Oporto 2022

Tour report by Peter Andrew:

Hardly more than 8,000 days after the departure of the first Cryptics international tour during the last knockings of the last century, Cryptics again assembled at Gatwick, again bound for Oporto.  At least all 12 got to Portugal, there being no Australian visa mishaps this time.  There were three survivors from the 2000 tour, as well as three freshers whose combined ages were less than PAJ’s.

A group that had relied on the train arrived first, and drink was taken at the Sheepsnoggers bar.  Traffic issues on the A30-something delayed the rustics for a while.  Drink was taken.  Last up were the contents of the Pupmobile, delayed by a recalcitrant valet parker, who presumably needed lessons in cap-doffing and forelock-tugging.  Drink was…. [yeah, yeah.  Rinse, spin, repeat.  We get it.  Move on.  Ed]

An uneventful flight led to a renewed acquaintance with the Oporto Cricket and Lawn Tennis Club.  An inspection of the wicket reminded us how big the ground is, and how slow the outfield was likely to be.  A brief spell in a damp net taught us nothing.

Dinner, pre-booked from London by joint kittybitch DJ Grindrod, was interesting.  The restaurant owner, presumably never having had a booking for 12, had commandeered three parking spaces in the road outside his premises, and filled them with tables and chairs.  Passing traffic succeeded in missing us, without feeling a need to slow down.  Those choosing the house speciality were rewarded with meat of uncertain origin, heavily garnished with last month’s potato chips.  Hugh took ownership of the wine list, which afforded high levels of compensation.

A brief post-prandial stroll brought us miraculously to another bar, where Gossy and PAJ spent a couple of hours setting the world to rights, while ignoring the rest of the party who were steadily taking on enough gin to float a small aircraft carrier.  In keeping with tour tradition, sometime in the smallish hours the party fragmented, some returning to the Club for a nightcap, others going in search of a medium-sized aircraft carrier.

Friday on tour is ‘acclimatisation’ day.  Being creatures of habit, we went for a tour of Taylor Fladgate & Yeatman’s port lodge, where our charming lady host told us the same things we had been told on two previous visits.  Her failed attempts to elicit questions from us were entirely foiled by our previously acquired knowledge of her company, and had absolutely nothing to do with the gin from the night before.

Most of us nevertheless managed to do justice to the flight of tasting ports that closed the visit, although certain of the novices were more interested in trying for our host’s phone number.  After lunch, Daddy G failed to buy a baby in the market, and we repaired to the Club for a net on the match wicket.  Dinner at the glorious World of Wine began with an off-message Gossy spontaneously requesting 12 large beers before order was restored by Hugh with the wine list. The evening finished with several rounds of ‘name that cricketer’, based on obscure clues provided by an app on Ed’s phone.  The game was made more difficult for younger tourists since most of the subjects had retired while Rapunzel was still a skinhead.

And so to Saturday, the first match day.  Our accommodating opposition were happy to receive suggestions on the match format, so skipper Seeckts The Elder naturally elected for a declaration game.  11:00am start, so lots of time to build an innings.  We spent seven overs learning how the matting wicket played while accumulating 17 runs, and two overs more getting to 18 while saying bye-bye to Jimmy and Keith.  And to Toby in the 15^th , with us having advanced to 27.

Enter the skipper.  Gritty partnerships with Hugh and Scotty got us to 81, we lost Goss just before the hundred came up, and Puppy just afterwards.  100-7 from 40.  Skipper finally succumbed for 27, after 35 overs at the crease.  Ed then watched as Dad took 12 off his first four balls and then gave the bowler a return catch off his fifth.  We watched Stu take an uncharacteristic single from his second ball, and then Richard called a halt with us having crept past 150.  Ed matched the skipper with an undefeated 27, but both were outscored by Extras, which ended on 32, largely in wides.

Family Grindrod monopolised the early part of Oporto’s response, catches for each of the boys off Dad pegging the opposition to 31 from the first 10 overs.  Unfortunately this brought together a couple of experienced Oporto batsmen who, well-versed in the vagaries of the pitch, motored along at a steady four-per-over to the start of the last 20.  At this point 72 were still needed, but having decked a few chances we needed some serious slices of luck to turn it around.  Instead, the opposition moved through the gears, and just eleven overs later we were done and dusted for an eight-wicket defeat.  It took them 19 fewer overs than the 52 we had used in setting them the target.

Sorrows were drowned in the club bar, as we were generously entertained by our hosts to a formal dinner.  The after-dinner conversation on the club terrace ranged far and wide, including esoteric suggestions for the next tour venue, and whether to go out and find another aircraft carrier.

Sunday dawned fresh, and we assembled for another early start, relieved to discover that neither of the previous day’s nemeses was playing two in a row.  Consensus was reached on a 40-over match, at which point Richard considered the job done, and turned the captaincy over to Gossy, who took the new ball with David.

Six overs later he took the first wicket, juggled then held by Scottie at square leg.  The Grinders thing was still working, the second wicket ct. E b. D, with the score still on 12.  This being a tour match, Keith came on at first change, bowled an over then got rested, Hugh bowled an over, got rested, then Toby had a couple.  All the while, David wheeled in at the other end until he’d bowled his allowance. Oporto 47-2 from 16.

A double change brought three wickets in two overs, one for Jimmy G and two in two balls for Stu, including the only clean bowled we managed all tour.  At 58 for 5 with half the overs gone, you’d have thought we had cause for complacency.  Oporto had other ideas.  Ten overs and 70 runs later, we weren’t so smug.  Fortunately, after another three overs and 26 runs, the local ‘retire at fifty on Sunday’ rule kicked in.  Even more fortunately, after another three overs and 24 runs, it kicked in again, so it was left to Scottie to feast on a fresh pair of rabbits who both holed out to Hugh, bringing him a jug’s worth of catches for the day.  A run out midway through the last over closed the innings on 199, neither of the retired batsmen being bothered to pad up to face the last two balls.

For tactical purposes, Keith opened with Stu.  Both returned within a dozen overs, but we had 45 on the board.  The youthful athleticism of Jimmy G and Toby took us to 83 at halfway, before each perished for 28 as we broke the hundred mark, two overs earlier than the opposition.

Ed then spent time watching Scottie bat before making way for Hugh who did likewise.  Scottie, seeking a measure of personal redemption, scored 66 of the last 101 runs we made, including three sixes and total disregard for any ‘retirement’ rule.  We jingled with an over to spare, five wickets down.  Victory was celebrated in the usual manner.  We dined in a local restaurant, deemed below the standards that some of the party are used to.

Our stay at the Club was as pleasant as always, food and drink was delightful and abundant, the staff were tolerant and accommodating in the face of extensive demands (and showed no surprise or resentment when Seeckts (R) and Ware produced their own condiments), our hosts were charming and proper cricketers.

An early return flight on Monday was uneventful, except that two of us got COVID.

Dramatis Personae (cast in order of appearances)