The day began with a pork pie avalanche and ended as one of the finest I have been privileged to witness in almost half a century of watching cricket at the St Lawrence Ground.
Beginning with the calamity amidst the cold meats. In the continued, lamentable, absence of Scotch eggs, I scoured Sainsbury’s shelves in search of an acceptable substitute. Identifying pork pies as fit for purpose, I took a packet of two from the top of the pile. No sooner was it in my hand than the one below, imperceptibly at first, began to slip towards the front of the shelf. This triggered movement in the pies on either side and beneath, and so on. I suspect the Sainsbury’s staff of having greased the packaging for their own diversion. In no time at all pork pies were cascading onto the speciality sausages below. It seemed that nothing could prevent the spread of the conflagration to the individual quiches. A vision of myself being dug out of a mountain of delicatessen products spurred me into action and by forming a barrier with an arm and both hands equilibrium was restored. At this point, as they used to say in the News of the World, I made my excuses and left.
That aside, the day was joyous. I moved upstairs in the Underwood and Knott Stand and discovered that padded seating had been installed, presumably using recycled padding that previously lined the walls of the committee room to ensure that EW Swanton did not harm himself while raging at a player not having his shirt tucked in, or something equally grievous. They were the most comfortable seats I have ever sat in at a cricket match.
At the start of the day Kent required 386 more with nine wickets remaining—actually eight, as Rob Key’s broken thumb meant that he was not at the ground. This against the runaway Division 2 champions. The hopelessness of the situation meant that those of us there before the start of play felt it necessary to excuse our presence to each other. “It is a nice day…we’re on our way somewhere…last day of the season…I live in New Zealand.” There was no need really. The joy of watching cricket on a perfect day was enough and nobody ever knows what winter will bring.
The wickets were expected to fall as swiftly as the pork pies. Brendan Nash was out in the second over, pushing forward at Jarvis to be caught behind. The top deck of the Underwood-Knott adjoins the home rooms, so I can report that, despite his West Indian status, Nash’s deployment of language remains that of his native Australia.Ben Harmison made seven before playing back to a ball from Smith that kept low, to be trapped leg before. Sixty for three (four really) and plans were being made among the faithful to fill the afternoon.
At the other end Sam Northeast played fluently, and it was good to hear that he is staying with the county. It was a surprise when he was leg before to Luke Procter for 70, the batsman’s reaction communicating a belief that he had hit it. At this point 276 were needed with five fit wickets to fall. A mid-afternoon Lancashire victory seemed no less inevitable than it had at the start of play.
Sam Billings came out to join Darren Stevens, who had made more than Northeast in their 82-run partnership. I had been impressed with Stevens’ intelligent aggression a couple of weeks before, as he saved the game against Essex (http://mylifeincricketscorecards.blogspot.co.nz/2013/10/kent-v-essex-st-lawrence-ground.html). Now he bustled once more. There was a cloud over Stevens this blue-sky day; he is being investigated over shenanigans in that mighty contest the Bangladesh T20. Not, let’s be clear, for match-fixing or accepting a brown paper bag with that intent, but for failing to report a shady approach. The worst case outcome would make this day in the sun his last, but then he’s the sort of player who always plays that way anyway.Billings supported Stevens well through a partnership of 71 in 17 overs until he chased a wide one from Smith to be caught behind by Davies. His self-recriminatory rant continued well after he returned to the rooms. 205 to win with only three fit men to follow the next man, 20-year-old Adam Ball.
Stevens reached his century by tapping a full toss precariously close to mid on, the only false shot of his innings. It came from 111 balls and was a masterclass in matching the right shot to the right ball.
It is hard to identify the moment when the flame of hope began to flicker. Perhaps when the score passed 300 with no further loss. Stevens slowed down a little in this phase; moving from 100 to 150 took 71 balls with only two fours. Ball moved along at a similar pace, making his first half-century in first-class cricket. The county has abundant young talent, if only it can protect it from bigger clubs with deeper pockets.
By now it was clear that a draw had become the least likely result. If Kent were not bowled out, they would win. On the upper deck we began to shuffle to towards the edge of our padded seats. Then, a slight commotion in the rooms. Rob Key had arrived, ready to bat if needed.
We should also be clear that Lancashire were, as the young people say, up for it. Had their fate depended on the result, it is probable that the young slow left-armer Parry would not have been kept on for so long, but any doubters should have noted an edginess among the fielders and how the quicks steamed in with the new ball. Besides, Lancashire would be unbeaten for the season if they stayed ahead here.
Ball was out leg before to Tom Smith for 69 with 57 still needed. Tredwell was next in on what turned out to be his last appearance as Kent captain. Stevens had gone up a gear, striking Smith for six over long on just as I was explaining to my Blean correspondent that they needed to be circumspect against the new ball. Stevens was working on the basis that the fewer balls Lancashire had left to bowl, the less chance there was of the bloke at the other end getting out. He got singles at will and unfailingly hit anything remotely loose to the boundary.
The eighth over with the new ball, bowled by Oliver Newby, was the most gripping of the day. Tredwell was caught by Smith from the second ball, and Mark Davies was leg before from the fifth. With 27 still needed, Rob Key walked to the middle, broken thumb protected as best it could be. Here was drama on a Shakesperian scale. Every time the ball made contact with any part of the bat that was not the absolute middle Key recoiled in pain.
Stevens moved into finishing mode. Key made three from the 11 balls he faced; Stevens got the rest from just 12 balls. He ramped Jarvis for six, unconventional, but still the right shot for that ball, and reached his double century just before the end, finishing with 205 from 218 balls including 21 fours and three sixes. Only once, against Worcestershire in 2004, have Kent scored more in the fourth innings to win a match.
It was a marvellous innings. The best I have ever seen for Kent? Better than the 151 not out scored by 42-year-old Colin Cowdrey to take Kent to their first victory against the Australians in 76 years in 1975? They are questions worth asking, and perhaps considering in another post sometime. What’s more, it was the second time this year that Stevens had taken Kent to a victory in the face of the laws of probability. In June he made a 44-ball century (equalling Mark Ealham at Maidstone against Derbyshire in ‘95) in a successful 337-run chase against Sussex. A Kent hero.
A perfect day.