It’s 9 am on Sunday morning and I feel absolutely awful. I’ve just rolled out of bed and tried to stand up. Long story short, I now know how Jofra felt the morning after his test career-ending 40 over Ashes spell. Yesterday I bowled 7 overs of spin, batted for 1 ball and jogged occasionally for 40 overs. I’m double-heading. Why did I say yes? Why did I click that tantalising green button on Pitchero? Why did I listen to that voice that said: ‘what if you get a hundred or take a five-for’? Why have my non-cricket friends given up trying to see me on weekends? Has Jo Hockings survived the night? He batted for 110 balls yesterday and went to McGurns’ place, he must be dead surely – but I need him to bat at 6. Why have I done this to myself.

The doorbell goes - it’s my good mate Lucas who is travelling to the game with me. I’ve successfully persuaded him to play for the Plough, his first cricket match for nearly 15 years. It’s the age-old story of an excellent school cricketer that played a million games as a kid, then went to Uni where cricket goes to die. His beaming face and buzz to play again is the emotional Berocca I needed – I’ve put all that moping behind me, we’re off to Isleworth. Let’s have it.

Arriving at the quiet and quaint Isleworth Cricket Ground, Luky and I scan the field for signs of life. Nothing out there.

We check the changing rooms. Nothing there either.

It’s 12:40 and not a soul is here.

We navigate the weird maze of clubhouse corridors and find a bar – things are looking up and up and up. The bar staff are watching 80s music videos on a tiny TV and talking about the Taylor Swift concert. Things are weird again.

By 12:55, only the opposition skipper Chris – a lovely and worldly man – is here, with all the Plough now arrived and ready.

“Trouble on the tides, mate” he tells me. I don’t 100% know what he means, but enough to ask no further questions. We toss up at 1pm with 5 oppo players now arrived. The pitch is bizarre – appearing flatter and harder than anything I’ve seen all season, but also sloping violently, to the point where it’s kind of off-putting to look at. But to the naked eye, it seems a good hard deck. I look Chris square in the eyes, knowing he has half a team, and say ‘we’ll have a bat mate’.

Chris gives me a wry smile and says, ‘ok man, no problem’. My cockiness evaporates. That meant something. What does he know? He knows something. Crap. Is this actually a minefield disguised as a mid-summer belter? Are his missing players just a big ploy, and they’ve been hiding in the bushes all this time?

Whatever. Edmonds and Gordon-Walker are ready to go, it’s 1:45 so we’ve reduced the game to 35 overs. As the first ball is bowled, Willesden have 7 players + Harry Payne & Oscar Sawyer who graciously agreed to sub-field while they wait for remaining oppo to arrive. What a time to bat, I tell my openers – it’s like LMS but your mates might actually care about any runs you score. Captain Chris takes the new ball and it’s immediately obvious where that devious smile came from. He’s bowling excellent left arm seam down the slope which is extremely difficult to line up. Gordon-Walker nicks a rising delivery behind to the keeper. Tricky start this.

In comes Greg to join his good mate, the Northern Superchargers combining nicely to put pressure back on the Willesden openers. Harry has been plundering boundaries for a few overs now, taking advantage of the solid deck and missing fielders – including a mighty six back down the ground which thuds into the sightscreen. He falls for a rapid 56 off 37 balls, a typical Edmonds knock – but probably not his favourite moment of the day: more on that later. It’s now myself and Greg out in the middle, the latter is looking all class with deft late cuts and flicks. I feel safe at the non-strikers’ watching him bat. Too safe – Greg pops a return catch off an awkward delivery and he’s gone for 18, the score now 83-3. We’ve all been there, 3 down with less than 100 on the board can turn ugly fast. The Willesden bowlers are unremarkable but tight, hitting their straps to keep us honest. Payne and myself put together a steady partnership of 61, a few big hits getting us along to 144. Payne falls, I hole out shortly after for 34, and we’re back in ‘not feeling amazing about this score’ territory at 144-5.

But readers, this was all a mere preamble. A distant rumble of what was to come.

In comes Callum Daley accompanied by Jo Hockings, ‘fresh’ off his hundred the day before and looking like he’d rather be in a spa, which is fair enough really. Graveney’s top four bowlers are done and Chris appears to have run out of ammunition, the part-timers coming on to close out the innings. What followed can only be described as the most brutal display of hitting I have seen in my Ploughmans career. Brandishing his new Rob Pack bat (shout-out RP Cricket), Callum proceeds to smoke no fewer than 11 fours and 6 sixes on his way to a savage and fantastic 99 not out. As skipper, there was a tiny part of me that started to feel guilty – the oppo aren’t at full strength and Callum is putting them into schools and various municipal buildings around the ground. We’re directly underneath the Heathrow flight path and I have visions of standing next to Grayzer on BBC News apologising profusely, the shell of a downed 747 smoking in the background. The Aussie in me stamps out the guilt. Let it rain.

The pair’s heroics take us to 281 for 5 off our 35 overs, a partnership of 137. Big.

We take a quick tea and head out into the field. This is the sort of position you’d expect to find in the Kama Sutra – 281 runs to defend, a stacked bowling line, the oppo completely and utterly shell-shocked. Oscar and Harry Payne take the new ball and bowl tightly up and down the slope. Harry’s patient line and length pays off and he traps the Willesden opener LBW, his first ever wicket for the Plough. Crane and Luky take up first change and continue the good work, the Willesden top order going absolutely nowhere thanks to some outrageously tight bowling. Lucas in particular ends with obscene figures of 8 overs, 3 maidens, 0 wickets for 8 runs. The guy hasn’t bowled for 12 years, and he’s got it on a shoestring. The Plough are loving it, the oppo can’t get Luky’s metronomic outswing off the square. Crane chips in with a wicket – a brutal rising delivery that catches the glove, a smart catch behind from Alex.

At this point, the game has well and truly died. The accuracy of the Plough bowlers has come down like a pillow smothering the cricketing life out of any potential chase. We’re also not getting any wickets which starts to get annoying. The other opener is still there, 10 runs to his name off about 110 balls. His mates are shouting ‘Geoffrey Boycott’ and other classic banter from the sidelines. He couldn’t care less and continues to block the crap out of everything. Time for some spin – Niraj and myself come on to test the egos and it does the trick – Niraj nicking one off courtesy of a screamer from Greg at slip, and a few quick wickets at my end. We suddenly realise there is only 1 wicket left to take as the oppo only have 9 players. Harry looks at me sheepishly from cover. I know exactly what he’s thinking. Over the past few weeks he’s been dropping the odd comment about his bowling ability. Really subtle stuff, nothing too obvious like ‘I’m actually a gun bowler but I’ve been pigeon-holed as a bat’. More like ‘I used to bowl a bit and I do enjoy it…got a few wickets a while ago actually…you know it came out alright at DSG nets last week’. Perhaps morbid curiosity, more likely the result of careful conditioning – Harry gets the ball and runs in. First ball lands on the strip to a round of applause. Second ball, he’s running in a touch harder, digging it in a touch shorter. Flashing bat. Diving Greg. The ball scooped an inch from the turf. Pandemonium. The Northern Superchargers have done it again. Field of dreams stuff. Milling around Harry and Greg, we momentarily forget that was the last wicket – the game is done. We join the oppo in the bar for some well-earned drinks and lovely cake courtesy of the travelling supporters, who have been a joy all day. I very much hope we’ll be back playing these chaps again next year.

Match report from Elmo