Match report and pitch report video to follow. Meanwhile, here’s some photos from Saturday’s action at GayLords’s Glen Eden, the home of BYC in Auckland.

Mine Host Blair displays his Doosra while Dean The Scene waits in readiness for any one-hand-one-bounce chance at short extra cover.

Eric frae Lomond shows exactly why they call him the Scottish Ranjitsinhji with a classic leg glance.

“One shot, he’s only got one shot. He’s only got one shot.” Into position stupidly early with the forward press. The delivery turned an absolute mile out of the rough. I got nowhere near it.

Blair’s 4P Premium Home Brew. The real winner of Back Yard Cricket.

I am representing my country in the Auckland International Back Yard Cricket Championships today which means I won’t be at the cricket until the afternoon today. Which means I won’t be able to do the lucky handshake with Lucky Paul prior to the start of play.

Which means we’re probably doomed.

I am truly, very sorry everyone.

With The Rashes in the bag following victories in Dunedin and Wellington, the matter of The BeigeWash was still up for grabs going into the last of the three match series at The Domain, a beautiful, supersized Bedford Park of a venue, in Auckland. The Barmy Army, batting first, totalled a healthy looking 180 from their twenty overs. It had been a chastening time for the England fans’ team with the bat in previous games but here, spurred on by their captain Jock, the Barmies, after losing three early wickets, finally came good with the bat.
Following Elstow legend Alistair Milne and the late, great Tony Greig, Jock has to be the third best Scottish batsman ever to have played the game. Jock’s unbeaten half century was the first of two retirements in the English total.
A huge six off my bowling over square leg came in between two authoritative pulls for four through mid wicket. The injured Daryl Tuffey wouldn’t have bowled this bad. Neither would Daryl Hannah, come to think of it.
The Beiges fielding wasn’t as sharp as it had been in previous matches, nor the bowling as tight. The Barmies ended their innings strongly, bullying the ball to the short boundaries of The Domain and giving a possible clue as to how the Test proper at Eden Park will unfold.

The Beige Brigade’s response was predictably powerful, from the off the opening pair carried on from where the Barmies left off. The introduction of Billy the Trumpet into the attack with his deceptively slow medium pace arrested the New Zealanders progress and a flurry of wickets caused a murmur of panic in the ranks. Billy took three wickets but after Muzzy and Willy’s strong opening stance and Locky’s brilliant unbeaten 50 it was left to Jezzy and Bozzy to see their team home. Jezzy’s huge pull over square leg sealed the win, the ball settling in the adjacent woodlands. Laney, Dessy, Bobby, Jezzy, Bozzy, Muzzy, Willy, Locky, Petey, Bashful and Dopey (me) sealed the battle of the fans with this historic six wicket victory. Black Caps supporters will be hoping for something similar as attentions switch for the Test Match series decider at Eden Park over the next few days.

A big tree at The Domain, yesterday. Beauty isn’t it?

As the rain continues to cascade down here in Wellington, the range of hill tops hidden by a never ending blanket of impenetrable mist it’s hard to remember this city ever seeing sun this time last week. Some photos arrive in my inbox that jolt the memory. Dear reader, I forgot to inform you…

A life time ambition was finally realised on Wednesday 13th March, Anderson Park, Wellington. New Zealand vs England. Sort of.
Ok, I’m not a fully fledged international you realise, but an international nonetheless and I was due to play in the second of three Twenty20 matches between New Zealand’s Beige Brigade and the Barmy Army from England. At stake was international cricket’s newest prize, The Rashes.

The call up came from the Godfather of the Beige Brigade, an esteemed gentleman by the name of Paul Ford. That you see people at cricket matches in NZ dressed in beige shirts is all down to this man and his good chum Mike Lane.
Next time the camera next pans round the spectators and various visions of beige apparel leap out of the screen at you, it will be down, in some part, to the hard work of Kiwi cricket obsessives Paul and Mike.
Having seen cricket supporters from other nations collectively and pointedly align themselves with their heroes (the most obvious example of this being the aforementioned Barmy Army) Paul and Mike decided to join in with their take on things. Drawing heavily from the late Seventies Kerry Packer-era World Series Cricket and their nation’s first foray into coloured clothing (back when I would imagine beige and brown was clearly the obvious choice of clothing to people then), the lads decided there was a market for both retro and showing support for your team.
That so many others have bought into the ethos of the Beige Brigade shows Kiwis heartily agree with them. It is about passion, not fashion after all.

But it is also about friendliness and a shared love of cricket with these upstanding fellows too. Which explains how my mate Phil and I have remained in contact with Paul ever since our first encounter with them at the Test Match in Wellington three years ago.

When the call came through I answered in the affirmative immediately. Split loyalties or lack of patriotism didn’t come into it. As I see it, it I’d been given an opportunity to play cricket, err, internationally, with some top blokes in a lovely location. It’s not as though ‘Baz’ McCullum and Mike Hesson had been in contact through a series of coded messages offering me the option of enlisting in the cricketing equivalent of the Cambridge Spies. Inevitably though I did cop a lot of stick from among my compatriots in the travelling contingent when I rocked up in my whites, sorry, beiges.

The teams line up at Anderson Park before the anthems. I’m fourth from the right, stood between Woofy and Kevin. Great lads both.

Having convincingly won the first encounter down in Dunedin, hopes were high from the home side going into the next game at the Beige Brigade stronghold. To further add to the atmosphere, Paul recruited Simon Christie, a local tenor, to sing God Defend New Zealand and Jerusalem while the ever affable, ever reliable Billy The Trumpeter from the Barmy Army affably and reliably accompanied him. As the away team comfortably won the battle of the singers, I adopted the listless, uncaring demeanour usually seen in those clueless Man United players (having been told beforehand by Fergie to not betray any kind of positive emotion) when God Save The Queen plays at Wembley.

Simon Christie (no relation to Tony) and Billy Cooper (no relation to Tommy) do their thing. Very well too, it should be said.

After a couple of looseners, our captain, Brent Coffey set the tone with a decent opening over, he followed this up shortly after with a sharp one-handed slip catch at square leg. The Beige XI dominated for the following thirteen of the Barmy XI’s twenty overs. Athletic run outs by Brett Wooffindin and John Hill underpinned the fielding performance. In the last five overs, the English finally got their act together and registered something like a competitive total. Their eighth wicket partnership decided to throw the bat at everything and being charged with bowling the penultimate over I was directly in the firing line.
Following a viciously struck four through deep midwicket, a booming six over square leg was met with huge cheers for the endeavour and jeers for me. Worse was that it was in front of the England captain and his lovely wife Alice who had popped in for a stroll around the adjoining Botanical Gardens. I gloomily took my hat back from the umpire and plodded off to long off to silently have a stern word with myself.
The big hitters had pugnaciously dragged the Barmies back into the match. Credit here should also go to one of my travelling muckers, Charlie, who also batted well. To win The Rashes, the Beige XI would have to score 131 from twenty overs.

Which they did rather easily to be honest. As with the devastating effort at Dunedin,the Beige batters got amongst the opposition, emptying car parks and sending bystanders scurrying for cover. The Falconhawks trio of Nicko, Duffy and Mann did the damage, captain Coffey also enjoyed himself leading from the front as retiring out turned out to be the main method of dismissal. The Beige XI won by five wickets with an over or two to spare. Barmies captain Giles Wellington presented his opposite number, Paul The Godfather, with The Rashes trophy to great applause in the Wellington Collegians club house.

A gracious Giles presents a rather delighted looking Paul with The Rashes tub. Despite having earlier taken his first international wicket, Trumpeter Billy, in the background appears somewhat crestfallen.

Thoughts now turn to Thursday’s clash at Auckland where the home team, under Mike Lane, will be hoping to make it three from three and with it an unprecedented Beige-wash. Their ruthless pursuit of this honour will seemingly stop at nothing as my place in the team has gone to ex-Test bowler Daryl Tuffey.
I’m quite honoured to be stood down in these circumstances, to be fair. You should see the likes I’m usually dropped for at Elstow.

Ok, so I may be typing this a touch prematurely but there is no prospect of play at The Basin Reserve today. Cricket New Zealand have made a stern announcement that the match will not be called off until late this afternoon but look….

So it’s still nil-nil in terms of the series score as thoughts turn towards the third Test that begins in Auckland on Friday. A match that will be played at a rugby ground.

Cricket New Zealand have been widely panned by many for their decision to host the Test at Eden Park. The weather has put paid to the Wellington match as it did at Dunedin, so Cricket New Zealand will cop yet more abuse for scheduling the Tests after the shorter forms of the games this summer but the call on the rugby ground could prove to be a master stroke.

With the shorter boundaries at long on and long off, both teams could be tempted to chance their arm in this winner-takes-all encounter. A dream scenario for CNZ would be Baz, Roscoe, Rudders and company go crazy with the bat in the Kiwis’ first innings and they pile on something silly like 600-8 declared. England have another bad day at the office (remember that Thursday in Dunedin) and all of a sudden the unthinkable starts to happen.

The famously fickle local crowd start to trickle in, Bruce Martin, the new (albeit Kiwi) Stuart MacGill, prays on England’s bewilderment stricken collapse and all of a sudden Test cricket, in front of a packed Eden Park, is alive and well.

I don’t want this bleak fantastical foreboding to come true but, if it reignites this country’s love affair with their summer game then it will have been worth it. I’ve said it before and will do again, cricket supporters in this country here are a marvellous bunch.

They need something to inspire the next generation of Kane Williamsons and Tim Southees. Would it really be the end of the world if it came with an unlikely series win against my beloved England?

There is no worse feeling in sport than this. A Happy St.Patrick’s Day to everyone who delighted in the debacle of England’s crushing defeat to Wales in the last Six Nations game. I know there’s lots of you.

Hope kills. Sport hurts. Reality hurts more.

Tradition dictates no trip to Wellington is complete without a visit to Trisha’s Pies on Cambridge Terrace, a Steven Finn run up away from the Basin Reserve. A picture next to the Queen Victoria statue across the road with your purchase is considered to be the done thing.

Sadly, due to technical issues or through not having enough hands, I can’t do the second part. I can, however, give you a resume of my breakfast. In readiness for the day’s play at the Test Match, a hearty repast is recommended.

They don’t get much heartier than a Steak & Cheese Pie from Trisha’s.

Sizeable, thick chunks of steak are crammed in under the flaky white pastry like commuters on the Churchgate to Andheri line. In rush hour. On Monday morning.
A joyous gloop of rich, thick sauce covers the beef, while a less generous smattering of cheese adds to the flavour. The pastry won’t win any awards except for sturdiness. Its job here is as short crust shop container for the delicious contents within.

It’s gravity defying stuff, it really is. Part of the fun of a Trisha’s pie is the wrestling with the ingredients within. Shoes, pavements and chins to name but a few are all in danger of being scattered with meaty gravy loveliness as you get further and further in. Mercifully, I complete mine without spilling a drop.

Had I failed to do so in front of my esteemed dining companion, there’s a decent chance ma’am would not have been amused….

Ok, ok, ok. I’m sorry I’m having such a great time over here. I’m sorry it’s snowing and it’s cold with you. I’m sorry over here and in this beautiful country. I’m even sorry I moaned when it rained last week. You can get your own back now though.

This week is my favourite week of the year.

Best mate Eats’s birthday, Cheltenham Festival, the final Six Nations weekend, St.Patrick’s Day and the Paddy O’13 nights out.

And this year, in anticipation of the marriage between my great friend Gary and his beautiful fiancé Sinead, the lads are off to Hamburg for a Stag Weekend.

Stag Weekend? Auf Deutschland? Ohne mich? Das ist nicht güt!

Word reaches me from another cherished chum, Jim lad, that they’re really upping the fancy dress outfits as well. Salt in the wound.

Salt in the wound.

I mean what am I supposed to do? Away from the action. All this way over here on the other side of the world.

Here in Wellington.

My third favourite city. Of all time. With its harbour. And mountains. And culture. And pubs. And its women.

And memories.

My third visit to the capital of New Zealand and its like visiting an old friend. Breezing through the busy streets in contemplative mood, echoes from my previous visits here call out like siren songs.

The Irish pub on Cuba street where Johnno and I taught some German girls how to celebrate St.Patrick’s Day, the restaurant where Will, Sian and I tucked into delicious NZ lamb, the open air bar with the huge Maori doorman, biceps like pistons and his friendly un-bouncer like hospitality.

And the Basin Reserve the spiritual home of Kiwi cricket, my third favourite cricket ground behind The Warren and Lords’. Meeting Merv Hughes. Being intimidated by Merv Hughes. Styling a ‘tache like Merv Hughes. Being glared at by Merv Hughes while sporting the impromptu hairy tribute. Being intimidated by Merv Hughes.

Trisha’s pies. Mr Bun’s pies. Hell’s pizza. The lass from Mermaids who ended up sharing a dorm with us in the hostel. Breaking into the Cake Tin. Johnno’s purple fleece.

Shuddering at the thoughts of Jaegers downed with Big Red. Shuddering more because I know there’ll be one or two recurrences of that coming this week. Smiling at the big man’s rendition of Footloose on the Karaoke. Taking pride in my rendition of Delilah next to the water feature in fond retaliation.

I could go on. And probably will should you be unfortunate enough to encounter me over the next few days.

Eats, Rob, Andy, Gary, Jim, Mark, Steve. Will, Sian. Phil. I’ll miss you this week chaps I really will. Thank you for Paddy’s weeks past. It’s time to get stuck into this year. This week.

My favourite week of the year.

My cricket club, Elstow C.C. are champions of Bedfordshire. Indoor champions, but champions nonetheless. I am exceptionally proud of Cousin Tommy and the lads for their achievement. This is another significant landmark in the club’s history and is testament to a great bunch of players and the hard work they’ve put in over the last few years.

Regular readers will be familiar with DWC’s regular guest contributor, The Bury Avenue Bugle. In the last of his winter columns, he reports from the club’s victorious last indoor game of the season.

It was fitting that arguably the two most progressive ‘village cricket clubs’ in Bedfordshire, Blunham and Elstow should play out the final game of the indoor season. Both clubs, have made giant strides in recent years, with emphasis placed on ‘community’, ‘youth’ and ‘facilities’ and at the heartbeat, dedicated lovers of the game ensuring both clubs continue to develop apace to try and emulate the powerhouses of Bedfordshire cricket.
The division was extremely tight; four teams equal on points going into the last round of games, with Elstow leading on net run rate. Many a calculator and abacus had been deployed during the day’s preceding games especially as both Flitwick and Biggleswade Town won handsomely. After much algebraic logarithms, the mathematic equation was simple:
If Elstow win they win the league.

Blunham’s Nick Harding put Elstow’s batsmen under early pressure, keeping Elstow’s opening pair and the all important run rate tied down. Despite the bright start by Blunham’s bowlers, the experienced Dave Riddle soon moved to the retirement score of forty, this in the fifth over. Fellow senior pro Matt Stevens joined Tom Wisson at the crease and Elstow were 65 without loss halfway through. This pair, allied with the profligacy of the Blunham change bowlers, began to speed things up for their side. Wisson’s departure left his team 117-1 with three overs left. Dan Wisson came and went for twelve before the gloveless Phil Johnson joined the irrepressible Stevens who smote a lofted six from the last ball of the innings to finish undefeated on 32. Elstow had to defend 157-2 to win the title.

In Shabz Hussain, Blunham had a man to break Elstow hearts. One of the county’s stand out cricketers and characters, Blunham promoted him to the top of the order to get them off to a flyer. Former County colleague and Elstow captain Tom Wisson took the new ball for his team. Runs came agonisingly through the vacant slip areas and Stu Robson was unlucky with a run out appeal, indeed it was the big North Easterner who was up next. As he has done all season, Robbo turned the screw with the ball and Hussain was run out by Riddle from the last ball of the second over. Blunham were soon 29-2 after three overs, Riddle again the man; his athleticism saw Connor Heaps run out.

Dan Wisson’s sharp catch at short mid on had the opposition 30-3 off the bowling of Johnson. Then Harding, the other danger man, was the third run out victim of the innings courtesy of smart work from Robson, as Blunham, under relentless pressure from the bowlers and fielders began to cave in. Belief was about to become victory.

Elstow’s player of the season, Dave Riddle, accounted for the remaining two wickets, the first a caught and bowled chance and the second, for the sentimentalists, via a stumping from his old mucker, Stevens. Blunham had been soundly thrashed by eighty six runs, the demolition job being completed inside nine overs.

Tom Wisson lifted the trophy aloft to great cheers from the packed gallery. He was quick to laud his players for an outstanding championship winning performance and a terrific last few months. However, the triumphant season was a squad performance, with every person contributing and thanks must be extended to the players that were not playing today but have assisted the club in becoming Champions. Rani Thiarra, Ed Wisson, Rob Tebbutt, Will Wisson, Rob Leddy and of course to our long standing scorer, groundsman, President and all round good egg – Ali Milne. Also to the throngs of supporters present at any game whether 9am sharp or missing their Sunday Roasts (even on a Mothering Sunday!). Your support is hugely appreciated.
As always, though its the players that do the easy bit, it is thanks to the ‘behind the scenes’ hardcore of dedicated volunteers that helps to make Elstow – ‘Elstow’ and give us the platform to develop and grow. Huge indebted thanks to Phil, Ali, H, Ben Wisson, Paul Jackson, Geoff Couling and Will – amongst the growing youth network and support (too many to mention) that makes our club special.

The Blunham Phoenix will rise again but the day belonged to Elstow. Lustily cheered below a packed gallery, little ole Elstow (who dared to dream) had somehow ascended the elite Bedfordshire Indoor League and become champions.
Elstow is now etched alongside Bedford Town, Dunstable, Flitwick and Biggleswade to mention a few, as winners of this league – esteemed company indeed. Tom Wisson lifted the trophy amongst the Elstow faithful after some kind words from the League Chairman.
Next stop…. the nationals…. crumbs!

So that’s settled then. They only win things when I go away for the winter. Better see if I can get to The Ashes in November…

Dunedin University Oval, the summer of 2013. If you were there, you weren’t really there, man. As with all great festivals, it rained on the first day. All day. Some of the crowd stayed in on hope more than expectation. Then went to the pub. Where they stayed all of the night.
Everyone else came back the next day, Thursday, in anticipation of the event’s main act. England. The grass banks were full to the brim in anticipation of the big name’s in world cricket. Riskily, some would say over confidently, they didn’t have much in terms of a warm up act and to the delight of the thousands of locals in the Oval, their cult favourites on the undercard, the Black Caps, got the place rocking. Yet at 167 all out it was England who were rocked the most.
Having a Bruce on the bill is usually a sign of a good festival and so it proved again here as New Zealand’s Martin’s wickets in the afternoon gloom had home fans dancing in the dark. England had flopped badly and boy were the critics ready for them. New Zealand stole England’s thunder. Or one man did.

Rudders! Na na, na na, na na, na na!

Friday saw the crowd going wild for first-timer Hamish Rutherford. Upstaging the establishment on his own patch, Rutherford seemed galvanised by the acclaim from his people sending them delirious with his virtuoso performance. Still the ACDC borrowed singing echoed around the place.

Rudders! Na na, na na, na, na, na na!

A local band took up their opener’s cause with vigour. A hirsute, gothic looking gentleman clad in Biggles hat, plastic pointy ears and the New Zealand ’92 World Cup shirt led the revelling. This man was Seedy, lead singer of aspiring local rock gods, The Mainecoons. In Rutherford, the Kiwis have an unpolished diamond of a batsman. In Seedy, the Kiwis have an unpolished diamond of a frontman. His motley crew made for four days of pure phantasmagorical fun; imagine being stuck in a Kiwi cricket version of The Mighty Boosh. The heckling seldom ceased. Neither did the laughter. Seedy, Deano, Evan and Ben held their own in their battle of the bands too, the freaky four versus the might of England’s travelling vocal support, the Barmy Army. On the banks, trumpeter Billy proved to be England’s best player for the first two days as, over on the main stage, the cricketers had a shocker.

On psychedelic Saturday morning, the Black Caps’ own main man proved again to be the axeman, Brendan McCullum’s powerful performance added to the party atmosphere. England, though, had their chance again shortly after McCullum’s eventual departure to a standing ovation. New Zealand finished on 460-9.
Seedy noisily stirred the home support, while Deano playfully irked the travelling contingent. Donning firstly purple robes and a wizard mask while holding aloft a beige cricket bat, then pig mask and home made skin tight Scott Styris vest, his madcap devilish proclamations and ribald barbs accompanied every false note played by England.
Class will out and the cream of English talent rose to the top. Nick Compton and Alastair Cook’s uncompromising, longstanding duet at the top of the bill on the Saturday did for the locals. Then as the shadows lengthened on the penultimate day of the festival, Finn, a name synonymous with music in this part of the world, began to put together his cameo. It was all set up for the last day.

Sunday finally saw Dunedin live up to its Sunny Dunny name. Glorious weather abounded. Hangovers were nursed or topped up, a mellow mood abounded the sun kissed Oval. Seedy exhorted another debutant to do his best to disrupt the harmony.

Wagner-ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner. Neil Wagner!
Wagner-ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner,ner. Neil Wagner!

But the Watford Wall, Steven Finn, stood firmly in the way of the Valkyrien quick. The festival on the main stage was starting to fizzle out. Back on the banks, things were getting much more interesting. Andy P (www.facebook.com/andypguitar – check it out pop pickers!) joined his band mates with his guitar and amplifier and proceeded to lead the crowd in their national anthem as well as some hastily re-hashed workings of Seventies rock band staples. Under his excellent musicianship and Seedy’s wordsmith skills, The Mainecoons impromptu cover of Pink Floyd’s Brick in the Wall implored;

Hey! England! Have a bloody go!
Ball by ball it’s just another fricking draw.

Finn did his best to ensure it did (as England reached 421-6 at the close) and was all smiles at the end as the tour heads now for Wellington. The Barmy Army, meanwhile, led the encores, delighted to have got out of Otago’s capital with the series level.

The University Oval, Dunedin, the summer of 2013. A Steven Finn half century, the second best bowling attack in the world going round the park, heavy rain, sun burn, cold winds, warm beer, a Peter Fulton half century, a Joe Root failure, sixes and drag acts and rock and roll. They won’t have this at Glastonbury.
If you were there, you weren’t really there, man.

Let’s Rock New Zealand!!! DWC & The Mainecoons, left to right; Seedy, Andy P, Ben, Evan, Deano and me.