County Championship 2026. Essex v Somerset. April 10^th, 11^th, 12^th and 13^th. Chelmsford.

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/W.C.F. Smeed*, T.A. Lammonby, J.E.K. Rew (w), T.B. Abell, L.P. Goldsworthy, C. Overton (c), M.J. Leach, T. Shaw, M. Pretorius, J.T. Ball.

*Will Smeed replaced Tom Kohler-Cadmore as an injury replacement under the ECB’s 2026 replacement player trial after 51 overs of the Essex first innings.

Essex. D. Elgar, P.I. Walter, P.W.A. Mulder, C.W.J. Allison, M.J.J. Critchley, L.M. Benkenstein, M.S. Pepper (w), S.R. Harmer, S. Snater, S.J. Cook (c), J.A. Porter.

Overnight. Essex 149. Somerset 179 for 5. Somerset lead by 30 runs with five first innings wickets standing.

Second day – Overton on a new level

The first thing I noticed was the crowd. Or rather, in comparison with the first day, the lack of it. At the start there were perhaps five hundred visible in the stands in comparison with, according to the official count, just over three thousand on the first day. The boost to crowd numbers which a first day usually brings would have been a factor in the difference, but not that much of one. Perhaps Essex being behind in the match by the second day might have been another factor. The weather too. As I walked through the park beside the river which flows just behind the northern edge of the ground, the light was noticeably dark. Another Somerset member and I mused on whether there would be a timely start so poor was the light under a layer of all-enveloping cloud. There were a few spits of rain on the still bitingly cold air too and the floodlights could be seen, already blazing inside the ground.

However, an announcement shortly after I passed through the gate declared, or rather hoped, that play would begin on time. Looking like the remnants of a defeated army in comparison with the buzzing multitude of the first day, those who had braved the elements to venture from their homes or hotels wore an array of anoraks and coats buttoned or zipped tightly to their necks. Enhancing the protection afforded by the anoraks many sported scarves and bobble hats, some in Essex colours. I continued to wear my wide-brimmed wyvern-crested hat. It does for all weathers and all situations. Gloves were much in evidence as I walked around the ground too. Those that had come bore looks of grim determination on their faces aimed not at their side’s position in the match, but at the icy breeze which attacked their faces. In what appeared to be an incongruous display on the outfield, players were practising cricket, England’s summer sport untimely ripp’d, as Shakespeare might have had it, from its winter slumbers. A closer inspection of the players’ attire might have revealed an array of thermal under clothes, snoods and, being clutched in pockets, hand warmers normally more at home north of the arctic circle in winter.

But, cricket being cricket whatever the conditions, if the weather is dry and the light is deemed good enough, play starts on time. And so, Craig Overton and Lewis Goldsworthy, looking to add to Somerset’s 30-run overnight lead, made their way to the middle. When Goldsworthy played the fifth ball of the day, bowled by Sam Cook from the Hayes Close End, through point for a single, Craig Overton ran easily up the wicket towards Goldsworthy who remained, to my horror, anchored to the crease. It was only then that I noticed a runner completing the single on Goldsworthy’s behalf. I subsequently discovered that Goldsworthy had incurred a hamstring injury on the first day. Goldsworthy’s stroke was nonetheless calmly and smoothly played in a controlled manner as had one from Overton been two balls earlier. The playing of those two strokes was a harbinger of what was to follow for the rest of the morning as Somerset built intently on the advantage they had established on the first day.

Key to the Somerset’s success was Overton. Fifty not out overnight, he progressed with care. Gone was the marauding cavalry officer Overton of the night before. In his place, a sapper building a solid position from which Somerset might sally forth and systematically undermine Essex. There were boundaries, but the overriding impression, in the first hour especially, was of balls studiously kept out and scoring strokes carefully played and placed. Goldsworthy worked just as assiduously as Overton, in the style for which he was becoming known, to strengthen Somerset’s position. The alacrity with which Somerset had demolished the Essex first innings had created the time for a dominant Somerset score to be assembled without rush.

But an Essex opening attack of Cook and Jamie Porter, ably supported by Shane Snater, no mean purveyor of seam bowling himself, was never without threat. But when Overton drove Snater straight back to the River End boundary the stroke was so smoothly played it drew applause from the Essex supporters around me in the Felsted Stand. There was no huge swish of the bat, no thunderous crack of leather on willow, just perfect timing and a ball racing to the boundary. Two balls later, Essex brought Michael Pepper up the stumps. Snater bowled, Overton drove, edged, and Pepper dropped the ball. Pepper kicked the ground in frustration at his prey escaping a trap well sprung. The boundary, and the dropped catch, had taken Somerset to 208 for 5, a lead of 59.

Eventually though, the persistence of the Essex bowlers brought reward. Porter, who had returned to replace Cook at the Hayes Close End after a three over opening burst at the River End, went through Goldsworthy’s defence and this time Pepper, standing back, took the catch. Somerset 212 for 6. Goldsworthy 42 in three minutes over two and a half hours. His stand with Overton had reached 98. They had converted a deficit of 35 into a lead of 63. And now, Will Smeed to the crease after his unexpected odyssey from Abergavenny. And more ill luck for Snater. Smeed edged his sixth ball, from Snater, to second slip. “Oh, dropped!” the anguished Essex cry from the Felsted Stand. And indeed, the catch had gone down. “Oh, come on!” the disbelieving follow-up comment from someone else in the Felsted Stand. Dropped catches almost always matter, but in a low-scoring game they can be crucial, and after Smeed there were only bowlers to come.

The 25-year-old Smeed, an experienced and fearsome opening bat in T20, was very new to Championship cricket and was clearly working hard to adapt to the different rigours of the red ball game. He did not get off the mark until his 18^th ball, a cover drive for two off the luckless Snater. “Excellent shot,” someone said. Three more came from a thick edge past the slips, again off Snater. As he settled, his first boundary came from a straight driven four off Simon Harmer, bowling from the River End, followed by another four driven through the covers off the leg spin of Matthew Critchley and Smeed lunched on 17 from 46 balls.

Overton meanwhile, looking as calm as the face of a lake on the stillness of a June night, continued his steady accumulation, playing the situation as someone once said to me. After the departure of Goldsworthy he scored three from his next 20 balls. And then, when Smeed edged those three runs past the slips he was hurried along by Overton shouting, “Come, come, come, come,” as they turned at the end of the second with Overton running to the danger end. Overton had changed gear. The next ball, from Snater again, Overton drove past mid-off for four, Overton’s first boundary for ten overs. A single left him facing the first ball of Harmer’s next over which he cut through point to the Felsted Stand, the ball crossing the rope to my right. In Harmer’s next over he drove straight back over the bowler’s head, the ball now crashing into the boards in front of the River End sight screen. Six. Overton is perhaps one of those giants best not roused. He reached lunch on 98, Somerset 264 for 6 with a lead of 115. A captain’s innings in full flow if ever there was one.

Two singles in the first over after lunch, Harmer continuing from the River End, took Overton to a century from 136 balls despite the slow accumulation in parts of his innings. A standing ovation followed from a small group of Somerset supporters who had collected next to the Hayes Close End sight screen and from the others in attendance dotted around the ground. It was only the second first-class century of Overton’s career, but it was played as if he were a top-order batter of some class. In batting terms, this was a new Overton. He had always had skill with the bat, but this was on a new level. And from there, he went on. The new ball soon followed, but Overton welcomed Cook, taking the second over with it from the Hayes Close End, with a brace of fours. The first was driven just straight of the group of supporters who had stood for his century as they applauded again for all they were worth. The second was effortlessly turned to deep square leg. An over later, he turned Porter to deep square leg for a single to take Somerset to 300 for 6, a lead of 151. More cheers.

And then, Smeed again. Three fours in succession off Porter, a drive nicely leaned into to long on, an open face sent another across the face of the three slips and the last was a back foot cover drive, all three cheered by the group by the Hayes Close End sight screen. One of those new balls, as someone with whom I watched a lot of cricket in the halcyon days of the 1970s and early 80s used to say, that flies to the boundary. Then Overton drove Cook to the long deep midwicket boundary next to the Felsted Stand. The chasing fielder knocked it back as it approached the rope, but by the time he had retrieved it Overton and Smeed, now in overdrive, had run four, registering their century partnership from 157 balls in the process. The three and a half overs since the new ball was taken had added 36 runs and Somerset were 315 for 6. Lead 166.

Eventually though, Snater’s luck turned, and he beat Overton twice off successive balls, the second striking the pad and persuading the umpire to raise an accusatory finger. Again, the group of Somerset supporters next to the Hayes Close End sight screen were on their feet, together with the rest of the Somerset contingent around the ground, this time applauding Overton back to the Pavilion. He had registered a career-best 141 from 180 balls in exactly three and a half hours. Somerset 330 for 7. The lead now 181. In the next over, from Cook, Smeed was caught trying to glance, the time-honoured strangle, with the score unmoved. He had added 39 from 77 balls, The last two wickets, Pretorius (6) and Jake Ball (1) soon followed, Somerset ending on 348, a lead of 199. The new ball had finally come into its own, and the end, when it came, had come quickly, but the damage to Essex’s prospects had already been done. As the last Somerset wicket fell, there were still more than seven sessions remaining in the match.

There were still 12 overs to tea, and Somerset had Jack Leach on at the River End by the ninth. By the end of it he had removed one of the main Essex threats, Dean Elgar. Elgar had looked solid enough and had found the boundary once with an open-faced drive past backward point off Ball. But against Leach he had played a hesitant clip into the on side and the ball had looped invitingly between mid-on and midwicket from where Tom Abell, plying his fielding nous at midwicket, had run and then dived full length to snare the ball. Essex 29 for 1, Elgar 7 from 34 balls in four minutes over half an hour. Paul Walter had opened with Elgar. He had been more fluent, and had found the boundary twice. A straight drive off Overton was played into the pitch and caused Elgar to hop out of the way as it travelled through. Essex 36 for 1 at tea, 163 runs adrift.

As I began my teatime circumnavigation, one Somerset supporter, somewhat anxiously, said to me, “Walter is playing like a dream.” And indeed, Elgar’s dismissal apart, batting had looked remarkably straightforward in the lead up to tea. Immediately afterwards, things looked different. After leaving the refuge of the hot chocolate queue at the River End, I stopped to watch awhile from behind the slips. I had the perfect view of Luc Benkenstein attempting to drive Migael Pretorius through the covers only to edge the ball between Rew and the ubiquitous Abell, now plying his trade at first slip. More cheers from next to the Hayes Close sight screen as Rew scooped the ball up. Essex 40 for 2. Benkenstein 4. Deficit 153. Next, as I continued my walk behind the Pavilion, another cheer. As I emerged, craning my neck to see what had happened, a steward said to me, “You got one of ours walking behind the Pavilion.” A steward at least who knew his stuff and I was happy to take the blame. Charlie Allison had been caught off Ball, this time by Abell, still at first slip, as he reached low to his left. “Chasing a wide one,” the opinion of another Somerset supporter I met. A replay suggests Allison had jabbed defensively at a ball pitched a foot outside off stump. Essex 45 for 3. Allison 0. Deficit 154.

With the evening session underway, I carried on around the ground, past the River End sight screen for the second time and took up residence in the lower tier of the two-tier Tom Pearce Stand. Essex were on the brink. At the crease were Walter, ‘playing like a dream’, and Matthew Critchley, no mean practitioner with the bat. They did not play as if they were staring defeat in the face. Instead, they set about the Somerset attack with a succession of drives. One, through the covers from Critchley off Pretorius, produced a cry of, “Shot!” Another to the long on boundary, again from Critchley, followed. A cover drive from Walter for a single took him to fifty from 75 balls and was followed by another four from Critchley, a straight drive. Essex 83 for 3, 116 in arrears.

With Essex on the move, the layer of cloud, which had both thickened and thinned alternately through the day, was now bolstered by a band of heavier cloud and, with Essex on 89 for 3, the floodlights came on. A burst of rain and hail followed, sending the players to the Pavilion and about fifty spectators to their homes. No sooner had they all left the arena than a gap appeared in the clouds and the sun reappeared. Unlike the moon, the sun does not have a face. Had it done, it might have reappeared with a mocking grin. Who would be a cricket supporter? When the players returned, Critchley steered Overton across the face of the two slips for a single to bring up the fifty partnership with Walter.

Essex were on their way again. Slowly at first, but they soon picked up the pace. Three fours came from one Pretorius over, an on drive from Walter, a cover drive and an edged cut from Critchley which rocketed wide of the second of two slips. Off Pretorius’s next over, Critchley drove twice through the covers for four. Batting was suddenly looking very straightforward, the ball perhaps softening, and Essex reached the close, two overs later, on 131 for 3 having cruised through the final 13 overs at four runs an over. But, and it was an important but, they were still 68 runs in arrears with three top order wickets gone and the first hour of the morning, never the easiest of periods for batting, to come. In the opinion of the scoreboard, that put Somerset well ahead. But that fourth wicket partnership had infused confidence and momentum into the Essex effort. There was a lot still for them to do, but Walter and Critchley had at least kept the Essex fingertips in touch with the game.

Close. Essex 149 and 131 for 3. Somerset 348 (C. Overton 141, J.E.K. Rew 48, L.P. Goldsworthy 42, S. Snater 3-56, J.A. Porter 3-84, S.J. Cook 3-93). Essex trail by 68 runs with seven second innings wickets standing.