A complete cop out this week for the match report (thanks ChatGPT):

In Linlithgow town, with spirits high,
The cricket club prepared to fly,
To Edinburgh's embrace, they made their way,
To face Grange's team on a sunny day.

The sun above, a golden gleam,
Illuminated the players' cricketing dream,
The gentle breeze whispered in delight,
As Linlithgow stepped onto the holy cricketing site.

With willow in hand, and pads secure,
They stood as one, ready to endure,
The challenge ahead, a fierce affair,
But they were determined, ready to dare.

Grange, the opponents, stood tall and proud,
Their skills renowned, their praises loud,
But Linlithgow, with passion ablaze,
Were not daunted by their formidable gaze.

Gordy Allan, a warrior bold,
With the cricket ball, his story told,
His arm unleashed a tempest's might,
Guiding orbs with precision, flight.

Like a falcon soaring high above,
His delivery, swift as a dove,
Two wickets claimed, the crowd did cheer,
Gordy's brilliance, crystal clear.

But midst the jubilant cricket's flight,
A moment came, with a bittersweet bite,
Gregor Thomson, his rib aching sore,
A wounded warrior, grimace he wore.

With every breath, a twinge of pain,
His dreams of glory held in disdain,
Yet valiantly he stood his ground,
Determined to hear victory's sound.

In the tapestry of this glorious game,
Clinton Dixon stepped up to carve his path to fame.
His guile, a weapon sharp and keen,
A testament to talent seldom seen.

Like a maestro of deception, he played his role,
Mixing variations, his craft taking its toll.
Two wickets tumbled, the crowd's elation,
Witnessing Dixon's bowling revelation.

The spectators roared, their hearts ablaze,
As Keith Morton's brilliance continued to amaze,
Three wickets taken, his name forever etched,
In the annals of cricket, where heroes are fetched.

So let us celebrate this bowler's flight,
His artistry that shone with pure delight,
Keith Morton, the maestro of the day,
Whose skill and grace took wickets away.

A wicket here, a wicket there,
Grange's run-scoring hopes lay bare,
The scoreboard ticked, a sobering sight,
As the total dwindled, like stars in the night.

A score of 109 may be humbling today,
But in tomorrow's dawn, a new chance may sway,
Grange's cricketers, with hearts unbowed,
Will rise again, to face the challenge proud.

With the target set, a challenge at hand,
Linlithgow's batsmen took their stand,
The willows wielded with conviction and might,
Their aim clear, to conquer the total in sight.

A tale emerges, a moment of dismay,
As John Strachan departed without a say.
A duck, no number etched beside his name,
A challenging start to the cricketing game,

Matthew Hedge, the batsman, faced his fate,
Scoring 13 runs, but then, caught in a state.
Alas, fortune turned its face,
As a fielder's catch brought him disgrace.

Out he went, caught, a bitter pill to swallow,
And frustration surged, like a tempest's follow,
Anger welled within, a fierce eruption,
And he lashed out, kicking a water bottle in frustration.

The sound echoed, the bottle flew,
A release of pent-up emotion, through and through,
His disappointment reverberating wide,
As he grappled with the moment's tide.

At the crease, Craig Black stood tall,
A captain leading, inspiring all,
His blade danced with elegance and flair,
As he crafted his innings with utmost care.

Boundaries flowed from his masterful strokes,
Fielders scattered, as if in smoke,
His bat carved a path through the field,
As Grange's bowlers tried, but to no yield.

Sixty-two runs adorned his name,
A captain's knock of honour and fame,
He anchored the chase with skill sublime,
A beacon of strength in testing time.

With each run scored, the chase gained pace,
Linlithgow's hopes elevated, fears erased,
The crowd erupted, their cheers embraced,
As Linlithgow's determination left opponents dazed.

With aggression and purpose, they pressed on,
The target within reach, victory to be won,
Grange's hopes diminished, their spirits faded,
As Linlithgow's onslaught remained unabated.

And in the end, triumph was achieved,
Linlithgow's chase was duly believed,
A testament to their fearless endeavour,
As they seized victory with passion and fervour.

With this triumph, their position secured,
Atop the Championship table, they're assured,
Their efforts recognized, their glory upheld,
Linlithgow's dominance, a story compelled.

In the annals of cricket's illustrious tale,
Linlithgow's triumphs shall forever prevail,
Their winning streak, a testament of might,
As they continue to shine, basking in the light.