How many grades to side strains have?

I guess about 12. Of course, we all appreciate the subtle nuances between differing grades. So, there is no need to explain this to anyone.

We'll just continue mentioning it as if it has meaning, as if you understood and as if I wasn't a pontificating twat.

The final is here: to the pub

After cunningly whittling the foreign sides away through the targeted use of dodgy curries and water-borne diseases, only Asian teams remain.

But, where can we find a pub to watch the bloody game?

Only time will tell…

England and India amazing things - none of them matter

England and India did amazing things in a way that never could have come about in a T20 match. Yesterday’s match had laughter and tears. Both sets of fans enjoyed the pleasures snatching victory from the jaws of defeat… before allowing the other side to claw their way back again. And then it all went horribly agreeable.

Unfortunately – much like a political compromise – a tie left both sides feeling disappointed. “Oh” we all collectively thought, “so we didn’t win”.

Interestingly, the match, despite its drama, was still meaningless. Both sides will probably qualify. So. It was all just a waste of everyone’s time, really.

The match did show simply the relative ineptness of the bowling. Aside from Zaheer’s moment of maddeningness and Bresnan’s tedious reliability, neither time has sufficient firepower to blast their way to the world cup.

Sachin Tendulkar, though, eh? Fluky bloody bastard.

The big match: who will be the biggest disappointment?

So. World Cups. You don’t get them that often. Only about once a year – in between Ashes tours.

The weekend brings England’s big match. We play tournament favourites, India. People think India will win because they are “local” and therefore their side is immune to debilitating toilet strikes which bedevil sides coming from the “potable water belt” from where most of the other participating countries come – as well as the non-cricket playing nations also.

Local boys also include Bangladesh, Pakistan and Sri Lanka. All these countries share the same strategy of having one or two alright players and then the rest used chiefly to clean up the skids marks off the others’ kit. So hopefully the sub-continental sides will turn up nicely over the next twenty weeks.

Much has been made of the money-grabbing length of the tournament. Personally, I like cricket. Similarly to that annoying bloke on the train who simply cannot get enough of his ring tone, I can happily watch Pakistan destroy Kenya again and again. Especially when all hope of an upset is extinguished within the first ten minutes.

Anyway. England. A knackered bunch of workhorses far from home for too long. Children’s lives are missed, wives are abandoned, girlfriends are restless. It’s as if the lesson of Alan Johnson have been entirely forgotten.

England will lose. I feel safer territory after the Ashes. England have been practicing that homesick brand of the game that we all familiarly know as “shit”. Even the Dutch took our bowlers to the cleaners. And no one know why the Netherlands plays cricket.

Don’t they have their own friends?

No. Nor do India, mind. But, the difference is: they shall beat England. Their kit will be the cleaner. Sreesanth will make sure of that.

Are Australia the new West Indies?

When I was a lad, I remember watching the 1995 West Indies tour of England. Little did I know at the time that I was witnessing a pivotal point in history. I was dimly aware of Windian dominance against England, but the well-fought draw did not itself suggest to me immanent collapse of the once strutting mega-stars.

I am now old enough to appreciate any such spectacles life throws at me today. I have experienced enough inevitable disappointments, sufficient certain disasters and a more than adequate amounts of predestined catastrophes to be able to spot future failures.

Now, as the Australian bunny blinks mindlessly back into my headlights, my mind quickly recalls the many fiascos in which it has participated, just before engaging the wind-screen wipers to remove the debris.

Unlike the current Australian side, the 1995 West Indies team had hope. They had some world class bowlers and a sprinkling of legendary batsman. Currently, Shane Watson has the role of Brian Lara.

But, it is difficult to see where the future lies for Australia. Much is made of the post 1986-7 cull, but who do they replace the old guard wife? Michael Beer and Phil Hughes?

No one wants to be captain. No one can captain.

No one can bowl, either. Not even Michael Beer.

There are glimmers of hope in the batting department. Much as there are glimmers of sanity in the Tea Party.

The only solution I can see is either scouring the English leagues for anyone who has a secret Australia shame in the bloodline – or a sun tan.

Or, merging with New Zealand. The Oceanic Islands may yet conquer the world.

Dreaming in the colour of cricket

The problem with cricket on the other side of the world is the poor hours it keeps. Last night, I feel asleep to the congenial banter between Jonathan Agnew and Vick Marks. Apparently, as a statement of support for pinkafied cancer awareness day, Marks sported a pair of pink pants.

Vaguely, my sleep-fogged mind caught the early wicket of James Anderson, the nightwatchman, but by then it was too late. The damage was done.

I eventually passed out, to be haunted be a night of terrible visions. Firstly, I dreamt that was a spectator at the SCG. Having never visited Australia, the ground took the form of something akin to a polo stadium in Libya.

Slowly, I, and some surprisingly rowdy friends, watched the innings unfold. Alastair Cook took a quick single and a fluke collection saw the stumps thrown down. An appeal was made, but so languid was Cook’s run that it appeared a rather optimistic enquiry.

The third umpire’s screen loomed large over us. I saw that Cook was out of his ground upon impact. I reported to this to my disbelieving colleagues. Cook’s innings was over. A disaster. A collapse.

Never fear, Kevin Pietersen was next man in. A good opportunity for vengeance. I turned to my friend that didn’t speak Afrikaans, “you speak Afrikaans” said I “hurl some proper abuse”. He made those deep, throaty sounds that marks Low Dutch as an excellent language for insult.

Stirred by these pleasing noises, the entire English contingent launched into a tirade of abuse directed towards the advancing Saffer.

I awoke to briefly hear some continued underwear exchanges, to the delight of one and to the discomfort to the other.

Sleep once again took me, but this time to the SCG’s men’s toilets. In there, were the firmly planted feet of David Shepherd, the now-deceased umpire. In his unexpectedly broad Scottish accent, he delivered some rather scathing opinions concerning the Umpire Decision Referral System as I made use of the neighbouring urinal.

Imagine my joy, therefore, upon hearing that England were destroying the Australian bowlers. Two centurions and a lead of over 200. Marvellous. Marvellous. It almost makes like worth living during the grim, post-Christmas return to the terrible truth of reality.

Which way will it go? To stay up or to snooze in ignorance?

The main problem of not being unemployed is having work. This means the hours between 11 and six are traditionally reserved for recuperation and rest. As previous experience has proven, sleeping for hours at a time in the staff toilets is frowned upon.

So, the cricketing world once again asks me that familiar question: How recklessly irresponsible are you?

Just as the first test match of the Ashes teeters on the edge of mythology, with the possibility of ludicrous victories either side securing legendary status, my already questionable work-ethic is tested to the limit.

AYALAC has prepared some sure-fire methods to watch the game, whilst preserving the aura of professionalism in the office.

1) New project. Developing an entrepreneurial new product that will add value to your workplace will show that you are dedicated and inventive and generally amazing. Working on this has kept you up all night. What a champion. No one will question the quiet abandonment in few weeks as the Great Plan goes that way of all new ideas: The bin.

2) Emergency plumbing. For those accustomed to the rich vein of fantasy that are the “WFH” emails, working from home is a perfect time to catch up on needed sleep. Escaping to your “work-bunker” will also raise a convenient excuse to your total unresponsiveness to emails or calls.

3) Bravely soldier on. The announcement of disease instantly provides sympathy and distance from your fellow man. The bleary eyes and clumsy decision-making can plausibly be as a result of a massive virus attack. Once the ruse is established, frequent emergency trips to the toilet for micro-sleeps may get you through the day, as well as winning more credit.

4) Form a sleep co-operative. The key to skiving off work is thorough and meticulous planning. Identify all those sympathetic to your course in advance to the match. Prior to the night-long vigil, book an all-day mega-meeting with cricketing colleagues. Take your bedding into the meeting room first thing in the morning, lock yourselves in and sleep like demons.

5) Coming clean. Remind your boss of his or her obvious insignificance to cricket, laugh at their thoughtlessness at scheduling work during an Ashes series and slap yourselves on the back before heading homeward to bed. The long-term advantage of this strategy is its possibility of relieving you of any further work-related inconveniences in the future.

AYALAC is personally considering a combination of numbers (1) and (3). Infected dedication should throw them off the scent long enough.

If you could stay awake, will you be able to stay awake?

So. The Ashes are here. Not a great surprise. Given that there are three other, probably more interesting series going on. Nevertheless, myopic parochialism has never stopped the British press before and there’s no point going back on it now.

The question is: how will you stay awake?

The BBC has a very useful guide. The most educational suggestion was in relation to strategic coffee taking. The idea behind this is that the you can stay away by taking frequent naps throughout the course of the evening. But, ensure that these are only 15-20 minutes in length.

As all siesta-takers will know: short is good.

The interesting trick is, however, to take coffee just before napping. Apparently, it comes into effect just about the time you are waking up, and therefore it stimulates you to once again to an attentive state.

I write this at 10:15. I am already thinking about bed.

Here’s to us not cocking up the toss.

How to prepare for the Ashes

England water-treading batsman

It’s so easy to dislike English batsman. English conditions breed cautious, accumulators that seek to defend their wicket and poke the singles. A well-fought four-hour 32 is a significant achievement. A ten-minute 32 is “airy”. The net effect, of course, is the same, but somehow, in England, longevity has a gravitas denied to quick, if effective innings. This is why Marcus Tresocothick, arguably England’s best batsman of modern times, dipped below the radar.

So, anyway. We have a number of grinders. Alastair Cook, Paul Collingwood, Jonathan Trott and even Andrew Strauss. They all scratch away and their places are perennially under question. However, they are all still class, god dammit, and have an infuriating habit of scoring a century just on the cusp of being dropped. This buys them a few more opportunities to nurdle out a string of painful 20s.

England’s “consistency” approach allows for these sort of players to exploit a failing in the system. The principles of England enlightened selection policy is to pick on the basis of long-term performance, not immediate flashes in the pain. Players positions are awarded on the basis of performance over a number of games, allowing occasional failures in return of significant contributions elsewhere.

But, this is not so. When a player comes under threat, we take a long term approach, but, when he’s scored runs, and specially scored one more run than 99, then we take a short-term approach, and all before is forgotten.

So, players that consistently under-perform, but will occasionally produce runs, will be secured of a long-term position in the team. Half of England’s top-order have averaged under 40 during 2010. Yet, they just about do enough to stay in.

I agree with the consistency policy, but perhaps it should be shaken up once in a little while?