On what felt like the surface of the sun (or at least the Widford wicket), Ware 1st XI bravely chose to field first, much to the astonishment of fans, meteorologists, and common sense alike. With trailblazers Price, Chambers, and Issit unavailable—perhaps off scouting air-conditioned venues—it was left to the evergreen Steve Price (no relation to the weather forecast) and the ever-reliable Kev Meakin to open the bowling.

Kimpton got off to a flying start, racing to 40 without loss, and Ware’s fielders began contemplating whether their whites should’ve been swimwear. But just as the opposition looked ready to post a blockbuster score, Price and Meakin each grabbed a wicket, applying the brakes with the subtlety of a handbrake turn in a shopping trolley.

Enter young Will Pringle, delivering left-arm thunderbolts with the zest of a man who’d mistaken the ball for a wasp. Then came the spin parade: Graeme, Jamie, Kyle, and Henry each took a wicket, turning the screw tighter than a batsman’s pads before an LBW appeal. Kimpton finished on 185 for 8—respectable, but not unchaseable.

Behind the stumps, George was absolutely gloving it, with a sharp catch and two stonking stumpings that had the batters thinking twice about wandering.

Then came the batting—and oh, what a show. Will “The Pringle Express” launched an assault that left the scorers needing new pens. He smashed an unbeaten 117 not out, peppering the boundary like a chef on a pepper grinder. Partner-in-crime Parker put on another classic opening stand, narrowly missing out on his half-century but leaving his mark on the innings and probably several trees beyond the boundary.

With Hugh joining Will for the final push, Ware coasted home with overs to spare and smiles all round. The only thing cooler than the cricket was the post-match pint. Glorious stuff.

Part 2 – Broxbourne Bounce Back (and We Bounce... a Little Less)

Meanwhile, Ware 2s travelled to table-topping Broxbourne, and let’s just say... the home side didn’t get to the top by accident.

Ware’s batting, bless it, wobbled harder than a jelly on a trampoline. Thank heavens for Phil Macmurdie, who stood firm with a gritty 33—nearly half of the team’s total of 78. He was the glue in a batting order that, at times, looked like it had been stuck together with hope and a bit of leftover lunch.

Immy (18*) showed some late-order resistance with the bat, while Justen contributed a brave and stoic 8—the kind of innings that says, “I may not be fast, but I’m not going quietly.”

Defending a total smaller than some birthday cakes, Phil picked up a couple of wickets to keep things interesting, but Broxbourne chased it down in 18 overs, without so much as a sweat.

Still, there’s always next week—and remember, form is temporary, but tea and team spirit are forever.