The bonus was that the clouds of midges which habitually patrol this charming pastoral scene, and swarm irritatingly around anything stationary i.e. umpires, were not present. They did turn up later with the sun, but not in their usual numbers or persistence.

The regretted absence of Sherlockians skipper Peter Horrocks because of a family bereavement meant that the redoubtable Nick Utechin took command. He won the toss, Gold Bats skipper Bob Miller not at all put out on being invited to bat.

This, it should be explained, was the official toss, as recorded by the umpire’s 50 pence piece – a coin not in vogue in 1895, the year in which these games are set.

Our Remembrancer, Norman Murphy, by tradition supplies an 1895 penny, but he was not immediately within reach. In due course the vital coin was passed to the umpire, and the ceremony repeated for the benefit of the video-camera.

Andrew Chapman, who was a Gold Bat at Dulwich, was in charge of this operation – a rare divergence from the mood of 1895. We await results with interest (see details at the end of this commentary).

Around this point, it was noted by the honourable Gold Bats, rightly disdainful of anything remotely suggestive of a “professional” approach – heaven forfend! – that the Sherlockians busied themselves in pre-match exercise, fielding practice, and other preparation surely at variance with the spirit of the age.

Our gallant lads stood elegantly by until time came to stride to the tented field, when Mark Wilcox, hero of many a battle, was seen to be wielding his bat with some discomfort.

This, he informed concerned inquirers, was a case of real tennis shoulder – a much more upmarket ailment than anything as ordinary as (lawn) tennis elbow.

The pitch was immediately perceived as being of uneven bounce, and fellow opener Michael Savage countered by standing well outside his crease, at one point taking fresh guard a good two feet down the pitch.
It took gallantry to stand up to the attack of youthful Alec Edmondson, whose stamina and speed were considerable for one of slight build. He explained later that he learned his cricket at Rugby, where they toughen the boys at that code of football.

Wilcox had the bad luck to find the ball stop on him as he played a perfectly acceptable forward defence, lobbing an easy catch back to the Rugby man.

Paul Rush did not trouble the scorers, as they used to record, but Michaels Savage and Jackson (Mike Jackson – there’s a name for a Wodehouse cricketer!) steadied the ship, reaching 19 and 17 respectively before going lbw.

The fielding was enthused and depressingly effective (from a Gold Bat viewpoint), players stopping the ball with all parts of their anatomy and keeping the score down to a modest 69 at lunch, six wickets having fallen.

Lunch is a feature of this event, a full 80 minutes being allowed for its proper celebration, and the many Sherlockian supporters who donned Victorian dress for the day made a charming picture in their picnic groups. By contrast, vittles were what mattered to Gold Bats and their friends.

And everywhere was Dutch journalist Patrick van Ijzendoorn, taking notes for his report to the big-selling Dutch weekly magazine, VPRO Gids. Patrick had been studying the life and times of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, was invited to the match by a Sherlockian, and walked three miles from High Wycombe station to attend (he did get a ride home to London from kindly Wodehouseans. We are nothing if not hospitable.)

The Bats’ tally looked like subsiding to modest proportions, but Chris Read, who made his initial impact with our team as a bustling pace bowler, showed what can be done with broad shoulders and an aggressive determination to hit.

Fortune as we know favours the brave: there was much evening debate as to whether Chris had been dropped four, six or eight times.

A couple of chances were distinctly catchable, but edges to slip were rocket-like, and you felt relief that leaping skipper Utechin twice survived with all fingers intact as the ball clipped his grasp and went on its fiery way.

There was a mild frisson among the fielders when our No.10 batsman strode purposefully to the wicket: “Heavens, it’s a woman!” (They should of course have said, “lady”, or at least “gentlewoman” to conform to the era).

Lesley Rush faced up coolly, and after a slightly fortuitous sweep got her off the mark, she repeated the shot with growing certainty, and then struck a firm blow over the head of the short mid-on to demonstrate the range of her strokes.

She fell to the cagey Lobster of the Sherlockians – Charles Miller, who appeared with a genuine moustache (he sported a fanciful artificial version in the first game back in 2001). This was grown specially for his portrayal of Doctor Watson on the Sherlockians’ Swiss excursion, just completed. Charles’s idea of a Victorian gentleman’s cricketing outfit included not only collar and two ties (one for trouser upkeep), but also a jacket.

He is the only bowler this umpire has seen to bowl for hit-wicket (as distinct from seeking to have the batsman caught at slip or in the deep, stumped, and so on). Lesley succumbed, swivelling back so far to play a well-pitched ball that she crashed her bat down on the stumps, to cries of “Bad luck”. An unusual dismissal was perhaps one way of marking her birthday.

The Gold Bats totalled 136, in 37 overs, Chris Reid with 68 making exactly half the score – a doughty performance, all done with a grin. Edmondson sent down 13 overs and took four wickets for 19, while Lobster Miller had three for 30.

Captain Miller imaginatively began with an all-Collins opening attack – son Glen, tall and stringy, and father Mickey, slightly less tall and distinctly un-stringy. Glen pitched the ball well up and gave the batsmen nothing to hit, while Mickey’s experience was apparent in the variations of his left-arm slow-medium deliveries.

Bowlers were backed by a distinctly vocal field, the comment, “Well bowled, mate” coming so frequently that your umpire thought he was back on his native soil – where everyone is “mate”.

Runs came slowly and wickets a little more swiftly, so that the Sherlockians were distinctly behind the clock at tea, this perhaps being the reason that it was agreed, on their approach, to cut the time off from 40 to 30 minutes.

Our lobster, Robert Bruce, must have been watching Lleyton Hewitt at Wimbledon, as he chose to bowl with his cap back-to-front (this man’s inventiveness is notable: he has in the past bowled in a straw hat, or simply bare-headed).

Lobs always cause unease among even the most agile batsmen, and a good catch at backward square leg by Paul Rush gave Robert his usual wicket.

Paul did much chasing – usually to the longest portion of the boundary – throughout this innings, much as he had done at Dulwich a week earlier. Presumably he was glorying in his youth: he explained that he had few weeks to go before life began at 40, and he intended to make the most of what remained of his thirties.

Opener Stephen Levinson, who had ploughed a resolute furrow in what he reported to be his second match in 13 years, hit a cracking cover slash that was just about the shot of the day. But after a sound stand of 48 with brother Andrew, he went lbw to Bob Miller for an invaluable 35, and the end looked near.

Not so. James Utechin joined Dad, and many of us wished to be, like the new batsman, 15 again. Utechin the younger was stumped immediately by the alert Michael Savage – but the special match regulations do not allow for a first ball dismissal, and the reprieved James learned quickly.

Back foot anchored, he put his bat resolutely to everything sent down, using his height to get his front foot down the wicket and block, block, block.

Dad succumbed finally, to his great disappointment, after an innings of patient resolve, caught at silly point by Glen Collins off Wilcox’s slow leftarm teasers, and the last man came in with just three balls to face before the last over. He survived.

Captain Bob brought the entire field in around young Utechin, tossing the ball right up to the blockhole in the bid for a false stroke.

It came – but Glen Collins, so close (again at silly point) that he had no more than a fraction of a second to respond, put down a catch off the fourth ball, which hit the ground after being diverted in and out of the startled hands of Lesley Rush at slip.

James played the last two with admirable poise, and raised his arms high in triumph at achieving a brave draw. The Sherlockians had batted through 49 overs for their 86 runs – but it was never dull because of the keenness of play.

Glen Collins sent down 13 overs, conceding just eight runs for one wicket, while Bob Miller’s ten overs, with seven maidens, brought him the pleasing tally of two wickets for four runs.

So the series stands at two draws, two wins to The Gold Bats, and one to the Sherlockians. Roll on, 2006.

Gold Bats 136 (C.Read 68, M.Savage 19, M.Jackson 17; A.Edmondson 4/19, Poxon 2/57, H.Edmondson 1/19, Miller 3/30) drew with Sherlockians 9/83 (S.Levinson 35, A.Levinson 26; G.Collins 1/8, M.Collins 2/15, Bruce 1/6, Read 2/11, Miller 2/4, Wilcox 1/0).

– Murray Hedgcock (whose derby bowler, as worn by detectives in Victorian times, adds gravitas to the Sherlockians match).

Andrew Chapman is selling copies of his DVD of the match against the Sherlockians. There will be some typical extracts with the website account of the match. The DVD costs £15 + p&p (UK £1, elsewhere £3) or USA $30 incl p&p.

Those interested in buying copies (47 mins. and a good account of the match, with interviews) should write to

Videoso UK, 30 Ludlow Road, Church Stretton. Shropshire SY6 6AA
or telephone: 01694-725554
or e-mail: achapman@clara.co.uk