Anyone who saw Rory McIlroy's recovery from his Masters meltdown to his US Open triumph will be aware of the power of redemption in sport. And so, in a less public but no less significant way, the Saddos returned to the scene of last year's walloping defeat by the Stags XI, when their innings of 160 was answered by a feeble Saddos reply of fewer than 80. And there was a bit of edge to this game - "they didn't ease up on us last year, did they" grumbled one survivor. Was it to be a crucible of humiliation, or a jubilant return to form - a Midsomer Murder, or a midsummer night's dream? Yes, I know, we're a couple of days after the summer solstice, but that was all to the good as the pitch was refreshingly free of druids, pagans and, praise be, morris dancers. Equally there was no Puck, Bottom or Peter Quince - but there was a Pip, and both a Peter Church and a Peter Cook, if not a Button. Buoyed up by the support of 'Talisman' Hook, Pete 'The Claw' Stauvers and 'Sparks' Noden plus a herd of cows, clearly rooting for them, the Saddos took to the field.

Stags started well, facing the Saddos ace bowler, Ian Holmes, somewhat hampered by his new boots and not having had his muffin yet. No problem, though, the fielding was keen as mustard. Pip Cowan made a valiant try at what would have been a stunning running catch, earning widespread praise, despite his non-ECB approved blue shirt and cravat, and the minor detail that the ball ended up on the floor. This was surpassed by a tumbling over backwards catch by Tim Randall at long-on, off a whizzer from Simon Wilson - it would have been a perfect 10 from the judges had the fielder's sunglasses remained on. Then an over the shoulder plucked out of the air job by Simon Wilson (he's definitely been practising) off a Neil Campbell arm ball. 'Iron Gloves' David Reed also got in on the act, behind the sticks, with two adept catches, one off a captain Cook rare flat one, the other off a Colin McKinnon sharp delivery. David's gloves very much in this season's shade of orange, like the wife's oven mitts.

Wickets fell at a steady rate, with Tim Randall getting an LBW decision off his first ball. Peter Church almost taking a catch off his own bowling (you want to grow a bit mate!), then clean bowling an ominous looking batter with the first ball of his next over. Pip, after a fielding master class in the fashion of an angry Bambi, got in on the act, bowling a batter who was through his stroke before the ball had landed. Added to this were cutters from Roger Barton and left armers from Neil Tennant keeping the batters relatively quiet (compared to last year).

No batsmen dominated, but the scoreboard ticked over to 131 in 20 overs. Not an impossible target, and captain Cook navigated the first few overs ably with Peter Church, steering themselves to the safe harbour of a good start, both ultimately returning to port on 25. But stormy seas lay ahead. Four LBWs, a couple of which were plumb enough to make a pudding, decimated the middle order, and in sympathy, down sluiced the rain like a storm off Dogger, and off floated the players. The break allowed running repairs if not navel-gazing, the dark clouds drifted away, the match was on again. While wickets fell steadily, the runs flowed and, damn it, we weren't torpedoed yet. No keel-hauling necessary. Pip chased a 'five yard' wide to crash it for four, then promptly ran out his mate Neil Tennant. A six over mid-wicket was struck by Colin. After some more determined nurdling and a couple of lashed boundaries, including a clobbered Church six that sailed over the ropes in the final over, it came down to six needed off the last ball with Church facing. There were memories of former last ball triumphs, it was in our grasp, the scene all set for a majestic victory, but unsportingly the bowler put the ball in the one place where to cannon a six was impossible and the innings ended in a nudge and a runout, rather than all guns blazing. Never mind, glorious defeat was a sight better than abject failure, and spirits were salvaged by sinking pints (and onion rings) in the Queens Head.