The much-loved yellow-helmeted wicket-keeping rugby-loving admin-doing social media influencer genuine all-rounder Plough kingpin will not be gracing the DSG’s pastures next season, choosing, for some ridiculous reason, to spend the next year not working some soul-crushing job and cruising around Australia’s sunny beaches with his partner instead. As such, he was made captain for this game, in keeping with Plough tradition. And having procured a £7 fresh cherry from a nearby retailer, he failed at his first and arguably most important task of the day: win the toss.

The day was hot and muggy — one broke into a sweat just sitting still — and most of us had spent the previous evening doing awful unhealthy unchristian things, so the camp was not happy to see Max do the dreaded bowling gesture as he walked back from the middle. Some were fuming, even. Simon Crane came out with some truly vicious words — good, substantial, well-rounded curses that cut to the very core of Max’s anxieties and embraced the whole of his character. The silver lining, however, was Max having the opportunity to bowl the game’s first over. I had always wondered what he would do with the new ball. Sometimes I wander the streets of New Cross, harassing strangers, asking them, “Would Max Wright make it talk? Would it do too much? Would he go for runs? Would it look good?” The answer, to all those questions, was a resounding yes.

After a couple of wayward deliveries, he produced the ideal ball to a right-handed opener, pitching just short of a length and beating the edge, evincing whoops and hollers from every corner. At the other end, a slightly dead-behind-the-eyes Liam Gray endured a nightmare first over. He was up against an impressive opener who had only played LMS for the last three years and went about his batting accordingly, plundering fours down the ground. The club skip, undeterred, brought his length back and trapped him dead in front, absolutely smashing middle and leg, only for the umpire to stay mute, leaving our dear leader in a state of considerable anger and distress.

Those first few overs made us all feel a bit like that. The oppo’s openers hardly seemed interested in ‘having a look’, as it were, and after four overs the score read 40-0. In response, Greg Willis, fresh from fielding bare-footed for the 1s the day before in true Woodstock fashion, came on to stem the tide, removing both openers and their No.4 with some intelligent bowling. That’s why we earth, boys. Keep those chakras aligned, like good old G-Banger over there. Be one with the universal pulse, the Great Magnet, and you too shall take poles and bang runs (that’s a verbatim quote from Greg, would you believe).

As drinks approached, Tom Glynne-Jones joined the action, trapping their No.3 LBW, once again bowling superb areas with that wonderfully calm languid demeanour of his. Sadly it would be his last action of the game and indeed the 2023 season. An over or two later, while fielding on the boundary, he misjudged the bounce of a ball, causing his body to move one way and his knee the other, mangling it in the process. The initial prognosis was: not too bad. Nothing serious. And if you are going to fuck your knee, if you simply must, September is probably the best time to do it. See you next season, you lovely man.

At drinks, the score read 88-4 — the Plough in a good position, despite the decent run rate. Wright, noticing the way pace bowling sat up nicely on this flat Nursery deck, turned to his abundant spin attack for the middle overs. George Tunnacliffe was phenomenal, just annoyingly good at cricket, taking the top of off. Sandeep Goel — “rolling in the Sandeep”, as Joshua Kerr brilliantly put it — produced some vicious leggies, which everyone enjoyed, except wicketkeeper Grant Wooledge, who found himself taut and twanging as balls ripped and ragged past him and went down as byes. 17 went against him, in total, which felt a little unfair. Then again, if you’re masochistic enough to be a keeper AND opening batter, you get what you sign up for.

Mr. Wayne Kerr also chipped in. With Sandeep at one end, the diminutive erudite tweaker was engaging in what he called ‘leg spin cosplay’ at the other, delivering balls that travelled so high and went so slow that he could actually run after his own ball and nearly catch up with it — a fresh type of cricket absurdism one can only find on a way-too-hot September Sunday. “Great use of the stratosphere!” Max shouted, which was a very funny joke but also fundamentally true.

With wickets falling regularly, including a superb catch from Bob Keogh, who fielded well and looked even better, another established frontline spinner arrived on the scene: Leo Nieboer. He had been promised a bowl earlier in the week, and as the overs ticked by, Nieboer kept showing Max that he was indeed loose and ready. Plenty of shadow bowling and stretching. Some dips, burpees, a few press ups. Max seemed sympathetic, even interested, but every time Nieboer felt the next over might be his, it went to someone else. The last time I was edged for this long, I got someone pregnant. Genuinely. Count yourself lucky, Max.

Finally, Nieboer was permitted release, sending down his customary grenades. Max told the batter, standing at longish on, that he would buy him a jug if he cleared him. The batter had a go and instead found Max’s big gorgeous mitts, a captaincy masterstroke, giving Nieboer his first wicket for the Plough and, in the process, a dangerous taste for more. At that stage, the Cricketers were 155-9, with no blokes left in the sheds. We took our second round of drinks slightly early, with the idea that we would wait to see if the side’s eleventh player, Wiggles, would arrive in time. Which made us laugh plenty. Wiggles had to get a wriggle on and wiggle some runs for his mates, otherwise they’d all be wiggled out and would have to wriggle us out instead, with no Wiggles to speak of. But Wiggles did arrive in time, looking slightly overwhelmed, and went straight out to bat. Nieboer dragged one out wide for him second ball, Wiggles duly wiggling it at Willis, who dropped the damn thing, DROPPED IT, leaving me writhing around on the floor in a state of disbelief. Very upsetting. Now I see why Giordy gets the way he does about bowling. It’s painful. In batting you only have one ‘what if’ — in bowling it’s indefinite.

It proved to be a costly drop: Wiggles and his batting partner, Badders, went on to score 50 or so extremely frustrating runs for the last wicket, taking the final score to 217. Opening up for the first time together, Nieboer and Wooledge started gingerly. The captain rotated his bowlers relentlessly, not giving any of them more than two over spells, making it hard to find any rhythm at the crease — made harder by the presence of a South African man named Devan so similar to Duray in temperament and vibes and cricketing ability that it was actually quite unsettling. He could bat big and bowl spin, like Duray. He had big arms and shoulders, like Duray. His ego, like Duray’s, was visibly impenetrable. He spoke loudly and confidently, like Duray. And like Duray, he stood close to the batter and commentated on every ball, making Nieboer rather nervous in the process, all while watching South Africa play Scotland in the Rugby World Cup on his phone. “Yah, he doesn’t like facing you, eh!” he would shout to the bowler over and over again, watching Nieboer prod another ball to backward point. “Graham Gooch looks good, eh!” “It’s coming to you, corden. Be ready, Badders, it’s coming! Only one shot, this guy!” Eventually, despite the friendly verbal onslaught, Grant and Nieboer started to loosen up and put pressure on the bowlers. Wooledge, in particular, was superb. I hadn’t seen him bat before — apart from in 2021, which may as well be 30 years ago in my mind — and the man has a sumptuous cover drive, which he unleashed regularly on his way to 33 (46).

Even Nieboer, still feeling guilty about his unproductive 11 (60) for the 2nd XI the day before, whipped a few drives over the top before being wiggled out by Wiggles for 44 (62) on the stroke of drinks. At 88-1, Plough had a nice platform for the second half. The first ball after drinks, Devan served up a juicy leg-side full toss, which Grant spooned straight to mid-wicket — the classic post-drinks curse. It was smart bowling from Devan: a ball like that, after a break, makes your eyes light up, and it’s bound to go wrong. Had it been a good length ball, Grant would have respected it, and probably gone on to make the 50 he deserved. As it was, we collapsed after that. Willis and Tunnacliffe both got into double figures, then wickets tumbled, one of their bowlers producing send offs that made Oli Lonsdale seem like a church mouse. Plough went from 88-0 to 141 all out, losing a game they had in their hands more than once. A target of 160 or 170 would have spelled out a different second innings. Nieboer and Grant should have gone on to make fifties. The whole affair was predicated on specific moments that could have gone either way, as is the case with this vicious sport that we can’t escape. Plenty of what ifs.

In any case, it was a wonderful day in the sun, spent in the company of some gorgeous men. My love and safe travels to Max, whose day as captain was so comprehensive the piece should be rounded off by listing all the things he did on his final (for now) game for the Plough: - Opened the bowling - Put out the flags - Put the stumps and bails in - Bought a ball - Ate a substandard Co-op sandwich - Lost the toss - Took a wicket - Took a catch - Scratched his arse - Hit a four - Took Nieboer off with figures of 1-1 off 1 - Looked great in the field - Made Nieboer do his backing up for him, in true alpha style - Got bowled and screamed at - Umpired - Brought out drinks - Updated the scoreboard - Gave Nieboer bad legal advice - Provided the first accurate and complete definition of the relationship between consciousness and matter, presenting his thesis to a council of Deans, to rapturous applause and acclaim - Brought some good vibes We’ll miss you, mate. And we’ll miss you, too, DSG. See you on the other side.

Match report produced by Leo Nieboer