In a landslide election, Nepal’s corrupt, moribund, senescent government was recently thrown out and replaced by a parliament of astonishingly youthful MPs. Almost half of Nepal’s new directly elected members are under the age of 40, and they are led by a prime minister – a former rapper – who himself is just 35.
It seemed fitting then that when the Winchester Nepalese arrived at River Park the average age of the park’s patrons plummeted. If it had been a Kollywood film, made in Kathmandu, the arrival would surely have been shown in slow-mo. There would have been haunting basuri flute musicas the Nepalese passed over the little bridge onto the outfield. The madal drum would have struck up, softly at first, as they laid down their kit bags. Then the guitars and bass would have been unleashed as they revealed their glitzy, IPL-style cricket shirts, complete with sponsorship logos and Nepali flags. In an ideal world, a full-technicolour dance sequence would have concluded matters. Perhaps a ritualised pre-match dance battle between the Nepalese and the relatively venerable Racqueteers?
When the match began, however, it was the Racqueteers who had youth on their side. Opening the bowling were the eternally young Head of Trout (1 for 20) and the actually-quite-young Rishi (2 for 25), former star of Sri Lanka’s Helawood film industry. The Winchester Nepalese opening pair didn’t know quite what hit them, or flashed past them, and were both dispatched in Rishi’s first short spell. The rest of the batsman proved harder to dislodge, however – the Racqueteers’ fitness tested by chasing too many balls to boundary. Two shots even made it to the far side of the river, visible as a splodge of day-glo pink among the yellow flag irises. Casper, The President, The Pope, The Bard, Shaun and Benno all toiled away, and wickets for Casper (1), Benno (1) and the Bard (2) felt more like consolations than meaningful inroads. The less said about the runs conceded, the better; and if wides were somewhat freely given on the leg side, they were perhaps too freely bowled as well. We were lucky to have OC moonlighting behind the stumps, or the byes might have mounted up as well.
To a lesser team, the target of 193 might have seemed daunting. We needed just shy of ten an over. The Skipper said that if we made it, it might be the biggest run-chase in Racqueteers’ history. Then came hope, in the youthful forms of Rishi, Dave and OC (retired on 25). They made an electrifying start, comfortably surpassing the required run rate(the second over went for 13, the sixth for 19) and all three retired on reaching the agreed 25-run limit. Thereafter, the rest of our batsmen did the right thing, for the most part, and had a swing at it. The Bard would say, in his own defence, that it hadn’t helped that he’d been able to understand the sledging from the opposition, who kept saying things like kaakaaaunubhayo! which means ‘uncle has come!’ (In the Nepali language, ‘Uncle’ is a way of addressing someone who is rather older than you. At least it wasn’t ‘grandad’.)
Clearing the middle order and tail out of the way enabled the return of Rishi and Dave. By this time, however the skies were dark not just with threatening rain but with actual darkness, and the floodlights flaring behind the bowler’s arm did not help. It might have been the darkest and coldest match of cricket I’ve ever played, and that’s not just avuncular bones talking. With eight wickets down, and three overs left, the score stood at 141, leaving 52 to get. Astonishingly, Rishi and Dave accelerated all over again. The eighteenth over went for 11. The nineteenth for a dazzling 23 – including a six from Rishi that made it not just into the river but right over it and into the car-park beyond.
We needed 15 off the final over. Then ten off the last two balls. Rishi was at the crease… A four! That left six off the last ball… The last big hit fell agonisingly short and, despite some furious running of the overthrow, so did the Racqueteers.
The scorebook, alas, does not record the final number of runs scored by Rishi and Dave, but it was in the region of 50 each, not out. It was a superb run chase, and produced a thrilling end to what is becoming a classic fixture – one that matchesnot just youth against (mostly) middle-age but also brings together two of the friendliest communities in Winchester. As Bob Dylan (almost) sang,
May your top hand always be busy
May your footwork always be swift
May you have a strong batting foundation
May you give full-tosses short shrift
May your boundaries always be joyful
May your seamers be in- and out-swung
May you stay…
…forever young.
The Racqueteers Cricket Club 
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