Lions Roar No More

Well, we all know - don't we? - that Twenty20 cricket isn't real cricket … except, of course, when we recall that England are the current T20 world champions. This frame of mind comes from Surrey's exit from the 2011 domestic competition at the group stage. Huge disappointment, as with just two of the sixteen matches to go, the dizzy heights of a home quarter-final was on the cards. This had an added excitement for me, as it was feasible that this would have been against Lancashire and occur during the tiny five day window when a really good mate, Manchester born and bred but now exiled to France, would be visiting. Through my daydreaming, I should have realised that that was just too much expectation to place upon the shoulders of Rory's young Surrey lions.

I'd missed the first half of the campaign while lazing for most of June on a Greek beach. Several of the fixtures had been declared no result due to inclement English weather. Things were looking pretty open. My first match, three days after returning, was on a roasting hot afternoon at Beckenham. I appreciated the chance to top up my suntan, but a Kent victory was unwelcome. This was followed five days later, in the company of my utterly bestest cricket girl pal, by a comprehensive defeat at the hands of the Somerset cider-boys. Having grown up in Somerset, and with cricket mates living in Taunton, this was also not what I wanted to see. Apart from such terrific company, the highlight of evening was wearing my Ashes winning t-shirt. Not subtle or polite, I agree, but effective.

At this stage, it seemed clear that the T20 trophy was not going to return to the Surrey cabinet this year. Then came our glory week: three fixtures, at three different grounds, in five days, all of them victories and I saw all of them live. First, Monday evening at Whitgift School in Croydon: got really tight, felt Sussex had the upper hand but they kept dropping catches and Surrey squeaked home. Next, off to The Home of Cricket, in the company of a Middlesex member so with a view from the Pavilion. Marvellous experience and a great victory for Surrey.

Two out of three. Now, as we well know, Mr Loaf believes "two out of three ain't bad". I have never agreed with the man - fabulous performer though he is (well, apart from the time that I saw him collapse on stage at Wembley): two out of three ain't good enough in my book. And Surrey agreed. Back at The Oval the next night, watching for the first time from the top of the OCS Stand, Surrey pulled off a comprehensive trouncing of top of the table Hampshire. Yes!  Three in a row.  This was it, surely we were going to get our home quarter-final.

The ECB scheduling, for reasons known only to itself, threw a four day Championship match in next. We spectators took deep breaths, got pleasantly lulled by the soporific effects of the grown up game after so much hectic T20, and Surrey pulled off a tense and close victory, on a very cool fourth morning, against Kent. This backfired quickly the following evening, as Kent took their revenge and beat us easily. OK, the home QF was off but if we overcame Sussex the next day, we would still be through. Embryonic thoughts about a trip to Hove to watch were abandoned quickly as the news came through that it was sold out. Probably a blessing as Sussex reversed their Whitgift defeat and the Surrey Lions roared no more.

Plenty of talk on Twitter from deluded optimists pleased by a perceived improvement from Surrey's performance last year. What rubbish. In a knock-out tournament, what matters is getting through - not how well or poorly the team plays. We'd failed and from my point of view, the glass was utterly and completely empty. Still chastened by the crashing down of my T20 dreams, I'm yet to climb to wild heights of optimism about our CB40 one day chances. Yes, we won our first five matches. The sixth last weekend was a casualty of the weather. We're top of our group. All positive, so why am I not looking forward to the first weekend of September and the semi-finals? In fact, I have so little hope of such a prospect that I'll be back in Greece then. Perhaps having, so nobly, sacrificed the chance to see victory will ensure success? Yes, that's the plan. Come on The Rey!