County Championship 2026. Somerset v Nottinghamshire. April 3^rd, 4^th, 5^th and 6^th. Taunton.

Somerset captain Lewis Gregory was not available for selection due to a chest injury. Craig Overton replaced him as captain.

Somerset. J.F. Thomas, T. Kohler-Cadmore, T.A. Lammonby, J.E.K. Rew (w), T.B. Abell, L.P. Goldsworthy, C. Overton (c), M.J. Leach, M. Pretorius, A.R.J. Ogborne, J.T. Ball.

Nottinghamshire. H. Hameed (c), B.T. Slater, F.W. McCann, J.M. Clarke, J.A. Haynes, K. Verreynne (w), L.W. James, L.A. Patterson-White, R. Lord, O.P Stone, D.Y. Pennington.

Toss. Nottinghamshire. Elected to field.

First day – A healthy start to the season

A bitter wind blew across the face of the lower level of the Trescothick Pavilion all day, and the Nottinghamshire bowling was just as sharp, as was the ball off the pitch, particularly in the morning. In response, the Somerset batting was as determined and precise as I have seen it at the start of a season for some years. This was the sort of early season performance from their batters that Somerset supporters have yearned for, and against the County Champions at that. As the day wore on, that determination, and perhaps some easing of conditions, began to wear the bowling down, although the Nottinghamshire attack contained enough fire and experience to continue to threaten. It was a day of Championship cricket to savour. No relaxation by either side and no favours to either side. And at the end of an overcast day and a ball that spoke the language of the bowlers, as far as anyone could tell before the second side had batted, Somerset came out ahead.

Somerset began, and ended, in front of a crowd wrapped tightly in anoraks, scarves and more than a few woollen hats. Such clothing was especially welcome in the Trescothick Pavilion where that bitter wind blew without mercy. The crowd was not quite the size of some first day crowds, but the forecast was mixed, rain was falling when I left home, and the air was as cold as the wind. It was also Good Friday, and some will have had other things to do. For all that, the crowd kept up a healthy buzz of chatter all day, and for the most part was engrossed in the cricket. One old Somerset tradition, at least it felt like a tradition, was that the opposition won the toss. I have no idea of the statistics on that but there were a few knowing looks as the announcement that Nottinghamshire would bowl was made. A few more as the teams were announced and it became apparent that Somerset would open with the mercurial Tom Kohler-Cadmore and the virtually new boy on the block, Josh Thomas.

It didn’t take long for Olly Stone to send Kohler-Cadmore back whence he had come, and his replacement, Tom Lammonby, soon followed courtesy of Dillon Pennington. “Same old, same old,” might have been the conclusion in another year. But not on the first day of this match. “No fault attaches to the batsmen,” said the message from the online watcher. “Movement for both bowlers, and they are putting it in the right place.” With regard to Kohler-Cadmore, he added, “Pitched middle. Hit off,” and a replay showed the bat right in line. As to Lammonby, the ball cut away, took the edge and Kyle Verryenne behind the stumps did the rest. “Definite edge. I heard it,” someone said, referring to the snick. Somerset 14-2. Kohler-Cadmore 4. Lammonby 3.

But then, we had a little gem of an innings from Josh Thomas, one of three left-handers in Somerset’s top four and, aged 21, in his second full first-class match. He was beaten and played and missed several times in what could have been devastating opening spells from Stone and Pennington, but he also played some joyous strokes of real quality. His drives sparkled in the morning gloom as the floodlights came on. Twice in an over, he drove Lyndon James to the boundary, once straight back to the Botham Stand and once with an open face through backward point to the Ondaatje Stand. Twice more, again in the space of an over, James was driven to the boundary, once through extra cover to the Ondaatje Stand and once square off his toes to the Somerset Stand, the latter registering the fifty partnership with James Rew. In the middle of Thomas’s dream of a start there was a reminder of a more mundane Somerset. The scoreboard failed, if only for a few balls, and someone said, “Here we go. It’s a tradition.”

But the focus was on Thomas. There were three cuts to the boundary too, one which seemed to flow off the bat bringing the comment, “He looked like he had all the time in the world to play that.” “Is he? Is he?” repeated for emphasis, “half of the answer to Somerset’s need for opening bats?” The question was posed but not quite answered. Thomas had been dropped at third slip off Robert Lord and when Nottinghamshire turned to the slow left arm spin of Liam Patterson-White, Thomas edged the third ball he received straight into the hands of Freddie McCann at slip. Somerset 66 for 3. Thomas 40. He received more than the usual quantum of applause for 40 as he walked off, perhaps for the hope that the quality of his stroke play brought. While Thomas was attacking the second-line Nottinghamshire bowlers, James Rew was holding fast at the other end, scoring 18 in their partnership of 52. It was a typically solid Rew innings, freeing Thomas to play as he did.

And then the partnership of the day. It began, for Somerset supporters, with the five nervous overs remaining to lunch. Tom Abell stretched well forward in defence against Patterson-White, then pushed him to cover, calling, “Yeah! One!” to get off the mark. Rew meanwhile drove Pennington through the covers for four, the ball, brilliantly struck, raced to the Ondaatje boundary. After the loss of those three wickets, Rew’s stroke play brought some reassurance. An off drive towards the Hildreth Stand off Patterson-White brought three and a drive through extra cover towards the Ondaatje two more. At the other end, Abell concentrated on keeping the ball out and reached lunch on 2 not out from 18 balls while Rew had 28 from 49 and Somerset were 78 for 3. Much, it felt, now depended on the outcome of their partnership.

Lunch ended with me still picking my way around the ground. In the middle, Abell and Rew were picking their way into the afternoon. It took me six overs to make my way back to the Trescothick Pavilion during which time they scored five singles and a two to take Somerset to 85 for 3 after 33 overs. They looked as if they were a natural batting partnership completely at ease batting with each other. They ran virtually without incident, as if they had an instinctive understanding and exuded a sense of calm. It was an hour after I had sat down before there was a false stroke, two runs through point off the back of the bat from Rew, Robert Lord the bowler.

In that hour, Abell, now taking the lead in scoring, found the boundary five times and Rew once, Abell adding 37 runs and Rew nine. Twice in succession Abell struck Ollie Stone for four. The first, a beautifully understated clip off his legs with the lightest of touches from the bat ran through square leg to the Somerset Stand, cries of, “Shot!” ringing out along the lower terrace of the Trescothick Pavilion as the ball skimmed across the grass. Abell followed that with a neat drive through midwicket, again to the Somerset Stand. The fifty partnership came from 94 balls with a single from Abell pulled to the long leg fielder. Lord, not much above medium pace, bowled a six over spell from the River End. Every run he conceded, except the two off the back of the bat, were scored through the leg side, including two fours from Abell, one hooked and one glanced, and Rew’s only four in that hour was a glance, also off Lord. By the end of the hour, both batters had reached the forties, added 58 in total and taken Somerset to 144 for 3. It was, it felt, a healthy start to the season.

From there, Somerset picked up the pace. Rew went to his fifty from 112 balls with a single off Pennington turned to deep square leg, but the spark which pushed the Somerset innings along came when Liam Patterson-White was re-introduced to the attack. Rew, and Abell in particular, immediately launched into his slow left arm. Rew drove him through the covers for four and Abell twice lofted him over mid-off to the Colin Atkinson Pavilion, once for four and once for six, the four taking Abell to his fifty from 92 balls. Four byes and a pair of singles meant 19 runs came from Patterson-White’s first two overs taking Somerset to an even more healthy 177 for 3.

Now, Nottinghamshire turned to Stone who induced an edge from Abell, but it went past slip and although a run was added to the score, it produced gasps of, “Oh1 Oh! Oh!” from around the crowd. The edge soon seemed an aberration as Abell and Rew took Somerset towards tea at four an over, Abell driving Stone off the back foot through extra cover for two and then cutting him through backward point to the Somerset Stand for four to another cry of, “Shot!” Next, he took Somerset to 200, still three wickets down, with a controlled straight drive off the back foot and Rew drove James, also off the back foot, through point to the Caddick Pavilion and Somerset were astride the day. Then, with tea another over away, Rew attempted to sweep Patterson-White, connected with the top edge and the ball looped to a vacant very silly point position. There was no silly point, but Kyle Verreynne, behind the stumps, his head turning so that his eyes could follow the expected trajectory of the ball suddenly swivelled and set off towards silly point, dived headlong and just took the catch. Somerset 206 for 4. Rew 64. Tea, at 208 for 4 seemed a bit of a letdown after all that had gone before, but a bit of reflection still had an early season Somerset ahead as Abell walked off on 80 not out.  

After tea, Somerset, in the guise of Abell and Lewis Goldsworthy, with the day as cold as ever and getting colder, continued to build, much as Abell and Rew had done, with positive, controlled batting, steady run-gathering being punctuated with periodic boundaries. Goldsworthy, looking solid, steered Stone through backward point past three slips and pulled him to deep square leg while James was glanced to fine leg. Abell drove Patterson-White back over his head and straight into the seating of the lower level of the Trescothick Pavilion to my left to add his second six to the mix. There was little sign of threat from the bowlers but, as they had all day, they kept their discipline and those three fours and the six were spread over ten overs. Then, Lord coaxed a trace of away movement out of the pitch and Goldsworthy edged a catch straight to Verreynne behind the stumps. Somerset 245 for 5. Goldsworthy 18.

The day had begun with that bitter wind and, as the evening began to impinge, it became even colder, the temperature dropping to the arctic-like conditions so familiar to cricket watchers in April. The overhanging cloud added to the sense of cricket in an alien environment as it closed in. But England’s summer game continued to impose itself on the winter scene for which, had it been a film, the crowd might have been auditioning for the role of extras. Craig Overton meanwhile, apparently oblivious to the conditions, imposed himself on the 22-yard stage at the heart of the set.

A single pushed to cover from his second ball from Lord served as his opening line. A four lofted over mid-on straight towards my seat in the Trescothick Pavilion from Lord’s next over, and another, pulled to long leg off Patterson-White, and then another off Pennington with the new ball left no doubt as to who was centre stage. Now, new ball in hand, Stone replaced Lord. Overton drove him through mid-off to the Colin Atkinson Pavilion for another four. When he drove Pennington off the back foot through cover to the Somerset Stand for another four Somerset reached 280 for 5 and someone said, “I’d have bitten your hand off for 280 at the start.” It had not all gone Overton’s way, even he could not entirely write his own script for a cricket match. He had been dropped at third slip off Pennington’s second ball with the new ball, the slip fielder doing penance by staying down. He had played at and missed the next ball too, but overall he was dominating the bowling.

Abell meanwhile, since the arrival of Overton, had worked assiduously to rotate the strike, exposing the new ball bowlers to Overton’s best lines. Abell rarely remained on strike for more than two balls in succession. My notes have a succession of ‘push to point’ and ‘push to cover’ entries. With the singles feeding Overton’s fours, Somerset reached that 280 and, along the way, Abell, with a controlled drive to cover off Patterson-White, reached his century from 173 masterfully crafted balls. His century triggered a standing ovation, and when that ended, the comment, “That was the cue for a lot of people to go,” from the man who would have bitten someone’s hand off for 280. And a look around the ground revealed people everywhere packing up and leaving, mostly probably needing an explanation for being late home for their evening meal or being late to cook it. Others will have just been cold. But a Somerset century is a Somerset century.

Not long after the exodus, Abell joined it, defeated by a ball from Stone which pitched outside off and shaded away by the merest fraction. The touch on the bat must have been fractional too, for the ball seemed to carry through to Verreynne without deviating from its line. There was no doubt that Abell had touched it though, for as he always does in those circumstances, he turned to check the ball had been caught and immediately walked off without looking at the umpire. Abell is one of the few batters in twenty-first century cricket who walks without hesitation if he knows he is out. A throwback perhaps to a bygone age, although I wonder if the number of walkers in that bygone age was less than it is sometimes portrayed to be. Somerset 286 for 6. Abell 108 in precisely four hours, the duration of his innings as precise as everything else about his batting. A classical in every respect.

By the time of Abell’s departure, the cloud had become all-enveloping. The light, according to my note, ‘dark’. Jack Leach, next in, saw the ball well enough to, with the neatest of cuts, send a ball from Stone past the three slips to the Gimblett’s Hill boundary. “Shot, Jack,” the warm comment. Somerset supporters often speak about Leach as if he is a personal friend or a family member, so highly regarded is he among Somerset supporters. And then, after three more balls, the umpires had to give best to the weather and took the players off for bad light. No-one complained, for dark was the word and the cold had penetrated every bone and sinew. The decision was confirmed shortly afterwards as the cloud, to remove all doubt, began discharging its rain.

I walked to my bus stop where no buses were due for nearly an hour and someone from home took mercy on me and brought their car to my rescue. I walked a mile to keep moving while they came. By then though, the cold was having its effect. My legs had become so cold and numb that they refused to function properly and at times I struggled to walk in a straight line. When I got into the car, my skin began to tingle with those pins and needles which result from sudden exposure to an instant and quantum change in temperature. The cricket had though, seen a performance by Somerset against the Champion County in early April conditions which made the test of endurance more than bearable. My only concern, as I waited for some feeling to re-emerge in my limbs was the length of the Somerset tail which would now be exposed to the Nottinghamshire attack in morning conditions against a ball still less than ten overs old.

Close. Somerset 292-6.