Len Pascoe and Jeffrey Robert Thomson – Sydney Grade Cricket

The story about Thommo playing grade cricket in Sydney, terrorising batsmen in cohort with his partner in crime Len Pascoe, in Saturday’s Australian bought back instant memories of a game we played against Bankstown at Bankstown Oval in Thommo's last year in Sydney grade cricket, 1973/74 season.

Batting first we are on a bit of a green top but very fast outfield and have lost 8 wickets for not that many runs when I am called, somewhat reluctantly, no very reluctantly, to the crease after Thommo has blasted another hapless batsman out. The batsman at the other end was Dick Rowland who was on 48. Thommo and Pascoe have ripped through us.

I take guard against Thommo, as nervous as a kitten, especially given the club issued pads which were about as useful as having the Sun Herald wrapped around your legs. Coupled with a wafer thin thigh pad and very basic batting gloves I felt pretty vulnerable. My eyesight didn't help either. I could hardly breathe I was that nervous and shit scared. Helmets? Unheard off.

I had to face a few balls from Jeffrey none of which I saw but thankfully, unlike Len, Thommo didn't bowl bouncers at near sighted tail enders.

Relieved to be at the non-strikers end Pascoe comes bounding in from the northern end of Bankstown Oval to Rowland, our captain, in his traditional intimidating and energetic style. As per normal practice he hurls down several bouncers to Dick. I am riveted to the non-strikers end extremely concerned Dick might call me through for a single. I wasn't going to budge.

Dick was a good bat but on the third or fourth bouncer of the over he attempts a hook shot. He misses and gets hit flush on the jaw and down Dick goes. Dick, a copper and rugged first grade rugby player for Easts, was a big man. Well over six foot and very solidly built he just collapsed, like a piece of tall timber, prostate on the deck. Right in front of my terrified eyes. Adding to the drama there was blood and other bodily bits (mainly teeth) scattered on the Bankstown wicket. Dick was unconscious. I nearly pass out as well.

Out comes the stretcher. Like a casualty on the battlefield Dick is loaded into the stretcher and is unceremoniously removed to the dressing room, legs and arms dangling over the side. There is no clapping - no one there of course to witness the carnage.

The next batsman in is none other than my twin brother David W. Hourn the best credentialed no 11 bat ever for NSW and possibly Waverley for that matter. If I was concerned you should have seen DWH. He looked like he was walking to the gallows and probably felt like it especially as he had to pass the prone blood spattered Dick Rowland being carted off. The blood patch on a good length added to his misery. He could hardly stand up. There was no mid-wicket conference with the incoming batsman. Nothing needed to be said.

DW had to face two or three from a fired up Pascoe. He remembers to this day Thommo telling the visually challenged number 11 to watch out for the short ball. "Watch out Hournie for the bouncer" he chuckles at sort leg. It makes "Survivor" look like a walk in the park. DW however somehow survives the couple of balls.

I then had to face one over from Thommo and I knew there was absolutely no way DW would move out of the non-strikers crease. To my relief however and perhaps to the relief of my future kids I think the Bankstown captain Dion Bourne knew the gig was up for Waverley and instructed Thommo to bowl medium pace. Thankfully Thommo complied and I was again to thank him 30 years later over a few beers at the Brekkie Creek Hotel.

But Dion couldn't trust Len to comply so next over he took Len off and on came an innocuous medium pacer, Jeff Clidsell from memory. Dave is on strike. He lets the first ball go. Bang goes the middle stump. Dave and I scuttle off the field, still all in one piece. We are all out 148. Absolute relief but with memories sure to generate PTSD.

Dick had a serious blow to the face from Len that day but he was a tough cookie and returned to the fray missing only one game. He was not so lucky next season however when in attempting to hook a Glen Bailey full toss at Caringbah Oval suffered a serious compound fracture of the jaw. Out for the season.

That's cricket in the 70's. It was brutal stuff.