Sunday brought high drama to the timeless tranquility of Elstree in deepest Hertfordshire, where Cincinnati, fresh from a tense defeat in Ham, took on the London Saints.
As players walked to the Old Haberdashers' Ground, past neatly trimmed lawns and mock-Tudor gables, a warm sun shone benevolently on the peaceful heart of English suburbia. Geraniums blushed, gnomes nodded in immaculate front gardens, and two full tins of freshly baked brownies were safely conveyed to the match for tea.
But for a second week running, we were unable to spend long dwelling on the niceties - there was an unhelpful problem to worry about. We were again a team of only 10 men, and this time none of them was Simon.
It rapidly got worse.
Without Selfish in the team, Captain John "Happy" Pickersgill became utterly submerged in a Zen-like state of total selflessness. Even though our star batsman was nowhere to be seen, the skipper elected to go ahead and bat first anyway. And his peerless generosity continued during his own innings: without a moment's hesitation, he offered his front pad to the grateful bowler and was dismissed LBW, selflessly not taking up too much time at the crease.
The score had been moving rapidly along, though, with debutant Ash clubbing a mighty six over midwicket on his way to 17 and Dan, in more classical fashion, sweeping and driving to good effect.
But the wickets continued to fall and we were three down for 40-odd when Lurpak joined Will at the crease.
Both had been comparing hangovers on the train journey north and so decided that, with the loss of early wickets, the pitch keeping low and none of their available eyes functioning particularly well, it would be sensible to settle down and play quietly for a few overs.
With this in mind, Will opened his shoulders and carted the Saints' best bowlers to all corners of the field. He crunched good length balls through the covers, pulled anything short past midwicket and threatened several times to bring down one of the vintage aircraft droning overhead on its stately way to the aerodrome nearby.
At the other end Lurpak quietly went about remembering which end of a bat to hold and the pair put on over 70 together before Will finally fell for a dazzling 53. Lurpak left the scene soon after for 32 and Saints took a firm grip on the match again with some canny bowling.
At tea Cincinnati were all out for 154. It looked like an inadequate total on what was a decent batting pitch.
(Tea was impressive, with fruit, a good brew and a fine array of sandwiches. Crucially, it may just be, there were Amy's lucky chocolate brownies too - the same fortunate confections which had seen us home against old rivals BK at Greenwich earlier in the season.)
Max and Lurpak took the new ball but struggled to make an impression on some determined Saints, who looked like setting out to claim the runs required with minimum fuss. Both openers eventually fell to some late movement through the air and what was probably the best decision any umpire will make all year...
Saints stuck to their task, picking up the runs they needed without much trouble. But Cincinnati, too, showed mettle, hurrying the batsmen with some tight fielding, and trying to apply pressure with accurate bowling and threats of extreme violence from behind the stumps.
The turning point came - as turning points often do - with a moment of freakish genius. An agitated Saint drove crisply to our debutant Ash, who was standing deep at mid-off. Being new, Ash had not yet learned that the customary Cincinnati response is to let the ball sail through your legs and on to the boundary for four.
No, misguided soul that he was, Ash came steaming in and murderously hurled the ball at the bowler's end, scoring a stunning direct hit. A dangerous batsman was on his way and from then on, it seemed that either side could win.
The Chairman then took charge, plying his wily brand of flighted torture, while Steve, Adam and Max kept the pressure on. But with several wickets in hand Saints were in the better position and it looked like they would scrape home.
Then, with just five more runs needed to win, Saints lost their ninth wicket, bringing the last man to the crease. The nerve-shredding tension even managed to silence the chirping from behind the stumps as batsmen and fielders all focused on the one thing that mattered: not screwing up.
Enter Captain California.
In His Infinitely Selfless State of Inner Peace, John threw the ball to Desperate Dan, a batsman. Dan had never bowled for Cincinnati before and was thought to regard bowlers as kindly types who serve up nice red things to hit. No-one, least of all Dan, knew how he would react under the pressure, with one wicket - or three runs - needed for victory.
The breeze dropped. Fielders held their breath. A luminous rainbow appeared in the gloom.
The silence was shattered by the sound of splintering stumps, and then a raw, bloodcurdling howl - Dan had completely lost it as he was swamped by his euphoric team-mates, and Cincinnati had pinched a thrilling win by two runs.
CCC: 154 all out. Will 53. TimR 32.
London Saints: 152 all out. AndyO 3-12.
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