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.

Oh, stop whining.

The 1999 World Cup was bad. The 2003 tournament was worse. Now, in 2007, winging has reached a record level.

More or less every blog in the world is united on the “failure” of the World Cup. It was predictable (even though two minnows made it through into the Super 8s). It was flawed and farcical. It was sad, dull and, in short, the worst World Cup ever. Even Jonathan Agnew, who is normally a thoughtful contributor to the cricket debate, has said:

"What an appalling advert for the game it was - and those responsible must never be allowed to administer a cricket tournament again."

It was an utter disaster. A catastrophe for cricket. No one is going to watch cricket ever again. Well, although this sheep-like hyperbole is interesting, it is wrong. I jolly well enjoyed this World Cup. I’ll tell you why: they played cricket.

I like cricket. It’s good.

I saw all the best teams of the world play plucky upstarts. I saw great innings. Superb bowling. Athletic fielding. There were crushing victories and close nail-biters.

What more can people ask of cricket? That Shahid Afridi gets enraged by Shaun Tait's short stuff and impales a seemingly innocent Adam Gilchrist with a stump?

I really cannot understand what more can be expected. They bang on about the Caribbean “spirit” being quashed, whilst fans couldn’t afford to watch boring matches in sterile grounds. Well bugger people. Its cricket I want to watch.

Yes. The ICC brought in daft, over-baring regulations. But these were quickly removed. Ticket prices were dropped and some even given away free to locals. And the grounds lack atmosphere because they are brand new. The character of stadia take time to emerge. But they have BRAND NEW STANDS. Isn’t that brilliant in itself?

Moreover, a lot the reasons why the World Cup was oh so terrible were nothing to do with the ICC. The Death of Bob Woolmer, the knocking-out of India and Pakistan and lack of real opposition to the Australians were nothing to do with "those responsible".

Lastly, we have to ask, are these issues really that important? It’s like going to watch Viv Richards play and complaining about the stickers on his bat. Administrative issues, in cricket, are irreverent. The quality was good, so what else matters? Just enjoy the cricket for God's sake.

There was much to take pleasure in. I suppose, though, we expect thrilling entertainment all the time now, wins at the last ball, rapid changes of fortune and excitement. Well, to be frank, that's just not cricket.

Australia and God win World Cup

Well. I suppose I ought to write something about those Ozzie blokes.

Apparently, they won a cricket game the other day. Although, I’m not sure; it was too dark to make out much.

I listened to the fag-end of the Sri Lankan innings on Test Match Special. I was monitoring progress on the internet intermittently whilst watching a rubbishy film on Channel 4. At 100-1, I thought that Sanath Jayasuriya and Kumar Sangakkara were well set to chase down the huge Australian score.

Sadly, I knew all too well what was going to happen. Also, the strange gravity of crap films started to pull. What is it with bad movies? Why must you watch the end? First of all, you don’t care what is going to happen and secondly you already know how it’s going to end.

Anyway, the weather conditions changed. The ball started swinging (which it didn't for the Lankans), clouds came and crucial wickets were lost. Despite the solid platform that Sri Lanka had built, the pressing demands of the Duckworth-Lewis calculations required them up their rate. Resulting in more wickets.

Eventually, night-time came, but the brave little tail-enders continued. Christopher Martin-Jenkins was left with rather ludicrous scenes to describe:

“In comes Clarke, I think it’s Clarke, only I can’t see his head. And he bowls. I’ve lost it. No idea…oh! I think he’s bowled him! Yes! He’s bowled. Oh no, it’s gone for four.”

This match was so stacked against the Sri Lankans I have decided that God must have intervened. This leaves us with the rather troubling corollary that God, therefore, is an Australian. Fortunately, this revelation goes a long way to explain why my socks always seem to be magically stolen.

Look at the picture. Such was the supernatural ability of Adam Gilchrist, that he was able to smash the ball around without a bat.

Grave times for cricket fans. Worse still for atheists.

World Cup Final starts! (ish)

This is not soggy London. It is Barbados. A sunny, warm Caribbean island. Just before Sri Lanka play Australia in the final.

It is 15:32 GMT and it is, according to the bloke on Test Match Special, it’s “hosing it down”.

So, the Final has been delayed. The Ozzies, up to their usual cheating tricks, “won” the toss and elected to bat.

Everyone is very worried about this match. Partly because 95% of the population of the cricketing public want the Australians to lose. But also, they’re concerned that they’ll see another “steam-rolling” - Sri Lanka sinking in the Barbadian damp without a trace.

Seeing as the cricket hasn’t started yet, I’ll have a bit of a ramble. Please bear with me.

Now, some of you may have noticed my name. This denotes a philosophical position. I justify this stance by pointing to the Australian Cricket Team. These players have been dominant in international cricket for over a decade, maybe even two decades.

They have probably played a form of cricket most opposed to the original spirit of the game (with the exception of Douglas Jardine 1932 touring side). They have bullied opponents, intimidated them and sledged heavily. They are, in short, bastards. Yet they have won.

Why does God reward bastards?

If I was the All-Mighty, I’d make a team of decent, good-natured chaps win. Like Bangladesh. Now, although they are young, they are a nice set of blokes it seems. I’d let them win. They would grind the Australians into the dust. Every time. Every. Time. Divine Justice, is that.

Surely, the Australian nation is the greatest proof that atheism must be true?

Anyway, it’s still raining. Maybe God is softening up the pitch and slowing the outfield…?

Oh dear. Such is the rain that there’s talk of this match turning into a twenty-twenty. That would be a truly terrible end to a rather disappointing World Cup.

Here’s a final thought or a rather rambling blog: of the six matches played in the Kensington Oval so far, four have been won by the side batting second. Perhaps this and this post might have the final word in this World Cup. I hope so.

Cricket and constructivism

So the whole world thinks the England cricket team is rubbish. Why is this? The power of the press is never greater than when a team is losing. It can force changes, like the removal of a coach or a captain; it can call up players; it can drop them; it can even change the batting order.

These are examples of recent changes within the England camp, precipitated by an angry media. When the team is winning, however, there isn’t much to criticise, and therefore the influence of the papers is limited. But here’s a thought: the press practice mind control.

Constructivism is an epistemological theory in which knowledge comes from a discourse between agents. A conversation, as it were, between two people help to “construct” concepts. This dialogue sets the meaning of words and the provides the content to knowledge and a way of perceiving the world.

If you and I agree that this object in my hand is a “cat” it automatically becomes, in our shared understanding, a cat. There is no law of science, mathematical argument or logical proof that can dictate otherwise. Similarly, constructivists argue all knowledge stems from such intersubjective discourses. A “table” is a table because we say it is.

Those partaking in these discussions actually define the way listeners perceive the world. They are, in Hilary Putnam’s term, epistemic “experts” that give the broader community a way of understanding their environment.

In the modern world, it is the media that serves this function. They report the facts, but also frame them in a particular way, which tacitly influences our own awareness.

Take the English cricket press. It is universally acknowledged in all papers that England is endowed with a pitifully poor team. Yet, let us examine the facts:

• We are ranked seventh in the ICC rankings, and managed to come fifth in the World Cup.
• We are one of only four not to lose to a minnow.
• We have come the “closest” to beating Australia.
• We have had some tight games against other major sides.
• Four batsmen have scored over 300 runs, and one over 500.

All in all, I don’t think this tournament has been too bad for the English, especially considering their thrashing in the Ashes. We also managed to get through to the second round, which is an achievement in itself.

Yet, the all-pervasive discourse of the press is inescapable, and we all seem to think we did terribly. This seems at odds with the facts.

However, as noted above, once the team seems “weak” the relative influence of the press to affect the management of the squad is increased. A conspiracy...?

Just thought I’d share that little thought with you.

Rampant canneries eat impotent springboks

The biggest anti-climax to hit the World Cup so far saw Australia thrash pretenders to the throne South Africa by seven wickets.

Useless Saffers totally misread the conditions and decided to go quickly onto the attack after they put themselves in to bat. Ignoring the swinging ball, Glen McGrath’s accurate bowling and all common sense, the South African top order swung merrily away only to lose their wickets repeatedly.

Just Herschelle Gibbs and Justin Kemp showed any steel against the Ozzies. Andre Nel provided some valiant resistance until the end.

Nel is a compulsive competitor. He tried to take the Ozzies on, at eight wickets down. There was slegding between himself and to the world in general. “Bring it on”, he said to the bowler. The Australians just laughed.

This was a pathetic performance and, to be honest, stupid. I think a combination of being labelled “chokers” and Ricky Ponting’s insistence that six-hitting is the way forward in modern cricket saw the end of the Proteas. They were at sea.

A more traditional, slower approach was needed in that innings. The slogging should have waited until the introduction of Shane Watson. There were still seven overs to spare and with a bit of upper-order nurdling, the SA’s could have posted a challenging score. But they were, it seems, totally incapable of changing their strategy.

This, like England's dodgy approach, was daft. One-day cricket is about adaptability and a lightness of foot. The South Africans seemed like a stodgy one-trick pony. And they paid the price.

Now I’m annoyed because only England have pushed the Australians. Let’s hope they get at least one game before they lift the trophy. This is bloody ridiculous. Bloody universe.

Kiwis show their rubbishness

The deep flaws in the New Zealand cricket team were finally exposed by Sri Lanka yesterday. The Lankans eased home by 81 runs, in a match in which the Black Caps were outclassed in all departments.

Suffering from two poor umpiring decisions, Sri Lanka still went on to post a formidable 289, aided by an intelligent century from Mahela Jayawardene. In response, the New Zealanders looked at sea against the impressive swing and pace bowling of Chaminda Vaas (1-25) and Lasith Malinga (1-21).

However, at two wickets down, Dilhara Fernando decided to make the game more interesting and single-handedly attempted to lose the match for Sri Lanka. Conceding 45 of his five overs (at the point when the Kiwis only had 90 on the board) Fernando was all over the place. His yips probably arose from Rudy “Harsh Bastard” Koertzen giving him two warnings for running on the pitch in his first over. That’s right. Two warnings in his first over. Nevertheless, I was starting to worry, as the Kiwis had moved ahead on the Duckworth-Lewis trajectory.

However, such is the depth of the Sri Lankans attack, Muttiah Muralitharan was brought on. Now, there are some certain lessons that come from cricketing history. Don’t bowl bouncers to Devon Malcolm, don’t rise to Shane Warne’s challenges and don’t slog Murali. Unfortunately, Jason Oram did not heed this lesson and for the fifth time on the trot against Sri Lanka, fell to the off-spinner. Murali eventually took four further wickets (in about five minutes) to pull the Lankans out of reach.

Sri Lanka really showed the importance of an all-round, quality bowling attack. Clearly, Fernando was a major liability. But there was something in the air that night. The stars were bright, Fernando. And this weakness was quickly taken off and covered up. There's no regret. If I had to do the same again. I would, my friend, Fernando.

The Kiwis, on the other hand were just as rubbish as I have always said. Bizarrely an attack consisting of one good bowler, a twirler and an army of dibbly-dobblers didn’t do the trick against world-class opposition. This team would have been annihilated by the Ozzies. I hope this episode has proven the point that New Zealand are not, and never were, “good”.

I miss the cricket

Throughout the World Cup, people were moaning that the tournament was going on too long. “Two months!” They exclaimed, “That’s far too long!”

I didn’t think that. I thought it was great – I was going to have cricket coming out of my nose they’d by so much of it. And lo! It was everything I thought it could be.

Every afternoon, I’d snuggle up to the computer, just me, my work and Test Match Special wittering away in the background. The quality of my output rapidly slumped and my eyes got square – it was like my childhood all over again.

But, another innocent period of magic and hope has been ripped away from me. Today, there was no cricket. Not even county cricket. Not even weird Indian games that I only pretend to follow.

I feel lonely.

Last Tango in Antigua

So the Irish have finally exited the World Cup. They didn’t leave us empty handed though. They left us with two great gifts: The Ferret and The Chicken. A splendid addition to my list of World Cup Dances.

Apparently, the Irish players have been practicing their celebrations. Which is understandable, if you sneak Lara’s wicket, you better have some dynamic moves prepared otherwise you’ll look a bit daft. If I got a wicket in the World Cup I’d run about like a maddy, swinging my arms about and giggling like a lunatic. Not cool.

But Ireland have practiced hard, and are now the polished image of suave. The captain, Trent Johnston has led from the front. I previously gave you a glimpse of his stlye, but here's the chicken in its full glory:

The captain explains his epiphany when creating these elaborate moves:

"The chicken dance came out of when I am out on the dance-floor, the guys say I look like a chicken so that's just a celebratory dance I've given to the guys."

Not just the team, a gift to the world, Trent. The world. Why aren't there more dedicated cricketers like this?

The true star of Irish celebration, however, has been Dave Langford-Smith. Legends have it that Dave was hopeless at dancing, but needed something for his wedding. Thus, in a panic, he invented The Ferret (see right).

The Ferret differs slightly from the Chicken. Instead of the rhythmic flapping of “wings” the arms are stationary in the shape of a heart in an appreciative nod to the beauty of the Riverdance. The dancer also emphasises his Grove by an awe-inspiring hop from one foot to the other.

As beautiful as the Gap of Dunloe.

He’s an Ayalac reconstruction of the wedding disco, where the magic began.

The coolest thing to come out of Ireland since Michael O'Leary's heart.

Bye bye Brian

What a cracker-jack game! England just managed to scrape home against the Windies, with only a ball and a wicket to spare.

This was what the World Cup was supposed to be about. The match had passion, stroke-play, inspirational fielding and tension. Both sides played out of their skins to produce the best game of tournament, and the relaxed regulations resulting in the best atmosphere so far.

Everyone was left feeling: why now? Perhaps they thought that the World Cup really started now? Perhaps the released pressure allowed the players to relax and to “express themselves”. This is precisely what Chris Gayle did, by striking 79 off only 58 balls. This set the tone for the match, and put to bed any ambitions of the English openers to “build an innings”, and indeed Michael Vaughan positively struck 78 also, from 68 balls. Kevin Pieterson scored a match-winning 100, and Paul Nixon chipped in with a vital 38 at the death.

Michael Vaughan showed us he can bat in ODIs, that’s why I think they should keep him as captain, but with the instructions to Play His Shots. He’s alright really. Leave him alone.

There was some sizzling fielding, by both sides. Paul Collingwood took a stunning catch to dismiss Dwayne Smith, diving high to his left to snatch a bullet from the air. We also saw a total of six run-outs, some better than others, but a string of West Indian throws from the edge of the circle to put the English middle order in disarray.

The main occasion of the game was, of course, the seeing off of Brian Lara in his last international appearance. Unfortunately, after a sprightly 18, Marlon Samuels ran out the Great Man in rather unseemly circumstances. This put a dampener on the game, and the crowd was considerably quieter for the rest of the innings, acknowledging Samuels’ fifty with rather icy applause. It was a pity to see such a player felled in this fashion – but that’s cricket, I suppose.

To be honest, I wanted the Windies to win. I’m all for the underdog, even if it is against my own team. I was sad for the rest of the game, and I vindictively willed the English to lose wickets, just so Lara would get something out of a well-fought contest. I know I thought him a bit of a bastard the other day, after my personal run-in with the batting legend, but I do have some soft spots. And not where you think, either.

Cheerio Brian

England trundle away into a dark hole

So, give or take 100 runs, I predicted the score almost perfectly. I also got Andrew Strauss’ and Paul Collingwood’s scores right. Unfortunately, some marmalade must have clogged inside the old Predictoron, as everything else was way off.

Fortunately, we in Ayalac are a fore-sighted bunch, and we adopted the prudent strategy of making Contradictory Predictions. That’s right, long ago doubts were expressed about the Go-Slow approach to the early innings. Let’s quote myself on the 8th March:

But, what happens when England lose their upper-order cheaply? The sloggers are exposed and, if they lose their wickets, an imperfect start turns into a disastrous end. ... Arguably, the insurance of consequence-free early hitting provides a greater buffer to a side wanting to “play it safe”; obtaining quickly the comfort of runs. Whereas nurdling singles can only succeed if executed over a long duration, and with wickets in hand. Pinning our hopes on preserving wickets might undermine confidence further, and place more pressure on the lower order to “catch up”.

This was exactly what happened. The openers did nothing with the many overs they faced, pressurising the exposed middle order to improve the 1.0 over rate, and this proved too much.

The first 45 balls of the England innings saw four scoring strokes. FOUR! You can’t expect to win a match like that. My original view of playing it slow was to get the singles, nurdle it about a bit. But England weren’t even going slowly, they weren’t moving at all.

Moreover, “playing yourself in” requires the batsman to feel bat on ball. To hit into the gaps, to get a sense for the pitch and the bowling. Shouldering arms for six overs does not do this. As we saw with the wickets of both Michael “I’m in” Vaughan and Ian “I’m seeing it like a beach ball” Bell. The first overs were just, quite literally, wasted.

Perhaps England were a little mesmerised by the Irish success against Bangladesh on the same pitch. The Irish openers stayed in for 25 overs for not much, and managed to launch a successful attack at the death. However, the key to Ireland’s victory was keeping those wickets. England’s failure just shows you how risky and even radical this strategy is.

If a useless blogger could have predicted this why couldn’t an entire team of backroom experts? Why the hell am I better than Duncan Fletcher? What is wrong with the world?

Old men dispatch Kiwis

“Kiwis” as in New Zealanders, not the fruit. Old men don’t like exotic fruit; it frightens them. Give them a corned beef sandwich any day.

So on to the cricket. Old campaigners Benevolent Uncle Sanath, Granddad Chaminda and Crazed Nephew Murali did the job for Sri Lanka, to see them home against a rather deflated New Zealand.

Stricken by the curse of batting first, the heart of the New Zealand side was ripped open by a great spell of opening bowling by W. P. U. J. C. Vaas. Fleming, Taylor and then Fulton all fell for not much. Here Muttiah Muralitharan took over, keeping the runs down and taking some wickets, as was his want. Only Scott Styris offered some resistance, mounting an innings-saving Nelson.

But it wasn’t enough. After some early innings fireworks from Sanath Jayasuriya, the reliable old Kumar Sangakkara saw the Lankans home. An impressive display, I thought.

People have been suggesting that the Black Caps are actually quite good, and could perhaps win the World Cup.

NO. I say. THEY ARE NOT. THEY ARE RUBBISH.

No one listens to me – not even the sides that lose to them. I am right, though, they will fail. To see when they would lose, I consulted the Predictoron on this. It said “soon”. So that cheered me up a bit.

More importantly, my desperate search for a “Stop The Australians” candidate has settled on Sri Lanka. I thought that South Africa was a safe bet, but they’ve gone all England on me. So now, it seems, all our hopes rest on a smallish island in the Indian Ocean. Or, as I will now call it in honour of my new champions, the “Mad Murali Seas”.

Paul Nixon: England’s Australian

That’s right! Two posts in one day! You lucky devils!

There is something unerringly Australian about the England wicket-keeper, Paul Nixon. I think it’s the way that he wins and annoys the hell out of the opposition. OK – he doesn’t always win for us. But he did yesterday, and saw England home against the fearsome pace of the Bangladeshi attack.

I’ve said elsewhere that I think that people don’t give enough credit to gobby keepers. In terms of batting, all you want is a bit of lower-order slogging to end of the innings on an up-beat note. But sledging is Nixon's main forte, and there's a nice account of his constructive comments here.

However, there are limits to how Australian we would want Nixon to become – see here for a lament against Ricky Ponting’s on-the-pitch pathetic remarks. I have warned against the the perils of aping the ape-people, but the bloke gives some steel to a notriously feebly-minded side.

So, well done Nixon. You single-handedly beat Bangladesh. And if that isn’t worth writing about, I don’t know what is. Last thought to the man himself:

"Sometimes they call me The Badger, because I'm mad for it, but I take that as a compliment."

West Indies blown out of the window (World Cup)

’m too depressed to blog. The Windies, despite my fervent backing, finally bow out of the World Cup. Apparently, it’s still mathematically possible for Lara’s boys to get through, if New Zealand recalls their 1975 team, for instance. But we all know that even a bunch of naked old commentators would still fancy their chances against the West Indies.

There has been a lot of negativity in the Caribbean about their team’s lack of performance. I am normally dead keen on moaning and being bitter. But it seems to be wearing down the mental strength of an already feebly-minded bunch.

It would have been truly wonderful if they won, though. I think the UN would have declared world peace, or something, if Lara had held aloft the World Cup. Actually, I think the UN always bang on about world peace, but, rather like Geoff Boycott, think they’re too tedious to listens to these days. Or, for that matter, ever.

Ah well. We all knew this would happen. But I let my jubilant elbows get the better of me. Why didn’t anyone restrain my naïve joints, eh?

British Isles lose

England lose to Australia, and New Zealand beat Ireland.

Seeing as Scotland, Holland and the mighty Canada have all lost their place in the World Cup, it seems as though this is a bad day for the Northern Hemisphere. A Southern Hemisphere domination of world cricket? Crickers is unnervingly becoming more like ruggers everyday It's not all bad, though: at least Australia will lose.

So! The England match! We didn’t lose as badly as everyone thought we would. Oz squeaked home with only three overs and a mere seven wickets to spare. Lucky sods. Kevin Pieterson scored a century, and that made his World Cup. Ian Bell hit an impressive 77, driving Glen McGrath out of the attack. However, spineless England decided to play this rest of the innings, and only Ravi Bopara contributed meaningfully.

A lot has been made of this “collapse”, but Bell and KP built a sufficient foundation to launch an aggressive attack. Risky shots were played, and batsman got out. All the same, we still emerged with a defendable total. A little below par, but a reasonable score nonetheless. The real problem was with the bowling.

Sajid Mahmood conceded for 61 wayward runs off his 9.2 overs, Anderson was ok (going for 4.9 per over) but lacked penetration. Yes, a few umpire decisions went against us, but the truth was that we never looked like getting a wicket. Only Andrew Flintoff held some kind of control over the batsman, even Hero Monty didn’t look dangerous.

Again, one has to ask the question: why is Bopara in the side? He’s an all-rounder; he’s batting at seven. For God’s sake! Make use of him! Chuck in with the openers! Bowl him! Anything!*sigh*

Now, my last point is this: I’m not sure the captaincy was that great in this match. Shock! Horror! Ayalac questions the Great Michael Vaughan?! Well look, only five bowlers were used, all of whom (including nine overs of Colly-wobblers) more or less bowled their maximum allocation. It was obvious that this bowling attack wasn’t firing. Why not experiment with Bopara, KP, Vaughan or even Bell? It can’t harm things.

Anyway, the Kiwis also put in a decent-enough performance against the Irish. The Black Caps posted 263 (three less than the “uninspiring” England total against the same opposition) and they easily finished off Ireland. The batting wasn’t great, but the quicks, spinners and all-rounders did a good job of dispatching the Irish batsman. New Zealand look good. But they still lack that special something, that venom that Australia and South Africa posses. They are not so much a Gary Sobers, more of a Chris Harris on speed.

Bangladesh bop SA

Well, who’d a thought it? “Minnows”, Bangladesh, destroy the world number one team by 67 runs.

This was a cracker of a match: the Tigers’ intensity on the field was only matched by the Proteas suicidal nonchalance. The Bangladeshi fielding was fearsome; every ball was seized upon by some crazy green-clad figure flinging himself at the ground, denying any easy runs. I would like to say that the pressure this created was too much for South Africa, but I feel their lack of effort was the chief cause of their downfall. The feeble SA innings saw two run outs and two caught and bowled. It was as if they couldn’t be bothered to counter the building pressure.

Bangladesh enjoyed the conditions, and with their army of left-arm spinners, they exploited the dry, dusty pitch well. Racing through their overs, at one point I counted 13 dot balls on the trot within about two minutes. Speeding through your overs in this way is an excellent way to intensify the pressure on the batsman, as it hardly gives an opportunity for the striker to examine the field and consider the next ball.

The South Africans seemed lost at sea against the spinners, and totally unable to get on top of them. Only the walking wounded Herschelle Gibbs got the better of them, lofting the spinners for repeated boundaries on his way to a gutsy 56 not out. The commentators made a lot of the SA’s inexperience of facing spin, due to the lack of slow-bowling in the domestic set-up. I really don’t find this argument convincing. South Africa is an international quality team that has played in the sub-continent and enjoyed success against spinners in the past. They simply failed to formulate a team strategy to counter the left-armers, probably because they didn’t take the Bangladeshis seriously.

Nevertheless, full credit to the Tigers. 251 was a superb effort batting first, against a world-class bowling attack of Shaun Pollock, Makhaya Ntini (whose ten overs were dispatched for 61) and the slightly psychotic Andre Nel. Mohammed Ashraful spanked a feisty, and probably match-winning, 87 helping Bangladesh to score 50-odd off the last six overs. A crashing lower-order display in batting the death, after the upper-order had played sensibly to preserve their wickets over the tricky opening overs and power plays underlined a great team endeavour. This mature pacing of their innings was deliberate and made the SA’s floundering performance looked amateur and even desperate in comparison.

Sadly, we didn’t see much dancing in the Tiger’s celebrations. I did, I am ashamed to admit, break out into a spontaneous Bangladesh Bop when the sixth South African wicket fell and it became obvious that the game could not be saved. I was in my dressing gown and wriggling delightedly at the minnow’s success. It’s a good job I don’t have a dog any more, otherwise I would have had some funny looks.

In other news, Ayalac has temporarily lost access to a copy of Photoshop, so there won’t be any pictures for a few days. Sorry. I know it’s depressing, but let’s try and get through this together.

Slinging Goliath

Oh, the press are full of it this morning.

Gussy Fraser, as always, has produced an interesting article on England’s chances against Sri Lanka.His argument is that the Sri Lankan’s unorthodox method endows a flamboyance that provides the team with an edge in ODIs. Whereas England’s players are “over-coached”, making them too rigid and uncreative to excel at limited overs cricket.

“English cricket is continuously attempting to find reasons why the national side is not competitive in the one-day game. The quality of pitches and the scheduling of limited-over matches in domestic cricket are cited as reasons, but another widely held view is that it is a result of batsman being over-coached. Facing thousands of balls from a bowling machine and being told to play with a straight bat will tighten up a batsman’s technique, but there is a real danger that it turns him into a robot, possessing neither the flair nor the instinct to perform the unpredictable.”

I have spoken previously on this issue: I argued, and still believe, that talk of “England’s natural game” is nonsense. Technique applies to any version of the game. England are rubbish at all forms of cricket at the moment. That's why they're losing ODIs.

However, this issue of “unpredictability” is interesting. It stems, in the main, from bowling at the death. A bowler must surprise the batsman in the closing overs, as consistency can allow the batsman to get into position early. This issue was made more obvious with the advent of twenty20. Every ball, every stroke and every fielding position had to have some innovative element if you wanted to exert control. The MCC manual limited the realm of run-scoring opportunities, so had to be ditched for pressing expediency.

This slightly panicked attitude has, through osmosis, transferred into 50-over cricket. The mantra is now “runs anyway, anyhow and now”, and consequently fielding teams respond by also moving to the unorthodox to jar a batsman’s concentration and drag them out of their comfort zone. Yet, this is not a sustainable strategy over the longer period; unusual bowlers like John Iverson, Paul Adams and even Lasith Malinga eventually lose their novelty and therefore their impact. Once they are “found out” a key part of their threat is diffused, as Michael Vaughan stated today:

“Not many of us have faced [Malinga] but they tell me the first few deliveries are a little bit strange and if you get over them there are plenty of scoring opportunities.”

If bowlers are putting their energies into originality, once this has worn off, what do they have left? Darren Gough, in today’s Metro, says Malinga is:

“exciting to watch purely because he is very different. But I think he’s nothing for our boys to really worry about. I’m sure there are a lot better bowlers in the world than Malinga. In fact there are a lot better bowlers in Sri Lanka than Malinga. Chaminda Vass for one.”

The same Vaas who bowls orthodox and consistent medium-fast stuff for years and still takes wickets.

Those names that survive are those with the quality techniques. Sanath Jayasuriya, for all his panache, has a Test average of over 40, with a top score of 340. You don’t hit 14 Test hundreds by reverse sweeping all day.

I have already told the ECB how they can win, but I feel that England should have the confidence to stick to their game plan, and not become bededazzled by the ephemeral charms of the unconventional. Talk of pinch-hitters up the order, altering tested techniques is distracting and potentially destabilising to an already dubious outfit. But, by the very fact that such fundamental restructurings are being discussed at this juncture does not bode well. Gussy to finish:

“These plans should have been thought through months ago but, as is the case with England and one-day cricket, they appear to be winging it.”

Oh, a World Cup has started.

Is it just me or is Duncan Fletcher looking more frog-like every day?

Sorry for my absence. I went to a job interview yesterday. I smoozed them, as you would expect. I smiled at them, and everything. I pretended not to be a gutless bastard; I even suggested I was “nice”. But, one question stumped me.

They: So, what do you like to do in your spare time?
I: Um….

My brain went into unparalleled overtime: what should I say? My first thought was to mention my blog. I’ll go on about how many hundreds read it and the bloke in North China that views it every day. But then I decided that bringing up the internet would reveal my geekiness. And no one likes geeks. Because they are, on the whole, twats. So, I decided to mumble something about reading philosophy and drinking tea.

Then I realised that it is not me that I should be worried about, it’s you. You are the people reading this nonsense. You are the real geeks. You don’t create geekiness, like me, the artist, but you consume it, like a giant geek guzzler. You people are seriously messed up. Bad luck.

You’re still reading. Wow. You people are pathetic. So, I take it you want me to talk about cricket now? OK.

So anyway, Kevin Pieterson, in a recent interview, said:

“… the World Cup starts for England on Wednesday. It’s a massive game and there will be no complacency there I can assure you.”

This is exactly the sort of witless spin that drives me up the wall. Don’t you think that the World Cup would have started shortly after the Opening Ceremony? You know, the big thing with the fireworks and the dancing, do you remember that, KP? Do you remember poncing around in your little England suit? Ring any bells?

Even if you are talking about the “real” start of the World Cup, would you not think that the New Zealand game was pretty important? Perhaps the number one batsman in ODIs was swept off his feet by the stunning beauty of his new team mate, Paul Nixon, that he failed to notice the World Cup was underway.

Or perhaps it is the usual post facto media puntery that the England team love to play. They didn’t lose their games because they’re rubbish, they lost because they were saving their energy for the Real Start. No. This is false. You lost because you are not very good. It is not part of any plan to lose.

Why must all my heroes lie to me? I suppose if I emulate them, I’m more likely to get a job. H’mmm…so I suppose I ought to be grateful to the England PR machine for turning me into a deceitful cheat. That's something.

On a more interesting note, did anyone listen to the Test Match Special coverage of the New Zealand vs. Bangladesh game? (Sir) Viv Richards gave a fascinating talk on the difference between bananas and plantains, and the best methods of preparation of plantains. With “Jonny Cakes” apparently.