Only three weeks previously, Westhoughton, very much championship contenders, had visited Bradshaw in a make-or-break fixture. The ground, a fine setting on a sunny day for such a match, was thronged with spectators. Over 1,000 attended the game, and 30 or 40 forms were borrowed from Bradshaw Mission to provide extra seating. Although Stan Wilson had reduced Westhoughton from 54 for 2 to 55 for 5, in a spell of 3 for 0, in their innings of 114, David Hindle was the day's hero with an undefeated 54, ably supported by David Morris, who had joined him at an unpromising 65 for 6, and stayed until the match was won. When the crowd had dispersed, and before the celebrations, professional Peter Greenwood was to be seen helping to carry forms back to Bradshaw Mission.

Secretary Owen Bradbury reporting at the A.G.M., following this successful season, began:"Bradshaw were indeed a Champion Club, and in more respects that in cricket performance. We were lucky to have a champion set of ladies, and a committee, who along with helpers were a champion set of workers. It was also gratifying to note the happy atmosphere that had been created."

Yes, Bradshaw C.C. reached one of it's peaks in 1963.

The remainder of the sixties was a period that saw a change in the whole concept of Bradshaw Cricket Club, a time not without its acrimony.

In the spring of 1964 an attempt had been made to obtain an occasional licence to sell intoxicants at a social event at the club, in spite of Management Committee approval, the Trustees had refused permission, stating that it was not in the interests of the club. Meanwhile £1,650 had already been spent on the new dressing rooms, and an estimated further £200 would still be needed to complete the job, far in excess of the anticipated or budgeted for total.

The Trustees, under more pressure from the cricket committee, had declined to discuss the club rules in relationship to the sale of intoxicants at the ground, but agreed to meet the Management Committee.

A diversion from the bar obsession occurred in July when on Saturday the 18th the heavens opened, Bradshaw Brook became a raging torrent, and the cricket ground was flooded. Photographs taken from various vantage points, show no exaggeration is being made in Frank Millhouse's account, written 16 years later, of that disastrous afternoon:

"It was July 1964, when the "great Flood" hit the town and most people can remember exactly where they were on that day. Most of us worked Saturday morning in those days and I well remember travelling from Manchester round about mid-day. I reached the Nab Gate and saw the ominous rain clouds in the distance. As I travelled down Hardy Mill Road large rain spots spattered against the pavement and by the time I reached Bradshaw Church it was coming down in "stair rods". There was no point calling at the Ground for my usual chat with John Hodgon so it looked like a leisurely lunch was the answer.

I attempted to get to the Ground by the usual route round about 2.15 and already there were a few people who had given up and decided that it was impossible. Eventually, I got round to the Pavilion via Rigby Lane and the sight was truly amazing. The river had overflowed its banks and water covered the entire ground! The Sight Screen had been moved perhaps 30ft from its original position at the tennis courts end of the Ground and Tom Croft's old van was all but submerged. By this time several players and officials had also made their way to the Pavilion and talked excitedly on the day's events. The umpires were there and for once had the unanimous support of everyone present for one of their decisions!!

The game was abandoned. One wag produced a League Handbook and muttered something about a game not being called off before 5 p.m., before he was quickly despatched by the mob. The Village Policeman was struggling to rescue the inhabitants of the cottages and it seemed he was well above knee-deep in water as he crossed the footbridge. By now the conversation had turned to whether we would ever play again and certainly there could be no hope of staging a fixture on the ground during the rest of the Season.

That evening, plans were made to assemble at the ground the next day and a working party would begin the awful job of clearing the debris. Sunday morning produced a large army of volunteers and with the waters having subsided, we were faced with two or three inches of mud caked across the cricket square. By sheer hard work most of the clearing up was done on that day so that on Tuesday evening, following repairs, preparations were underway for the next game. Two Saturdays were in fact missed if memory serves correctly and it was a tribute to everyone concerned that so little cricket eventually was lost.

Three memories remain; first was immediately after the storm, when the scent of flowers filled the air; the second was on the Sunday morning, when Tom Croft started that old Ford van almost the first attempt; and finally, I later learned that of all things they played at Eagley on that dreadful day!.