County Championship 2026. Somerset v Sussex. May 15^th, 16^th, 17^th and 18^th. Taunton.

Tom Kohler-Cadmore (thumb), Tom Banton (finger) and Lewis Goldsworthy (hamstring) were unavailable for selection.

Jordan Hermann made his Somerset debut.

Somerset. J.G. Hermann, J.F. Thomas, T.A. Lammonby, J.E.K. Rew (w), T.B. Abell, A.M. Vaughan, C. Overton, L. Gregory (c), M. Pretorius, M.J. Leach, A.R.J. Ogborne.

Sussex. T.J. Haines, DP Hughes, T.G.R. Clark, J.A. Leaning, J.M. Coles, J.A. Simpson (w), C.J. Tear, F.J. Hudson-Prentice, J.J. Carson, O.E. Robinson (c), H.T. Crocombe. 

Overnight. Somerset 526 for 8 dec, Sussex 22 for 1.

Third day – Somerset battle Sussex and the rain

This was another day truncated by rain. Sixty overs had been lost on the second day. Another forty were lost on the third if you include the additional eight overs permitted because of the time lost on the second. The loss served to tighten the screw on Somerset’s attempt to take the 19 wickets they needed over the final two days if they were to win the match and re-ignite their early season challenge for the Championship.

The day began with hopeful weather signs. High white cloud, occasional patches of blue sky, and at the start, the sun shone. The forecast though, as on the first day, kept any optimism in check. The Quantocks and the other hills at least were clear as the players and umpires walked to the middle. The scoreboards on the other hand, in the time-honoured fashion of Taunton, went blank and received ironic cheers when they came to life midway through the second over. From my seat at the top of the Trescothick Pavilion, the pitch looked as if it still retained a slight tinge of green, and first use of it on the third day went to Alfie Ogborne, River End, and Craig Overton, Trescothick Pavilion, young blade and seasoned warrior in harness together.

“Come on, Craig,” the shout as he prepared to bowl the second over to Daniel Hughes. Hughes was to play the innings of the day and he began, in Overton’s first two overs, by going onto the back foot and driving through the covers and straight mid-off, both for four. It was soon apparent that the pitch contained few demons, but the bowlers still carried threat. Ogborne forced an inside edge from the nightwatch Jack Carson with Archie Vaughan making a diving stop at leg gully, a stop sharp enough to bring applause. Overton meanwhile went past Carson’s bat twice in an over, but Carson survived, and Sussex inched forward. Then, in the tenth over of the day, Carson attempted to cut a ball from Overton and edged it low to Somerset’s ubiquitous infielder Tom Abell at first slip. Abell took the catch six inches off the ground. All in a day’s work for Abell the impression. Sussex 49 for 2. Carson 7. Deficit 477.

Like Sussex in that long Somerset innings, Somerset turned to spin early. Jack Leach was on at the River End from the seventh over of the morning, the 12^th of the innings. Hughes was circumspect against him at first, but with the departure of Carson and the arrival of Tom Clark he drove him through the covers to the Somerset Stand boundary and then, more conservatively pushed slightly squarer for three more. To keep Clark honest, Leach beat him with the next ball. Ogborne then beat Clark’s defensive stroke to a shout of, “Well done Alfie,” and then found the inside edge, although the ball ran for four.

It was two-way traffic tough, and despite the beaten bats, Hughes and Clark, left-handers both, were soon pushing the Sussex score along, albeit in the face of that huge Somerset score. Leach was driven through midwicket to the Caddick Pavilion, Ogborne through the covers to the Caddick Pavilion by Hughes, and wide of mid-off to the Ondaatje Stand by Clark. When Lewis Gregory replaced Leach at the River End, Hughes guided the ball past slip to Gimblett’s Hill for four more, and suddenly Sussex were 101 for 2, but still 425 behind Somerset. “Well done boys,” shouted a Sussex supporter. And with that, eyes turned sharply to the sky as the floodlights flashed, broke the spell, and came on.

Sussex had been powering along at four an over, but still the Somerset bowlers made their point. Leach beat Clark to an appeal for caught behind, “Come on!” the protest to the umpire from the top of the Trescothick Pavilion. Three of Clark’s runs had come from an edge off Leach which had been pulled back short of Gimblett’s Hill. Hughes had been badly beaten by a ball from Gregory to a shout of, “Well bowled!” And then, with the lights on, Migael Pretorius replaced Ogborne. He was promptly driven straight for four by Clark, “Well done boys!” again the shout from the Sussex supporter. But, off the next ball, Clark was struck on the pad to a huge, expectant appeal. The umpire did not disappoint Pretorius or the watching, then cheering, Somerset crowd as he raised his finger. As the cheers subsided, one Somerset supporter shouted, “Well done boys. Hooray!” Sussex 105 for 3. Clark 31 from 43 balls. Deficit 421. Hughes remained though, and the overriding memory of the morning was of his crisp, decisive, attacking stroke play. And, with that came the rain with twenty-five minutes remaining to lunch.

The rain was light, more irritating than threatening, and stopped before too many minutes had passed, but the players were already eating lunch. I stopped during my circumnavigation to chat to another Somerset supporter in the gap between the Botbam and Hildreth Stands. He wondered why Somerset so often delayed the introduction of Pretorius, the wicket of Clark with his fourth ball perhaps provoking the question. It was a point worth making, but perhaps, by bringing Pretorius on late, Somerset kept the pressure on, or reapplied it if one of the earlier bowlers were attacked. There was concern about the form of Leach who had been conceding nearly five runs an over despite occasionally going past the bat. The view being, that if a spinner is not taking wickets, he needs to maintain control by restricting the opposition to around two and a half runs an over. Such are the discussions which occupy cricket supporters during rain breaks and intervals.

And then, the return of the players and umpires. They arrived in the middle with the floodlights off, but with the rolled matting cover still by the stumps, its trolley sitting dutifully next to it. There was not a member of the ground staff to be seen. While the ground staff were being found, the players took possession of the trolley and one found himself being wheeled around behind the stumps by another. Light relief I suppose before the business of thew day resumed. Despite the slight delay, I was still completing my circumnavigation when the players and umpires retook possession of the pitch and play restarted. Hughes quickly continued his impressive innings by driving Gregory through the covers for four. No sooner was I back in my seat than the newly arrived Jack Leaning edged Gregory, bowling from the River End, low to Abell at first slip. I had the clearest view of the ball flying into Abell’s hands, and out again. It took a moment to digest, for Abell does not drop catches as the disbelieving sigh from Somerset supporters demonstrated.

As if taking advantage of Sussex’s good fortune, Hughes continued to attack the bowling and looked as if he might push the match towards a high-scoring draw despite the ball continuing to go past the bat. Two fours in three balls off Pretorius, sharply driven through the covers, one to the Caddick Pavilion and one to the Ondaatje Stand set the scene. Leaning made his mark too with a neat clip off his toes for four, also off Pretorius and a cut through backward point off Gregory immediately after a piercing leg before wicket appeal. Pretorius was then driven firmly to mid-on by Hughes, only a brilliant diving stop from the mid-off fielder preventing the boundary as Somerset continued to try to apply pressure. “Well done!” someone said, but Hughes quickly responded for Sussex with a stunning drive through the covers to the Ondaatje Stand. “That’s a lovely shot!” the awed response as again the floodlights flashed on and eyes were drawn to the sky. It wasn’t just the boundaries that gave Hughes’ innings the feel of class. Twice in two balls he took two runs off Pretorius, once through the covers towards the Caddick Pavilion and once steered neatly past the slips towards the Colin Atkinson Pavilion. In the ten overs and three balls after lunch, he and Leaning added 50 runs, 35 of them to Hughes. Sussex 155 for 3. Deficit 376.

And then, more rain, persistent enough to run into the tea interval and take a few more overs from the match. As I chatted under the cover of the Trescothick Pavilion wing roof while the rain fell, not heavily, but enough, I discovered I was talking to a Somerset supporter from England’s eastern marches where I spent three decades in exile from the county of my birth. As far as I could gather, he had never lived in Somerset and had been introduced to the team by his father who seemed to have little direct connection with the county either. As to me, I could not remember a time when I did not support Somerset, its cricket, its hills, its moors and levels running through my veins. One of my earliest memories is of kneeling on the linoleum covering our lounge floor, or sitting room as it was called in those days, with my father’s broadsheet newspaper, most of the papers were broadsheets then, open at the sport’s pages. Every day in the cricket season, I pored through the cricket scorecards, printed in full in that bygone age, looking for Somerset’s score, and, curiously as I look back, desperate to know how many Maurice Tremlett, Somerset’s 1950s transformational captain, had scored.

When the players eventually returned, Hughes continued to play with the freedom that had infused his strokes from the start. He drove Gregory’s first ball after the return through cover to the Somerset Stand. Immediately, Overton replaced Gregory at the River End, and Hughes drove him through extra cover, again to the Somerset Stand. Leaning quickly added two more boundaries, one driven off Ogborne, again through cover to the Somerset Stand, the other, glanced to fine leg. A straight drive from Leaning for two lifted the total runs taken off Ogborne’s over to ten, and 20 had come from the three and a half overs after the resumption. Then, more rain. It was not immediately visible with some spectators questioning why the umpires had taken the players off. But a closer look revealed a multitude of falling rain drops glistening with sunlight. And then, as quickly as it had appeared, the rain stopped and the players were back. Who would be an umpire?

With their return, Hughes and Leaning resumed as if the rain had never come. There were one or two more beaten bats and a missed stroke or two, but for the most part they looked secure. There was one very tight single when Hughes, on 99, turned Tom Lammonby, perhaps Somerset’s last hope for a breakthrough, to square leg and the underarm throw just missed the stumps before running for four overthrows. Hughes had reached a dominant century in 133 balls, and the overthrows took Sussex to 201 for 3 and Hughes to 104. Sussex were still 325 behind, but the flow of play was now such that a score to challenge Somerset’s 526 for 8 declared was more than a pipe dream.

With Sussex threatening to take the match towards a draw, it was time for me to leave. Nothing to do with the cricket, but a folk singer from County Durham who sings about the now defunct or severely reduced industries of the North East, coal mining, steel making and shipbuilding. He only occasionally plays in the West Country and was appearing at Topsham. It was an opportunity not to be missed when the tickets came on sale several months before the start of the cricket season, and now that purchase, in terms of the cricket at least, was about to come home to roost. Before this match, Lammonby had shown signs of being a partnership-breaker of the old type who consisted of players like Basil D’Oliveira from an earlier era, the archetypal partnership-breaker and in a class of his own. The last I could recall for Somerset was Zander de Bruyn from a decade and a half before.

I prepared to leave at the end of Lammonby’s second over. He pitched his third ball a foot or so wide of the left-handed Hughes’ off stump. It perhaps shaded away a trace. Hughes pursued it with a whip-like drive as if about to clip its ear in a way redolent of the treatment of an errant schoolboy from D’Oliveira’s era. Instead, he edged the ball straight to Gregory at first slip. Gregory took the catch and trotted towards his teammates with the ball clutched to his chest as if it were a long-lost prize possession. The crowd cheered with relief as much as celebration and Hughes walked off to generous, much-deserved, applause, while someone in the Trescothick Pavilion said, “Good old Lammers.” Nevertheless, Hughes’ century appeared to have rescued Sussex from the prospect of an overwhelming first innings deficit. Sussex 204 for 4. Hughes 107 from 140 balls in six minutes over three and a half hours. Deficit 322.

And with that, I collected my things together, packed my bag, and as soon as Lammonby had completed his over, left. I had walked along St James Street as far as the beginning of the churchyard when I heard a huge cheer followed by a pause followed by an announcement as it drifted on the wind from beyond Gimblett’s Hill. The content of the announcement I could not hear, apart from one word, “Lammonby.” But I couldn’t tarry. The sounds of the North East and its dead industries were calling, so I trudged on towards my car. Car because there are no evening buses on a Sunday. Inside the ground, the right-handed Jack Leaning had left a ball from Lammonby. It had swung in a trace and passed over his off stump. Lammonby was bowling around the wicket and his next ball swung in more. This time, Leaning brought his bat across his pads, attempting to play to leg, missed and the ball passed between middle and off, spreading the two stumps in the process. Sussex 205 for 5. Leaning 31 from 70 balls in two minutes short of an hour and three quarters. Deficit 321.

As I walked through our front door, someone with the live stream on the television shouted, “Vaughan just got one.” Not the best of nights to have booked a folk concert it seemed. John Simpson, the bane of Somerset in so many matches as his batting had taken its toll, had joined Coles. In the five overs it had taken me to drive home, he and Coles had added seven runs to the Sussex total. Vaughan, around the wicket from the River End, had just been driven without result into the off side by the left-handed Simpson before Simpson played a defensive straight bat. He was through the stroke a millisecond too early and the ball looped limply back to Vaughan who took the catch as he completed his follow through. Simpson stood in his crease looking totally bemused at how the ball had looped so neatly into Vaughan’s hands. Sussex 212 for 6. Simpson 6. Deficit 314. Had I still been at the ground, I have no doubt I would have heard someone say something like, “Thank goodness, for that. Simpson can be a real bind.”

But the songs of the North were pressing, and so I climbed the stairs to change into something a little more suitable for an evening folk concert than my cricket clothes. When I re-emerged at the bottom of the stairs, someone shouted from in front of the television, “Did you see? Pretorius got one.” That was three wickets in the ten overs since had I left the ground. Perhaps I should go to a folk concert more often. It was the sixth ball of a new Pretorius spell bowled to Charlie Tear, the first five having been runless. The ball had gone straight through a defensive straight drive and clipped the off stump. A quick bite to eat followed, and then it was time to leave for the concert. Sussex 213 for 7. Tear 1. Deficit 313.

As I opened the front door to leave, “Gregory got one with the last ball of the day,” from the person in front of the television. In fact, it was the first ball of the final over, but the wicket delayed the final five balls until the morning. Fynn Hudson-Prentice, who had added 23 in eight overs with James Coles, had shaped to play a ball from Gregory pitched a foot wide of off stump. The ball had shaped away, Hudson-Prentice attempted to withdraw his bat but edged the ball to Abell at first slip. Abell made no mistake. Sussex 236 for 8. Hudson-Prentice 12. Deficit 290. That, I calculated, was five wickets, four of them since I had left the ground, for 32 runs in 19 overs. Sussex had begun those 19 overs threatening to make the match safe. They had ended them in serious jeopardy of losing it, although 12 of the 19 wickets which Somerset needed at the start of the day, still stood. Twelve wickets to take, if the weather, against a doubtful forecast, would hold. As to the concert, was it worth missing those four wickets? If only humans had developed the ability to be in two places at once.

Close. Somerset 526 for 8 dec.  Sussex 236 for 8. Sussex trail by 290 runs with two first innings wickets standing.