England win a match! England win a match giving them a lead in a series against the best team in the world!
Meanwhile, the economic order continues to collapse around us leaving millions jobless and hungry.
But, dammit, this is a small price to pay for the wonders of James Anderson’s swing bowling. It shaped and it swerved and it arched and it flew into the stumps of an ill-prepared South African line-up.
Anderson has normally been one of my “h’mmmm…” England crickets. He’s not quite in my “loathed Saffer” category, but he is still in the “don’t touch the do” grouping. Worryingly, both these groups have expanded as late, with little success to compensate.
It seemed as though all our hopes rested with China.
But now, Anderson’s smooth body-waxed frame speeds to the crease to release the ball with a hairless magic that would make Duncan Goodhew proud.
Previously, I have wondered whether I could legitimately celebrate an English victory inspired by South Africans. Now, I am wondering whether I can accept triumphs sponsored by over-preened Mongoose models that are more attractive than me to the power of ten.
Judging by today’s soup-throwing lunch-time festivities the answer must be yes. Let us celebrate England’s success with only minimal caveats.
(By the way, when I was listening to TMS, one of the commentators apologised for any “offensive comments” made by Geoffrey Boycott during the fall of Ryan McLaren’s wicket.
I was listening at the time, and all I could make out was strange, high-pitched whoops and barely muffled giggles. Even if produced by Boycott’s marauding maw, is this offensive? Or did I miss something?)
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Do we need bowlers?
So. Australia win their series. Coupled with Bangladesh’s recent triumph over Zimbabwe, this series will be remarked as one of the most memorable contests after the Punic Wars.But it also fuels the argument for dividing the international game into two divisions: with the first division boasting teams like Australia and India and the second division housing everyone else.
This allows the ICC to sweep the deck of all non essential matches, enabling Australia to battle India in a continuous all year circus of fifty-over joy.
In any case, perhaps the most interesting issue in this series was Australia’s crock-ridden bowling attack. Even Clinton McKay (no relation to the famous general, although possibly connected to the infamous intern-fiddler) was called up, after only 18 first class games.
But this didn’t matter. Because bowling doesn’t matter any more.
Take the fifth match. Australia rack up 350. It should be enough. And was. It didn’t matter that the bowling was rubbish, and Sachin Tendulkar streaked his way to yet another fluky huge hundred. Because batsmen win games in the shorted format.
Indeed, because bowlers know that batsmen's time is limited, they know that pressure and aggression is unnecessary, even counter-productive. Best just picking three Chris Harrises and an Ashley Giles and do as you always do: trust in your batters.
Perhaps the more innocuous and the least enchanted by the delusion of wickets your bowlers are, the more successful your team? Can we have finally unearthed the mystery of Kiwi one success?
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Michael Vaughan and the booze go boozing with teen-agers
In his recent autobiography, Michael Vaughan has admitted that, during the 2005 Ashes celebrations, the entire England team rocked up to 10 Downing Street and were disappointed by what they saw.They immediately identified the key problem: no booze.
The infamous all-night bender, followed by tipsy open-topped bus fiesta had rather given the impression that drink was not wanting. But, after stumbling up the red carpet and relieving themselves in the Prime Minister’s garden, the team was unimpressed by the offerings.
In fact, there was nothing. Vaughan stated,
“I demand to have some booze!”
The nectar of the gods was duly provided. The captain of England and, supposed Yorkshire lad, after tasting a sample politely pointed out that it was “lukewarm” and “undrinkable”.
At this point, an unexpected alliance was forged between the pissed England cricket team, and the most notorious political pisshead: Tony Blair’s son Euan.
Don’t worry if you don’t know who is, most of his friends forgot him too. At the age of 16, he was found abandoned in Leicester Square plastered out of his little pasty head on alco-tiddlers.
But now, in lukewarm Downing Steet, it was at this moment of crisis that Euan’s lifetime of self-indulgence and waste came to the fore. He knew what to do. He immediately raided his dad’s “private” collection of wines and beers and gave it to a load of older boys taht he barely knew. The cricketers, being decent, honest men, accepted the boys's illicit booze.
To be honest, it’s a teenagers dream: getting pissed with the England cricket team, whilst your dad is out. I’m sure most of us would plump for that over being Ian Bell.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
How to let Jonny Foreigner in
Over my long sabbatical, I have been considering how a civilised society should treat Kevin Pietersen. In the olden days, he would have been flayed and broken by a humiliating ordeal of public punishments. But sadly, we are far removed from these genteel and enlightened times.
Our problem isn’t his flashy, perma-tanned smugness – qualities that deeply rile the vast mass of under-achieving, poorly co-ordinated, socially inept English males. No. The main issue with Pietersen is that he exists at all.
Along with food and the relative merits of women, sport is the last legitimate home of petty tribalism. We want our team to beat your team to affirm our innate superiority over you. If your team beats our team, is only due to the limited structuring of your domestic game, reducing the number of matches, so, it doesn’t really tell us anything about whose better. In fact, we probably still better people than you, because we are so hamstrung by incompetent administrators.
These sorts of unfounded, baseless and generally wrong arguments, as fun as they are, are increasingly difficult to enjoy enthusiastic expression; “your” team is mostly constituted by “them” – the foreign, the alien, and the strange. We now find ourselves support a squad of Saffers.
Long ago, the British domestic football scene went down this route. Where it led them, I am unsure, but I am certain that some of the joy has been lost from watching your chums from down ‘pit doing their best against the mysterious freaks from yonder valley.
Then, fast-footed wee Jimmy is replaced by Finn Mürdermann from East Germany, who flattens the opposition with his greater knowledge of aerial bombardments. Wee Jimmy is left crushed, unemployed and slumps to an inevitable drug-induced demise.
It’s arguable that this adds to the overall standard of the game, improving the quality for the spectators, but where’s the heart? Where can fans see themselves in their heroes?
This is how I feel about the England cricket team. Foreigners have been gnawing away at our hearts in order to earn the ECB more money, using a naturalisation mechanism that is as divorced from the sporting world as is Kim Jong Il is from reality.
So, here’s AYALAC’s new system:
1. Scrap the four year qualification rule. Adopting a new nationality is not the equivalent as re-locating. I would include a provision that would allow people to qualify for the England cricket team, if they moved to the UK and acquired British citizenship for non-cricketing reasons. At the moment, the system has a loophole the size of a Giles Clarke-sized noose, and cricketers are making a mockery of the system by exploiting it.
2. If you want to play for England, become English. Essentially, this means becoming rubbish at everything except moaning. Kevin Pietersen has shown great promise in this area.
3. No Kevin Pietersens.
Our problem isn’t his flashy, perma-tanned smugness – qualities that deeply rile the vast mass of under-achieving, poorly co-ordinated, socially inept English males. No. The main issue with Pietersen is that he exists at all.
Along with food and the relative merits of women, sport is the last legitimate home of petty tribalism. We want our team to beat your team to affirm our innate superiority over you. If your team beats our team, is only due to the limited structuring of your domestic game, reducing the number of matches, so, it doesn’t really tell us anything about whose better. In fact, we probably still better people than you, because we are so hamstrung by incompetent administrators.
These sorts of unfounded, baseless and generally wrong arguments, as fun as they are, are increasingly difficult to enjoy enthusiastic expression; “your” team is mostly constituted by “them” – the foreign, the alien, and the strange. We now find ourselves support a squad of Saffers.
Long ago, the British domestic football scene went down this route. Where it led them, I am unsure, but I am certain that some of the joy has been lost from watching your chums from down ‘pit doing their best against the mysterious freaks from yonder valley.
Then, fast-footed wee Jimmy is replaced by Finn Mürdermann from East Germany, who flattens the opposition with his greater knowledge of aerial bombardments. Wee Jimmy is left crushed, unemployed and slumps to an inevitable drug-induced demise.
It’s arguable that this adds to the overall standard of the game, improving the quality for the spectators, but where’s the heart? Where can fans see themselves in their heroes?
This is how I feel about the England cricket team. Foreigners have been gnawing away at our hearts in order to earn the ECB more money, using a naturalisation mechanism that is as divorced from the sporting world as is Kim Jong Il is from reality.
So, here’s AYALAC’s new system:
1. Scrap the four year qualification rule. Adopting a new nationality is not the equivalent as re-locating. I would include a provision that would allow people to qualify for the England cricket team, if they moved to the UK and acquired British citizenship for non-cricketing reasons. At the moment, the system has a loophole the size of a Giles Clarke-sized noose, and cricketers are making a mockery of the system by exploiting it.
2. If you want to play for England, become English. Essentially, this means becoming rubbish at everything except moaning. Kevin Pietersen has shown great promise in this area.
3. No Kevin Pietersens.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Daddy or Chips? Country or Money?
Andrew Flintoff has rejected the entire English nation. He said, in a statement recently,
"To be honest, like, I don't really like the lot o'yous. So, if it's ok, I'm gunna take the money and you can all piss off, alright?"
This is part of his bid to become the first freelance cricketer since F.R.O.OP. "Blinkers" Staple-Gunn in the 1840s, who was famed for bowling for sex and the theft of two-man, peddle-powered boats.
The English nation rejoiced in the impoverished Flintoff's move. Little Emily from Clacton, aged eight, remarked,
"Fweddie Flintoff has also been my hero. Now that he has ripped out my heart for a quick buck, he has taught me the value of never trusting anyone ever again. I now want to become a management consultant."
In a quote that I didn't make up, Flintoff has had said:
"I said when I retired from Test cricket my ambition was to become the best one-day and Twenty20 player in the world," the 31-year-old said. Playing in all these different countries can only help."
One less country though, mind.
"To be honest, like, I don't really like the lot o'yous. So, if it's ok, I'm gunna take the money and you can all piss off, alright?"
This is part of his bid to become the first freelance cricketer since F.R.O.OP. "Blinkers" Staple-Gunn in the 1840s, who was famed for bowling for sex and the theft of two-man, peddle-powered boats.
The English nation rejoiced in the impoverished Flintoff's move. Little Emily from Clacton, aged eight, remarked,
"Fweddie Flintoff has also been my hero. Now that he has ripped out my heart for a quick buck, he has taught me the value of never trusting anyone ever again. I now want to become a management consultant."
In a quote that I didn't make up, Flintoff has had said:
"I said when I retired from Test cricket my ambition was to become the best one-day and Twenty20 player in the world," the 31-year-old said. Playing in all these different countries can only help."
One less country though, mind.
Australians get pissed and thrown out of a club in London
Three Australian got pissed on Saturday night. They went to a series of fancy London nightclubs the likes of me would never see in a jillion years.Brett Lee, Mitchell Johnson and that Callum Ferguson were on the razz to celebrate their pounding of the Englanders. Whilst painting the town canary orange in Mo*vida, they attracted the attention of a crowd of City Boys.
Champaigne cocktails flowed as liberally as office instant coffee. So much so, that the Ozzlers switched to "drunk, arsey types" and began to prattle on about their triumph over England.
Endlessly.
So irritating was their company that the finance workers eventually expunged their company. Skuffles followed. As did the intervention of the bouncers, whereupon the Australian role-models to millions were ejected into the cold, dark London night.
The source for this is a highly reputable organ that is not on its last knackers before bankruptcy proceedings kick in on Friday.
Being caste out by City bankers because you’re being too much of a bragging tit is, I wager, an achievement of unparalleled prattishnes. Again, Australians lead where only friendless pissheads dare.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Do we really like cricket?
Briefly moving over England “new era” of global dominance, I’m going talk about something else. Cricket.
Cricket fans are hard to please. It’s normally raining, one-sided hammering or ponced-up yammering so we do have a lot to complain about.
The fans love the thrill of it all. The sixes, the wickets and the drama of sport. And yet, when any of these things happen, we tend to moan.
Too many runs: boring. Too many wickets: no value for money. Excitement of any sort: not pure cricket.
There were too many World Cup games. Too many matches. It’s all too much. There’s too much cricket these days. This commonly accepted truth is witlessly repeated ad nauseum, but the case against players re-weighting their schedule away from lackadaisical domestic games to high intensity international matches has never been successfully made to me.
All we know is that, as cricket fans, we fear change and must ruthlessly defend the status quo while Francis and Rick still have air in their lungs.
Those lazy thinkers of older generations carelessly assume that the world, like them, is in decay and that modernity equates immorality and decline. Cricket fans, naturally being cantankerous octogenarians in their outlook, ape this mentality.
Yet still, older elements of the game still infuriate some. Here’s a quote from today’s cricinfo OBO doodle-ma-whatsit:
“I love these middle-overs. This may be my last time on commentary, but by heck - these middling overs are nothing less than a fantastic waste of everybody's time.”
I suppose the commentator is correct. Cricket is a fantastic waste of time. I have wasted hours watching a group of men work themselves into a lather over the relatively small movement of leather and wooden objects. I have wasted hours travelling to see these non-events. If I aggregated the sum total of these hours, I could have done one of the following:
- Learnt French;
- Written an unsuccessful yet worthy novella;
- Traversed the perimeter of Mongolia twelve times on racing yak;
- Understood long division;
- Saved the children of Belgium from the whatever baddies they battle;
- Forgotten any German.
And I suppose I could have cured a few pigeons of mange in the time it took me to write this post. But I didn’t. I WASTED MY TIME. And am now responsible for the DEATH OF UNTOLD QUANTITES OF DISGUSTING PIGEONS.
Perhaps our idea of a perfect cricket match consists of a single delivery, which is defended after which we can hurry off to the pub.
I rather feel like those far-right Americans that condemn anyone thinking that public healthcare as an un-American socialist, but I honestly don’t know what people’s problem with cricket it.
It’s alright, you know. I quite enjoy it.
And that makes me better than all of you.
Cricket fans are hard to please. It’s normally raining, one-sided hammering or ponced-up yammering so we do have a lot to complain about.
The fans love the thrill of it all. The sixes, the wickets and the drama of sport. And yet, when any of these things happen, we tend to moan.
Too many runs: boring. Too many wickets: no value for money. Excitement of any sort: not pure cricket.
There were too many World Cup games. Too many matches. It’s all too much. There’s too much cricket these days. This commonly accepted truth is witlessly repeated ad nauseum, but the case against players re-weighting their schedule away from lackadaisical domestic games to high intensity international matches has never been successfully made to me.
All we know is that, as cricket fans, we fear change and must ruthlessly defend the status quo while Francis and Rick still have air in their lungs.
Those lazy thinkers of older generations carelessly assume that the world, like them, is in decay and that modernity equates immorality and decline. Cricket fans, naturally being cantankerous octogenarians in their outlook, ape this mentality.
Yet still, older elements of the game still infuriate some. Here’s a quote from today’s cricinfo OBO doodle-ma-whatsit:
“I love these middle-overs. This may be my last time on commentary, but by heck - these middling overs are nothing less than a fantastic waste of everybody's time.”
I suppose the commentator is correct. Cricket is a fantastic waste of time. I have wasted hours watching a group of men work themselves into a lather over the relatively small movement of leather and wooden objects. I have wasted hours travelling to see these non-events. If I aggregated the sum total of these hours, I could have done one of the following:
- Learnt French;
- Written an unsuccessful yet worthy novella;
- Traversed the perimeter of Mongolia twelve times on racing yak;
- Understood long division;
- Saved the children of Belgium from the whatever baddies they battle;
- Forgotten any German.
And I suppose I could have cured a few pigeons of mange in the time it took me to write this post. But I didn’t. I WASTED MY TIME. And am now responsible for the DEATH OF UNTOLD QUANTITES OF DISGUSTING PIGEONS.
Perhaps our idea of a perfect cricket match consists of a single delivery, which is defended after which we can hurry off to the pub.
I rather feel like those far-right Americans that condemn anyone thinking that public healthcare as an un-American socialist, but I honestly don’t know what people’s problem with cricket it.
It’s alright, you know. I quite enjoy it.
And that makes me better than all of you.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Things that aren’t the best thing in the world
The entire West Indies Cricket Team
The entire West Indies is not the top ranked cricket team in the world. In the player rankings, most individuals are placed below Jesus.
The Fourth Umpire
No match is not incomplete without the inclusion of this non-essential official of uncertain responsibility. I once thought I saw in a pub Denis Engels, the famous Fourth Umpire at the not unwell known “Vicious David” incident at the Worcestershire vs. Leighton Buzzard game in 1993. but it was actually Alan Titmarsh.
Paul Collingwood
Paul Collingwood strides confidentially around his three inch square spot in the Pantheon of Glory that is Things That Aren’t The Best Thing In The World. His defiant refusal to ever forge a match-winning innings has won plaudits from across the world as being “below Bradman-esque.”
Scripts for cricket
Five years ago, players could not have “scripted” a better match. Now they regularly “script” opponents out by “scripting” in advance. No one knows what they are talking about. This phenomenon is generally considered not at all like parachuting out of a plane with no pants on.
Playing football at any time
Standing in a raining park, whilst your hopeless team slumps to defeat in the mud has been described by Arthur Cabbage of Whittlestonworth as “not as good as sex with greased up dolphins.” As a means to bond young cricketers it has been variously called “unearthshattering”, “ok s’pose” and “round”.
Giles Clarke
Business skills below those of internationally respected Texan billionaire Alan Twatford, but better than Yoda’s.
The entire West Indies is not the top ranked cricket team in the world. In the player rankings, most individuals are placed below Jesus.
The Fourth Umpire
No match is not incomplete without the inclusion of this non-essential official of uncertain responsibility. I once thought I saw in a pub Denis Engels, the famous Fourth Umpire at the not unwell known “Vicious David” incident at the Worcestershire vs. Leighton Buzzard game in 1993. but it was actually Alan Titmarsh.
Paul Collingwood
Paul Collingwood strides confidentially around his three inch square spot in the Pantheon of Glory that is Things That Aren’t The Best Thing In The World. His defiant refusal to ever forge a match-winning innings has won plaudits from across the world as being “below Bradman-esque.”
Scripts for cricket
Five years ago, players could not have “scripted” a better match. Now they regularly “script” opponents out by “scripting” in advance. No one knows what they are talking about. This phenomenon is generally considered not at all like parachuting out of a plane with no pants on.
Playing football at any time
Standing in a raining park, whilst your hopeless team slumps to defeat in the mud has been described by Arthur Cabbage of Whittlestonworth as “not as good as sex with greased up dolphins.” As a means to bond young cricketers it has been variously called “unearthshattering”, “ok s’pose” and “round”.
Giles Clarke
Business skills below those of internationally respected Texan billionaire Alan Twatford, but better than Yoda’s.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Blackwell comes from no-where to skittle Somerset
Durham’s hitherto unheard of mystery spinner, Ian “Dark Horse” Blackwell has rolled over Somerset at Chester-lee-Street.Blackwell span, bounced and doosra-ed his was to 5 for 7 in 8.1 overs, leaving the mighty men of the West in tatters at 174 all out.
A spokesman for Somerset stated:
“Who the hell is this guy? He looks a bit foreign to me, and I’m sure that Durham aren’t playing by rules by playing him. Surely it’s only fair that we get to have a look at him?”
It is fortunate for Durham that there mystifying tweaker came to their aid, as their pace attack has been significantly weakened now that Steve Harmison is no longer on England duty.
They'll probably go on to win the UEFA Cup now. Bloody brilliant, in the words of Ron.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
England win twenty20 series because that’s how GOD wants it
The England cricket team rub sulphurous hail stones into Australian wounds today by winning the match by having it abandoned.
No content with their Ashes triumph through fixing the pitch and nobbling the umpires, the Englanders further emasculated the Ozzlers by bribing the weather gods to piss it down. We don’t pay Ulbator Choobleton for nothing.
Some might dispute this “win”. But I dispute them. Clearly, if the Ozzos are not able to contend with the weather that we fight our way through to work every morning, then it reveals a lack of character that is unsuited to the trials of international sport.
Of course, Old Trafford has long maintained that it is a world class cricketing venue, with high quality flood lights and drainage facilities. Undoubtedly true. But it is in Manchester. And when the Mancunian rain isn’t cancelling my connecting flights to France, it’s pissing on the Australian parade.
So, in terms of the last three series we have played against Baggy Bums, England have won three. They nought.
It is said that the South Africans are the worst fans to gloat, and to bang on and on about fluked victories. But I think it is time that English fans build on current achievements, and strive for that top spot in international cricket.
For the Queen.
No content with their Ashes triumph through fixing the pitch and nobbling the umpires, the Englanders further emasculated the Ozzlers by bribing the weather gods to piss it down. We don’t pay Ulbator Choobleton for nothing.
Some might dispute this “win”. But I dispute them. Clearly, if the Ozzos are not able to contend with the weather that we fight our way through to work every morning, then it reveals a lack of character that is unsuited to the trials of international sport.
Of course, Old Trafford has long maintained that it is a world class cricketing venue, with high quality flood lights and drainage facilities. Undoubtedly true. But it is in Manchester. And when the Mancunian rain isn’t cancelling my connecting flights to France, it’s pissing on the Australian parade.
So, in terms of the last three series we have played against Baggy Bums, England have won three. They nought.
It is said that the South Africans are the worst fans to gloat, and to bang on and on about fluked victories. But I think it is time that English fans build on current achievements, and strive for that top spot in international cricket.
For the Queen.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Guest blogger: The Spanish perspective on the Ashes
I have discovered something new about the caracter of The Atheist(even when I supposed that could not happen)he has just been following the damm Ashes for the last days, while I have been going outside and enjoying the weather in the night in Madrid.
Well, I got up from siesta, well I noticed a soft sound by my side... I hardly opened my eyes and ... he was in there ... standing ... with his eyes open, staring at the computer...
"Oh...I dont knwo what to do....England have not lost...how is this posible?...what I can do now?...without the chance of complaining...what is cricket for?..."
Yes..he is like the Dilbert of the cricket.
Well, I got up from siesta, well I noticed a soft sound by my side... I hardly opened my eyes and ... he was in there ... standing ... with his eyes open, staring at the computer...
"Oh...I dont knwo what to do....England have not lost...how is this posible?...what I can do now?...without the chance of complaining...what is cricket for?..."
Yes..he is like the Dilbert of the cricket.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
England "do a Mandleson"
Peter, sorry LORD Mandleson had an interesting political career. Often
attributed with the transformation of Labour from a political party
with values to an all-conquering media machine, he has significantly
impacted upon British politics. It is alleged that he “spotted” young
sproutlings Tony Blair and Gordon Brown – by which we mean that he
leached onto them and devoured their life energy once they became
powerful. Rather like a red-socked wearing parasite investing in elephant stocks.
Anyway, once power was achieved, Mandy had a hilariously insecure grip
on his position. After a series of riotous failures, he was in and
out of Government like a window cleaner. However, a final scandal saw
him banished again, and he was sent to the backwaters of Brussels -
the political equivalent of the county cricket scene.
Only now, in Gordon’s last desperate hour, after his Lordship has
excelled in Europe, has the Prime Minister hit the panic button and
recalled Mandy for a third time. Now Mandleson is akin to a GOD. There
are no limits to his powers, or titles. His influence in the country
is second only to that of Alan Sugar.
Mark Ramprakash, it seems, may also consider another brief spell to the top
of the tree.
Ramprakash has outclassed all that he has faced for the past three
years. His county-level success is Bradmanian in scale, Mandlesonian
even. And thus, in England’s current intoxicating crisis, are we
considering a return Blair’s Britain.
Unfortunately, the England cricket team didn’t do under Blair. In
fact, As a general rule, England tend to do better under Conservative
governments.
But that we are panicked enough to deep into the dark days of Puffa jackets, Teletubbies and Dana International is signs of a serious collapse in confidence.
Everyone is chipping in with potential number threes. Potential number threes are sounded out to discuss their opinions on their potential. Past number threes are urged out of retirement to give their views on their potential.
At some point someone will be advocating Stephen Fry for the number
three slot. I don’t know why. People always advocate Stephen Fry to do
everything. Apparently, his being on the telly every five minutes
isn’t enough. I don’t know why.
attributed with the transformation of Labour from a political party
with values to an all-conquering media machine, he has significantly
impacted upon British politics. It is alleged that he “spotted” young
sproutlings Tony Blair and Gordon Brown – by which we mean that he
leached onto them and devoured their life energy once they became
powerful. Rather like a red-socked wearing parasite investing in elephant stocks.
Anyway, once power was achieved, Mandy had a hilariously insecure grip
on his position. After a series of riotous failures, he was in and
out of Government like a window cleaner. However, a final scandal saw
him banished again, and he was sent to the backwaters of Brussels -
the political equivalent of the county cricket scene.
Only now, in Gordon’s last desperate hour, after his Lordship has
excelled in Europe, has the Prime Minister hit the panic button and
recalled Mandy for a third time. Now Mandleson is akin to a GOD. There
are no limits to his powers, or titles. His influence in the country
is second only to that of Alan Sugar.
Mark Ramprakash, it seems, may also consider another brief spell to the top
of the tree.
Ramprakash has outclassed all that he has faced for the past three
years. His county-level success is Bradmanian in scale, Mandlesonian
even. And thus, in England’s current intoxicating crisis, are we
considering a return Blair’s Britain.
Unfortunately, the England cricket team didn’t do under Blair. In
fact, As a general rule, England tend to do better under Conservative
governments.
But that we are panicked enough to deep into the dark days of Puffa jackets, Teletubbies and Dana International is signs of a serious collapse in confidence.
Everyone is chipping in with potential number threes. Potential number threes are sounded out to discuss their opinions on their potential. Past number threes are urged out of retirement to give their views on their potential.
At some point someone will be advocating Stephen Fry for the number
three slot. I don’t know why. People always advocate Stephen Fry to do
everything. Apparently, his being on the telly every five minutes
isn’t enough. I don’t know why.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Flintoff unfit - truth revealed
According to England management, the team's Big Man, Andrew Flintoff, just wasn't getting his balls down fast enough in pre-match warm-ups. An official stated:"I don't know what was wrong with him. We were trying various techniques, different strokes, but he just didn't seem to be feeling it. He needs a rest, the appendage in question is nearly red-raw with over-use - he's a big man and puts his body under a lot of pressure. We're hoping that he can stand tall once he's in the Oval."
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, August 10, 2009
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.
If it wasn’t for the umpires, we’d have blitzed the match.
Damned umps.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
James Anderson double hundred anyone?
To set up the same up nicely for Australia with 250 to chase.
God I hate the England cricket team.
So much.
But mostly the press. They made us believe. They made us believe even when Harmicrap was playing.
God I hate them all.
So much.
Here's some Rous Sareysothea to cheer you up.
God I hate the England cricket team.
So much.
But mostly the press. They made us believe. They made us believe even when Harmicrap was playing.
God I hate them all.
So much.
Here's some Rous Sareysothea to cheer you up.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
The science of swing – clouds don’t help
I urge you all to read this article. It is a fascinating exposé of the modern myth of swing bowling. In essence, the idea that humidity effects movement is false.
A NASA scientist, after a series of exhaustive experiments, failed to prove a connection between atmospheric conditions and the extent of swing.
Rabindra Mehta, the aerodynamic expert in question, argues that there are many causes and methods of swinging the ball. In fact, there are three types of swing.
1. Normal swing.
Caused by turbulence in the airflows around the seam, reducing the pressure on one side, altering the trajectory. The age, lacquer and condition of the leather is irrelevant: it is the seam that singularly disrupts the air flow.
2. Reverse swing
Caused by roughness on one side of the ball, because of the poor condition of the leather. This leads to increased turbulence on one side, and the decreased of air pressure moves the ball towards the rough side.
3. Contrast swing
With seam position straight, the relative roughness of one side disrupts the airflow, deflecting the ball’s path. The direction depends ball speed.
Prevailing winds affect the extent of air turbulence. As does the condition of the pitch, soft, grassy pitches protect the seam and the shine of the ball. Abrasive pitches scuff it up and hard wickets depress the seam. The weather conditions are largely irrelevant.
The article suggests that overcast conditions only give a psychological advantage, such is the depth of the myth’s acceptance.
I suspect that as the softness of wickets protects the balls, then in the days of uncovered pitches, clouds and accompanying rain would give rise to conducive conditions indirectly by softening the pitch.
The strength of myths, like any ideas, is usually confirmed through years of repetition. Indeed, just below the Times’ article, is a piece about how England’s bowlers failed to capitalise on the “humid conditions” at Edgbaston.
A NASA scientist, after a series of exhaustive experiments, failed to prove a connection between atmospheric conditions and the extent of swing.
Rabindra Mehta, the aerodynamic expert in question, argues that there are many causes and methods of swinging the ball. In fact, there are three types of swing.
1. Normal swing.
Caused by turbulence in the airflows around the seam, reducing the pressure on one side, altering the trajectory. The age, lacquer and condition of the leather is irrelevant: it is the seam that singularly disrupts the air flow.
2. Reverse swing
Caused by roughness on one side of the ball, because of the poor condition of the leather. This leads to increased turbulence on one side, and the decreased of air pressure moves the ball towards the rough side.
3. Contrast swing
With seam position straight, the relative roughness of one side disrupts the airflow, deflecting the ball’s path. The direction depends ball speed.
Prevailing winds affect the extent of air turbulence. As does the condition of the pitch, soft, grassy pitches protect the seam and the shine of the ball. Abrasive pitches scuff it up and hard wickets depress the seam. The weather conditions are largely irrelevant.
The article suggests that overcast conditions only give a psychological advantage, such is the depth of the myth’s acceptance.
I suspect that as the softness of wickets protects the balls, then in the days of uncovered pitches, clouds and accompanying rain would give rise to conducive conditions indirectly by softening the pitch.
The strength of myths, like any ideas, is usually confirmed through years of repetition. Indeed, just below the Times’ article, is a piece about how England’s bowlers failed to capitalise on the “humid conditions” at Edgbaston.
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