England follow the path of foreignness

By winning. England are winning. They actually played a game of cricket and won it. By winning.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. Usually, I have some pretty strong feelings on this issue. But, today, I feel confused.

England is led by a Saffer. We have foreign keepers. We have foreign players. There is a pretty strong correlation between their foreignness and their success. Which is a surprisingly deep reflection of the British economy in the post-war period.

But, I don’t really care about losing. An international sport is essentially a tribal activity. We jeer at those over there; and celebrate those over here. Regardless how amazing They are and how totally rubbish We are, we fill the room with hate and love in equal measure.

I enjoy the ownership I feel over the team. The irrational companionship I feel with those holding similar accents when we watch a group of other similarly accented people go and try to do something.

Look at the Scottish football team. Their supporters pride themselves on a fanatic, ceaseless following of a relentlessly awful team. It’s almost stubborn. Would they trade this for the relative success an all-Britain football team could offer? Would they buggery.

So, it’s with England’s crushing, impressive yet strangely unstirring win over South Africa rather confuses me.

Notwithstanding the Saffers’ obvious fatigue after a committed test series effort, the Englanders performance was hearty.

But it was inspired by some geezer who wears ear-rings and is generally regarded by those who don’t know him best, as a twat. He is does not sound like me.

So, was this my England winning?

I don’t know.

I know I might feel happier if Twickenham won the World Cup. But would I feel so elated if we drafted in a load of three armed mega-aliens to do the job?

Yeah. Probably. That would wipe the smile of those evil Teddington folk.

Bastards.

AYALAC launches new IPL team

King Cricket recently agonised over which team to invest his support. He opted for the “English tactic” by selecting the worst looking outfit.

I, too, have deliberated over this problem. But, given as I hate the IPL so, it is probably best that I launch my own team and attempt to wangle them into the League. (I was going to found a team with Miss Field, but my legal people didn't like her legal people's shoes.)

Although the team isn’t flush with money, once the players realise that I’m associated with it, they will flock to me like fluff to a bellybutton. Besides, I’ll buy them a pint now and then.

So here’s my team, with my bid in parenthesis:

Rahul Dravid (packet of pork scratchings)
Steve Tikolo (pint of “Captain Smith”)
Mahela Jayawardena (one coaster; torn)
Hashim Alma (the printed wine list)
Mohammed Yousef (half eaten packet of crisps; ready salted)
Cameron White (some pleasant chit chat about folk from the Blackdown Hills)
+Chris Martin (a prod)
*Anil Kumble (the entire contents of my bank account)
Ryan Sidebottom (some lager; on special offer)
Abdur Razzak (bottle of trendy alco-pop)
Dwayne Leverock (that nice sounding pie on the Specials Board)

These are obviously the best players in the world. The basic criteria is that either their best shot is the forward defence or they bowl spin. I have no other demands of cricketers.

Although, some of them have connections to Somerset or are otherwise in my favour. I have decided to give gloves to a specialist gloveman, I’m not concerned about batting ability.

They will be called the Twickenham Alan Sugars. Named after my town and the scariest thing I can think of.

So, how easy is it getting a franchise into the IPL? It must be easy, no?

Two things

A quick update. I discovered two interesting things yesterday.

One, Adam Gilchrist has probably been to Twickenham

Apparently, he has a blog. And on this site he claims to have played for Richmond Cricket Club, in London. Twickenham is right next to Richmond (indeed, it’s in the borough of Richmond). So, Adam “Gill-like” Gilchrist has probably visited my home town.

He must have played on Twickenham Green – indeed, been in the same pavilion as me. I would have remembered a deranged Ausso destroying the windows of all those Indian restaurants lined up against the Green, so I probably never saw him play. But still, that makes me special, right?

Two, are Indians more bastardlier than the Australians?

A wonderful and established blog, Mike on Cricket, has compiled a list of disciplinary offences committed by team. The Indians with 43 offences since 1997 are well ahead -with apparently Sourav Ganguly representing 12 of those. Australia are fourth, behind Pakistan and South Africa.

Of the major teams, England and Sri Lanka are the nicest. But we new that, anyway. Didn’t we?

So, the Indians are the bad guys. Didn’t expect that. But, I don’t mind if they are unpleasant pieces of work, just so long as they beat the Australians…the goodies.

The news has disturbed me. Australia can't be nice. It can't be true. The papers say they are mean. If you can't trust the media, then you might as well stop believing in your mum.

The animals’ series

(This will probably be the last post for a while; I’ll be off for Christmas week – so no getting angry at me.)

Weather permitting, England can look forward to a solid day’s worth of forward defensives tomorrow. As I have mentioned many times, the negativity of playing for a draw is a great thrill to me. Rather like going to the toilet on a moving train, desperate rear-guards mix anxiety with excitement. “Will I get my trousers wet, or won’t I?”

England’s last innings was beyond a shambles. They transcend rubbish. They are meta-rubbish.

But enough of that, let’s have a cheery Christmas post.

The one winners of this series have been the animals. As previously reported on Ayalac, matches have been disrupted by dogs, snakes, bees and Matthew Hoggard.

Their enthusiasm for cricket should not be ignored. We should give them playing equipment and a chance to shine. Here is an England animal team:

Graham Pooch
*Len Mutton
Allan Lamb
Rob (Mon)Key
Phillip Pronghorn
Jonathan Trot
+Jack Russell
Graeme Swann
Jeremy Snake
Peter House Martin
Andrew Haddock

A good adversary for the Tigers, I think.

As a Christmas treat, here’s a video of my local Member of Parliament, showing the stateliness of his ancient position and value for my tax money.





You all have a lovely Christmas. Don’t get too depressed. Drink and eat too much, and I’ll see you on the other side. Cheerio!

When I played twenty20

The last Twenty20 match I saw right through, I actually participated in it.

I was 13 playing for Twickenham under-13s, against the mighty Teddington. I felt fortunate to witness such an occasion. It was one of those rare moments when a century was scored. James Keighley, a frequent nemesis of the pisspoor Twickenham bowling attack, played a dominant knock.

All of our dibbly-bobblers were rudely dismissed. Even the honest leg-spin of your author was routinely dispatched to the trees on the far side of Twickenham Green. Keighley and his twelve brothers ran the Middlesex boy’s league like a Russian protection racket. Sure there were other good players, but they were like small-town pimps compared to the cricketing larceny organised by the Teddington syndicate.

I almost got one of them out once. A googly down the leg side, followed by a swipe, a nick and a drop. Even then, I realised the history of the moment: I could have told my grand-children about my unplayable delivery to the Little Master. I prayed that Keighley became a drunk, like the plentiful down-and-outs wondering Bushy Park.

Sadly, it seems as though Keighley has become an Australian and changed his name to Cameron White. Forgetting all his bitter memories of his lucky escape against Twickenham, he has continued to plunder runs from all his unfortunate opposition.

In his 16 twenty20 matches, he has scored 660 runs, with an average of 60 and with an extraordinary strike rate of 174. He holds the record for the highest ever twenty20 score of 141*.I feel I played a crucial part in his development. Every ball appears to him like a dodgy spinner from Twickenham and the threat must be expunged with the utmost force. So he batters the hell out of it before the wicket keeper can even say “bugger, not again”.

Since these early days, I started playing the statelier format of 25 overs. Keighley has not grown up. I’d like to think that I have moved on from such things. I am an adult. I appreciate the art of a forward defensive. That is the advantage of longer formats: variety and unpredictability. Attrition as well as expansion.

However, you don’t have the balance between attack and defence in twenty20. There is simply a battle between two extremes: the hyper-offensive batting, and the terrified bowling. There is no finesse and not much in the way of strategy. It is, if we are all being honest with ourselves, a shameless commercial exercise to entice more people to come to buy a ticket. The razzmatazz, the swinging, the cheering is all central to the format, whereas cricket is merely secondary.

The oxymoronic feature of twenty20 is that it is, in fact, incredibly boring. There are no thrills, no unexpected turns of fortune. You know exactly what the batsman is going to do, and if he succeeds in realising his intention enough times his side will win. There are two possible outcomes to every ball: he swings and hits (cue annoying music) or he swings and misses (cue even more annoying music).

But shot-making, at that tempo, is more about luck than anything else. Yes, there is “calculated risks” and clean hitting. But, that’s it. Yes, you can mess about with the field, but the game isn’t about the fielding time; the bowling is irrelevant. It’s simply a throw of the dice to see whether the batting team is lucky today.

If they are, they win. If not, they lose. You may as well make roulette a spectator sport. Frankly, it’s more fun watching Twickenham’s worst on a Tuesday afternoon.

The Ayalac news round-up

So much news! So little inclination.

As a blogger, and not a reporter, I must comment on current affairs, not try to present them in some dubious light as “fact”. Therefore, I’ll round up recent “goings on” with a comment and my stance on the issue: for or against.

BONG! Shoaib Malik appointed captain of Pakistan

At the age of only 25 and after only 18 test matches, the reliably prescient Pakistan Cricket Board has backed young Shoaib Malik for the captaincy role. Although he has a test average of only 37, his decent off-spinning and all-round adaptability has meant that this chap is probably going to stick around for a while. This is pretty much the only criterion that the PCB uses, as far as I can tell, considering recent craziness, it’s understandable.

Even though he seems perfectly moulded for ODIs, I’m not sure about his test match ability. Perhaps no one cares? I’m sure he’ll do a grand job. But I’m pleased that Pakistan has picked someone young. Stability is what Pakistan need right now. Bring on the Shoaib era!

He is a bit on the sweaty side, though. Perhaps that makes him more endearing?

So, I’m FOR this one.

BONG! Fletcher not brought back

In a surprise move, the ECB has not begged Duncan Fletcher to return. Instead, the ECB wants an “inspirational leader”. Ayalac happens to think that not such thing exists in the world, but we can let them dream.

Personally, I think we should appoint Ricky Ponting to the position, with immediate effect. Perhaps chuck in Mathew Hayden and the rest of the Ozzies as assistant coaches. This would almost certainly improve England’s chances of winning. Anyway, “moving on” is usually a good thing, especially when you have no choice.

So, I’m FOR this one.

BONG! Brian Lara decides to call it a day.

Brian Lara, the hero of many millions, has resigned from all forms of international cricket. I’m not sure how I feel about this. Although he is the still the best batsman in the world and has a decent claim to the best batsman of all time, he still has great innings left in him. And I was rather looking forward to seeing him play in England this season. Yet, apparently, he’s a bit of a bastard in the dressing room, and his team-mates might be glad that smug bloke with all the runs has gone.

Also, Lara came to Twickenham once. He was signing cricket paraphernalia during the launch of his new cricket bats (they were called “375” and the lusty “501”. Shame they were rubbish. They probably won’t have lasted 375 balls before the handle fell off) I got him to sign my sun hat. That’s right. I met Brian Lara. I looked at him, and he looked at my hat. I said “…” and he signed away. He moved my hat to the far side of the desk, and the next kid pushed me out of the way. It was over. He didn’t even look at me. You couldn’t even read what it said. Maybe “Brlarn” or “Dr Larson” not sure what exactly. Damn you Lara. At the time, I was dwelling vengeance. Little did I know that it could be so easily realised.

So, I’m FOR! Ha! Take that no-job man!

How England can win the World Cup

Assuming he doesn’t catch diphtheria in the next week, the England and Wales Cricket Board should enrol young Jonny Wilkinson.

Occasionally, he plays a spot for his local village team. Here’s a photograph I took of him on Twickenham Green. I think that you will agree, he has a fine cover drive. Obviously, his technique is rather unorthodox. But we found strapping a bat to his leg was more effective for big hitting required at the death.

This man is a god. He single-handedly won one World Cup; he can easily win another. Furthermore, in cricket, people won’t deliberately try to remove his shins. A doddle!