What
about showing my support by travelling to London? Hmm. Why should I splash out
on a Lord’s ticket and another for the return train journey from Cardiff only
to witness the inevitable crushing disappointment at first hand. And yet…what
if this was the game that turned the tables? I’d be gutted if I missed the one
occasion where Somerset finally fulfilled their potential. Encouraged by my
wife, and with only thirteen days before the fixture, I determined to go online
and make the bookings before my natural pessimism could regain the upper hand.
Thank God I did!
And
so it was with a mixture of excitement and apprehension that this 57 year-old
caught the 07.26 to Paddington thence by Tube to Baker Street. Taking my seat
in the Mound Stand close to the Somerset zone in the Edrich Stand, I took in
the atmosphere at the ‘Home of Cricket’. When the teams were announced a chink
of hope broke through. The 2018 winners were missing not only Vince and Dawson
on England World Cup duty but also South African Aidan Markam, while we were
more or less at full strength. Well, it made up for the years when Somerset
were robbed of our own international stars.
Sadly
the stadium was only half full at the start but the sun was beginning to make
an appearance bathing the greensward in light. Old Father Time was surely
pointing his arrow towards the Somerset dressing room as its occupants entered
the pitch, closely followed by Tom Alsop and Aneurin Donald. Hampshire had won
the toss, which proved to be about the only thing that went their way all day.
Craig
Overton looked lively but it was the unsung Josh Davey who removed both openers
during the Powerplay. Somerset looked a tight unit in the field, cutting off
singles and Lewis Gregory flinging himself around the boundary to prevent
boundaries. Indeed, fours were in very short supply until last year’s centurion
Rilie Rossouw joined his skipper Sam Northeast in the middle. Enter Jamie
Overton.
He’d
spent the previous two weeks loaned out to Northants for the Championship but
he made a fabulous return to the Somerset fold. Bowling at up to 90mph his
controlled hostility was troubling the in-form Northeast. ‘Joverton’ reaped his
reward by forcing the dangerous Rossouw to play on then induced both Berg and
Wood to miss-pull skiers into the hands of Bartlett in front of the Somerset
fans. Hampshire spent ten overs failing to strike a boundary and Tom Abell
brought himself on for a rare 50-over bowl and bowled both Northeast and
Abbott. Mason Crane and James Fuller stopped the rot but saved any fireworks
until the last three overs, marring Jamie Overton’s figures and making their
total vaguely respectable: 244-8.
Respectable
perhaps but, in these days of regular 350+ scores, it was hardly challenging. However,
the fat lady had not yet sung. My only previous one-day final visit to Lord’s
had been the one in 1996 when Lancashire bowled out Essex for a paltry 57, so I
wasn’t yet counting my chickens.
Fortunately,
after the 45-minute break spent wandering around the sun-baked Food Lawn and
picnic area, I enjoyed the opportunity to watch young ‘keeper Tom Banton in
action for the first time. Noticing Fidel Edwards’ tendency to stray onto leg
stump he struck him for 4-6-4, hitting him out of the attack after only three
overs. The 20 year-old was making Azhar Ali look pedestrian and before we knew
it Somerset’s opening partnership reached 100. Fans around me were taking bets
on how quickly Somerset would win. 29.2 overs? 32.4? I would have gone for
48.3!
Edwards
eventually returned to the attack, this time from the Pavilion End. It worked.
In two overs his pace did for both openers and later on what looked like a long
hop was slapped by Abell straight to Donald at midwicket. Kyle Abbott was hard
to get away and Mason Crane’s leg-spin was accurate. Nevertheless, at the
30-over mark, Somerset needed only three an over to reach their target. Surely
we couldn’t screw this up? Luckily we had the wise head of James
Hildreth to manage proceedings. George Bartlett seemed set on turning singles
into risky twos but Hildy’s experience held sway. Northeast switched the attack
with T20-style frequency, bringing the field in to increase the pressure but
all to no avail.
At
six o’clock, two Hildreth boundaries and a single off Edwards had taken
Somerset to that elusive Lord’s success. The shouts of “Zummerzet la-la-la”
intensified and filled St John’s Wood with West Country fervour. There was no
way I was leaving the ground without witnessing the presentation of the trophy.
Irritatingly the podium was erected below the Warner Stand, as far from the
fans as it was possible to be. My zoom lens tried its best as the flames flared
and the champagne fizzed but our hopes were pinned on a lap of honour. When it
eventually came, it was a rather haphazard affair but the squad did finally line
up in front of the Edrich Stand and deliver a rousing rendition of the Somerset
song. County legend Peter Trego was so emotional he walked along by the
advertising boards and clasped any outstretched hand he could find – including mine.
Eighteen
years of hurt were over. Now dare I dream about winning the Big One, the title
that has eluded Somerset since their nineteenth century inception, the County Championship?
Winning at Lord’s was wonderful but clutching the pennant really would make
2019 the year of all years.
