SIXTHS SHARE PREMIERSHIP WITH HIGHTON
Jacob Harmon bowled the over of his young life as the Sixth XI held on to tie the grand final against Highton, both sides sharing the premiership.
Jacob was handed the ball by skipper, Tony Devlin, in a monumental show of faith in the young fella’s skill and nerve.
He proved to have ice in his veins as Highton sought the four runs to win, nine wickets down, their gun on strike.
First ball, a dot, second ball, the gun gets a single. Game on the greybeards on the boundary whispered to each other.
Three more dots to the number 11: three to win, two to tie, one ball to go, pins heard dropping all over Grovedale.
The last ball yielded a frantically run two, the game was tied, for a moment, it seemed Highton would be the winner based on the home and away season, but no the premiership was to be shared – the right result for a game of hard wicket cricket that had everything.
Batting first, the Two Blues had the early setback, Good Greenie, as Morgo always insisted on calling him, lbw. Then Patch and Sunny, got things going, Patch making hay (they can’t put fielders way out there, can they?) while Sunny shone solidly at the other end.
Some Harmonising (Ben 35, Jacob 13), a dozen each from Sav and the skipper and that final, all-important boundary from Patch in the finale to his player of the match knock took the score to 172.
The Two Blue Meaneys then got to work on the Highton top order, Sam holding two of his three catches for the day off his brother and old man, as well as bowling the juicy fullie that went into the safe hands of Ben Harmon.
The fielding was becoming a highlight, even among those who stubbornly, even mulishly, refused to have their athleticism completely dimmed by anno domini.
Amid all this dashing and darting, Good Greenie more than made amends for the duck - three wickets and a stunning catch.
Included in that three wickets, one he will happily share the taking of with Sam Meaney: hiding out of the boundary under his floppy sun hat, he safely intercepted the ball after the batsman thought he’d whopped a six, then slammed his bat into the ground, twice, in disappointment.
Neither catch, both beauties, won the match as the aphorism demands, but they won a premiership, aided by a young bloke who wasn’t fazed one jot by bowling the last over of a grand final, including two balls to a fella who had scored centuries playing First XI cricket.
So, there was much to be celebrated, and it was - even at 2am, with a toasted sandwich. Well batted Sav.
