Many cricketers he saw and learned their minds,
Many pains he suffered, heartsick for The Wellington [the pub in Riding Mill, not the Field Marshal and twice Prime Minister, waterproof boots or fillet steak wrapped in pastry]
Fighting to protect his wicket and to bring his team-mates home,
But he could not save them from disaster, hard as he strove
(Homer, The Odyssey)
Xaipeiv [Ed – Ancient Greek for ‘greetings’] my dear poetry fans,
It’s me, Homer. No, not the one from The Simpsons. I’m the Ancient Greek poet and author of the Iliad and the Odyssey, two epic poems that are amongst the oldest surviving works of literature.
Aristotle described the Odyssey as ‘like a comedy in structure, if only due to the feebleness of its intended audience’. In many ways, Aristotle was a bit of a prick. He should try using dactylic hexameter while mixing features of the Ionic and Aeolic dialects. It’s as tricky as Artemis’s [Ed – Greek goddess of chastity] knicker-elastic, I can tell you!
Unlike Aristotle, I know an epic story when I see one (make that hear one – I am blind, after all). It is likely that what follows will become my third addition to the Western literary canon. Particularly the bits about bus routes and Barry’s Bargains in Consett…
(Time) travelling to Consett (the number 10 Tyne Valley to Corbridge – get on outside the Wellington on Main Road – then change to the 689 Tynedale Link at Dilston Park) to purchase my monthly supply of melitoutta [Ed – Ancient Greek honeycake] from Barry’s Bargains, I had the remarkable good fortune to encounter legendary onanist and member of Mallards CC, Mr Thomas Browne. Disguised as he was as Mentes [Ed – King of the Taphians and an old friend of Odysseus] I hailed him using the local dialect:
Homer: Awreet Tom. Wheer yee gannin’, like?
Mr Thomas Browne: Captain, this is madness! It is high time you thought of cricket, if it really is your fate to reach your well-built house and native land. You must accompany me to the match vs Belmont Knights CC, 26 June 2025.
I duly put aside the 25th book of the Odyssey– will I ever complete it? – and, stopping only to purchase some lupin beans [Ed –like lentils, but bigger] from Heron’s Foods and for a quick livener at the Grey Horse – I hopped on the bus to Durham (the 78 to Sunderland, changing to the 16A Durham Diamond at Stanley Bus Station).
Alighting at Belmont, Durham (take the 20A Prince Bishops Express towards Sunderland from Durham Bus Station), a magnificent vista lay before me. The Doric columns of the B&Q were not unlike those of the Parthenon; the signage of Sports Direct – informing me as it did that ‘For this week only: all footwear reduced!’ reminded me of the entablature of the Temple of Olympian Zeus.
I took up my usual spectating position in the bushes at the football pitch end. Pausing only to acknowledge the presence of Professor Ian ‘The Flashing Blade’ Stone whom, whilst at ease in his natural habitat, seemed somewhat preoccupied by his search for something he described as ‘top-quality smack’. I presume he meant the stuff enjoyed by the lotus-eaters of Djerba.
The Mallards CC captain and ever-gentlemanly Mr Latif (L) lost the toss and Mallards CC were invited to bat. Mr Ajay and Mr Wilson (R) strode to the middle. One ball later, Mr Wilson (R) strode back to the Erechtheion-like clubhouse, bowled by Pennels for a netta [Ed – Ancient Greek for a duck].
Much like Perimedes, Eurytochus and the other members of Odysseus’s crew, the valiant men of Mallards CC were not despondent. Mr ‘Despot’ Taylor summed up their stoicism:
Mr ‘Despot’ Taylor: Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.
New batsman Mr Withers agreed and duly smote a magnificent four over the cover boundary. He fell a couple of balls later to Maxwell, bowled for a well-crafted 5. The ever-ascrolodose [Ed – potty-mounted] Mr Green was next in and next out, falling (bowled) to Keerthi for 10.
By now Mallards CC were 51 for 3 after 7.4 overs, the Achilles-like Mr Ajay building a fine score alongside a growing contribution from the ever-dependable Mr Extras. A six by new batsmen Mr Nyenhuis was greeted as if Nike [Ed – Greek goddess of triumph] herself had arrived in Belmont. Pennels disagreed, catching (bowled Cartright) Mr Nyenhuis for a well-made 7.
My erstwhile guide and inviter Mr Browne remained optimistic, commenting that:
Mr Browne: For there is nothing better in this world than that batsman and non-striker should be of one mind in a house.
‘Indeed so’ replied Mr Khan, who was next in, making a well-developed 4 before falling (bowled) to Davison. Modern-day Patroclus Mr Latif (L) arrived to join Mr ‘Achilles’ Ajay who, by now, was 27 not out. Crafting a fine 11, Mr Latif (L) fell to Hector’s (Dobson’s) spear (he was bowled), leaving Mallards CC well-placed on 87 for 6 after 15.1 overs.
Mr Dan was made his way to the orchestra [Ed – the performance space in an Ancient Greek theatre] and asserted that:
Mr Dan: A batsman with a decent bat is worth no less than a brother.
Such fine sentiment from Mr Dan was suitably followed by a megaloprepis innings of 16, ended (bowled) by Gimple. In came Mr Browne, although (for the purposes , no doubt, of his welfare benefits claim), Mallards’ very own Dionysus [Ed – Greek god of boozing and ritual madness] waved his beneficent wand [Ed – his bat, rather than anything commonly ‘waved’ by Professor Ian ‘The Flashing Blade’ Stone] to accumulate a superb 6 before falling (caught) to Dobson.
Mr ‘Despot’ Taylor was last in and fell after heroically taking guard, being bowled by Gimple. Mallards’ great talisman and stoic reflected on the profoundly metaphysical nature of fate, since human free will is best manifested in how the individual accepts their preordained destiny:
Mr ‘Despot’ Taylor: Bollocks.
Mallards’ innings closed on 101, with Mr Ajay carrying his bat for a Plutusian [Ed – Greek god of abundance] 33. Consulting my North East Passenger Transport Authority compendium of bus timetables (version 1.3, following updates for the latest update to the route of the 74 Tynedale Links Hexham to Newcastle via Stagshaw Bank), I noted that my return journey to Riding Mill was likely to require a journey not unlike passing between Scylla and Charybdis. ‘Oh well’ I mused, ‘at least I have a decent supply of kykeon [Ed – Ancient Greek psychoactive mushrooms]. I can neck some on the way back and not in any way behave in an anti-social manner on public transport’.
Resisting the imprecations of my fellow in-the-bushes spectator Professor Ian ‘The Flashing Blade’ Stone to ‘get jacked up’ on what he described as ‘the best papiver somniferum [Ed – Ancient Greek narcotic] this side of Macedonia’, I settled in to watch the Belmont Knights CC innings.
Mr Nyenhuis was first to load the polybolos [Ed – Ancient Greek repeating ballista] and duly accounted for (caught Mr Dan) Davidson for 6. Near-namesake Davison (Ed – the DWP has been informed] had moved Belmont Knights CC to 21 for 1 before Mr ‘Achilles’ Ajay dismissed Keerthi, caught and bowled for medev [Ed – Ancient Greek for zero].
Heracles’ bow (the ball) was taken up by Mr ‘Patroclus’ Latif (L) and the Mr ‘Masturbotees’ (work it out for yourselves) Browne. Both kept things heroically tight in overs 7 to 12, but Davison and new batsman Maxwell progressed well, each reaching 30 not out.
Mr Latif (L) sought to inspire his warriors:
Mr Latif (L): A man who has been through bitter experiences and travelled far enjoys even his sufferings after a time.
The papyrus [Ed – the scorebook] is somewhat sketchy as to the effect of Mr Latif’s (L) oratory. The scorers had, no doubt, partaken of some of Professor Ian ‘The Flashing Blade’ Stone’s ‘supplies’. Belmont Knights CC were 80-odd for 2 (with 2 retired) after 12 or so overs.
Mr Withers and Mr Dan took up the gastraphetes (Ed – Ancient Greek non-torsion siege crossbow] and toiled with great fortitude, much like Ajax and Pindar. Like Sarpedon and Memnon [Ed – Trojan allies and heroes at the Siege of Illium], new batsmen Pennels and Clarke scored steadily. The former was 8 not out when he put down his xiphos (a short sword, similar to those waved around in areas of Britain that have ‘vibrant’ cultures); the latter downing his kopis (a heavier curved sword; a bit like a Gurkha’s kukri) when the innings closed, being 10 not out.
Belmont Knights CC had reached the summit of Mount Olympus, finishing on 105 for 2 (with 2 retired) after 16 or so overs. Taking care to avoid the dog shite in the outfield as he made his way back to the Erechtheion [Ed – the clubhouse], Mr Wilson (R) reflected on events:
Mr Wilson (R): No need my unlucky friends, to grieve here any longer, no, don’t waste your life away. Be of willing heart and soul to send you friends off at last. Let’s get down to the pub.
I might have gone to the demojun oikos [Ed – the pub] myself, given that my discreet positioning in the bushes as the football pitch end had been somewhat compromised by the smoke arising from Professor Ian ‘The Flashing Blade’ Stone’s pyxis [Ed – Ancient Greek equivalent of a crack pipe]. I thought it best to begin my return Odyssey, my journey to Riding Mill requiring four buses (the X20 Xlines to Sunderland, changing at Houghton-le-Spring; the X1 Xlines to Newcastle, changing at Gateshead Interchange; the X66 Supershuttle to the Metrocentre and then the 10 Tyne Valley to Corbridge).
Popping some kykeon [Ed – Ancient Greek psychoactive mushrooms] and a spot of ergot [Ed – a fungus that contains an alkaloid that is the forerunner of LSD] at Peterlee bus station, I woke to find that I had passed through Riding Mill and was at Corbridge Hill Street.
Much like this match report, I was exhausted. And somewhat intoxicated. By now it was 0025 and it was six-hours until the first bus left for Riding Mill, so I settled down for the night behind an improvised Themistoclean Wall (a bit of cardboard and a torn plastic bag from Dyvels Home & Lifestyle). Falling into a slumber induced by a little bit of Professor Ian ‘The Flashing Blade’ Stone’s glaucium [Ed – the fumes from poppy seeds cut with grease, set on fire in a jar), I was reminded of line 379 of Book 11 (I. 379 – 11.379) of my greatest work:
There is a time for many words, and a time for going to bed.