August 13th
On Wednesday we played at home again, my “third” was back and it was a fine evening for bowls. As it turned out we had all our players available for selection (16) and for the first time in years we had to ask some people not to play. This is a developing issue for the team, and the question that needs answering goes like this: “Mr Johnson takes up bowls late in life. He has never really been interested in sport but his new neighbour invites him to play. He enjoys the company, the team is desperate for players, and it is a pleasant enough diversion on a Saturday afternoon. A couple of seasons later and Mr Johnson is barely any more proficient than when he started. But he’s reliable and good company. A young lad starts playing and is immediately proficient and keen. At what point do you have to say to Mr Johnson: “Um, about next week’s game, you see we’ve got too many players available, and although we feel that loyalty should count for something, and in a way you’ve enabled us to keep going through the dark times, well, this is a sporting club after all, and . . “
And then George is not available because his wife’s sister has come to stay and they want George to take them shopping, Arnold has gone on his annual 5-week cruise around the South China Seas, Bill has a touch of sciatica and Derek has gone to his daughter’s in Cheam. In the blink of an eye Mr Johnson needs to be approached about turning out for the team. Not easy, is it?
Or another scenario that is ever-present concerns the happiness of the other club in the town. Rumours circulate constantly that there is unrest, disruptive influences etc. What would we do if any of their players asked to join us? According to our constitution we could “vet” their application, but in reality we would find it very difficult to refuse an approach. The potential for disruption is huge, and at any moment the trouble could pass and they would return to their old club leaving us with lots of noses out of joint.
It is of some intellectual fascination to me how fragile voluntary institutions are, although from the outside they can look immensely stable and unchanging. We are fine at the moment and, if anything, slightly thriving – if that’s not oxymoronic. But at any moment we could be blown apart by circumstances completely outside our control or influence. It’s “300 robins” again.
My “third” was back and I had the same front two: the old gentleman and the 12 year old. They played the same as they had done on Saturday, but that ended up being a problem for me. The opposition played really well, particularly the lead and second, which is quite unusual at this level. Their second, in particular, was outstanding.
The problem was to do with my “third”: he gets irrational when he is losing, particularly when he is losing and playing well. He was playing really well and I wasn’t. The opposition were playing really well – and winning easily – and my front two were playing as well as can be expected. His irrationality first turned on the front two and then, embarrassingly, on the opposition. I wanted to defend the front two for their efforts but this wasn’t the time or place. I felt bad for the opposition but they’re all adults and can defend themselves. I knew from experience that if I could only play well and win a few ends then he would calm down and shut up. But the harder I tried the worse I got and the more and more improbable grew his mutterings. It was all made worse by the fact that the next door rink was also losing heavily and so the team was in danger of a thrashing at home.
About 5 ends from the finish, we were down about 16 shots and facing another long jack. Their lead put up a couple of decent woods but both were beaten by our lead’s two. For the first time in the match their “second” couldn’t make his count. My “third” put one in and one behind so that when it came to my turn we were holding three. My oppo went first and bowled to disrupt the head but missed the line. I put in a good one – phew! Last wood for them, last chance to save the head and he hit the lines spot on. But he was playing with a bit of pace and so I couldn’t be certain where it was going to go. Sure enough it hit a delicious gap and sped to the ditch. Deep breath, onto the mat, easy swing, let the arm swing through, it will go, don’t worry. And it did, for a 5.
My lead was so surprised to be bowling the jack that he bowled it yards short of where I had indicated and it proved to be a masterstroke as we put in four crackers to pick up nine shots on two ends.
I looked across the scoreboards and calculated that, amazingly, we were slightly ahead in the match. The jolt of “five” followed by a “four” knocked them out of their stride and we won the last few ends to lose by just eight. The end rink won by over 25 shots in the end and so we won the match 8-4.
At the end of a midweek match we put on tea and biscuits in the pavilion. We follow the usual formalities of a raffle and thank you speeches. At the end of my speech I announced the result of the singles final and asked the boy to stand to take his applause. In the kitchen afterwards, he came in and thanked me for the tribute. It was a nice moment.
Before I left, I was shown a piece of A4 on which was a matrix of names and numbers – a league table! Although it was in the upper half, I picked up our name straight away. It looked out of place just below the leaders. The man with the list said it was about three matches out of date. We had won our last three matches comfortably, one against the league leaders. As the excited chat swirled around the room, I slowly became aware that we were indeed in danger of being promoted. Now that was a de-stabilising scenario I had never considered.
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