There are only a few things guaranteed in life: death, taxes, and a Pacific batting collapse. For those reading this report hoping to hear of an epic comeback story or the writing of a wrong following a sound defeat suffered two weeks prior in the Cup at the hands of the Field, you will be disappointed. The only victory, as we shall see, is a moral one. However, don’t let this downhearted opening dissuade you from reading further. This tale of a dried and drought-ridden Millfields encounter features a miracle few at Pacific have ever seen. As the sun continued to bake a barren and crisp Millfield, Skipper Tim firmly elected to bat first. BOC and Tristan made a commanding start. The tone well and truly set by a BOC lofted drive over mid-off. Pacific ticked over at comfortably more than a run a ball. BOC’s rich vein of form appeared set yet again to beleaguer another North London attack, with Tristan equally capitalising on anything loose. Despite Tristan falling and being replaced by yours truly Jack, the rate continued to climb. It is at this point that I must break the fourth wall to apologise for a truly inexplicable shot. I am still dumbfounded as to how I dragged the off spinners rolling half tracker to midwicket. “What can you do about it?” Nonetheless, at two down, the platform was still set. Pacific looked on for a 300+ score. Yet it was not to be. Alas, it’s the hope that kills you. What follows doesn’t bear much comment. Cheap and soft dismissals were a plenty. Dan was dismissed through the gate in a classic off spinning dismissal. Albeit even the bowler seemed stunned to have turned one. Burnham struck a few lusty blows before attempting one shot too many. Faisal showed promise but came and went. Zafar looked dangerous but top edged a paddle sweep. The only moment of glee was Tim’s beautiful cameo as Pacific looked well below par as we were dismissed for under 200. For those still reading hoping to hear of the aforementioned miracle being a Herculean bowling effort, you will once more be disappointed. That said, the opening attack of Toby and Zafar was at least High and Mighty. The emphasis for one of the opening pair very much on the former. Field’s opening batsmen were a sight to behold. One stood comfortably over two Jack Mendel’s tall while the other, “rocked” shall we say interesting glasses and in his pre-ball ritual attempted to have a staring contest with the point fielder as he lined up in his stance. Now there is little need to dwell on the fact that both openers, like much of the Field’s batting order, were evidently class acts and solid ball strikers. As boundaries flowed for Field, a tail of David and Goliath unfolded for Pacific’s first wicket. Enter Jack Mendel. With the ball skied off the bowling of Toby towards Mendel at Square Leg, a universal silence seemed to descend across the field. Milliseconds felt like hours as Mendel expertly steadied himself, hands ready, eyes locked on the ball as it fell from the clouds. Then… The catch was taken. No fumble. No question. Never in doubt. And a seldom entry into the scorebook followed. Caught Mendel. Did Pacific have a chance as the Skipper turned to JK as first change? JK’s spell mirrored that of the rise and fall of Bazball: starting with much promise but ending in a more wayward manner. Any hope of another miracle at Millfields was quickly dispelled as Burnham behind the sticks dropped Field’s other opener off the first ball of JK’s spell. A fact Mendel was quick to remind him of at the pub. And a destination which Pacific soon found themselves in as London Fields knocked off the required runs at a canter in under 25 overs. Soundly beaten, Pacific CC can at least take heart in the fact we upheld the highest of park cricket standards by diligently updating the scoreboard every over. And for this, the league victory may have been elusive but the moral one remains well and truly with Pacific CC.

Drowning our sorrows