Vietnam's premier cricket-balling team.
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Alan “Sharpie” Sharpe
Opener by Appointment
Flying in from Australia and currently enjoying retirement at full throttle, Alan “Sharpie” Sharpe brings his trademark confidence to Chiang Mai sixes cricket. Tall, lean, bald, and proudly over 50, he’s easy to spot—especially when the sun bounces off his head and distracts the bowler.
Unmarried and living with several dogs who almost certainly run the household, Sharpie fills his days with car racing, boating, golf, and horse racing—basically anything that involves speed, water, or spending money while insisting he’s “slowed down.”
He can bowl if needed… but strongly prefers opening the batting, where optimism flows freely and short balls are blamed on the pitch. Expect attacking shots, commentary on everyone else’s technique, and stories that somehow link racing cars to missed putts and unlucky horses.
Bat first. Talk later. Sunscreen always. Welcome to Chiang Mai, Sharpie.
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Alex Hayes
Alex Hayes is the sort of engineer who treats every decision like a third-umpire review—angles considered, data replayed, slow-motion analysis from every possible perspective—until everyone else has aged a season. Whether it’s choosing a resistor or calling a single, Alex is forever hovering bat-on-pad, weighing risk versus reward while the bowler glares in. Off the field, he attempts to surf with similar hesitation: late take-offs, awkward pop-ups, and wipeouts that look less like Pipeline and more like a misjudged leave outside off. His dress sense doesn’t help the optics either—think mismatched kit on a hot day, socks pulled too high, colours clashing like a bad club strip from the ’90s.
But stick Alex behind the stumps and suddenly the noise changes. This is where his overthinking becomes an asset, his engineer’s brain turning into pure cricketing instinct. Anticipation sharp as a fresh SG ball, hands soft, feet neat—edges stick, leg-side takes don’t leak, and byes are treated like personal insults. He reads batsmen the way others read pitch reports, always one delivery ahead, always in the game. You might laugh at his shuffle to the crease of life, but when the spinner’s turning it square and the game’s on the line, there’s no wicket keeper you’d rather have chirping behind the stumps.
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Lain Davison
All-Rounder (Off the Field)
Every touring party needs a character, and for the Chiang Mai leg, that honour belongs to Iain “Lain” Davison. By trade, Lain is a firefighter and an electrician — a rare combination that means he’s very good at responding to emergencies, and only moderately confident about fixing what caused them in the first place. He’ll be the first to admit he’s not the best electrician going around, but he’ll still have a crack… usually after saying “this should work” at least once.
On the cricket field, Lain is best described as developing. His batting technique is unorthodox, his bowling unpredictable, and his fielding style best summed up as “enthusiastic with moments of surprise.” While raw cricketing skill may not be his strong suit, his ability to provide encouragement, comic relief, and unsolicited tactical advice is elite.
Where Lain truly shines, however, is after stumps. A specialist in post-match recovery sessions, Lain is equally comfortable holding court at the bar, organising the next round, or leading the charge into Chiang Mai’s nightlife. Renowned for his stamina off the pitch and his resilience the morning after, he’s a proven tour veteran who understands that cricket trips are about balance — a bit of cricket, a bit of culture, and a lot of camaraderie.
Selection notes: picked less for form, more for spirit — and absolutely undroppable on tour.
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Matt Finch
Finchy aka Matty aka “Midium” Matt
Every team has a specialist.
We’ve got Finchy — elite beer pourer, questionable cricketer.
Nobody gets a better head on a pint. If pouring Guinness were a batting stat, he’d be averaging Bradman numbers. Sadly for him, this is cricket.
“Midium” Matt — not quick enough to scare you, not accurate enough to trust, just perfectly medium. Medium pace, medium footwork, medium understanding of literally everything.
He stretches like a professional athlete… then bats like a man who’s only read about cricket in theory.
Doesn’t know much about the game — but he knows how to stay fit, have fun, and keep the bar session in safe hands.
And honestly? That might be his greatest contribution to Sapa CC.
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Neil Morton
Ladies and gentlemen, teammates, opponents, members of the first aid unit—
We gather to celebrate Sapa CC’s most capped player. And when we say “most capped,” we mean both in appearances… and possibly in head injuries.
Morto. The skipper. The stalwart. The only man who treats the first aid tent like it’s the members’ pavilion.
Now, we all know Morto likes to remind us that he was a very good breastroker at university.
Morto, mate… this is cricket. No one’s asking you to clear the boundary rope in a leisure centre. The only breaststroke we care about is how you try to swim through the off-side field after missing a straight one.
They say he plays with a straight bat — mainly because turning his head too quickly risks another ambulance on first-name terms. At this point, the paramedics don’t ask for his details. They just shout, “Same as last year, Morto?”
He’s the only captain whose match prep includes checking pitch conditions and confirming the fastest route to A&E.
And bravery? Oh, he’s brave. He’ll face a 90mph delivery without flinching.
But mention a horse vet? Absolute collapse of the middle order. Suddenly he’s padding up in the pavilion, whites trembling. Apparently there’s something about the size of those needles that has him playing back defensively for the rest of the week.
During 6’s week, Morto comes out like an opening batsman on a flat deck — full of intent, charging down the track by Monday. By Thursday? He’s batting on fumes, leaving everything outside off, praying for rain.
Financial management, though — that’s where he truly digs in. When the rest of us have declared and retired hurt to the bar, Morto is still there, batting for the balance sheet. Someone has to steward the innings… even if it’s mostly liquid assets.
And let’s not forget his resilience. Blow to the head? Carries on.
Pulled hamstring? Carries on.
Insect bite the size of a cricket ball? Immediately reviews it with DRS and requests stretcher support.
But here’s the thing — for all the sledging, Morto is the rock in the batting order. He’s the dependable number three who absorbs the pressure, steadies the innings, and occasionally absorbs the ball with his helmet.
He may know the ambulance crew personally.
He may think varsity swimming medals are transferable cricket credentials.
He may fear horse vets like tailenders fear a chin music barrage.
But he’s our captain.
And like any good Test innings — slightly bruised, occasionally dramatic, but ultimately enduring — Morto remains not out.
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Pete Wells
Wellsy. Pete. Petey.
First things first — if you value human decency, never ask Pete to run.
Not because he won’t… but because watching it makes small children cry. It’s less “quick single” and more “slow-motion wildlife documentary.”
Calling for two when Petey’s batting should come with a trigger warning.
Now credit where it’s due — the man can craft a hamburger. Precision layering. Structural integrity. Good balance. Honestly, better construction than most of his innings.
And beverages? Oh, he loves a beverage. Knows them intimately. Studies them. Commits to them. If hydration was a stat, he’d be leading the league.
Fitness? Let’s just say he’s built for comfort, not for chasing in the deep. When the ball goes past him, he doesn’t pursue it — he escorts it with dignity.
But what he lacks in pace, he makes up for in commitment to family. Loves them so much he brought one on tour. That’s right — full squad rotation plus guest appearance.
Hi Zoe. You’ve seen the running. We’re so sorry.
Pete may not steal runs.
He may not beat throws.
But he’ll beat you to the bar, cook you a burger, and settle in for a long innings with a cold one.
And honestly… we wouldn’t have him any other way.
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Steve Drakeford
Steven. Drakey. Ducky.
Always late to the party — which is fitting, because he’s rarely in the starting XI anyway.
Outstanding 12th man though. Elite hydration carrier. Brings drinks onto the field with the urgency he never brings to a run chase.
By the time Ducky arrives, the innings is over, the bar tab’s open, and someone else has already taken his spot.
If punctuality were runs, he’d finally make double figures.
…But we love him.
