An afternoon at the National Village Cricket Final between Sulley Centurions and Exhall & Wixford, for All Out Cricket magazine.

To come down to Lord’s today is glorious for a number of reasons. Firstly, it’s free to get in. The sun is out, the sky is blue, there’s not a cloud to spoil the view, and Simon Hollands, captain of Exhall & Wixford, has just clumsily misfielded a ball and fallen over. This goes down well with the supporters of Sully Centurions, who have made the trip down from South Wales clad in Roman helmets and togas and are determined to keep the decibel level high. Rattles are whirring, chants that were made up in the local pub the previous night are delivered with pints held aloft, and the Exhall & Wixford supporters are goaded mercilessly to an old Monty Python tune: “Always shit on the English side of the fence, Do-doo, do-doo do-doo do-doo…”

Two quick wickets and some spirited bowling from Exhall’s Steve Keen dampen Sully’s spirits early on, but then the electronic scoreboard announces the arrival of Michael O’Shea and Lloyd Smith who proceed to lash the ball to all parts of the ground, the score helped along by a distinctly village-sized boundary in front of the Mound Stand. “Aye aye ippy ippy aye”, sing the Sully crowd, while an Exhall & Wixford supporter with a snare drum rattles out a few beats in way of reply. “You’re banging on your own!” hoot the fancy-dressed Centurions, refusing to be beaten.

Sully end up posting a daunting 243-4 off their 40 overs, during which time we saw Flintoff-esque celebrations from the batsmen and standing ovations from the crowd and the dressing room balcony. During the lunch interval the players come over to hang out with their friends & relatives, with photos taken against the backdrop of the pavilion and miniature pork pies shared out fairly and squarely.

Exhall’s innings begins, and progress is slow. “Do they only know it’s one day?” shout Sully’s increasingly confident and increasingly drunk supporters, and the batsmen respond with some streaky fours against some pretty nippy bowling. But under pressure the wickets start to fall, and the red dragon flags start waving, accompanied by hoots of laughter as the name “Tom ‘Streaker’ Heneghan” appears on the scoreboard as the new incoming batsman. As the required runs per over surge upwards and with the game firmly in the bag, Sully share the bowling around, with Huw Williams thrown the ball to the delight of his parents, who stand up and wave at him as if he’d just come on stage in the school nativity play.

As the last ball is bowled, the scoreboard registers an improbable target of 480 runs per over, and as the delivery is fended off to square leg Sully grab the stumps and run over to the Mound Stand, where the centurions are beside themselves with glee. Reminded by an announcement over the PA that they are supposed to collect their trophy in the pavilion, the players wander back across the hallowed turf, as we wander back to the tube station, reflecting on one of the most fantastically good-natured sporting events we’ve ever had the pleasure to see. We’ll be back next year…