Soyez réalistes, demandez l’impossible.

Ian Tonkinson keeps a cool head amid the stunning surroundings.

“Ch-ch-changes, turn and face the strain” sang David Bowie and after tasting defeat on the first day of their Tour de France, the Brockwell 49ers were ready to ring in the changes. A bloodless coup had seen former skipper Edward “Hammy” Hamilton restored to the captaincy while the now deposed Gordon Cherrington was ready to reclaim his mantle of Stumpy as 'keeper, the 49ers were ready to show a different face.

Perhaps is was a whiff French republicanism in the air or that famous gallic taste for regicide that prompted it but after a farcical toss the new/old captain almost had another rebellion on his hands as his now near rabid band of sans-culottes heaped opprobrium on him following his surprising decision to put Midi in to bat. Order was, however, soon restored and another 49ers huddle ensured minds were focused on the real enemies of the Brockwell revolution, indeed a particularly motivated John McBurnie, again demonstrating his growing resemblance to Ricky Ponting, strongly reinforced his desire to put his erstwhile Languedoc teammates to the sword.

Freed from the shackles of his usual position as chief sledger and WK, Ian Tonkinson was ready to join Hammy in the attack and proved to be virtually unplayable as he picked up three maidens in his first four overs. Despite the confident start from Hammy, le Tonk and the first change Midi’s opening partnership of Rogers and Allison soon got into their groove and were looking comfortable on 52 after 11 overs. The 49ers desperately needed a wicket and if anyone could sniff one out it was the genial Tonkinson; putting his injury-hit past behind him Tonks stood-up at the vineyard end for his sixth over. His third ball crashed plumb into Allison’s pad and it was game on. Almost as soon as handy all-rounder Bowyer had taken up his position at the crease he was walking back to the pavilion as Stumpy and Adam Brichto took time out from their shameless flirting to share a catch off Tonks’ very next ball; the hat-trick was on. The 49ers crowded around the wicket as Midi’s secret weapon George stared down the barrel of a smoking gun. But it wasn’t to be, the sometime Midi captain made the first of what were to be a series of fine judgements leaving the hat-trick ball well alone.

George was there for the long run, but other wickets were to follow shortly. Rogers, clearly a gentleman cricketer, didn’t wait for the umpire’s call walking without complaint after the slightest nick off McBurnie’s bowling and Tonkinson picked up his third, clean bowling the Midi captain for just five. Graeme Elliott was also to take his first of the day with an absolute jaffa that left Lalljee’s stumps battered and one of the bails in another time zone. But all this time George was settling into a brutish innings, smashing boundary after boundary. A change in style was required so on came the leisurely pace of James Smart. George though had other ideas, cracking a howitzer of a ball straight down the throat of Phil Evans at sweeper. Fears that the impact would do severe damage to the sex life of the man they call White Chocolate were allayed when it emerged that the injury was to his left arm, but a short spell on the sidelines to recover meant Franco-Iberian specialist fielder David came on as substitute between the second and third drinks breaks.

George though remained comfortable, surely it would take something special to remove this batting colossus from the crease. Every Goliath has his David though and a pair of heroes was about to emerge from the Brockwell ranks. It seemed it would be business as usual for the erstwhile Midi captain as he dispatched Tom Partridge’s first ball clean over the boundary for 6, bringing his total up to an even ninety and now bearing down fast on his century. But as the Greeks knew only too well, the fate of those who succumb to hubris is nemesis, and just a few balls later George let fly with another huge heave to deep square leg. Legend had it that following the death of his love Eurydice, Orpheus drew upon his lyre and played music of such sorrow and beauty that it brought tears from the gods themselves, charming even Hades and Persephone on his way to the underworld. But even the strumming of those strings could not have been as sweet as the sound of ‘Punter’ McBurnie plucking the ball clean out of the air with an epic one-handed catch that few could believe. George departed with Midi on 169 to loud applause and the relief of the Brockwell attack, the curse now broken they were free to run rampant through the Midi-dle order.

A smart catch saw McBurnie score his second wicket ending good resistance from Field and Cherrington doubled his haul for the series taking Gratton’s wicket leg before. Bobby Gillespie-a-like Simon, whose batting had been so obdurate the day before, was heard to let out a primal scream as, bamboozled by the pace of Elliott, he played all over a bouncer that eventually dropped onto his stumps. Thrown the ball for his first over, The Chief was in no mood to stay out in the sun any longer then necessary, wrapping up the Midi innings with a trademark ball that pitched at the very base of David’s stumps. Midi were all out after just 35.2 overs, Brockwell’s target, 212, was considered pretty much par.

After the traditional Brockwell lunch of snouts and beer, the 49ers’ opening pair strode out to the middle, both with something to prove. McBurnie’s duck had left the team too much to do the previous day while Hammy needed to demonstrate that his singles hadn’t just been a fluke. Happily both were up to the challenge, settling quickly with sharp boundaries and well run singles, their partnership was looking good until a devilish ball from Rogers clattered Hammy’s stumps. With the burden of captaincy lifted from his shoulders and his fellow Doonhamer at the other end, the stage was set for a heroic innings from Cherrington. Sadly the Midi attack hadn’t read the script and Stumpy was sent packing by Bowyer before he could get off the mark.

Other teams might have panicked at the loss of two wickets in successive overs, but then other teams don’t carry a flick knife. After his explosive innings the day before Tom Young was now going to have to steady the ship before he could think of personal glory. His smart and selfless running under the burning French sun kept a now fired-up McBurnie on strike and the score ticking over nicely.

Some mean overs from Midi meant the run rate needed some pep, but a wild shot from Young off the bowling of Allison saw him caught for 8. A quick look down at the 49ers middle order made comfortable reading though with a rejuvenated Tonkinson coming in at five. Le Tonk was playing with a verve and flair that had been denied him in his normal role as an opener, picking his shots to rack up an elegant 19 before being given out LBW.

At the other end McBurnie was looking imperious. A series of expertly picked boundaries brought up his half century and the crowd went wild. Balls bowled at the stumps were giving him no problems so Midi had to change tack, a deceptive ball from Alex and a good take from the 'keeper with Punter out of his crease saw John stumped and Midi had the wicket they craved.

Midi’s economical bowling meant that Brockwell were running out of time in which to make up the score but now they had the perfect riposte: the heavy hitting of Graeme Elliott. Fours and singles came thick and fast as ex-captain Gordon ordered Elliott to do what he does best and smack it about, Elliott obliged and suddenly his six was on fire. After two dropped catches the luck seemed to be with Graeme but then a mix up in the middle with the Northern Fist saw him run out for 34.

Overs were fast running out for the 49ers as the required run rate crept into double figures, how Brockwell could have done with a few more overs from the magisterial Elliott. With wickets in hand they could however be more cavalier, after a nice boundary and single TNF sent one straight back at the skipper Dalling to be C&B, something clearly not anticipated by Smart who struggled to pad up in a rush, even attempting to strap a thigh pad to his shin. James made up for it in spades at the crease notching a quick 14* that had some spectators (and Midi players) wondering if the 49ers could snatch an unlikely victory. But it wasn’t to be and with the last throw of the dice Heath was stumped for 6 when they needed 21 from the last ball.

Some might argue that there can be no small victory to cling to amid the agony of defeat, no phoenix to rise from the ashes of loss. But for the 49ers, these few, these happy few, these band of brothers elevated through the sheer force of man-love to the status of kings and princes know otherwise. Truly it was only in the shadow of a series defeat that the 49ers - students of French literature to a man - saw through the darkness to the shining beacon of hope that is the unwritten future of the Brockwell 49ers and truly understood the words of the poet Guillame Apollinaire,

Perdre

Mais perdre vraiment

Pour laisser place à la trouvaille

Perdre

La vie pour trouver la Victoire

Midi innings
Rogers c Tonkinson b McBurnie 30
Allison lbw Tonkinson 17
Bowyer c Brichto b Tonkinson 0
George c McBurnie b Partridge 90
Dalling b Tonkinson 5
Lalljee b Elliott 1
Field c ? b McBurnie 18
Gratton lbw Cherrington 4
Adam not out 0
David b Heath 9

Hamilton 8-0-41-0 (verdicts from Howsam, J. and Howsam, F. - “expensive”)
Tonkinson 8-3-24-3
McBurnie 6-0-37-2
Elliott 7-0-36-2
Smart 2-0-24-0
Cherrington 1-0-7-1
Partridge 2-0-20-1
Heath 0.2-0-4-1

Brockwell innings
McBurnie st Alex 61
Hamilton b Rogers 12
Cherrington b Bowyer 0
Young c ? b Allison 8
Tonkinson lbw George 19
Elliott run out Dalling 34
Partridge c&b Dalling 5
Heath stumped Dalling 6
Smart not out 14
Evans DNB
Brichto DNB

Man of the match: George

49ers man of the match: Ian Tonkinson