County Championship 2024. Division 1. Worcestershire v Somerset 26th, 27th, 28th and 29th April. Kidderminster.

Jack Leach, (knee injury), Tom Abell (hamstring) and Craig Overton (rested) were unavailable.

Worcestershire. J.D. Libby, G.H. Roderick (w), Kashif Ali, R.P. Jones, A.J. Hose, B.L. D’Oliveira, J.O. Holder, M.J. Waite, J. Leach, B.J. Gibbon, A.W. Finch.

Somerset, M.T. Renshaw, S.R. Dickson, T.A. Lammonby, L.P. Goldsworthy, T. Banton, J.E.K. Rew (w), L. Gregory (c), C. Overton, J.H. Davey, M. Pretorius, S. Bashir.

Overnight. Somerset 309 for 9 dec. Worcestershire 14 for 0. Worcestershire trail by 295 runs with ten first innings wickets standing.

Second day 27th April – A bitter wind blew

It was not a day to be in a hotel a mile and a half from the ground, virtually all of it a steep upward gradient. Flecks of rain on the bedroom window and wet ground outside joined forces with an indeterminate weather forecast for the morning to throw me into confusion about when to set off for the match. Ever the optimist (who isn’t where cricket and weather are concerned?), I ventured out, large Somerset umbrella in hand. The umbrella was a mixed blessing, for if Somerset supporters were to carry only one memory away from Kidderminster, it would be of the icy wind which cut into the face. The rain, a few spots, turned into a persistent drizzle as I walked. Combined with the wind, the drizzle made for a formidable opponent. Walking into it meant holding the umbrella horizontally in front of me as it was buffeted furiously from side to side obscuring first one oncoming pedestrian then another. Turning a corner would transform it into a sail, dragging me headlong, point first, towards another unfortunate pedestrian while threatening to blow inside out.

As I arrived at the gate, drizzle still filled the air, grey cloud encased the sky and the covers were on. It was the sort of scene that gives little hint of when, or if, play might begin. To my eye there were not many more than a hundred people scattered around the ground. Even so, given the weather, I was surprised to find a free seat in the small wooden shelter with a bench seat, the only covered seating in the ground. It could accommodate at most a dozen people, but usually had only five or six. As we watched the drizzle, a Worcestershire member and I chatted away. Worcestershire had had to move this match and one other from Worcester at short notice after New Road had flooded for the seventh and eighth time during the winter. Kidderminster Cricket Club had had very little time to prepare, and the move had cost Worcestershire £130,000. From the size of the crowds at Kidderminster, one food concession, one small bar open to the elements and no obvious opportunity for hospitality, they would recoup only a fraction of that. Set against debt, he told me, of £3 million it had been a tough start to the season for the County’s finances.

Once the drizzle had stopped, the ground was ready for play surprisingly quickly. There had been rain overnight, and after the damp morning some visiting supporters wondered if the ground could be made ready at all that day. Given Kidderminster is a club ground, that was not an unreasonable view to take. Locals though said it was a very fast-drying ground and in fact virtually a full afternoon session was played, if in front of a crowd of still little over a hundred at the start although a few more wandered in as play got underway.

As play began, I found myself back with the small group of Somerset supporters in front of the burger van and bar with whom I had stood for a while on the first day. The wind was as icily biting there as it had been on the walk to the ground, but if the cricket were to be watched, the wind had to be endured. Endured by the players too, some fielding in snoods, Matt Renshaw, fresh from an Australian summer, pulling his over his head between overs more than once.

The cricket took a while to unfreeze, nine runs coming from the first five overs. Eight of those came from two boundaries from Adam Finch, one a thick edge which bounced across the face of Somerset’s four slips, the other straight-driven off the back foot with the smoothest of strokes back past the stumps, Migael Pretorius, the bowler. Then Ball, who looked the pick of the Somerset bowlers, struck. A full, straight ball found Finch coming down on it late and being struck on the pads in front of his middle stump. Worcestershire 23 for 1. Finch 17. Deficit 286.

The wicket brought a cheer from the Somerset supporters in the ground, more than might have been expected given the small number of spectators overall. Some had made arrangements to stay in Worcester before the match was moved to Kidderminster and the journey from Worcester, by car or train, is a straightforward one. The wicket brought hope for Somerset, but it was just a straight ball, very well directed, perhaps with some extra pace to deceive the batter, but straight with no hint of movement.

Batting soon began to look easy, and I took a seat among one of the many plastic chairs laid out in rows forward of the shelter. After taking some time to establish themselves, Worcestershire settled into a steady, almost metronomic, four runs an over. Jake Libby and Gareth Roderick rarely looked in difficulty, took few risks and were selective about the balls they attacked. Fifty-six of the 93 runs scored between the fall of Finch and tea came in boundaries, mostly driven as Somerset kept the ball up. Libby took the lead, outscoring Roderick by nearly two to one, but most impressive was the solidity of the partnership. There were edges, but no more than you would normally see in an afternoon of cricket. One, from a Libby cut off Aldridge, flew over the, by then, three slips. “I think that was too high to catch,” the comment as second slip reached up, “He only made a token effort.” It was the closest Somerset came to taking a wicket and Libby immediately followed up with a back foot square drive which raced to the boundary and put the edge in context.

A boundary was struck in six of the next seven overs and Somerset supporters pursed their lips as Somerset’s lead began to fall with no sign of another wicket. Among the fours, a steer, perhaps aided by a hint of an edge, from Roderick off Gregory, flew wide of third slip and the boundary registered the Worcestershire fifty. Two straight drives from Roderick, one off Aldridge, one off Pretorius, crossed the boundary at the Railway End, to the left of my vantage point. Libby guided Gregory behind square in successive overs, once on each side of the wicket. With Worcestershire now 82 for 1, the cloud was thickening, the wind becoming ever more unforgiving, its chill freezing the fingers through gloves and penetrating anorak and scarf. From my exposed plastic chair I beat as dignified a retreat as I could to the still half-empty shelter.

The ease with which the boundaries were coming was emphasised when Gregory, now bowling to two slips, pitched short and wide of off stump. Libby, as if redirecting a wayward ball, reached out and scooped it around, sending it scurrying across the deep midwicket boundary. When Jake Ball was tried, Libby drove him through extra cover for another four to bring up his fifty from 88 balls. Two balls later, he turned Ball neatly through square leg for another four to register Worcestershire’s century just before the teams went off for tea with the score on 107 for 1, 202 runs behind. The Somerset bowlers had mostly stuck to their task, Ball in particular. He had taken the only Worcestershire wicket to fall and had conceded less than two runs an over. Curiously, Aldridge, the best bowler on either side at The Oval, was wayward, conceding 30 runs in four overs.

The skies were glowering now, and continued to close in over tea. By the end of the interval the light was too dark for play to resume, there being no floodlights at an out ground. Even if there had been it is doubtful play would have been possible. It was one of those skies which offer no hope at a cricket match, for the cloud covers every square inch of the sky and looks even darker in the direction from which the weather comes. My count of spectators struggled to reach 50. Soon there were only two of us in the shelter. One Somerset. One Worcestershire. He was swaddled against the wind in thick trousers which looked as if the hid more layers, jumper, anorak and a huge, endless scarf knitted in Worcestershire colours, wrapped around his neck with the ends forming a serpentine heap on his lap. The whole image was topped by a huge bobble hat, also in Worcestershire colours, which engulfed his head. We talked around Worcestershire’s flood woes again, but with the rearguard of the crowd beginning to retreat towards the town, and all hope of a restart having fled, I bade my farewells. As to the Worcestershire supporter, his chosen bus was still an hour away and he elected to cling onto the hope that there might be a resumption rather than leave to catch an earlier bus. A check of the online scorecard when I had battled the wind to reach my hotel confirmed that his hope had been unrequited.

Close. Somerset 309 for 9 dec Worcestershire 107 for 1. Worcestershire trail by 202 runs with nine first innings wickets standing.