In the waning days of July, when Munich’s skies were heavy with the scent of impending autumn and questionable selection decisions, Tour Manager Joy the Unflappable summoned forth the warriors of Munich Cricket Club. His scrolls were immaculate, his spreadsheets divine, his WhatsApp reminders relentless. Thus began MCC’s First Tour of the Season, a quest to the distant kingdom of Luxembourg, where the noble Optimists Cricket Club awaited with red balls, green fields and hospitality so generous it threatened to undo centuries of Bavarian restraint.
As tradition demands, we convened at Scott’s Pub, a place of mythic significance and absolutely no discounts for Scotty. The terrace overlooked the ancient bridge and the old town, a view so majestic it almost distracted from the pitchers of house beer arriving with the regularity of German trains (theoretical German trains, not the ones that strand you after Munich’s Stammstrecke gets gesperrt).
LL the Inventor unveiled his sacred drinking contraptions: hourglasses whose turning signalled the changing of hands for drinking, and thumb based drinking rituals whose rules were promptly lost to the wind. Everyone ignored those arcane teachings while the four tour virgins: Raja, Jishnu, Vishal and Vinayak were welcomed into the fold with the warmth of a thousand Bavarian pretzels.
Tactical discussions followed, ranging from batting orders to field positions to whether Raja should be allowed near doors. These ended abruptly when Scotty was given out… of the bar, departing with an “old friend” as prophecy foretold. The rest retired to the hostel, where snoring echoed through the night like war drums and howzat appeals.
Next morning, every touring member of the MCC arrived at the OCC ground on time. It was a feat so unprecedented it may one day require its own chapter in future chronicles. We were greeted by William, OCC’s skipper and groundsman of thirty tireless years, who welcomed us with open arms and graciously allowed Joy to win the toss.
Thus began the MCC innings. Jishnu and Joy, paragons of patience and optimism, opened with elegance and mild confusion. They repeatedly called for sharp singles only to discover the ball had already thundered to the boundary. Joy soon fell to a harsh LBW for 9. Rohit and Vishal followed with brave and industrious 10 each. Amol and Jishnu forged a partnership of calm solidity, before Jishnu reached his heroic 50 and retired to a standing ovation from fielders who had no seating options whatsoever.
Simrat, master of microscopic cameos, produced several before being dismissed for 8. His average of 0.0026 runs per cameo defied cricket and common sense. Raja perished swiftly, timing his second ball straight to point. LL swept valiantly for a stylish 20. Amol crafted a technically sound 34. Vinayak and Christian remained unbeaten at the end. Their partnership was small but symbolic, carrying MCC to a final tally of 191/8. Young Eddie claimed a 3‑fer for the hosts. Lunch followed: steaming curry and rice consumed with the ferocity of men who had clearly battled for 40 overs.
The second innings began with MCC unleashing a fury unseen in touring history, as Scotty and Raja tore through the OCC top order and reduced them to 15/5 within eight astonishing overs. Scotty then retired wounded, his arm swollen from excessive excellence.
From the ashes of that collapse rose William and Martin, whose partnership was forged in elegance and defiance; they swatted balls to all corners of the ground, their footwork a graceful dance and their resolve utterly unbreakable. Scotty returned for a second spell and dismissed William with a pull to deep square leg, where Vinayak took a catch worthy of a song. But then came Young Eddie again, joining Martin and together they built a partnership of stubborn brilliance, with Martin marching relentlessly to a glorious hundred that sealed victory for OCC with four overs to spare. I umpired the entire match without falling over, my best performance this season.
After battle came revelry, as the MCC players let their hair down and took up their beers with the solemnity of men honouring ancient touring traditions of finages. Raja drank at every excuse, seizing each moment with the enthusiasm of a man determined to set new records in liquid consumption. Scotty then performed the obligatory Lancaster Bombing and got his revenge on Martin by forcing him to serve as engine #3, imitating an aircraft that should never have been cleared for takeoff.
Billy arrived fresh from holiday, glowing with the serene aura of a man who may soon be wed, radiating both joy and the faint panic of impending adulthood. Then came the Dizzy Bats, where Vinayak spun with such majestic, wind‑summoning intensity that the clouds briefly considered raining in appreciation, while Jishnu demolished a few bystanding chairs, again. The BBQ followed, then the bonfire, then laughter echoing across the Luxembourgish night. It was a day of cricket played in the finest spirit and an evening that ensured no one would remember the scorecard quite as clearly as the entertainment that came after.
The next morning, while MCC prepared for their second match, I was locked in mortal combat with Luxembourg’s hills on my bike as news of my trains getting cancelled reached me regularly. The match I missed unfolded as:
MCC bowled first and were smitten mercilessly, conceding 279 in 30 overs.
Scotty, fuelled by rage and muscle spray, took a hat‑trick.
MCC replied with around 140: Vishal made a gritty 16, LL a heroic 27 and Rohit a duck of operatic grandeur.
Players then scattered to airports and stations like leaves in a storm.
Thus ends the saga of MCC’s Luxembourg Tour, a tale woven from bravery, boundaries, BBQ and beer fines. It is a story that will echo through future MCC gatherings, retold with increasing exaggeration and decreasing factual accuracy. We raise our bats to Optimists CC, gracious hosts and noble opponents whose warmth and sportsmanship elevated the tour into a perfect weekend. We raise them also to Joy the Tourmaster, whose organisation bordered on sorcery and whose steady hands guided us through cabs, pubs and tactical turbulence on the field. And we raise them to Billy, who may be married by the time you read this, whose union we bless with love, laughter and loud shouts of Howzat!!
And so everyone returns to Munich (well, everyone except me), weary yet jubilant, ready to embrace the next adventure, the next innings and inevitably the next beer fine.
Dang Ling-Wang