2nd Grade Round 10: UTS North Sydney vs Manly at Manly Oval
Manly 9/267cc (W Graham 4/52, O Knight 3/43) def UTS North Sydney 187 (RD Alexander 41, G Aitken 36)
From the desk of Sam Alexander
The second grade sorts arrived to their grudge match with Manly at the proverbial fortress, Manly Oval.
A sign at the front gate reads “No Alexanders”; sorry Ray - they’re allowed one.
I stride past the sign with my right hand man - or lap dog - James Leary and two young women who I can only assume were ravenous for some Grade cricket.
The girls say “see you later” but deep down I know I won’t be seeing them again - I have bigger fish to fry.
The warm up is fast, aggressive and left me wanting more. It has me reminiscing of times past.
GA suffers another loss at the toss and we’re bowling. Keep going, skip.
A relaxed Fletcher May opens the bowling, having released all his burning anger and hatred at training on Thursday night at a particular teammate who can’t be named for personal reasons.
A run-out ensues. Will Graham, stunned at fielding the ball cleanly, sent the pill straight to a waiting Leary who dismantled the stumps. What a start.
The game trickled on with a pole here or there before a partnership formed.
Enter Sam Alexander.
Alexander proceeds to float them up, go at 7 an over, and drop one off his own bowling. Some say class is temporary, but mediocrity is permanent.
Thank god Fraser ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame’ Noack was ringing the bell up the other end; he held the run rate down as Alexander let the game slip through his hands.
A bowling change brings on our specialist fielder, Will Graham, and the big fella goes bang-bang, breaking the partnership, and the hearts of many. As I fielded yet another bomb from the pavement I thought to myself that he simply can’t be stopped.
Manly post a paltry 267 and we’re in the box seat. Our batting order has simply been a rock all year, with any fragility yet to be seen.
We find ourselves at 4/30, bringing Ray Alexander and Glenn Aitken together. Our two most reliable batsman fight back again, laying the platform for an unlikely hero.
7 down.
150 to get.
15 overs left in play.
The stage is set.
I join Leary. He’s nervous.
“Sam, I’m not sure we can score these runs,” he quips.
“Follow my lead, young fella”
First ball. Block.
Solid.
Second ball. Block.
A whisper of anticipation ushers across the ground.
Third ball. In the wheelhouse.
Alexander rocks back and with a quick slash of the blade, the ball is at the boundary within 2.8 seconds - that’s faster than a Bugatti Veyron.
The crowd erupts. I remain composed. There’s still 146 runs to get. My job isn’t done.
Leary: “Shot, mate”.
I chuckle. He’s seen nothing yet.
The Manly bowlers, once looking so confident, quickly fall apart as Alexander lets loose.
Boundary follows boundary. Single follows single. Strike has never been rotated quite like it.
GA runs out a message - it’s an iPhone. He looks at me.
“Answer it.”
It’s Trevor Hohns.
“Sam, today you lead your side to victory.”
“Thanks Trevor.”
I proceed to mow down the total. Leary tries to get in on the action with an attempted lap shot.
“Slow down young fella, leave the razzle dazzle to me.”
I dance down the deck and put the left-arm ortho into Wharf Bar.
“Carlton thanks.”
As I run out of partners, the crowd of Bears, Waratahs and belligerent house mates continue to cheer, stunned at what this unknown number 9 has produced.
Then, quick as blowing out a candle, the curtain comes down on the innings of a lifetime.
Alexander finishes with 23 from 32 balls, only 80 runs short of victory.
The standing ovation was a nice touch, but it would never fill the void of gut-wrenching disappointment of not only losing the game, but falling 3 runs shy of my highest score ever.
The beers were bitter, but the Bears will be back.
Over to you, Fairfield.