One certain summer evening a few local lads found themselves knocking a ball about in Mr Percy Footit's field just across the old brick bridge from Riverside Farm. A couple of nights later, it happened again. This time, one or two more cricketers. Then somebody remembered that there was cricket gear at West Markham School. Could they borrow it! A word in the right ear got the answer yes, they could. And so it went on, that 1949 summer.

The cricketers at the nightly knockabouts came from Milton itself, from Markham Moor, Sibthorpe Hill, Bevercotes, Rockley, even Gamston. Soon there were a dozen or more, and soon a few informal fixtures were organized.

Why not form a club? suggested somebody. Why not? Well, where would the money come from, for a start. It looked like they had a field, but what about all those other things a cricket club would need? Bats and balls, stumps and bails, pads and gloves?

A secretary was appointed. Appointed? Perhaps hardly the right word. But at least he could cadge a typewriter. And on that typewriter was hammered out a begging letter. "Please help us," it said, "to start our cricket club. Please give us your support." They did. Those vital first few pounds came in, from good folks around about who are vice-presidents and supporters of Milton Cricket Club still.

A deal was done with a Newark sports outfitter. Arrangements were finalised with the landlord so the pitch could be mowed and fenced.

A President was elected: Mr J. P. Footit, of Riverside Farm, Milton but his support went further than a seat on the boundary and boundless good advice. In those first exciting days he had an extra role, Banker.

The embryo cricket club was becoming a force in local village cricket, but it was short of one essential - a pavilion. "How about an old railway carriage?" said somebody. Enquiries were made, a price sought...and rejected as too high. Then fortune took a turn.

A member of this new club was a "regular" at Newark Cattle Market. Every Wednesday it was his job to tell the anxiously-waiting world the latest news from the fat-stock front. How much were drapes and gimmers? What price in-lamb ewes? His job was to call on the auctioneers mid-day Wednesday to get the market prices for next day's Nottingham Guardian.

This particular Wednesday he was strolling over the Bridge, in the shadow of the Castle walls, when he spotted a green double-decker parked outside 'The Ossington'. This was the corner of the market where auctioneers sold off second-hand farm machinery and tools, oddments of bankrupt stock...an agricultural jumble sale. And pride of place at today's sale, this splendid bus. A veritable green goddess off the streets of the City of Nottingham. An all-electric though long-fused Corporation trolley-bus. A ready-made village cricket club pavilion. An upstairs for changing cricketers, a downstairs for watching supporters. "How much'll the bus make?" he whispered to the auctioneer's clerk. "It'll go for -- er -- about £35." "Right," said the Miltonian. "Hang on. Don't let it go. I'm off to the phone. A quick sprint to the callbox on the corner to ring the President, luckily not singling beet in some remote corner of Riverside Farm. "Shall I buy it?" asked the anxious cricketer. "Why not? Go ahead. Yes," said the President. "I'll lend you the money " So the deal was done. Milton Cricket Club were in the transport business.

For a bargain £32 - including towing - they had a pavilion. It was a curious convoy that made its way along the North Road northwards from Newark that Wednesday afternoon. At its head, a Milton cricketer on his motorbike. Then a scrapdealer's beat-up old truck, tied by a groaning rope to a swishing, swaying, green paint peeling Nottingham Corporation trolley-bus. Through Cromwell, skirting Carlton and Sutton, the long slow haul up through Ash Vale into Tuxford, and the swoosh down-hill to Hempsalls. Left at Markham Moor and into Milton. Across the fields and through a hedge and so to its final resting-place. To spend its last days enjoying the halcyon, sun-drenched hours in a corner of a green, green field all but encircled by a tinkling river.

A view of willows, of grazing sheep, a couple of farms. The poplar-lined avenue, the Mausoleum. The setting for Milton Cricket Club Those were the beginning days. Who could have foreseen the Milton Cricket club that Nottinghamshire knows today? Top village team in the county? No village team higher in the Bassetlaw League! Milton joined the Bassetlaw in 1957. In 1958 they were champions in their section and moved up. 1959, up again. 1961, up yet again.

And so it went on ...Statistics that tell a story of success. A story that started in the field where they still play, on a sunny summer evening in 1949 that nobody actually remembers.