My masters, are you mad?

Date: 27th June 2011

A Paul Edwards copyright exclusive for L&DCC Official Website.

Liverpool Echo Knockout Trophy: Bootle 155-4 (16) (Boardman 62, Snellgrove 44, J. S. Hine 37; Ward 2-24) lost to Wallasey 156-5 (15.5) Loftus 94 not out, Snellgrove 2-32) by five wickets

One of the chapters in Peter Roebuck's It Never Rains, his diary of the 1983 cricket season, is entitled "A Dry Game In A Wet Land". It is a safe bet for a whole heap of reasons that the former Somerset captain has never visited Wadham Road. However, had he ventured into Liverpool 20 last Friday evening Roebuck would have been treated to the sight of a very wet game being played on sopping land. And what's more, he would have seen a fine match won by an innings of consummate mastery by Wallasey's Sam Loftus.

Already the Bridging Finance Solutions First Division Player of the Month for May, Loftus has so far scored 496 runs in nine Liverpool Competition games. On Friday, as the rain graduated from drizzle to stair-rods, the Geelong West batsman produced perhaps his best knock of the summer so far. His 94 not out from 50 balls enabled his side to score 156 in 16 overs to beat Bootle by five wickets with one ball to spare.

One might think that to rattle along at nearly two runs a ball requires slogging or, at least, uninhibited hitting. That's the weird thing about Loftus's batting, though: he scores quickly without seeming to. Even when his side needed 16 runs off the final over, the 34-year-old Victorian played authentic cricket shots, rifling Josh Hine to the cover boundary and then pulling him sweetly for six.

Loftus was also helped by his partners throughout the innings. None of them made more than 19 but nobody hung around either. When it was decided that the long handle should be taken to David Snellgrove, it was skipper David Miles who risked his wicket, not the pro. This was intelligent, pragmatic cricket which proved that the very short forms of the game, even when played in atrocious conditions, can still profit from a little thought. Twenty20 may not offer the deep satisfaction of timed cricket, but it has long since ceased to be "hit and giggle". (Mind you, to judge from his reaction when he had his poles removed, miss and giggle was the watchword for one Bootle batsman.)

For the second half of the game I was esconced in the scorebox with Mike Bloomfield and Alan Majewska. Wallasey's run chase was so gripping that only when you noticed the rain bucketing down against the background of the trees did you realise that a wise captain would have had Gene Kelly batting at No4. Yes, players slipped over - one such mishap contributed to Bootle keeper Davy Smith dropping Loftus off an almighty skier when the batsman was only 30-odd - but the quality of the cricket was still remarkably high.

Nonetheless, anyone driving down Wadham Road probably needed to look twice to convince themselves a cricket match was going on. And as usual Bootle's wider society contributed to the public theatre. A couple of streets away the sound of an ice-cream van could be heard. Some wag in the 40th birthday party going on downstairs decided it would be a good idea to play ELO's Mr Blue Sky.

"It's a bagatelle in these conditions," observed Bloomers. "It's certainly a bag of something," I agreed. Magic made no comment. Maybe he was thinking about football and remembering the fun he had had watching Llantrisant Incapables play Abergele ASBOs in the Sheep Dip Cup last February. Apparently that was a barnburner in the rain too.

Loftus carried on regardless, hitting ten fours and three sixes to secure a place in the last eight for David Miles's side. It was a slight shame that his innings obscured the memory of Jack Boardman's 34-ball 62 or Johnny Hine's quickfire 37. They were the key contributions to the home side's 155 for four, while Wallasey's Andy Ward bowled well to take a couple of wickets. Batting may not be easy in heavy rain, but bowling and fielding is even harder.

Umpiring can hardly be a barrel of laughs either. At one stage I thought that Wadham Road was going to turn into the Great Grimpen Mire and that Fred Charters would slowly sink into it, leaving only his white cap at square leg as a memorial of his supreme sacrifice. I was less worried about Tony Molloy; Arkle probably hadn't noticed it was raining.