County Championship 2022. Division 1. Kent v Somerset. 26^th, 27^st and 28^th September 2022. Canterbury.

Jack Leach and Imam-ul-Haq were unavailable for this match.

Kent. T.S. Muyeye, Z. Crawley, D.J. Bell-Drummond, J.L. Denly, J.A. Leaning (c), O.G. Robinson (w), J.D.M. Evison, Hamidullah Qadri, C. McKerr, N.N. Gilchrist, M.R. Quinn.

Somerset. T.A. Lammonby, A.R.I. Umeed, T.B. Abell (c), G.A. Bartlett, L. P. Goldsworthy, J.E.K. Rew (w), B.G.F. Green, C. Overton, K.L. Aldridge, Sajid Khan, J.A. Brooks.

Toss. Somerset. Elected to bat.

First day 26^th September – Goldsworthy stands against the tide

My day began as it ended. With a Somerset wicket tumbling. Overnight rain and a heavy morning shower delayed the 10.30 start until midday. Forty minutes before the players walked out, I discovered I had forgotten to take the pills which regulate my heartbeat. Watching Somerset with an unregulated heart seemed less than wise. A quick calculation involving my best walking speed and the distance to the hotel revealed I might just make it there and back before the umpires called ‘Play’. I didn’t quite make it. As I returned through the gate, peering towards the middle, I heard a snick and saw Jack Leaning falling smartly to his left at second slip. The ball, which had flown from the edge of Tom Lammonby’s bat, disappeared into Leaning’s hands, Matt Quinn the bowler from Canterbury’s Nackington Road End. Five hours later, with ominous clouds designed for inclusion in a biblical epic producing eerily Transylvanian light, Nathan Gilchrist, once of Somerset, ran in from the Pavilion End. He sent a thunderbolt scything into Sajid Khan’s pads. It was his second wicket in two balls and my regulated heart had suffered a day of almost constant pummelling from the Kent bowlers.

The match had begun with Somerset’s First Division status assured. After a season of struggle designed to stress test even the healthiest Somerset heart, Somerset had retained their place in the First Division with that gargantuan victory over Northamptonshire at Taunton three days before. Kent, who had also spent their season battling relegation, had begun the day needing a maximum of ten points to be sure of survival. Ten points would ensure they finished above Warwickshire who were playing second-placed Hampshire. Kent had given themselves the edge over Warwickshire with a crushing defeat of Hampshire in their previous match, thereby ending Hampshire’s hopes of the title. As so often in the Championship First Division, late-season matches can be dog-eat-dog affairs at both ends of the table.

My location of choice at Canterbury is the upper level of the 1930s-vintage Frank Woolley Stand at the Pavilion End. Like the ultra-modern Trescothick Pavilion at Taunton, the boundary beneath it is not visible from the upper level. Otherwise, it offers a good, raised view of the part tree-lined ground. Only the relatively newly built flats along the boundary behind the new lime tree offer a modern aspect. The pitch, as viewed from the Woolley Stand, was straw-coloured with no hint of green, consistent in my mind with runs. The stand was not heavily populated, nor was any part of the ground, which was surprising given the importance of the match to Kent. A preliminary assessment of the crowd as I made my way to my seat suggested that Somerset supporters might have had a case for suggesting they matched the Kent supporters in number, although the maroon hats and caps of both sets of supporters and Somerset’s wyvern and Kent’s prancing horse emblems made judging the make-up of the crowd less than straightforward.

Somerset’s Andrew Umeed, a late replacement for Imam-ul-Haq greeted my arrival at my seat with a back foot drive off Quinn to the cover boundary. That was followed by Tom Abell steering Gilchrist, bowling from the Pavilion End, through backward point to the new lime tree boundary. Those neatly placed strokes brought some relief after Lammonby’s wicket. The relief was short lived. Within two overs, Abell, surprised by some lift from Gilchrist, had been caught at second slip by Leaning falling to his right, and Umeed had left a slightly angled-in ball from Quinn which cut in off the pitch and crashed into his pads. From my angle, over first slip, it was not possible to be definitive about leg before wicket decisions but everything about that one looked out. “Absolutely plumb,” confirmed the text from the cricketer watching online. Somerset were 9 for 3 and, although Somerset were safe from relegation, the pit of my stomach felt cavernously empty.

The head, numbed, tried to rationalise 9 for 3 with the straw-coloured pitch. The 10.30 start in post-equinoctial September sought to provide some explanation, but in suggesting an explanation raised a question about the decision to bat first. It was not a question though which would have exercised W.G. Grace unduly, and usually I hold firm to his ‘bat first in all circumstances’ dictum. But then, I doubt W.G. ever had to make the decision with October knocking on the door. Who would be a captain having to measure autumnal first-morning movement against a pitch which promises a scoreboard full of runs? 

Extracting those runs was now in the hands of George Bartlett, mercurial but with a tendency to score runs when they are needed, and Lewis Goldsworthy, fast establishing himself as a barrier to bowlers at number five in the Somerset order. Even so, for the watching Somerset supporter their developing partnership was an uneasy one. The edge of the bat was much in evidence, either being beaten or being found by the unrelentingly accurate Kent attack. Particularly impressive was Gilchrist, tall and unerringly questioning of the batsmen’s technique. He beat Bartlett twice in an over, and only conceded two runs from the six balls by virtue of a thick outside edge. “Gilchrist is cutting it away against the slope,” said the text. Goldsworthy, not to mention the beat of my heart, was tested too. He edged Quinn past the slips for four, was beaten by Gilchrist and edged him short of Robinson behind the stumps. The edge of my seat, a necessary accessory for Somerset supporters, was firmly in use.

Gradually though, as lunch approached, the batters began to establish themselves and Bartlett began to take the fight to Kent. Quinn was driven square off the back foot for four. It was a beautiful stroke and gave the Somerset heart a lift. Gilchrist, bowling with four slips, suffered an explosive straight drive which rifled past his feet and vainly stretching hand, Bartlett again the perpetrator. When Joey Evison, late of Nottinghamshire, replaced Gilchrist, Bartlett attacked again, lofting him over wide long on and into the terrace of the Cowdrey Stand for six. Finally, Goldsworthy, progressing watcfully at the other end, took Somerset to lunch with a four off Conor McKerr driven through the off side to Canterbury’s distinctive landscape scoreboard. It registered 43 for 3 from 15 overs, less than Bartlett’s assault suggested it should have done, but it was at least something of a recovery from 9 for 3.

The afternoon session saw battle re-joined as the two sides grappled with each other head on. The Kent bowlers bowled relentlessly straight, as they had all morning, and continued to find some life in the pitch, still beating the bat worryingly often. Somerset defended resolutely but still attacked the ball or played it softly into the gaps where opportunity presented. Across the course of the afternoon though, Kent gradually established an ascendancy. Bartlett fell early, re-instating that cavernous feeling in the stomach, jabbing hard at a ball from Gilchrist and edging it to Robinson behind the stumps to leave Somerset on 49 for 4. Bartlett 28 from 31 balls.

That brought James Rew to the wicket to join Goldsworthy. Through the second part of the summer they have been establishing themselves as an effective fifth wicket partnership. Here, they began slowly, although Goldsworthy showed some intent with controlled, soft drives through the covers and straight, both for three. Both came off Gilchrist, already bowling a second spell courtesy of lunch coming so soon after the start. The first boundary of the partnership though did not come until the ninth over when Rew, who had scored five runs in those nine overs, drove Evison along the ground and through the on side to the boundary in front of the landscape scoreboard which showed Somerset on 70 for 4 after 25 overs.

It was progress of a sort, for only one wicket had fallen since the third, 61 runs before, but the threat of wickets always hung in the air. Rew drove majestically at Gilchrist and connected only with air. The Somerset heart missed a beat and Kent supporters gasped audibly. Goldsworthy was comprehensively beaten by McKerr to another round of audible gasps, although he also cut him through backward point to the boundary in front of the new lime tree, this time to generous applause from both sets of supporters. In the end though, the pressure told. Three times in four balls McKerr bested Rew. The first, an edge, fell short of slip. The second, a full-blooded edge bisected the keeper and first slip, passed through the slip fielder’s grasping hands and crossed the boundary for four. The escape profited Somerset nothing, for off the next ball Rew edged defensively and Daniel Bell-Drummond at third slip took a good catch diving low to his right. Somerset were 85 for 5 and Rew had departed for 16 after battling for nearly an hour.

Ben Green, filling the number seven slot in the absence of Lewis Gregory, played an innings which never established itself. Mainly defensive, in three-quarters of an hour he scored 12 runs. The 12 runs consisted of three boundaries, the first edged at catchable height between second and fourth slip when there was no third, Evison the bowler. The second, five overs later off Gilchrist, was edged wide of third slip when there was no fourth. His third boundary though was driven powerfully through the on side to the boundary in front of the flats just square of the lime. There was a sigh of Somerset relief, but it was extinguished two overs later when, attempting to defend, he was bowled by Quinn. A replay shows the comprehensiveness of the dismissal, the ball cutting in, perhaps aided by the slope. The scoreboard showed 116 for 6 and the pit of the Somerset stomach suffered another searing twinge.

While Rew fought and Green struggled, Goldsworthy’s innings began to blossom, although not without risk. He was beaten more than once, on one occasion drawing audible gasps from around the ground. Against the tide of the still probingly accurate bowling, he had rotated the strike with Rew, carefully pushing and guiding singles into gaps. With the arrival of Green, he began to find the boundary, steering McKerr wide of the slips to reach the rope straight of the lime tree. In McKerr’s next over Goldsworthy dropped to one knee and drove stunningly through extra cover to the boundary near the main entrance, the ball skimming across the outfield like a snooker ball being struck unerringly from one end of the baize to the other. When Gilchrist replaced McKerr, Goldsworthy twice drove him to the same corner of the field. This was another, typically fighting, Goldsworthy innings.

Craig Overton’s batting has fallen away somewhat over the last year or two as his bowling has improved. It is an exchange of powers which most Somerset supporters would accept, for Overton is now a bowler of such presence and impact that when he is playing for Somerset, particularly with Josh Davey opening the bowling opposite him, the attack, and the team, look a far more potent proposition than when he is not. With the score on 116 for 6 however, on a pitch which, despite the nature of some of the wickets, still looked to have more runs in it than Somerset were gathering, there was a desperate need for someone to stay with Goldsworthy as Overton strode to the wicket. ‘Walked’, it barely needs saying, is an inadequate description of Overton emerging from the Pavilion, for his every stride shouts intent.

Goldsworthy welcomed him with another drive through the covers off Gilchrist which again skimmed across the boundary in front of the flats. It brought up Goldsworthy’s fifty from 97 balls to applause, thankful from Somerset supporters, generous from Kent ones. Overton’s start was less convincing. He edged his fifth ball to first slip. ‘Out!’ the thought, but the ball fell to earth. “He’s dropped it!” cried a horrified Kent supporter, Gilchrist the unlucky bowler. Unlucky again with the next ball which beat Overton without result. Gilchrist’s reward was to be driven straight and powerfully to the Pavilion End boundary by Overton. When Overton bent his knees to cut Quinn square to the boundary, Somerset went to tea on 130 for 6 with Goldsworthy having stretched his score to 55.

My teatime circumnavigation past the Cowdrey Stand, anti-clockwise of course, and on past the landscape scoreboard, was a walk of memories. The 1974 Gillette Cup semi-final. A match for the ages fought out between two teams containing such great names as Botham, Richards, Close, Parks, Cowdrey, Colin of that ilk, Knott, Underwood and Shepherd. I and my brother arrived late and, every seat long taken, stood transfixed for the day by the old lime tree watching a tension-ridden, tourniquet-tight low-scoring game. Less than 320 runs in 120 overs less a few. We felt every twist and turn as the snail-like scores developed on that landscape scoreboard, white with black numbers then. The more traditional black with white numbers now.

Then, memories put to one side as the current match unfolded, I walked on past the new lime tree, safely beyond the boundary unlike its predecessor which was inside and under which Alan Ealham had bent low to scoop up a running catch from a Mervyn Kitchen lap in that long-ago semi-final. Eventually, my circumnavigation took me to the area in front of the modern Lime Tree Café just before I passed behind the Pavilion to return to the Woolley Stand. I, and another wearer of a Somerset hat, looked anxiously at that scoreboard just as I had in 1974. We tried to convince ourselves that a score of between 180 and 220 might keep Somerset in the game as it had more than done at Edgbaston. I am not sure either of us quite convinced the other or ourselves, for the movement of the ball notwithstanding, Goldsworthy had been playing with growing confidence and Overton, once past his shaky start, had struck two scintillating boundaries, encouragement perhaps for the Kent batters. 

After tea, the mixture of assured strokes and fortunate edges returned and with them some hope that there might be something in the pitch when the Somerset bowlers’ turn came. Goldsworthy edged McKerr over the slips for four while Overton drove him emphatically through the off side for four more. A back foot cover drive followed by an on drive to the Cowdrey Stand from Goldsworthy, again off McKerr, both exuded quality and took Somerset past 150 and Goldsworthy to 72. Then, what was no more than a push to long off for three from Goldsworthy off Bell-Drummond was followed by an inside edge which bisected the keeper and the stumps to run for four. Against McKerr, he top-edged a hook over the keeper for four and, a ball later, hooked him to deep square leg from where the ball bounced into the seats in front of the flats. For those sitting under Somerset hats it was a rollercoaster watch, but it brought momentum to the Somerset innings, and hope tempered by metaphorical crossed fingers to the Somerset heart.

But, with the score climbing past that hoped for 180 and on towards 200, Overton was dropped in fading light as Robinson failed to take an inside edge, Gilchrist the unlucky bowler. Even with the floodlights on, the light was darkening by the ball, and Kent broke through. Overton came forward in defence to Gilchrist. The ball, angled in, might have cut in a shade further against the slope and Overton’s off stump cartwheeled. 195 for 7. Overton 30. In his next over, with that eerie light which accompanies floodlights under a darkening sky, Gilchrist surprised Aldridge with a quick, lifting ball, found the outside edge and Robinson took the catch. Off the next ball, fast and full, with the light darker still, Khan was late coming down in defence. The ball struck the pad. There was no doubt, even from the Woolley Stand, that the umpire would raise his finger. “I wonder if he even saw it,” someone said, and Somerset had lost three wickets for no runs.

With Jack Brooks walking to the wicket to face Gilchrist’s hat-trick ball the umpires were deep in conversation. With the light now as dark as any I have seen first-class cricket played in, their decision was made for them by the offending clouds which began dropping rain in sufficient quantities to force the players from the field. There was no immediate decision on abandoning play for the day, but the crowd made its own decision and poured from the ground, leaving only a few diehards awaiting the inevitable, and Goldsworthy stranded on 93. And so, the morrow will begin with Goldsworthy seven runs short of a century, Somerset five runs short of a bonus point and Gilchrist one wicket short of a hat-trick. If Somerset are to keep some grip on this match it will be a day of tension, for there will be no leeway. I must remember to take the tablets.

Close. Somerset 195 for 9.