Vinesh strolls to the kitchen. Makes himself a brew. Checks the socials.

How odd. Max Gumpert is WhatsApping me. On a Monday? Of all days? Saying I need to be at the DSG? Because it’s actually Sunday and I’ve got overs to bowl?

Such was the auspicious start to the Plough’s game against Energy Exiles. If the name sounds familiar, they’re the opposition Neibour skewered with a delayed wide call on the final ball of our previous encounter, handing the Plough victory. (Editor’s note: if he keeps this in, he’s a bigger man than me. Editor’s note 2: not hard).

Gumpert, M, on the closing day of the Olympics, steps up to the mark for the two metre toss. Plough, in the baking sun, bowl first.

Bolshaw, M, measures out his run up. The crowd start doing one of those synchronised clap things which, in retrospect, was weird.

Bush zings it on a length. Just outside off. The bat slaps it through mid wicket for four. In the words of John McClane: Welcome to the party, pal.

It turned out to be a 300 run party. Harry Bray tried to ruin it by taking four wickets, like the famous killjoy he is.

As did Ean, who was as accurate as that Turkish shooter bloke. Until, in a bid for the gold medal in synchronised tw*ttery, their umpire threatened to take him off for bowing two full tosses in four overs, approximating his danger to that of Jason Bourne.

To a man, Plough put in the hard yards for the first 30. Until, much like the Seine, levels of excrement rose to an unacceptable level in the final overs with a few dropped catches and misfields. (Editor’s note 3: too many Olympics gags?)

And so to the chase. Much like the pole vaulter whose appendage dislodged the bar in Paris, Gumpert, M, reining world champion in the 4 x 100 club you for six event, came out with his cock sock proudly on display.

A full toss. A crunch of the willow. A catch a cover, delivering what Max informs me is his first duck in 92 games.

From there the wickets tumbled. Yet the true Plough-lympic spirit shone through. Against some quality bowling we made it to 150 odd, no small thanks to student-turned-teacher Grant Wolledge, who made a lovely 50, no small thanks in turn to Theo Burns, who confessed he was looking elsewhere during a close run out call.

A DSG closing ceremony of pitchers was far better than whatever those losers in Paris were doing anyway.

Match report from Justin Cash