Match Report by Tom Bloor.

The foreboding morning skies and the dreadful weather forecast made the game look unlikely, but by the time play got underway the cloud cover was a little lighter and a good deal higher. The atmosphere remained oppressive and humid throughout, however. The Taverners won the toss and elected to bat first. The format was 35 overs a side. Matt Webster and Amit Shanker opened the bowling and managed to restrict the opposition’s scoring, to begin with at least. But, with plenty of wickets in hand, the Taverners were able to build the tempo of their innings, accelerating freely as the overs ticked by. David Scally, coming on first change, was the most penetrative of the bowlers, taking 3 for 37 in his 7 over spell. Saad, bowling from the pavilion end, dismissed one of the Taverners well-set openers, Attempting to clip the ball through the covers he was caught by Tom Bloor, an occurrence which, statistically speaking, only takes place once every two years. Matt and Amit ended up with a wicket apiece, while Horizontals captain Craig Murray also took one from a total of 7 wickets to fall. Further catches went to Matt - a good take in the deep that he saw late but managed to readjust to in time - and to Stivin Borden behind the stumps. Several chances were put down however and generally speaking the fielding side made heavy weather of things. The Taverners had reached a daunting total of 211 by the time their 35 overs were up.
Following the tea interval the Horizontals began their innings, with Arif Qawi opening the batting, clawing his way to 12 runs, while batsmen numbers 2, 3 and 4 all made somewhat briefer visits to the crease. Stivin had joined the opener by the time the fifteenth over was played, and had reached 9 not out with the score on 32 for 3. By then, however, the Railway Taverners opening bowlers had effectively stifled any hopes of a realistic Horizontals attempt on the target. 8 maidens had been bowled, and the visitors were in complete control of the game. But then the skies grew dark and a wicked wind picked up. Great streaks of purple lighting flashed over the rooftops surrounding the ground, and peels of thunder rolled overhead as if the Devil himself were planning to put in an appearance. If the Father of Lies had, in fact, turned up, perhaps hoping to come by a few cheap souls from dissolute cricketers desperate to improve their averages at any cost, and maybe also intending to dust off his whites and indulge in a spell of deceptively innocuous-looking spin bowling, then he would have been disappointed, in the latter aim at least. Because it wasn’t long before the heavens opened. Following a ten-minute deluge of biblical proportions the outfield was left ankle deep in puddles and all cricket at Winchmore Hill was called off for the remainder of the day.