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

When Freddie Became Jesus

The problem with cricket is that far too many cricketers are involved. The problem is journalism is that it is shot through with journalists. Cricket journalism often is the worst of both words.

Ex-pros spew out retrospective platitudes; hacks shower us with irrelevant gossip and group-think rhetoric.

Jarrod Kimber, the industrious author of cricketwithballs.com, is a writer. His writing is liberated from the ingratiating brown-nosing of hacks, and the hackneyed brow-beating of former pros. His voice is unique, and sings out sharply from the melee.

On the soul-trembling closeness of the first Ashes Test, he writes: “Note to all future Ashes series: start like this, or fuck off.”

The grey-beards of the printed press would not, and could not, entertain even the most fanatic fan for nearer 300 pages as JRod.

Although rip-roaringly fast, the book is well-paced. And we rattle around JRod’s mind throughout the course of the Ashes, bumping into travels in England, piss ups with the journos and battling beds with wheels on.

JRod’s reflects back to the fans with their experiences. Cricket is a demanding game, and often interest wanes. Do we really care about cricket when we are recovering from a massive cooked breakfast?

But, it is the depiction of cricket that the book excels. Episodes of violent intensity, are analysed with a perspective, independent eye. Unfairly, JRod’s style has become characterised as hard-hitting, but it is his lightness of touch when engaging easily into the maelstrom of cricket debate as he compels the reader along a narrative of cricketing drama.

The quality of writing, sharpness of view and the wit will delight Balls fans. The book will satisfy any cricket, and will stand as a enjoyable read for many years to come.

Forcing form

England’s line-up has consisted of a number of figures that justify their position purely for reasons of stability and consistency for the broader team.

Ravi Bopara, not only has he suffered from the premature spotlight that comes with over-promotion, but retains his place only because of the wider desire not to upset the batting order.

Graeme Swann, although feisty in the field, and with the bat, has also underperformed. Until Headingley, Stuart Broad was a liability with the ball.

There are mixed lessons for the England management. It has taken three Ashes tests before Broad performed. And all four have been scotched as far as Bopara and Swann are concerned.

But, there is this assumption that stability breeds success: That a settled side has the confidence as a functioning unit to think about the long term.

Underlying this, is a second assumption, that this team unity will pull flaggers upwards and convert stragglers into battlers.

The depleting effects and resentment that comes with carrying passengers aside, on the basis of the evidence of this series, there is little evidence to suppose that this thesis is correct.

Of course it is true, and no one wants to return to the disastrous chop and change strategy of yore, there is a balance to strike.

Continual failure after the opposition has worked you out, can worsen your prospects if you don’t have the character to fight back with continued exposure.

In any case, England have dug themselves into a hole now. So blatant is the batting order’s weaknesses, is that some form of panic button pressing is inevitable.

Confidence from the top to the bottom is so shot that new blood is vital to fight back. Otherwise, the fragile line-up of goons that England has constructed will implode again.

Why England lost

Ravi Bopara got a dodgy decision, first ball in the second innings.

If it wasn’t for the umpires, we’d have blitzed the match.

Damned umps.

The difference between the sides

Is bugger all. England should have won, but the ball didn’t swing. This essentially rules James Anderson and Graham Onions out of the attack.

Stuart Broad can’t bowl.

Freddie’s legs are stuck together with blu-tak.

Graeme Swann is in the side for his sledging.

So, we have a one-dimensional attack that is entirely dependent on swing and occasional burst of Flintofian genius.

The Australian batsmen look comfortable and unflustered in favourable conditions. Of course, they lunge around like panicked orang-utans when the ball moves a bit.

English batsmen look a bit rubbish, they are all-weather rubbish though. It’s the non-batsmen where the Australian bowling runs out ideas – at least, once the tail steps forth, the Ozzlers replace their “line and length” ideas with “long” and “hop”.

So, the outcome of this season much depends on how overcast it is. If the weather’s bad, England wins; if the sun shines, Australia wins.

Now, in completely unrelated news, the Met Office revised their seasonal forecast for August from a scorcher in April, to a wash-out this July.

Is a terrible summer a price worth paying for the Ashes? The all-powerful English weathermen think so. And, fair play to them, I say.

What England need to do

This series is between two emotionally fragile teams. I mocked Alistair Cook’s feeble “aura” jibe at the Aussie’s expense. But I overestimated the thickness of their skins, and England launched into a major holistic therapy offensive, sensing hippy blood.

Andrew Strauss also laid into the Ozzlers’ dubious karma:

"I don't think this Australian side has got an aura about it to be honest with you and prior to this Test series starting we didn't feel they had an aura about them,"

Metaphysically cutting, I’m sure you’ll agree. Although, it’s also true and fair. In any case, Ricky Ponting responded rather tersely,

“But it's okay for him to say that now, I'm not sure he was saying that after Cardiff - we had it well and truly over most of their batsmen down there."

Which, of course, is also true. Although, they didn’t quite have Monty’s number, did they?

For some reason, Australia appears to have a weakness for this beatnik bull-plop. It’s probably something to do with the feelings of guilt they have developed after a decade of bullying and dominating the world. Much like the Germans. And looked what happened to them - they voted the Greens in.

The point is, both sides are weakened, and fatally aware of their own vulnerabilities, and any suggestion of doubt may decisive unbalance a team. Something like losing the toss seems to be a catalyst to the mood dropping.

All England need to do in Birmingham is hold it together. Go through the motions and play the game into a draw. Don’t overbowl Freddie. Recognise that your team is full of feckless midgies and move on. I mean, Stuart Broad and Graham Onions – since when were they international bowlers? In fact, when did Jimmy Anderson become our cutting edge? He’s pants.

Anyway, we must stick to tried and tested English strategy: Just hold it together until the rain comes, chaps…

Rest Freddie?

The battle of the limping wounded will be chiefly decided by whose bags of deformed crocks will fall to pieces first.

With Brett Lee’s gammy side and Mitchell Johnson’s sideways sense of gravity, the Australian cause looked damned by the misfortune that traditionally blighted England campaigns.

But now, with the breaking down of Kevin Pietersen and the public disintegration of the Colossus of Preston, England are fighting fire with fire.

There is a note of desperation in the England camp, with their star batsman felled, they know that there chances are shot if Andrew Flintoff topples also. Here’s the latest unbelievable revelations from the BBC:

“The 31-year-old has been sleeping with a special 'Game Ready' compression wrap - designed from NASA spacesuit technology - around his troublesome knee, which helps to remove fluid and reduce inflammation.”

Everyone knows that he’s not well. But we also know that we need him, and it doesn’t matter if he exacerbates the problem because we won’t be using him in the future anyway. So Flintoff being permanently maimed for life is a little worry that the ECB’s carpet bagger doctor can forget.

Nevertheless, the forecast looks grim. By the current reading, it looks as though up to three days will be washed out. A result looks unlikely.

So, England’s worse case scenario is the Aussies batting for long periods, wearing down what little cartilage remains in Flintoff’s wasting joints, forcing him to miss the important forth game.

Why not rest old Freddie’s legs for another week?

England’s outfit is a one-trick pony now. We may as well acknowledge it. It’s the cricketing equivalent of giving the ball to Jonny Wilkinson.

Ian Bell: will the mouse roar?

I doubt it.

Ian Bell has been various described as the “most talented batsman in the country”, “Atherton-esque” and “complete shit”. And his test match record raised more questions than Aunties.

The general consensus in the mono-glot press is that Bell only does well on milkruns. Much has been made of his centuries at six – all coming when more responsible players grafted 100s above him.

This may be right, and I have generally shared the view that Ian Bell looks most at home when he is at home.

The problem is that there really isn’t anyone of the same authority in the English game who can replace Kevin Pietersen. Bell’s extended and underperforming run at three crowded out any other player, and blocked the emergence of potential county stars. Where would we be had Ravi Bopara been giving a long run a year ago?

But we are where we are, and there is, at this moment, quite honestly no alternative to the rat-faced bimbo.

At the moment, the line-up is looking decidedly Atherton-esque alright. Strauss, Cook, Bopara, Bell, Paul Collingwood, and Pratty Prior. It’s a wonder that they didn’t bring John Crawley and Simon Jones out of retirement (and/or death).

Although, Australia’s attack also finds itself competing against England’s former stars. Could Peter Siddle out-bowl Gavin Hamilton? Could Mitchell Johnson out-long-hop Chris Schofield?

Such questions might give England’s tart at number four new hope.

Mindless game

Australia have normally dominated the Ashes before Steve Harmison has chance to bring the umpire into action. The team had a number of PR vanguards that the ACB would push forward to gob off a few moronic remarks.

Australia teams have always been better at mind games. This isn’t because they are all terrible people – a fact whose veracity we needn’t doubt – it is because they smug, self-satisfied, superiority came from there actual, real, really good superiority.

Since Herr Warne and Glen McGrath, they struggled to find a suitably obnoxious replacement. Ricky Ponting has passed a few windy comments on the lines of, “yeah, look, the other team’s track record is a bit shaky, yeah?”

Mike Hussey a bit of a crack. He has a column in that leading international journal, The London Paper.

But, his problem is that, much as with the rest of the freesheet, it’s shit.

Now Alistair Cook, with all the batting flair of Henry Kissinger and with the cricketing brains of Liberace, has stepped into the fray.

An unlikely candidate to practice the dark arts, Cook’s principal problem with mind games seemingly is the “mind” part. Here’s a report from the Sunday Times:

“Asked for the difference between this Australian side and their predecessors, Cook was reluctant to appear critical. “It’s hard to explain mid-series but one thing that is slightly different is their aura.””

If you want to bring about mental disintegration in the Aussie team, criticise their aura. Also, try to publish pictures of them with “strange, glowing phenomena” floating above their heads, and steal Simon Katich feeling crystals.

Looking for the negatives

Well, England won. Much cheering to be had around at work, and surprising magnanimous treatment of the office’s token Australian.

Most England fans were nervous this morning, despite the near-impossible task ahead of the Australians. So, in-keeping with our natural pessimism, doubt and self-loathing, it’s important to take out all the negatives from this stonking* victory.

Arguably, the critical moment in the match came with wickets of Ravi Bopara and Kevin Pietersen. Once England’s lower order biffed away– specifically in the confident form of Matt Prior – England reminded us that we were miles ahead. Pietersen looks a short, hobbling trot away from Knackers' Yard and Bopara would rather sprint there himself, if it evades facing Australia.

Stuart Broad also is a bit of a worry. His bowling would be good, if he batted at six, or even seven. But he doesn’t, so it isn’t.

This might be a strange time to say this, but playing Andrew Flintoff is much like losing two players. You lose a proper batsman at six, and you need a bowling all-rounder at eight to make up for Freddie’s lost runs. So much of the threat is indirectly sucked out of the team.

At the moment, Broad’s there for his runs, and against this generous Australian attack, such a safety net isn’t necessary.

But, that said, everyone one is doing an amazing job. Especially England’s secret weapons: the twelfth man and the third umpire.

*Yes. Stonking.

England: can they cock it all up?

We’ve been here before. We know what they’re like. England squander opportunities just as carelessly as bloggers split infinitives.

It’s best to wear the “oh Christ not again” hat in these situations.

But, whilst I was stirring Sunday morning’s scrambled eggs, the fall of Simon Katich and Ricky Ponting caused much jubilation, even if it was at the price of scraping breakfast from the ceiling.

There are always painful consequences to English success.

During the follow-on carry-on, I began to descend into dark, fearful thoughts. I even considered the replacement of Stuart Broad with Steve Harmison - and not feel a pang of self-loathing. Thankfully, Broad’s accuracy ceased living up to his name, and began to threaten the Australians.

In fact, England’s new look players have generally found life difficult at the next level. Ravi Bopara and Graeme Swann have struggled against non-hopeless opposition. As have young Ozzlers.

But the question we ask ourselves is this: how can England wank it up this time?

Andrew Flintoff is looking fragile, and could break down at any moment. The ball may not swing for either James Anderson or Graham Onions. Graeme Swann might bowl at a right-hander. Stuart Broad might return to his normal self.

If a combination of any of these factors occurs, England might just gift away the match. Indeed, a draw, from this position, may be an unrecoverable blow for the boys.

Here’s hoping they don’t blow it…

Test 1, Day 2: Progress so far

It has been a good start for the press. They have not been proven completely wrong so far. No complete cock-ups by the England team, as yet.

Highlights of the day’s play include these:

Radio 4’s PM asked: “how many anthems does a cricket match need?”

Henry Blofeld kept us highly informed as ever: “There are four overs left. That’s three after the next one.”

Vic Marks revealed all: “I’ve got a small one. But I didn’t put it there.”

In other news, England did ok. I reckon that most England innings conform to the golden decline of three, the so-called the ménage à twats. Three wickets fall to the bowlers’ skill, three to luck and three to batsmens’ idiocy – every match has this pattern. EVERY MATCH.

So, England have done well, I reckon. Even useless duffer Collingwood got some runs.

The concern is the bowling department. We only have one specialist fast bowler – whereas in 2005 we had three. The rest are all-rounders, and everyone knows that you can’t be a decent quick unless you are a mug with the bat.

But, we were brave to go with spin twins, even though one of them doesn’t look like he could twirl a mop at the moment. But, slow bowling looks like the only way we can attack the Australians at the moment.

So, 450 runs to the Ozzlers on a lifeless pitch…probably.

Who will drop the Ashes first?

If you happen to be on another planet, or maybe on the same planet, but only on a less interested part, you wouldn’t have escaped the speed-fuelled media orgy that is the Ashes.

If I see that bloody picture of Andrew Flintoff patronising a depressed looking Brett Lee again I will stick my nearest limb inside the nearest farm animal.

Of course, the British media is convinced that England will win. Not just win, but win confidently. All you need to do is look at the track record: Australia beat South Africa at home; England lost to the West Indies. It’s obvious that England are the superior side.

We all know how good the media are at predicting future events. They are experts.

Plus, we have Andrew Flintoff now. Freddie’s phlegm is like manna from reverse swinging heaven. We will destroy them! And we will destroy them somehow!

It was as if 2006-07 never happened.

But, for the life of me, I can see no difference from the build-up of this series to that fateful whitewash. In 2006, England scored a few good results, had some spinners coming through, and some talented, if under-achieving batsman. But no great series triumphs; no storming tours.

And so with this Ashes, you would rather suspect that Australia are better prepared.

Although, Australia look rather more Englandatic this time. Their bowling attack is a bit of a one-man band, and their batting a mixture of risky young promise and autumnal greats. Their spinner looks like a part-time darts player.

So, the question we must ask ourselves is “Who is worse?” England are normally first to put their hands up, but, I think it would be unwise to underestimate this Australian side’s ability to cock things up. It will all rest on one horrible, staggeringly act of incompetence. But, don’t rule out a steady stream of moronic errors – that too is definitely a strong possibility.

So, my predictions, after all this studious deliberation is 2-1 to Sri Lanka.

First post on the upcoming ASDA Ashes

Would you believe, I have never written a post about the Ashes before? Or, as us mis-typers occasionally call them, the Arses.

Now that the rubbish is cleared out of the way, we can focus on the issues of genuine global importance.

After a rather vulgar tournament that shamelessly displayed skill, high drama and international enthusiasm, we can return to reality with an anachronistic context between some rubbish teams. A return to old days, where simple pleasures were to be found in honest forward defensives and half-hour ducks.

The battle between the fading giants of yore - admittedly, England have been fading since 1785 - will electrify a world that surely has not had enough of the continual gush of gushing, over-hyped mega-matches. “More meaningless minnow mega-matches” says the world.

But the Arses is not about ability, tradition or pride. No. It´s about the children - our children - who surely are our best hope for future non-Indian commercial opportunities. Cricket, after all, is about portfolio diversification.

One Indian spectator recently revealed to me in an exclusive interview:

“I don´t know why ya chattin´ to me, mate. I don´t speak a word of English, mate.”

A similar sentiment was spouted by the Australian Cricket Board. No one listens to the English Cricket Board, however.

Game on.