|
|
A priceless heirloom! Not only the first piece of
Gent
ephemera, but also the first recorded piece of bitching about umpiring
standards, after two dodgy lbws had been given by
Gent umpires
in Game 1. There would be many more such squabbles.
Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of an absorbing document
is the existence of a team manager, Jacqui Townley being elevated to that
position. It is difficult to remember her strutting around with cigar and
sheepskin coat, slamming the dressing room door shut and giving interviews
to The Cricketer, or whatever cricket managers do, but there we are.
Ten seasons on, only Mark Ashton and Andy Burman that side remain members,
though John Townley and Frank Gallagher played until 1995.
A team with two bowlers and three part-time lobbers waiting
in the wings, and a tail starting at Five, was never going to win a cricket
match, but it was quite a talented drinking side, beefed up by a few dodgy
Wavin mates of Mr Ashton. Mark himself spent much of the day in classic
Blunder Years negative body-language mode. Yes, recently formed, yes,
abundantly untalented, but it is hard not to feel some affection for those
carefree, lost days.
|
|
ork University
in the 1970s was a good place to be. It was founded in 1965 at the
height of the education spending boom which did so much to secure Britain’s
pre-eminent industrial position today. A city defined by architectural
experts within the EEC as one of Europe’s top ten, adjacent to the beautiful
North Yorkshire moors, with easy access to the great ports of Scarborough
and Whitby, as well as the thriving cities of Leeds and Bradford. The
university was (and is) famous for its lofty academic standards (its
faculties of language and music are world-renowned); the city for its fine
social life (York City had just been promoted to the old Division Two, there
were 365 pubs in the town, some of the most exquisite babes in England with
the whole city exuding grace and style). Student grants were lavish by
today’s standards. So it was that the finest minds of their generation drank
deeply at the fountain of knowledge before seeking life’s glittering prizes.
To think what that blessed generation achieved is to record a rich inventory
of excellence, nobility and exaggerated shagging exploits. Frank Gallagher
went on the dole and stayed there, brief periods of work aside, for the next
twenty years. Roger Farr travelled in refrigerators and ate all the pies in
Little Chefs. Ian Richmond became an accountant, Mark Ashton and Des Dolan
plastics salesmen, Andy Burman a credit manager,
John Townley
and Marty Renvoize Civil Servants. Seldom can there have been such a
generation of wasters and underachievers, or so much promise and investment
frittered away, although they had great fun doing so.
These pre-Thatcher slacker prototypes were all friends of
Mark Ashton. The price they paid for this was to be co-opted in the late
1980s into playing cricket for the GWLCC. Some had played before. Fewer had
played more than a few times. The 1988 Model Gents may not have been very
experienced, but they were keen and well-prepared, which explains two and a
bit unexpectedly good performances against able oppo. Whatever problems The
Gents suffered from, lack of enthusiasm was not among them. Indeed, 1988 was
the only recorded case of mid-season nets, and most undignified they were
too. None of that renting a proper net nonsense. No, far better to break in
somewhere. Whether being chased away from Boston Manor by the parkie, or
looking over their shoulder for the brown-overalled janitor at Windsor GS,
the early Gents had a haunted look. The first side comprised York reprobates
Ashton and Burman (who had also known each other from Windsor GS), Dolan,
Gallagher, and Townley, together with Mark’s younger brother Bob and mates
Steve Haywood, who was also Chairman of West XI at the time and Mick
Stratford, who would never score a run in his Gents career but who
uncomplainingly did his best every time. In a stroke that would typify The
Gents, the XI was completed by three Beggar guests, including Milton Jolin.
Ian Richmond (also a York refugee) and Steve Haywood’s nephew Nick Hubbocks
joined the club in time for the season’s final game.
So, 1988 is when it all started, but, like the facts of the
second game (The Gents, in the first of many administrative faux pas
within the club, failed to copy the since-lost scorebook) much of the rest
is up for debate. The Authorised Version of the club’s genesis is that it
was founded during a game of golf between Mark and Bob Ashton, Des Dolan and
Cheetah Denis Harvey (Appearances One, Runs Two). Upset at some creative
carding by the two Cheetahs, Masher bragged “we’ll put together side to beat
you at cricket.” So the dream was born, although Mark would have to wait
until 1992 for his first and only win against Denis’s side, curiously with
Des Dolan The Gents’ hero! This murky beginning was entirely appropriate;
they had their first Official Grievance before the players had even pitched
up for the first game. All the classic Gents ingredients were there; The
Commander’s supreme but humorous competitiveness, irrational optimism in the
face of daunting odds and an oppo who needed teaching a lesson despite the
fact that they were self-evidently the better side. The spirit of Churchill,
Scott of the Antarctic and Sid James all rolled into one.
How come, then, that the first game was against West XI, a
side of already two years’ experience? Well, the original Beggar oppo
scratched and The Gents, amusingly recorded in their scorebook as Friends of
Steve Haywood (somehow eleven were put out), filled in. The game was lost
but the scratch XI was not outclassed and all deemed it fun. So much so that
it was decided to play a few more games and regroup in 1989. Batting second
each time, The Gents put up three displays as good as could have been
expected. The two West XI games were great fun, The Gents nearly winning the
second at The Commander’s old school after a long stand between Bob Ashton
(36) and John Townley (20). Nick Hubbocks had previously done the Hat-Trick.
It would have been too much for the club not to express its disappointment
at such a narrow defeat and Steve Haywood rightly tried to murder the
befuddled and bewildered Des Dolan, for giving him out lbw because “the ball
hit the pad and they appealed.” The first game at Boston Manor had been an
unusually placid affair deservedly won by West XI, thanks to Stevie B’s 53.
The Gents’ tenth wicket stand of 38 between Mark Ashton and Milton Jolin
remains a record yet and Bob Ashton smashed Charles Arthur for The Gents’
first two sixes!
The second game was a mismatch against East Harrow Cheetahs,
whose unsociable league cricket ringer flogged a huge ton! Twat. Not only
that, but the game provided the first of many incidents in which Gents, oppo
or spectators would spectacularly spit the dummy. Two games into Gent
history and step forward the wives of Andy Burman and John Townley, Krysia
and Jacqui. The ladies, who had kindly bought grub for the oppo from the
nearby cafeteria, were so incensed at their patronising remarks, at the
expense of an admittedly crap Gents team, that they vowed never to go near
any Gents match against them again. And they were true to their word. It is
perhaps just as well that the scorecard of that game does not survive,
although memory recalls double-figure scores for openers Townley and Burman
as well as 40-odd by The Commander, adjudged caught at long-off off what he
was sure was a six (yeah, right). An interesting start, then, but even in
the first flush of enthusiasm Mark was realistic enough to know that the
team would need strengthening before it could compete with established
opponents. The collective mind of the club was, however, pleased with what
it had seen. A few more games next year, lads? Why not! |
