The Man in the Changing Room

Wray Crescent, 10/10/2026

Pacific won by 5 wickets
Strongroom: 139
Pacific: 141-5

View the Scorecard

(A Strongroom CC adventure in the style of Mr Benn)

As if by magic, the cricket pavilion appeared.

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon at Wray Crescent. The sky was blue, the air was pleasantly warm, and the ground was dry. Everything seemed perfect for a game of cricket.

And into this peaceful scene came Mr Gower.

Mr Gower was an ordinary sort of gentleman who enjoyed the occasional game of cricket. But he had a rather unusual habit. Whenever he entered a changing room, he never quite knew what sort of adventure awaited him.

Today, hanging neatly on a peg, was a magnificent white cricket outfit.

"That looks interesting," thought Mr Gower.

He put it on, picked up his bat and stepped through the little door at the back of the changing room.

And suddenly, he found himself at the toss.

"Good afternoon," said the Pacific captain. "Would you like to bat or bowl?"

Mr Gower looked at the blue sky, the dry wicket and his splendid collection of batsmen.

"We'll bat," he said cheerfully. "I think 275 or 300 would be rather nice."

And off he went to tell his friends.

Unfortunately, nobody had told the cricket ball.

The first to go was Mr Newkirk, who was preparing for a long journey to Australia. This was to be his final Strongroom appearance, perhaps for another ten years, and everyone hoped he would have a lovely farewell.

But Mr Newkirk edged a length ball gently into the wicketkeeper's gloves.

"Oh dear," said Mr Newkirk.

And off he went.

Next came Mr Siddall, a fine batsman with a very fine cake waiting in the pavilion. Mr Jahangir Khan bowled him a particularly troublesome delivery, which bounced sharply off the artificial wicket, came back in and flew from his bat to the wicketkeeper, almost in front of his nose.

"Oh dear," said Mr Siddall.

And off he went.

Mr Rashid Khan arrived and attempted a handsome cover drive. Unfortunately, the ball went directly to short cover, where somebody was standing.

"Oh dear," said Mr Rashid.

And off he went.

Mr Gower himself appeared, looking rather pleased with his decision to bat first. But before he could make much of a contribution, he was run out.

"Oh dear," said Mr Gower.

And off he went.

Then Mr Farooq arrived. He had barely had time to admire the scenery when he played a gentle cut straight to gully.

It was his first ball.

"Oh dear," said Mr Farooq.

And off he went.

After nine overs and four balls, Strongroom had scored 39 runs and lost six wickets.

This was not quite the adventure Mr Gower had imagined.

It was, however, remarkably similar to an adventure they had experienced at Wray Crescent in 2024, which nobody had particularly enjoyed the first time.

Just then, a kindly gentleman called Mr Proctor appeared.

"Don't worry," said Mr Proctor. "I think I can help."

Mr Proctor was a specialist in repairing things. Not watches or bicycles or broken furniture, but cricket innings that had fallen into a dreadful state of disrepair.

He took out his bat and began to work.

First, he was joined by Mr Anup Patel, who contributed a useful 13 runs. Then came Mr Arif Godhi, who added 10. Then Mr Kartikh Arora appeared, playing his very first game for Strongroom, and contributed a splendid 20.

Mr Proctor was delighted.

Whenever the bowlers delivered something short, he pulled it. Sometimes he clubbed it over midwicket for four. When they bowled outside off stump, he cuffed it through point. And between these adventures, he collected singles and scampered twos with the determination of a man trying to catch the last bus home.

Together with the lower order, Mr Proctor added 51 runs for the final two wickets, including 40 for the last wicket with Mr Arora.

By the end, he had made a magnificent 52 not out, his first half-century for several seasons.

"Well done," said everyone.

Mr Proctor smiled modestly. He had rescued Strongroom from complete embarrassment and delivered them safely to the much more comfortable destination of steady embarrassment.

The Pacific bowlers, including Mr Francis and Mr Khan, had done their work very well, particularly at the beginning. Mr Tim Benson had also bowled some tidy off-spin.

But now it was time for tea.

And what a tea it was.

For Mr Newkirk, although he had not enjoyed much success with his bat, had prepared a magnificent farewell feast of lentil dal, rice and flatbreads.

Mr Gower had brought some masala chai.

And because it was Mr Arif's birthday, both Mr Gower and Mr Siddall had brought cakes.

Mr Siddall's was a particularly magnificent chocolate and Guinness cake, made to a recipe by a lady called Nigella Lawson.

Everyone agreed that it was absolutely delicious.

"More cake?" asked Mr Siddall.

"Yes, please," said everyone.

"More cricket?" asked somebody.

There was a rather awkward silence.

Tea was awarded ten out of ten.

It was easily Strongroom's finest performance of the afternoon.

After tea, the Pacific batsmen came out to play.

Mr Afsar was a particularly accomplished fellow. He knew exactly when to attack and when to defend, and proceeded to score 77 excellent runs before retiring.

His opening partner, Mr Rashid, was a rather different sort of batsman.

He scored 18 runs, but only after playing and missing approximately 30 times.

It was an extraordinary achievement. The cricket ball passed his bat so frequently that the two seemed to have developed a close personal relationship, although they never actually met.

The Strongroom bowlers tried terribly hard.

Mr Arif bowled. Mr Newkirk bowled. Mr Farooq bowled. Mr Prabh bowled. Mr Arora bowled.

They all bowled rather well.

Mr Rashid even took a splendid catch at first slip, as he so often does.

But the Pacific batsmen continued scoring, and it gradually became apparent that Strongroom had forgotten to bring approximately 100 of the runs they had intended to make.

Meanwhile, something rather peculiar was happening to Mr Gower.

His calves had begun to cramp.

First one, then the other.

He attempted to move across the outfield, but his legs had apparently decided that the afternoon's activities were over.

Mr Proctor was having difficulties of his own. Having rescued the innings, his knee had become decidedly wobbly.

Together, the two gentlemen moved around the field like a pair of elderly mechanical toys whose springs were beginning to unwind.

"Are you all right?" asked somebody.

"Perfectly," said Mr Gower, standing very still.

"Splendid," said Mr Proctor, leaning slightly to one side.

And still Pacific continued scoring.

Within 26 overs, the match was over.

Pacific had won comfortably.

There had been no dreadful bowling, no particularly terrible fielding, and not even a succession of truly outrageous batting shots. Just a collection of slightly indifferent decisions, soft dismissals and ordinary deliveries that had somehow produced an extraordinary collapse.

It was one of those curious cricketing afternoons when everything looked perfectly straightforward until somebody actually started playing.

And so Strongroom loosened their grip on the October Cup.

They had now lost to Pacific twice in the same season, just as they had in 2024. Wray Crescent was becoming a most peculiar place, where Strongroom appeared capable of either tremendous victories or complete batting catastrophes, with very little in between.

But Mr Gower's adventure was not quite over.

As the autumn air grew cooler, he and his friends wandered into a nearby public house.

There were ales to be drunk, innings to be discussed and an excellent chocolate and Guinness cake to be finished, accompanied by some increasingly lukewarm masala chai in the beer garden.

Mr Newkirk was wished a fond farewell before his return to Australia.

Mr Proctor was congratulated once again on his splendid innings.

And everyone agreed that, despite the result, it had been a rather lovely afternoon.

Eventually, Mr Gower returned to the changing room.

He took off his cricket whites, carefully folded them and placed them back on the peg.

Then he stepped through the little door.

And as if by magic, the ordinary world appeared again.

The mysterious shopkeeper smiled.

"Did you enjoy your adventure, sir?"

Mr Gower considered this carefully.

"The weather was lovely," he said. "And the tea was magnificent."

"And the cricket, sir?"

Mr Gower looked thoughtful.

"I think," he said, "next time I might choose the cook's outfit."

And with that, he went home.

But somewhere, far away at Wray Crescent, a cricket ball was still passing the outside edge of Mr Rashid's bat.

And nobody seemed particularly surprised.

In the scene below we see Mr Proctor and Mr Gower





Written By: J.Gower