Having dismissed Sussex for a meagre 214, an eventful last 10 overs of the day was not needed. 10 for 3 – bugger. When it turned into 11 for 4 in the first few overs of the second morning, it looked as if the bowlers’ fantastic efforts would go unrewarded. At the fall of the fourth wicket, the classy but luckless Neil McKenzie, out strode perhaps the most assured number six in county cricket – Dale Benkenstein – usually at number five but relegated one place due to the use of a night-watchman.

However, 205 runs later and Benks was adjudged lbw to a Mushtaq Ahmed skidder, and little old me was still standing at the non-striker’s end. We were only a handful of runs away from a record partnership for Durham’s fifth wicket. I cannot tell you how proud I would have been to be part of such a record, but even still it was a huge effort and one of my most satisfying days in cricket. That I got out soon after annoyed me as I needed to assume responsibility and take the game far beyond Sussex’s reach. As it was, thanks to a great last-wicket stand between Harmison brothers, we had a valuable lead of 87.

The third innings of the game would turn out to be crucial – chasing anything less than 200 and we would be very confident. Now, if Sussex’s second innings had been acted out in the theatre, then it would have had two lead parts. Perhaps there would have been a small bit part for our unassuming, but highly skilled, seamer Callum Thorp (who took four crucial wickets) but the rest of us were mere spectators.

It was Matt Prior against Stephen Harmison. Prior scored 133 from 138 balls out of a team total of 212, and played the innings that will be very difficult to usurp as the best I’ve seen, given the circumstances and opposition. And Harmy was Harmy - as whole-hearted, gutsy and potent as he always is, blasting out four Sussex wickets, including an amazing hat-trick with the first three balls of a new spell. If this middle session of the third day was not of a world-class international standard then I don’t know what is. It is clear that we must have a serious England team if these two guys can’t get a look in.

A nervy chase was avoided and we became the first team to beat Sussex at Hove since 2004. It’s safe to say that the few beers we enjoyed, followed by the late night fish and chips on the sea-front, were fully deserved!

As soon as we had stepped off the coach back from Brighton, our thoughts turned unerringly to the Friends Provident quarter-final against Nottinghamshire. Again we came up against a great solo innings, from Samit Patel, and certainly without his bludgeoning we would have had to chase far less than 188. The score is 127 for 1, with 20 overs remaining, and were we cruising. In fact, we cruised all the way to 189 for 9 with one over remaining! Nerves were shredded, grown men were reduced nearly to tears and the relief was palpable. Nottinghamshire’s nemesis was once again the pint-sized off-spinner Gareth Breese. He had defied them last year in a similar stage of the competition and yet again he won the game with a priceless 34 not out.

At the non-striker’s end was Mark ‘Bob’ Davies, a funny man at the best of times. His actions during what turned out to be the last ball of the game however, had me in stitches for minutes. Six runs were needed off seven balls, and Breesey was on strike. Would he try and snatch a single and retain the strike for the last over – the safe option, but as the field had been brought up there were chances for a boundary.

Bob had presumably not thought it all through. As Breesey hot-stepped down the wicket to Darren Pattinson’s last ball and proceeded to swing through the line, Bob’s first reaction was one of self-preservation as he virtually ducked to the floor in fear of being struck by the thunderbolt. Once he had realised that he was safe, and that the ball was soaring over the infield, I swear you could see a comic strip light bulb burst out above his head… ‘Hang about, this is going all the way for six. I best check the scoreboard.’… So with the ball halfway to boundary, 30 feet in the air, Bob picks himself up after ducking, turns his head, has a quick look at the scoreboard, and thinks to himself… ‘Six to win…stone me, we’ve won!’… It dawned on him, and quick as a flash he sprinted over to Breesey and gave him the sort of bear-hug that should only be reserved for behind closed doors. What makes it all the more hilarious is, that amid all this confusion and comedy at Bob’s end, Breesey was in no doubt and was stood arms aloft as soon as he had struck the match-winning blow. It was a golden moment.

The next heart-stopping match in the series was the Championship game against Hampshire. I am aware that I have waffled on so won’t elaborate too much on this one. Plus we lost! The main feature was another Herculean effort from Harmy, with both bat and ball, that could not quite snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

And so to Twenty20. No drama to speak of here. Just the usual rain-reduced seven-over chase, mid-innings collapse, left-arm spinning hat-trick and pitch-black finish. All in a day’s work for Durham at the moment.

If my heart stands up to this emotional torment, then I will report on our Twenty20 campaign in the next few weeks. Just thinking, my heart best stand up to it…there’s US$5m dollars to be won!