County Championship 2025. Division 1. Somerset v Essex. 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th May. Taunton.

Somerset. A.M. Vaughan, A.R.I. Umeed, T.A. Lammonby, T.B. Abell, T. Banton, J.E.K. Rew (w), L. Gregory (c), C. Overton, M. Pretorius, J.H. Davey, M.J. Leach.

Essex. D. Elgar, P.I. Walter, T. Westley (c), J.M. Cox, M.J.J. Critchley, M.S. Pepper (w), N.R.M. Thain, S.R. Harmer, S.J. Cook, C.A.K. Rajitha, J.A. Porter.

Overnight. Essex 206 and 259. Somerset 145 and 216 for 6. Somerset need 105 runs to win with four second innings wickets standing

Final day – This might just happen

When Craig Overton doesn’t reach the boundary until the 92nd ball of his innings you know something is afoot. And something was afoot at the County Ground on the final morning of this match. With two hours play the most that could be expected, and perhaps no more than half an hour, in a bitterly cold wind if it found your seat, perhaps seven hundred and fifty people gathered to watch the dénouement of this match. At the start, Somerset needed another 105 runs to win with four wickets standing in a low-scoring match. At the end of the third day, most I spoke to had thought those odds, plus a new ball due after 12 overs, heavily favoured Essex. But cricket is about more than odds and statistics. It is also about strength of will if you have a bat or a ball in your hand, and intuition if you have a seat beyond the boundary. As people walked to their homes, buses, cars or trains on the evening of the third day after a long recovery from 78 for 5 to 216 for 6, a still, small voice must have been whispering in their heads, “Something is afoot. This might just happen.” In response, the brain would have quoted the odds and Somerset’s catastrophic collapses on the first day at Southampton, the final day at The Oval and twice in this match. And yet, that bit of intuition seeded by that long third day recovery by Lewis Gregory, James Rew and Craig Overton will have kept insisting, “Something is afoot. This might just happen.”

There were about five hundred of us watching at the start, quickly to grow to that seven hundred and fifty. The coldest place in the ground must have been the Trescothick Pavilion seating, but I had sat in the upper level for the first three days, and along with intuition, cricket supporters’ minds contain huge deposits of superstition. I am not superstitious in any way but, as always, not wishing to take any chances, the upper level it was. I sat encased in my white wyvern hat and thick Somerset scarf with frozen feet at the other extremity. Nerve ends must be immune to the cold, for mine were red hot for the next ninety minutes. In the middle, Rew and Overton began against Sam Cook and Simon Harmer, looking as if they had no nerves at all, defending quietly and pushing singles as if it were a sunny Sunday afternoon in the park.

But this was not the park, and Somerset desperately needed a win. When Rew drove Cook through the on side to Gimblett’s Hill for four, cheers of encouragement broke out from throats around the ground. When he edged the next ball wide of the only slip to the Colin Atkinson Pavilion for four there were startled gasps followed by relieved cheers as the emotional rollercoaster that is supporting Somerset got properly underway. That four took Somerset to 231 for 6 and the scoreboard next to the Colin Atkinson Pavilion showed in its bottom right-hand corner that 90 more were needed to win. Ninety looked so much better than 105 but those nerve ends were not convinced. Ninety runs is an awfully long way to go with only four wickets standing if it is your side batting and a new ball and Simon Harmer to negotiate virtually all the way there.

With so much hanging on the outcome of this match after Somerset’s crushingly poor start to the season, the nerves in the stands were not eased by the apparent calm of the batters in the middle as they carefully prodded the ball back or pushed it for a single. Apparent calm, but calm in high-pressure situations requires strength of will and singleness of purpose, and in this innings those qualities shone through from every sinew in and action of the bodies of Rew and Overton. As they fought, every single brought forth applause from a crowd driven by the knife-edged tension. When Overton pulled Chandrasekara Rajitha square towards the Priory Bridge Road boundary for two, and the umpire’s horizontal arm signalled no ball, the rising applause erupted into cheers. The no ball took the runs required down to 79, and in a tight run chase, especially in a low-scoring match, every reduction in the ‘ten’ digit on the scoreboard brings a touch of balm to the suffering supporter of the batting side.

Rew and Overton were now pushing Essex, for the singles and some twos were coming regularly, and the crowd were buzzing in support. When Rew cut Harmer to Gimblett’s Hill for four, cheers erupted, and when he immediately followed up with a push to midwicket for a quickly run single, “Well done!” rang out amidst the applause. The spirit of the crowd was lifting, for Somerset’s running between the wickets was developing into an art form. The ball was being pushed just wide enough or short enough of a fielder for an instantly sprinted single to put pressure on the fielder and trigger just enough inaccuracy in the throw for the bat to run through the crease as the keeper gathered the ball out of position. The pushes for singles never let up and then came a perfectly executed open face drive from Rew off Rajitha which raced to the Colin Atkinson Pavilion boundary and the runs required dropped to 68. The heart was beginning to race now, for a target that had seemed excruciatingly far away was coming tantalisingly into reach.

Every single of the morning had been applauded, but now the quick ones, and the judgement of Rew and Overton was such that there was no shortage of those, were being cheered. For Essex, with Harmer bowling every over from the River End, there was no shortage of leg before wicket appeals. The moments of anxiety in the crowd generated by the appeals and the rising excitement of the cheers fed off each other to pump up the atmosphere. The County Ground was absolutely fizzing. And then the umpire held up the new ball and Cook replaced Rajitha at the Trescothick Pavilion End. Three balls later, there was a colossal leg before wicket appeal against Overton, but the ball ran for four leg byes and when the cheers for that had subsided the scoreboard showed the runs required at 59. Another ten gone.

Hearts stopped when Porter took Rew’s inside edge, but there was a roar as the ball missed the leg stump and ran to the boundary. As the clock showed noon, it felt like we had been in the ground for an eternity. An eternity it may have felt, and the drain on the nerves of the batters must have been enormous, but on went the steady accumulation of runs as if the batters were marking the passage of time itself. When they ran the fastest of twos, the crowd’s cheer marked the progress of the runs as it rose in volume and pitch as they hurtled towards the crease. Batters and crowd were in unison while Essex’s fielders increasingly looked like watchers on. However fast they chased the ball, however hard they threw, Rew and Overton outran them with an intensity and will to win that shone from every step. When Rew turned Porter through midwicket for an easily run two he registered his century to a standing ovation. He acknowledged the crowd, but there were no histrionics. His reaction spoke of work still to be done, nervous energy still to be expended.

With Somerset getting closer, Essex reverted to Harmer six overs into the new ball. Rew did not look quite so assured against Harmer with a new ball in hand and Rajitha beat his defensive stroke. But when Rew drove Rajitha to deep cover for a single the applause turned to more cheers when someone spotted the umpire’s arm again at the horizontal, “No ball!” the delighted shout. And with that, the runs required fell from 32 to 29. Somehow, 29 seemed so much closer than 32, and amidst the tension and the cheers time began to pass more quickly. And then, with seemingly every spectator leaning forward in their seats, eyes bursting from their sockets, hope seeping from every inch of their form, the Colin Atkinson Pavilion scoreboard went blank. The Gimblett’s Hill scoreboard does not show the runs required and so we were all pitched back to the Championship of our youth when we had to work out that figure in our heads, and long-unused parts of the brain were cranked into use.

In the middle, the drama ignored the blank scoreboard. When Overton straight drove Harmer to the Lord Ian Botham Stand the ball scorched the grass and the now fully functioning brain calculated that Somerset needed 18 to win. The cheers were now deafening in the top of the Trescothick Pavilion, despite there being no more than 30 people freezing up there. Surely, surely, Somerset were there now. The head said so. The Essex players bodies said so. After that Overton drive, Harmer kicked the dust in the bowling crease as he retrieved his sweater from the umpire. The heart still worried, it always will until Somerset are over the line, but Rew drove the message of Somerset’s now seemingly unstoppable charge home with a straight drive off Rajitha which crossed the Trescothick Pavilion boundary. Fourteen needed. The next ball, Rew pulled furiously to the Somerset Stand boundary. Ten needed. A single took that to nine. Surely.

And then, with the tension relaxing, Rew tried to sweep Harmer and was leg before wicket, hit on the back leg plumb in front of the stumps. Silence. Nervous chatter. Then tumultuous applause from spectators standing all around the ground. Rew looked crestfallen but the applause followed him all the way back to the Caddick Pavilion. It had been an outstanding innings, perhaps the best of Rew’s short career. His tenth first-class century at the age of 21 and in making it, he had steered Somerset from the depths of 78 for 5 to the brink of victory, 235 runs later. Somerset 313 for 7. Rew 116. And just those nine runs needed.

All eyes on the Pavilion. Who would emerge? Deep breaths. No wobbles now. Please. Migael Pretorius. Then, what looked like instructions from, rather than a chat with, Overton. After an exchange of singles with Overton, Pretorius found himself facing the final three balls of a Rajitha over. No heroics. Just three carefully played prods. Now Overton. With six needed, he faced Harmer with three fielders around the bat, Essex’s last throw. Overton drove the second ball straight back past Harmer to the Lord Ian Botham Stand boundary. Two needed. Two balls later, Overton took a step down the pitch and drove Harmer over straight long on to the Lord Ian Botham Stand for six. The announcement that he had reached his fifty from 111 balls of incredible concentration and control was almost drowned by the cheer that accompanied the six, and suddenly Somerset’s season felt an awful lot better. Indeed, something had been afoot when Rew and Overton walked to the middle at eleven o’clock, and seven hundred and fifty people had spent an eternity watching an hour and a half of cricket they would remember for a very long time.

Result. Essex 206 (N.R.M. Thain 41, M. Pretorius 3-24, M.J. Leach 3-35) and 259 (J.M. Cox 103 ret hurt, M. Pretorius 3-36, M.J. Leach 3-73). Somerset 145 (S.R. Harmer 4-43) and 325-7 (J.E.K. Rew 116, L. Gregory 57, C. Overton 53*, S.R. Harmer 4-120). Somerset won by three wickets. Somerset 19 points. Essex 3 points.