Pakistan vs England: where clichés collide

There’s an article on cricinfo entitled Pakistan’s nature vs England’s nurture. Obviously I refuse to go near anything like that.

As an Englishman, I have been happily free of any nurturing or maternal love by the cricketing establishment. Not my mum though. She’s ace. Although, she didn’t give me the excellent rhubarb-based education that was afforded to Geoffrey Boycott.

So! England’s woefully ungifted line-up play Pakistan’s backstreet bruisers. You see, Englishmen have no talent, by they do have oodles of coaching manuals. That’s how this works. Pakistan, however, doesn’t have any coaching manuals. Or coaches. But they do have heart.

Characterising a test match as a Rocky sequel is an excellent way to put off sniffy cricket fans – such as AYALAC. So, here in Atheist Towers, we have developed a sure-fire to prevent cliché rage.

1. There will be inhalations of surprise when a Pakistan batsman plays a forward defensive. Anticipate this by blowing the air back into the breathers’s judgemental maw during the stroke. This should balance the background bastardliness that pervades the universe.
2. At some point, an English batsmen will play a stroke. It is possible that runs will follow. It is certain that the commentator will chortle, “ho ho ho, he’s being watching too much Afridi!” An eye-roll will not suffice. Bellow. Bellow with all the anger that years of missed opportunities and unnaturally high expectations have given you.
3. You friends may reflect any of these opinions prevalent in the press. Steely stares or years of unexplained silence are the best way to deal with this.
4. Upon hearing a commentator saying “thank god he didn’t have that coached out of him”, perform three rollie-pollies whilst saying “thereisnotoothfairythereisnotoofairythereisnotoothfairythereisnotoothfairy”.
5. In response to the word “mercurial” kick the nearest man in suit, kindly-looking old woman or pigeon.

Pakistan give lazy headline writers enough material for three years

Pakistan are “mercurial”. We know this because confirmation bias says it is so.

Unless you are Bangladesh, your side will experience of a mixture of wins and losses. This is called life. You win some, you lose some.

England have been doing it for years. Odd spots of brilliance, individual efforts that occasionally win a match, caste against a general schedule of underperformance and defeat. We call it “inconsistency”. It was England’s big problem for ages.

Pakistan have the same problem. Exactly the same. Only we have a different word for them. They are “mercurial”. This means that they win some games, but lose others. This is pretty much normal, but in our happy group-think world, this has become a big problem.

In each case, the analysis has taken a life of its own, and, although the problems are seemingly identical, the diagnosis differs and therefore the prescription are different.

For England, we needed to give mediocre players as many games as possible until they discover their previously well-concealed talents. Until they were dropped. In fairness, a selectoral policy that encourages stability has been successful, and did address underlying weaknesses.

For Pakistan, their mercurialness obviously required Geoff Lawson. Although, Pakistan’s incomprehensibly incompetent management, with a history of spectacularly self-destructive and inexplicable acts, stands as the country’s man obstacle to international success.

The solution to this might be to hand its governance to a distant, level-headed, impartial and moderately successful body. Perhaps the managing board of the Umbongo Juice Company?

Anyway, Pakistan is wildly unpredictable and, quite frankly, mad. The leadership issued life bans to its two best players for expressing doubt as to the leadership’s wisdom. The captaincy is awarded through a bingo competition over the morning’s cornflakes. This is later taken away if the captain opts for toast. Or Rice Krispies. Or whatever breakfast offends the coaches on the day.

Then, the team, despite the heavy weather, the game goes on, and Pakistan bowl out Australia for under 100 and chase down their total in under a day.

The hacks just sit back and lap it up.

Why corruption is good for cricket

Seedy, dodgy, self-serving politicians have wronged us many times. Not as much as honest, benevolent politicians, mind.

On the whole, people in power look after their own, to the expense of the rest of us, and although this helpfully distracts them from the disastrous occupation of Trying To Do Good, sometimes executive malfeasance can guide the crooked like an invisible hand to inadvertently aid the general commonwealth.

Gordon Brown, for all his bad hand-writing sins has recently redeemed himself in my estimation by exercising cheap, petty revenge. It turns out that he’s no an insufferable do-gooder after all, but just as crafty, manipulative and scheming as the rest of us.

The Sun newspaper, a flag-waver for honest and responsible journalism, is owned by the delightful Murdoch family. After The Sun dropped its support for Brown to jump into the Tory bandwagon, the Premier plotted vengeance.

Conveniently, minutes after a recent telephone exchange between the British Prime Minister and Rupert Murdoch, an opportunity presented itself and Brown found a weakness: cricket.

Still red-faced with vengeful thoughts, the tottering Government announced a re-think on broadcasting rights of British sporting “crown jewels”, taking away Sky’s monopoly of cricket broadcasting, only minutes (MINUTES) after the conference. Sky, least we forget, is also a Murdoch family asset. The Culture Department re-categorised domestic Ashes matches as a free-to-air television event, stripping away one of Sky Sport’s flagships.

The ECB, deep in the pockets of Sky, announced that they will lose £100 million. But we must remember that the ECB are also a pack of wankers.

One can only assume that, in the fading days of power, the real Brown will emerge to royally screw everyone that ever ticked him off over the past fifty years. And, to be honest, would we want to see power used in any other way?

So, 2013, it may be a return to the sofas from our summer-time occupations of tennis and footy in the park, all for the sake of encouraging sport. It is excellent news for cricket fans that are too bloody minded to give Murdoch a penny.

Let us all thank the lord for his gift of emotionally immature and nasty politicians.

Twitter Twat Twotted

Phil Hughes. Oh you plonker. Young. Naïve. But ultimately twit.

The Australian “batsman” caused panic this morning when he brazenly leaked his forthcoming dropping from the team. He did so via the modern’s opiate of the people, twitter:

Disappointed not to be on the field with the lads today, will be supporting the guys, it's a BIG test match 4 us. Thanks 4 all the support!

The ever illuminating BBC commentary responded thus:

Is this the first time that a team line-up has been revealed via Twitter?
NB George continued to hit the brandy hard for the three days before the wedding. On the morning of the ceremony, he was found face-down asleep by the fire in his private quarters. We've all been there.

They were of course alluding to George IV’s reacting to meeting his future wife.

Twittering, much like mobile phones and blogging, I fear is something I shall postpone my participation until it makes me staggeringly unsociable to do so. But, Hughes’ previous tweets do provide some interest.

11:37 PM Jul 19th from web
Been up all night fixing clarkeys bat, ironing hads [??] shirt, come on lads!!!!!

Proof that sycophancy gets you nowhere.

10:15 PM Jul 18th from web
Need to dig deep today.

Australia were fortunate that the young opener didn’t embark on his hole excavation until he was expunged from the team.

11:10 PM Jul 8th from mobile web
BTW, I think its fair to say its 'game on' in the 2009 Ashes!!!!!

Perhaps a future career in the media awaits? With that manner exclamation marks, surely Mark Nicholas’ role is under threat?

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.

Pakistan win. Saffers lose. Simple as that.

The “main-stream” media have always been criticised for succumbing to group-think. All the journalists club together at the end of the day’s play, agree their stories over a pint, like a gang of uncreative miscreants before attending the headmaster’s disciplinary attentions, and collectively file identical copy to their respective papers.

Whereas that to which tarts horribly refer to as the “blogosphere”, and I call the “tributary, dried out, shitty stream”, has been praised for its independent thinking.

Nevertheless, bloggers have universally swallowed the lazy line of labelling South Africans as “chokers” and Pakistanis as “mercurial artists”. Of course, accepting this pre-packaged narrative saves all that brain activity, and allows you to tap merrily over your keyboard without needing to engage any grey cells.

Now, there is only one independent blog left now: ME. I’m you’re lot. I am now your only shitty stream of objective opinion.

So, here are my own GENUINELY independent thoughts on the match:

South Africa, being mentally prepared for the tournament’s final stages, were unfortunate victims of mis-timed peaking. The Saffers simply peaked too early. They wiped the floor with their opponents in the competition’s initial stages, whereas the sputtering Pakistanis were only finding their form early on. The semi-final saw South Africa on a downward trajectory, and Pakistan on the up.

Although, this is a boring way to look at it. We prefer stories and pre-determined analyses of matches.

Well, sorry to say, it’s all bollocks.

Sluggo still practicing hard early in the morning

Diego Maradona, probably the most famous and skilled and all footballing cheats in the world, was also famed for his rapid decline from the sporting vigor that powered his youth.

Too much drugs, too much booze and, crucially, too much sex, saw an end to his career. It a similar fate might await an equally cricketer: as Sluggo has a secret sun-up shame.

Now, being a facebook friend with your heroes is a dangerous occupation. Generally, doing anything on facebook will lead to layer of pain, regret and remorse. Look at Nicholas Sarkozy.

Facebook is an excellent news service, if you want your life to be inundated with facile pieces of information the lives of those who are trying to use you as a means to have sex with your sister.

So, imagine, to my horror, when I saw this "suggestion":


Now that he has given up the pressure of international sportsmanship, he is touting his new life as a dawntime deviant.

The spinner come sunrise stud may be embarking on a new age of celebrity and public exposure. Perhaps we shall see him on some island, trying to "get outta here". Here's hoping that they take Shane Warne instead.

Daily Telegraph unearths ancient secrets of cricket

In a controversial article, Nick Hoult has stripped bare cricket by publishing “Five Secrets of Success" in today's Daily Telegraph. In bulleted form, the list of guaranteed success is as follows:

1) Good batting
2) Good bowling
3) Good fielding
4) Good captaincy
5) Good coaching

The Professional Cricketers’ Association has denounced exposé, as damaging to players’ future prospects:

“We not saying that we are the magic circle, but players are under order not to unduly reveal any secrets on pain of receiving the feared Ůnchāľŋ Ħğœ order.”

The Ůnchāľŋ Ħğœ is, an ancient disciplinary practice, still shrouded in mystery, but is thought to involve heaping piles of cold Bovril, gimp masks and ritual suicide. The PCA goes on,

“But in revealing these secrets, Hoult is likely to put many hard working cricketers out of business, and flood the market with unskilled amateurs, galvanised by this Gnostic information.”

I’ve only been buying the Telegraph – dubbed wittily by wits as “the TORYgraph” geddit? – because they have all the private lives of dirty MPs outlined in detail in what has become known as “The Great Expensegate Affair Scandal”.

But now, not only do I know about Austin Mitchell’s Secret 59p Ginger Nuts Shame, or that it costs £112.52 to maintain John Prescott’s long suffering toilet seat, but now I can guarantee cricketing success.

Not only has the Telegraph revolutionised the modern game with today’s addition, but it has taught me something new today. Underneath a completely justifiably huge piece about England's path to glory in the up-coming Twenty20, most editors would have been tempted to shoe-horn some random box filled with meaningless copy about generic principles. Not the Telegraph. They lead us into new territory, with hard hitting investigations that have unearthed secrets held since the birth of Dan Brown himself.

What wonders they are in the Telegraph!

Cricinfo goes the way of all things

Well, much like the march from peaceful, predictable, pleasant present to the feckless, futile, frightening future, cricinfo has embraced brash, conspicuous modernity and rebranded its website.

Just like everyone else.

Of course, there were compelling reasons for a change: the old website was possibly the most ugly thing outside Germany, and it took a while to find what you need.

Although, their main problem is the most of their stories are still written by troubled chimps who learned their English from Boris the Bullet Dodger. Sambit Bal announces the friendly new site with the cheery words "So what should I say? Welcome to the new Cricinfo?"

Charming. But at least it is coherent - which is a novelty on the site.

But, the scorecards offer broader functionality, and after the facebooks campaigns and knee-jerk fear that greats any change has died down, we'll soon get used to it. We don't have any choice, I suppose.

Although, I find that the more technology I'm given, the less that I actually use. Yet, give me a knackered geocities site, and I'm all over it like Yorkshire rain. It's like the inverse relationship between the size of a person, and the amount of space they take up in bed. The smaller they are, the more they demand.

Stanford: Failed drug figher, too?

Some weeks ago, cricketwithballs insinuated that Allen Stanford may, in fact, be a CIA undercover operative. As it turns out, this may not be far from the truth.

Since his empire of meaningless paper came to a crashing demise in, only three, including Laura Pendergest-Holt, chief investment officer of Stanford Financial Group, have indicted.

This is a bit odd.

Stranger have happened, of course. For instance, Paul Collingwood’s continued inclusion into the England team can be attributed to his ownership of a laminator, which he lends to backroom staff for their “Please leave the toilets as you would expect to find them” posters, pinned up in away grounds loos.

Indeed, strange things do happen. John Sweeny, of the BBC’s investigative flagship programme Panorama has accused Twatford of being in the pocket of the US Drug Enforcement Administration as a registered informant from 1990. (You can watch the entire report here.)

He's currently under the protection of the American legal authorities, who were presumably happy for him to steal $8 billion of other people's money in return with the valuable information that brought about the complete cessation all trade in drugs.

This seems a little tenuous to me, and very little evidence supports this claim.

Most interesting is the ECB’s continued claims that it conducted adequate due diligence. Although, it states that all is fine because:

“ECB is not a financial regulatory body. No regulatory body expressed any concerns about Stanford when we announced the contract in June 2008.”

Bless. Horrid money confuses them.

But there is another admission:

“ECB conducted due diligence on the original deal.”

Notice “the deal” and not the man. Hitherto, the ECB has laughable claimed that it had been professional and thorough in its background checks. But now says that it only looked into the project, not the man. (See full statement here.)

The man who was bankrupt; lost his banking licence in Montserrat; was wanted by the Floridian authorities for multi-million dollar tax non-payment; and openly on the SEC “He’s a bit dodgy” list.

For some reason, the Australians, Indians, South Africans and the money fetishist ICC didn’t want anything to do with this snake-oiled cheat. And yet the ECB has been untouched by their involvement with the Black Hole of Antigua.

They haven’t even had the foresight to make the illegal immigrant cleaner into a scapegoat. Everything about this shocks me.

Anyway, John Sweeny: kudos.

Kiki and Sisi hit Berlin

Every one knows that the cool bloggers are in Germany.

Being a moron isn’t my fault

So, KP doesn’t understand why he was sacked. Eschewing the dignity afforded to him by the ECB’s acceptance of his resignation, he is now doing what he loves best: bleating about nonsense in the press.

That he has been leaking to the press is not the issue. Although it is regrettable that this spat became public and personal rather quickly it is not decisive in his leaving.

The ECB is a public institution that principally operates in the media. Like any open, high-profile body, it is subject to leaks, rumours and press speculation. That anyone has been using this to their advantage to play their own game is hardly surprising, in fact, I would be shocked if it didn’t happen at all.

No. What did for KP was his ridiculous and frankly childish behaviour. To issue an ultimatum to your boss, five months into your contract is ludicrous, belying a deep unprofessionalism that is impossible to manage, or, at least, develop a meaningful working relationship with.

Or, as one ECB apparatchik put it (whilst anonymously briefing the press): “Anyone who offers to resign, clearly doesn’t want the job that much.”

Pietersen seems as though he didn’t want to give that impression, but that makes him all the more naïve. Behaving in and, more importantly, getting your own way in a professional context, is considerably more nuanced that a quick-fire fifty on a flat track.

And, KP didn’t seem to understand that he couldn’t act the same way off the field. He appears quite open about bringing his “do or die” mentality to the board room:

“I risked it all because it was my duty to say this was how we should move forward."

Risked all? What are you jabbering about? This isn’t Tarzan of the Bloody Jungle rescuing Jane from the improbably large jaws of some non-indigenous carnivore, it’s just office politics. Play the game, you muppet, it’s not the end of the world.

I wonder how much of this sort of non-sensical and embarrassing clap-track the England management has had to endure over these last months. Perhaps they got bored of his tedious cliques and platitudinal designs and thought one day, “sod it, I’ve had enough of this, let’s sack the bugger.”

So, here’s to ennui-induced regicide! Here!

Articles about Monty lack variety

When Luton’s Champion, Monty Panesar, burst onto the international cricket scene, commentators praised the young genius as the saviour of English spinning.

“No more boring, defensive Ashly Giles to “hold up an end”, now we have a proper aggressive bowler.”

There was much rejoicing. Everyone prefers an offensive spinner. Just look at Shane Warne.

Then, nothing changed.

This, for the writers, was sin. Pieces began to suggest that Monty was boring. That he lacked personality. Some insinuated that he was just a dull git that the rest of the team hated.

The journalists looked at their construct of Monty – the people’s lovable hero, capable of winning any match armed with only a reasonably aged ball and a pearl of close fielders – and then they compared this to the reality.

The reality of Monty is just this sort of bloke, you know. In the media world, “normal” means “mind-numbingly, suicidally, OMG BORING!!!1!”

Monty was nothing like his media image. The journalists had sweated greatly in pubs during their conspiracy to “make cricket more interesting” and this effort was unravelled by the Real World.

And they hated him for it.

“Damn you Panesar”, they said

Starting with the removal of his charismatic name, the hacks began to denude Monty of his charm. This allows them to attack the hell out of him without looking like total bastards.

“A bloke called Monty should be more interesting. Dear reader, I demand that you completely change you mind about him. He has not lived up to the potential that his name suggests. You must loathe him now. Do it! Do it because I say!”

Now, the journalists have decided, en masse and without exception, that Monty “lacks variety” this means that he bowls at the same pace. All of a sudden, the world of cricket is gripped by the spinners pace. “Too fast” is the gospel truth of Monty’s bowling speed.

The only variable that affects a spinner’s ability to take a wicket is pace. Fizz, dip, bounce, strategy, or, god forbid, spin are now irrelevant factors in a spin bowlers armoury. If you bowl at 55 mph you go 27 overs without a wicket, if you bowl at 50 mph you will take nine wickets whilst conceding only seven runs.

This seems easy. But, leading on to our next point, they tell us that Monty “lacks guile”. This means that he’s a thicko. Every ball, apparently, is the same as the last. Duh.

Of course, this is the standard’s English spinner’s tactic: bore them out. It worked for Giles and the Great E’s, but, for some reason, when Monty deploys this time-worn approach, we decide that he’s a complete bastard.

So now, the press has decided, en masse and without exception that Monty is boring, predictable and stupid.

With a discipline as subtle and diverse as spin bowling, you think that opinion would vary regarding current exponents. Perhaps they’d be some alternative suggestions: Monty is bowling too slow, for instance?

But no. Everyone knows exactly what the problem is. The journalists know all. Shame they are shit at cricket, really.

(“…but hell, it ain't over till the slim man zings.” Ahem.)

Sweeping generalisations affect cricket teams everywhere

In a surprising development, all the cricket teams in the world have began to generalise about everything.

Tony Sporkington, captain of the Upper Schleswig-Holstein XI, and therefore representative of the entire cricketing community stated,

“I woke up one morning, and had a strong urge to project my nonsensical values onto the entire world. I rolled over, to consult my wicket-keeper, stumpers have a special perspective on these things, and, blow me! He had the same problem!”

Australians, Belgians, Bhutans, Bolivians, Bosnians, Bulgarians, Burkinans, Indians, Romanians and even Americans all felt the same thing. On the same morning. At the same time.

Peter Mandyson, a surprisingly well-informed journalist from Venezuela stated,

“Look. The future is, like, always like the past, right? So, we can expect India to dominant for at least eleven years in international cricket. Despite the fact that all their players are about to retire or riddled with arthritis, they’re going to be the new Australia. Yeah?”

His moderately attractive wife, John, added:

“Yes. Australia will become the new England: annoying and whiney. Whereas England are set to the new Bermuda: rubbish, but trusting all in their largest player.”

The global community concurred.

Atherton unpicks seam of Vaughan enigma

I have been vaguely aware of Michael Atherton’s ascent through the journalistic ranks. It hasn’t been full-on, consciousness, just a steady, distant understanding: like the catholic view of the Trinity.

Today he has an interview in The Times.

Now, just to set the scene, my view on interviews in papers is strong: especially when the hack attempts to set the scene. These pieces usually begin with the word “As” and then brutally followed by a “I walked into the strangely dark café…” Thereupon you are treated to ten full paragraphs of this failed novelist’s desperate musings as he gropes for some literary merit in an apparently cruel world where useless journos are excluded from excreting their clichéd, half-thought out piffle onto hard-back.

Sadly, this just system does not extend its regime into the world of newspapers. Any over-optimistically coined phrase is acceptable so long as it meets the deadline.

So, it was in this context that I met Atherton’s recent interview with some reservation.

These qualms were hastily confirmed when he began with:

“Nonna’s is a clean, well-lighted place on Sheffield’s…”

Oh no. Athers broke my rule. I only had one, you bastard, and you bloody broke it. Not only that, but references to Earnest Hemmingway in cricket pieces are a bit too university – don’t you think?

I would normally, at this point, throw my head back in disgust, yodel angrily and assail the random passenger to my right.

However, seeing as Athers, like an aortic tumour, has a soft spot in my heart, I gave him a second chance and continued reading.

Although he waits another four paragraphs before he reaches the point of the piece, he spends his acres of room wisely: he insinuates some insider property trading by the England captain and gratuitously insults Yorkshire folk as “pathetically self-absorbed”.

The Times needs to produce more of these cheap shots; I approve of them greatly.

Troublingly, the piece repeatedly points out its origins in Sheffield. Yet, the previous page has Michael Vaughan in Leeds. Surely, Schrödinger couldn’t have accidentally placed Michael Vaughan in his box? More likely: it took the recipient of a first class degree from Cambridge about a fortnight to toss off this piece.

Probably too busy down the pub. Or the bookies.

The actual interview part is rather plastic, so I would avoid reading the middle bits, if I were you. Just skim along to the final sentence, nay paragraph.

“Summer has arrived, and England’s captain bounces out into the sunlight in optimistic mood.”

I recommend re-reading that sentence. There is a lot of depth to it. It is a sentence laden with sunny metaphors. We asked by the author to imagine the England captain as if he were a beach ball, leaping into the salty air above a crowded beach in July. The sun beamishly leers the bouncing objects with warmth and approval. All is well.

It is a celebration of the ever-sizzling English weather. A climate which never disappoints us with constant, numbing drizzle or tamely knocking a catch to second slip after an attractive thirty.

So, Atherton’s not quite a heavy handed hack yet, but he’s getting there. We, in AYALAC, shall scrutinise his blossoming career with great attention.

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.

Cheese over the airwaves

Has anyone listened to the BBC’s baby TMS commentary of county matches?

Being a Somerset fan, I occasionally listen to their progress in whatever game that they’re playing. However, radio technology has not penetrated deep into the West Country, so I usually listen to another random match when working at the computer.

Today I was listening to the Warwickshire vs. Durham match. The radio commentary did not advance my knowledge of the game’s progress.

The local radio coverage is like a no-holds-barred TMS. The commentators have no pretence of covering the actual match, two blokes just chat away for hours. As the whole thing is so slap-dash, you can usually hear producers chirping instructions in the background and every half-hour the whole thing grinds to a halt when a summary is suddenly given to some other station.

There are long stretches when cricket isn’t discussed at all. An average over, it seems, consists of two balls. Sporadically, they become self-conscious of this fact and say something dismissive like “there is really nothing happening in the cricket at the moment.”

Today I listened to Fat Commentator and Obnoxious Commentator having a discussion about ice cream. It was more or less like this:

FC: I like pistachio best. Yourself?
OC: I like all sorts, really. Unless there are weird types, [WHAT’S HE ON ABOUT?] I like caramel, fudge, banana, strawberry, vanilla, you know, those kinds of things.
FC: Yeah.
OC: I don’t eat much, though.
FC: Ooh. I like ice cream.
OC: So I see.
FC: Me and my…er…quite…well me and my wife love ice cream. And my son. He’s a head-master. Although I’m on “ice cream light” now which…
OC: What?! I hate those kinds of things. If you are going to have ice cream have ice cream…
FC: As Gibson starts his over with a ball down the off side.
OC: That’s almost as bad as that cheese stuff.
FC: Oh. Cheese Light?
OC: Yeah. That. All that stuff. I hate all of that.
FC: Oh. Me and my wife like that. And….
OC: What! WHAT!....What? You eat that? What the hell is it?
FC: Cheese with the nasty bits taken out. It’s healthy for…
OC: You mean the cheese? It’s cheese with the cheese taken out, isn’t it?
FC: Well, yes. But it’s much better for you.
OC: What’s the point? You want cheese that fattens you.
FC: Wiseman now bowls to Loudon on a length.
OC: I hate Harry Potter. And people who read it.
FC: Me and my wife read a lot of Harry Potter. And my son. He’s a head-master, you know?

I later found out later from the BBC website that Durham won in impressive style. Apparently, it was a cracking match.

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.