Sunday morning, early: the rain was falling, the wind was blowing and on our pitch two teams of 13-year-olds were playing out a desultory Twenty20 game. The season had begun, at last.
We won the toss and bowled, a decision seemingly vindicated by a miserly opening spell by Jack and Daniel, who between them collected three wickets in 12 overs for the cost of just 21. Their number five injected some energy into proceedings - the wicket, muddy underneath its wet surface, was very slow - but at the 20 over mark, half their allotment, they had just 60 on the board, as Liam and Matthew combined to fastidious effect. Then the rain came, in harsh gales. We staggered off, some to secure chips from the famous Stokey hatch, and then staggered back on: it was premature. The rain, now a drizzle, had quickened up the wicket and soaked the ball: 20 came from the next 11 deliveries, before we hurried off again under another assault.
Resuming when the rain had actually stopped, and the innings now shortened to 35 overs, we switched into containment mode. Finlay and Shomit, tasked with the job of retrenchment, bowled admirably, taking regular wickets - Shomit luring their number five into an ill-advised reverse sweep, Finlay deceiving their adhesive number four into a chip to extra cover - before the innings' standout moment. Number seven lifted high to cow corner where Jonny, in a wonderful and proleptic channelling of Andre Russell, jumping out and back onto the field of play, caught, released and recaught the ball. Jubilation. Hitterless, they dropped and ran (often suicidally: there were two run outs) their way to a final total of 160-9. More than we might have liked - by a conservative estimate, eight catches went down - but chaseable.
So it seemed when after 15 overs we'd reached, with minimal danger, 68 for no loss, Finlay and captain combining nicely. But Finlay fell and the skipper stalled: by drinks, with 15 overs to come, we were exactly halfway. Captain and Ellis departed soon after, and with Shomit and Jonny new to the crease, the required run rate started to rise: seven overs left, we were 57 short. The next over changed everything. Facing their slow left armer - with figures so far of 5-1-7-0 - Jonny bent his front knee and swung: six, six, six, each hit comfortably clearing the boundary. The chase was on.
Shomit and James Waddington were soon winkled out, but Jonny was undeterred. Joined by Liam, and with the side needing 30 from four overs, Jonny calmly and methodically dispatched anything remotely full to or over the boundary, in a display of remarkably clean hitting. An air of inevitability surrounded him - when a high catch was put down, it was dramatic but weirdly unsurprising - as he brought the runs required into single figures. And then, gloriously, sent the third ball of the last over sailing over deep midwicket's head, in what may have been the biggest hit of a burly bunch. He finished 58*, with six sixes, three fours and a whole lot of glamour.
