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.

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.

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."

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.

How England should proceed

YES! PRESS IT NOW!!

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.

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.

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.

Civilisation moves in to crack down on Northerners

Once every so often we have to do something unseemly. That may be acknowledging the existence of ugly people, notifying the servants that the toilet in the Shavon room requires cleaning, or in the case of the cricketing authorities, Going To Yorkshire.

Fear not. This isn’t a twisted euphemism for self administered enemas, but rather the regular requirement of willingly entering the domain of the Yorkshireman.

Much like the Victorian frontiers of colonial influence, the tension between culture and sophistication on the one hand and God’s Forgotten County occasionally crackle forth from unwelcome truce.

Societal battles are most obvious when Geoffrey Boycott and Jonathan Agnew share the microphone. The mutual contempt rouses TMS from its default slumbers. Their encounters usually follow the follow pattern:

AG: I am now expressing an opinion.
GB: Eh. Lad, don’t be so daft! That’s madness is that.
AG: Well, it is an interesting thought.
GB: Oh, if I were still playing, I wouldn’t mind a bit of that. I tell you, if you did that, I would be queuing up for it, I would.
AG: Just thought, Geoffrey, something the captain might want to think about.
GB: Thought. From a part time seamer from Leicestershire? A ha ha ha. The captain listen to that? Ha ha ha. To a bloke who got, what is it, three test match wickets. Ah ha ha ha. I would be queuing up for it I would! Stick of rhubarb! Ah ha ha! The good old times! Ah ha ha!
AG: Ahem. It’s all over Geoffrey. It’s finished. The pads are away. Finished for good.
GB: It would be with you bowling, in no time at all! With my mum batting! Ah ha ha!
AG: No. I meant your career.
GB: Oh.
[Awkward silence for about half a second.]
GB: Oh no god! They need to pitch it oop more.

It’s a familiar, if sad little battle. With Boycott seriously pissing off Agnew, not through any maliciousness, because this is the only way that Boycott knows how to communicate with people. Agnew, hurt and embarrassed, aims fight back. Geoffry fails to understand, and continues to complain about everything.

Anyway, the point is, for the up-coming Headingley, security will be on level “police brutality mark nine”. Headingley has a bit of a reputation for boozing and for crowds stepping over the line that only stewards and policemen see.

But, to be quite honest, so does every ground. The Oval is often site to shocking acts of drunken tom-fooling buffoonery, as is Lords. So is everywhere.

What makes Headingley different? It’s Northern. And what does that mean? It’s full of criminals. It’s refreshing to see the ECB emerge from its era of Eton-dominated, reactionary, prejudiced, wankerism.

The difference between the sides

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

Stuart Broad can’t bowl.

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

Graeme Swann is in the side for his sledging.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What England need to do

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

Andrew Strauss also laid into the Ozzlers’ dubious karma:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

Rest Freddie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ian Bell: will the mouse roar?

I doubt it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mindless game

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Name that Bum #18 Answer

A bit of a poor showing by the bummers this week. Although, all was recovered with Samir Chopra's determined insistence that the bum before him was left handed. Here's his reasoning:

"Something about the body-language,the way the player is leaning so slightly to the left. Its not an exact science, but I'm willing to put a fiver down on it. At the very least, I'd say the player bowls or bats left."

The answer, I'm afraid to say was Mark Ramprakash.
And here he is, modestly masking his mighty rump.

Congratulations go to the The Old Batsman, whose prize is a picture with himself, with himself hiding in his own beard.
Tune in next time to see if you can...NAME THAT BUM.

The Guildford Festival of Cricket

It was the weekend. It was mid-July. The weather was grim. This could only mean one thing. The Guildford Festival of Cricket. Excitement throbbed throughout the shires

Sandwiches having been lovingly crafted by my own organic, free-range hand, the long train journey to this forgotten corner of Surrey began interestingly, with Stuart Broad’s public admittance to using muscle-enhancing chemicals:
Is the dope a doper as well as a dobbler?

Guildford. Ah Guildford. Forever a beautiful, market town. Look how the sunshine shimmers off the traffic.

Losing my bearings somewhat, the prescient local Council foresaw the need for a sign. A sign to joy! Let us go, stripy jumper, to meet our destiny together.

Once inside, we settle ourselves down comfortably with the radio, in order to listen to another, more interesting game.
Observe the generous leg room.

The ground was standard enough, for this part of the world, but was disturbed by the haunting howls of South-West Trains fast service to Waterloo.Despite the turgid innings before them, the crowd enthusiasm burbled through.Come lunch, it was time to indulge in my morning’s creations. To spice things up, I attempted to break the World Record for numbers of egg held in one hand.
An otherwise brave challenge, was abandoned due to lack of eggs.

As time dripped around to teatime, it seemed appropriate to investigate the wonders of the GUILDFORD FESTIVAL OF CRICKET.
Suitably persuaded by the charming, cricket-assailed women of the above stand, I acquired some of their excellent, if lukewarm, tea and a fine miniature carrot cake.
To the English weather!

Name That Bum # 18

Oh, little ones, it has been a long time before you have sharpened your wits on a pair of highly toned buns.

But it is time again. Tell me who this bum owns, and you get a prize.
Good luck and good bumming.

Play him off Keyboard Cat, II

I've been told that I've been Got At by lawyers again. This time, it was the ECB. Don't worry - Keyboard Cat is back again:

Those pesky lawyers can't keep me down forever.

Play him off, Keyboard Cat

It's not how, it's how many.