The Crusaders XI arrived at the Willows from deepest Melbourne with lurid jackets and buoyant hopes. They won the toss and sent us in to bat and took two early wickets and then took no more. Tom Fisher eased the ball to all corners of the parched ground with an elegance that’s rare in one so young. Murray Parker kept him company until he generously hooked the ball into his own chin and headed for the hospital in Rangiora. Sadly it was shut but the local chemist patched him up with an impressively redundant swathe of bandages. David Bond took his place at the crease and made merry. By dint of a series of monstrous blows and some judicious sixth-ball singles he not only scored 102 off 59 balls but also and even more impressively managed to strand young Fisher on 97 not out. The Willows exists to teach the young and the lesson will not have been lost on Tom. The team reached 300 for two.

The Crusaders were never in the hunt. Although few wickets fell and a diminutive and distant relative of Neil Harvey nudged and drove his way to an impressive 94, the required run rate soared all the way unto impossibility. They finished on 225 for four.

No one on either side bowled particularly well. The pitch was faultless. And although the elderly Crusaders mutter’d foul because of the comparative youth of our team, in the end they were Australians and they had lost and the beer tasted sweet.