Fat Tony is back

Finally, the legend is back. The first Fat Tony of 2008 recounts two humiliating defeats and two fabulous nailbiting victories. The regular highs and lows of a season that has only just begun. (Cue the Carpenters: # La-la-la-la, # we’ve only just begun… #)

A slow train chugs through the murky, chilly afternoon. The outskirts of Abcoude aren’t the most cheerful place at the best of times. Picture grey skies, wagonloads of sand or coal going by in the distance. A derelict old shed, surrounded by grass and weeds thatcome up to your armpit. You might feel that you’re in the armpit of Amsterdam, an unwashed Amsterdam after a gruesome night out in, well, Amsterdam. The shady parts of Amsterdam. Almost as bad as Abcoude.

There we were, and that’s how we were feeling, on that first day of may. When you’re sitting in the rain, waiting for the end to come, a person might just lose his will to think, breathe and smile. Cold wind pierced the old shed that is Jinnah’s clubhouse. Rain was never quite heavy enough to come off, and yet heavy enough to amplify the chill in our bones and hearts, the chill of a defeat that for along time looked very avoidable.

We bowled well enough, fielded well enough. One partnership took too long to break, and Jinnah made 256. Tomba injured his hand trying for a low, fast catch.

 When Sunil and Nico hauled us to 120-ish for 2, with Grobs smacking some serious sixes, we looked favourites. Then a few loose shots, Lanny copped a very dodgy lbw and in the end nobody else reached double figures.

Freezing raindrops scattered around us, as we packed our bags outside the empty shed. We waved goodby to the guy on the moped, chuf-chuffing in to tend his communal garden at the other end of the ground. And we left the smelly, overgrown, unshaved armpit of Abcoude.

The second deception was soon to follow. Last year, we kicked blue-tracksuited butt. Twice. This time, United took revenge.

Sunils offstump was sent flying second ball, and the next six wickets didn’t take long either. We did have a lame excuse: the game started an hour early because of remembrance day, we had to rush around the ground putting up deckchairs and laying down boundary ropes, so we weren’t really prepared.

But that’s bullshit.

United showed up at a quarter to nine, almost half an hour before the coffee would be ready. We didn’t.

So when we were 38/7, it looked like it might be a short day in the field. Some nice hanging-on and a few solid blows from Iqqy, Bocko and Yahya hauled us up to 120.

We needed quick wickets, didn’t get them, and that was the game. Bocko threw down the stumps with blistering pace to get the run-out, and Dr. Phil took a wicket with his high-flying guile, but that’s about all there is to say about Rolly’s first game in charge.

So I’ll stop there.

Picture this: a gloriously sunny day in beautiful Amstelveen, the well-coiffed soft and shiny crown of Amsterdam. What a difference from the stinky pubes that are Abcoude, this is an area of leisure and pleasure. Retirees gently ride their bicycles down a winding path along a canal, a pub around the corner serves them coffee in the golden morning sun.

That’s where you turn right, then left and hang right to reach VVV.

Little did we know it would be the first of two marathon matches.

They shot off the mark, at 50 after 8 overs we were on the ropes. But we recovered. Grobs got the breakthrough, Lanny and Tomba and Ya and Nelly bowled very economically. VVV had a spell of 8 runs in 7 overs. Then it was their turn to recover, but the 250-plus that had seemed on the cards was well out of their reach. Stormy had the guy Wayn, who held their innings together, caught off te last ball.

Chasing 233, the Judge got us off to a good start. He scored his first half-century for Ajax and stayed in until the 4th over. Grobs hit a couple of boundaries then fell for the ost obvious trap ever: man back, slower ball, ta-daa. Iqqy kept the Judge company for a long time, and with ten overs to go we only needed 45 more runs. Five wickets in hand.

Then four wickets in hand.

Then three.

Then two.

Twenty runs off two overs needed. People biting nails, squeezing butt-cheeks together as if they were in some raunchy American prisonmovie, pacing endlessly and uselessly up and down behind the scorers, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands.

Dr. Phil smacked a couple of fours, Ya joined in. Five needed off the last over. Ya smacked the first ball to the fence, scores tied, all the fielders in to stop the single, whoosh, a swing and a miss, and then: crack, thick top-edge, over the slips for four.

Seven thirty in the evening, we had finally won this game that had seemed a lot easier just a few hours ago.

The very next day, an even later finish.

Picture this: hot sun glaring over the Overveerpolder. A violin playing in the distance, the birds join in a happy morning song.

Then the people from Amsterdam arrive. A menacing look on their faces; these guys mean business. The violinist is shot by a man with a harmonica, who lowers his sombrero a little deeper over his eyes. His lips twitch nervously under the greasy mustache, as the birds stop their twirling melodies, shut their beeks and crawl back on their branch, their backs to the tree, ready to flee.

Or that’s how I picture it. But I wasn’t even there and neithere were Nico, Dr. Phil and Storm.

VRA scored 247, I believe. Some sloppy fielding at the start, some good recovering, then another good partnership and Ajax came back well again.

Our innings started with a few hiccups. At 30/3, another ‘United’ loomed. Tomba and Rolly disagreed vehemently, and with an almost century partnership they lifted spirits and self-confidence. Helped by the humongous number of wides that VRA bowled again, same as they did last year.

Of course, it wouln’t be Ajax without a middle order collapse. Goes without saying. But Lanny slammed the breaks on, and set about getting us there. Which he did with a mighty six.

That’s it, two weeks, four games, four points. A season has started.

Highlights so far:

- the barlady at VVV lying on the couch in the clubhouse, watching Oprah talk about masturbation.

- the chicken curry VVV made for lunch.

- Jinnah’s batsmen can apparently only drink water when sitting on one knee.

- Jinnah’s opening bowler has a scary beard, but a nice smile.

- United deserved to win. But they should still walk when they’re out.

- We are stil looking forward to Quick Nijmegen, Louis and Marla. Ask Rolly why that is.