to come off the effing pitch. Did Sir Frank listen? Absolutely not. He told us calmly that his one run an over was indeed in keeping with our master plan, and that we were not to worry because mathematics was his strongest suit???!! Thankfully after Sir McAdam Freud reached the hallowed 25 we were able to put in the master blaster: Wayne Benite, who, as I had earlier stated, was carrying an injury, in fact a broken foot. But in typical fashion he increased the run rate rapidly, though still in the company of our very own Geoffrey Boycott, who, admittedly, indeed managed to look good with some magnificent shots, but all were singles that were proceeded by his snail-paced lumbering runs between wickets. Honestly, it was painful to watch, and all of a sudden a gentle period frama became un unnecessary sci-fi cliffhanger. And then something miraculous happened. All of a sudden, we needed only six runs to win. Was Frank right?? Was my mini hyperventilating Osca- like performance in vain? Were the hare and the tortoise about to take us to victory? Suddenly, Master Wayne passed 25 runs, but the over had not finished so he could continue until it did. He was now facing the last ball of that over and needed only four runs to win; what do you think happened???? Bada bing, he smashed the ball to the boundary and just like that it was over!!! There was a mixture of elation and also knowing that the never humble Sir Frank was going to dine on his being right for the next insufferable 365 days! But to give credit where credit is due, Sir Frank Stuckey was indeed right!!

We won!!!      SCORECARDS