England and India amazing things - none of them matter

England and India did amazing things in a way that never could have come about in a T20 match. Yesterday’s match had laughter and tears. Both sets of fans enjoyed the pleasures snatching victory from the jaws of defeat… before allowing the other side to claw their way back again. And then it all went horribly agreeable.

Unfortunately – much like a political compromise – a tie left both sides feeling disappointed. “Oh” we all collectively thought, “so we didn’t win”.

Interestingly, the match, despite its drama, was still meaningless. Both sides will probably qualify. So. It was all just a waste of everyone’s time, really.

The match did show simply the relative ineptness of the bowling. Aside from Zaheer’s moment of maddeningness and Bresnan’s tedious reliability, neither time has sufficient firepower to blast their way to the world cup.

Sachin Tendulkar, though, eh? Fluky bloody bastard.

The big three compared

OK – final note on stats, I promise. So, I have looked at data relating to the test match performance of Australia, India and South Africa.

First off, I have made an index of the three teams performances over the past five years, with 1 January 2005 being 100.
Still Australia beat the pants off the other two still, holding a commanding +10 margin over India and South Africa.

But, as Fred the commenter mentioned yesterday, perhaps this overstates their performances for the last two years. So, here’s the same graph, with the index starting on 1 January 2008.

In this graph, Australia have made next to no progress in the last two years. Whereas the other two, especially South Africa, have increased their score.

Interestingly, since May 2009 South Africa have been in relative decline, whereas India have been unmoved since then, saved for a slight increase in the past few months. By my calculations, this means that they are about tied with South Africa, by the ICC’s reckoning, India are the undisputed champions of the world!!11!!1!!

What this means for online sports betting is anyone's guess.

Some statistics happen, and India become best in the world

It’s official. Again. Some team other than Australia is the best in the world, accordingly to faceless statisticians hidden in the neglected bunkers of Dubai’s crumbling skyscrapers.

That team is India. They have long held a team capable of destroy all before them, but it has taken them much bedding down and reorganising before they have done so. Although, more or less the same group of bland, school clerkish type men have dominated the side for the last decade, they have only “come good” after Australia have refrained from winning quite so regularly.

So, seeing as I had a touch of spreadsheetitus recently, I thought, how does India’s decade look? Worthy of “best in the world” status?

Here is a graph of some stuff:

Same rules as last time: +1 point for winning, -1 for losing and no points for drawing.

India are currently scoring their highest in the decade, with them presently on +13. Not quite as high as England +19 when the ICC had them as the second best team in the world, but pretty good, nevertheless.

So, what does this say? Exel is good? ICC is bad?

Their recovery from the bogged-down under-achieving period of the early decade seems sustained. But this improvement, although steady since 2005, is not dramatic.

Probably not worthy of Number One status. But, the only problem is that all the Number Twos are shit.

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?

Oh my deary god

Admit it. The only thing you were looking forward to was gloating over Aussies. That’s all you wanted, some small, pathetic slice of Schadenfreude.

You were going to laugh and laugh, and tell the Aussies what feeble worms they were, and that England was the mighty Crow which was going to devour them up come next Ashes.

But all we can do is crow now. Remember, England are a lame, useless, indecisive, unconvincing, dull, predictable, mediocre, ordinary, borderline incompetent bunch of disabled earth grubs who are incapable of rolling down a hill.

England is a small country. But somehow, there is so much to be angry about.

Of course, this is a total disaster, akin to Black Monday, the Battle of Balaklava and the birth of Russell Brand.

The problem England have, at the moment, is that their opponents are better than them. Looking at India’s line up, if you roll them over in the first innings, the law of averages dictate that they’re going to compensate with a legendary effort in the second.

And that they did. Fourth highest run-chase in Asian history, and with six wickets to spare. That old geriatric whose eyes have gone, Old Farther Sachin, fluked a century.

It is important to remind yourself how good this was. Not only were records broken in the fourth innings, but on the last day of a wearing pitch that had shown as much consistency as the German Ministry of Finance.

The bowling of Andrew Flintoff and Monty Panesar is class. And, with England’s new super-weapon, Greame Swanpy, the Indians looked doomed.

But this mega-line-up of nearly, but not quite, dead one-man myths breezed through England’s cream as if it were spread across a thick layer of easy jam upon the Scone of Effortlessness.

Although, that’s not to take anything away from England.

They’re still nothing to me. How can so much anger, by so many, owed to so few?

On happier times, I walked out of my Berlin apartment on Saturday. This is what I saw:

England so bad that, even when they scored more runs than the opposition, they lost

As many animal torturers have noted, cricket is a funny game. It’s hard to explain its rules to muggles.

You might say something like: “They idea is to score more runs that your opponent. Then you get pissed.”

Then, along comes the latest England game. England and India both faced 22 overs. India scored 166, England scored 178. Obviously India won.

It’s the unpredictability of the game that makes it so interesting.

However, to their credit, the one quality that England have displayed for many years has been predictability. I lauded the ECB management for its parsimonious approach to altering the team management.

Keeping with the same useless team for the sake of stability was a courageous move. But, then they turned out to be as brave as Ishant Sharma’s moustache.

Then they bugger about with every aspect of the team make-up and lose repeatedly in humiliating fashion.

It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so wrist-cuttingly depressing.

Normally, as a fan, you believe you know more than most sages. And more especially more than team selectors. If push came to shove, however, most people would defer to the “experts”, and let Patrick Moores get his way. “Sure Pete, me ol’ mucker, you’ve won a few Championships. What have I done? Memorised the entire script of 24? That’s nothing. You, mate, are a god.”

But now we know. We all know.

I now know that I am better than them. THIS IS KNOWLEDGE. In fact, the drunken, jobless German that harassed me on my way home yesterday would exhibit greater team-selecting skills than England. And he only had one eye.

Don’t worry though. It’ll all be fine next time. They’re having a Team Meeting.

And we all know from our respective workplaces how productive and motivating Team Meetings are.

Australia worse than England?

Australia’s spineless defeat to someone else reminded other island folk of England’s own feckless folding facilities.

Allow the opposition batsman to batter you to Scotland and back? No problem. The cream of your line-up intimidated by the scariness/weirdness of the opposition’s bowlers. Be my guest. Fill your covers with immobile old men? After you, old bean.

The Australian defeat will be treated by the more generous and open minded of us with even-handed hoots of laughter. By to those of us who are partisan, and embittered by years of pain and humiliation at the hand of the Ozzie Boomerang of Nastiness, it is cause for a three-day sicky and national celebration.

The only problem with that last part, is that the nation I currently find myself has no idea what I’m talking about. (They have language difficulties over here.)

A lot was written after the 2005 Ashes. Most of it was wrong. People said that the series defeat marked a return of normalisation in international cricket, a resurrection in parity and possibly, just possibly, the homecoming of interesting cricket.

If you thought that the Ozzlers were bastards before 2005, you had no idea of the meaning of the word after the Australians unleashed a furious attack on the world and common decency. All hell broke loose. And they won a lot of games.

So, after the Aussies impending doom in the sub-continent, one wonders what next for the world?

There are two possibilities: one, the Aussies get even nastier. Two, their slide continues, and stop playing Bangladesh as things are “getting a bit embarrassing.”

Actually, there are about a jillion possibilities. The entire team could turn into purple umbrellas and form a boy band that “rocks for peace”.

Anyway, the central point remains:

AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Dr No beats up that nasty witch from Sleeping Beauty

India are doing quite well against Australia. Theoretically, this shouldn´t be surprising. Australia are pretty useless at the moment. But, as we all know, that fact rarely results in their losing.

Nevertheless, the two evil sides of world cricket are slugging it out. The Ozzlers are evil because they just are. And India are evil because they are trying to take over the world. At least all the Aussies wanted to do was piss all over it.

That, I could take.

The fact that in every “Irish” bar in Europe, there are at least three Australian males complaining about people “back home” is as bad as the Ozzy Offensive got. But, if the Indians get their way, every visit to a bar will result in serious food poisoning.

Seeing as cricket is “scripted” now, we can assume that the baddies are battling it out for a final, epic face-off against the goodies. In this case, this is England.

It´s irrevelant that the goodies are a useless sack of disabled potatoes right now. Just look at Rocky. My Aunty Derrida´s cat boxes better than Rocky, and she´s been dead for twelve (both my relative and her cat – it was a tragic, if surreal accident).

The point being, rubbishness does not prevent glory. So, if the Hollywood rules of drama apply, we can expect England to eventually overcome the victors in this show-down, through a tense, if unlikely series of events.

Then England will get to Rodger the girl. Who, in this case, will be Keira Knightley.

(You may be interested to hear that I went to school with above film bint. Apparently, she had a thing for me. But I had to say no. We simply don´t share the same tastes in skirts.)

Cricket: now the Australians are doing it

The English and German cricket seasons are at an end. This is obviously very sad.

But it’s ok, because the international season is taking over. So, for fans of the County Championship, it’s more of the same: Australians battering seven shades of sauerkraut out of everyone else.

Apparently, they’re going to play India again. The reason for this is nothing to do with money. India is an uncorrupted country, still battling for the purity of the game.

The Australians are just along for the ride.

So, obviously this serious is too close to the last one. The sides are more of less unchanged. Although, the Indians are taking some forward steps by picking Sourav Ganguly – known to the world as Mr Giggles.

Australian coach and chief book-maker, Dringo Wallaroorodger, was over-heard to say,

“We’re playing these bastards again. Oh Christ, what do they think we are? Trained apes?”

Of course this is going to be a disappointment. Remember the Ashes after 2005? That was a right proper rubbish series. The Australian were just a push over.

Bangladesh all messed up: blame the Indians

Thank the Lord for the BCCI. Now that Bangladesh’s national team has been set back by about a decade, we can all content ourselves that the Tigers never need tour India.

Phew.

Some might say that the Bangladesh Cricket Board are also partly to blame for this. They banned the 13 rebel players from all national and international cricket for ten years. This isn’t really because of Indian pressure, but because of the comments of former Tiger captain, Habibul Bashar:

“Screw you, hippies.”

So now the 13 are off to live a life-style of opulence and isolation. It’s funny how those things usually go side by side.

Meanwhile, the Bangladeshi side is completely buggered. And for this, I blame India. No one, specific India is to blame. I’ve met a few. Some of them are nice. Some.

The intransigence of the BCCI and its failure to pursue a sensible policy towards the ICL is beginning to have serious, and long-term effects for the game. Sure, a few old duffers can quietly see out their days in a moneyed segregation, but it’s the whole-sale importing and out-casting of national sides that becomes problematic.

Weirdly, the BCCI accepted the logic of the ICL. They have suddenly realised what a jolly good idea twenty20 cricket. So why can’t they get along nicely, merge their leagues and stop buggering up cricket.

THINK OF THE CHILDREN.

Sri Lanka: good, but not good enough to earn a visit from AYALAC

The Sri Lankans know they are my favourite side. And they play up to it.

Knowing that I spurned their lovely country in favour of their much bigger and probably smellier neighbour, they decided to Stick It To The Man, and beat India in the final of the “fixed” Asia Cup Final.

Their victory was principally due to the twizling efforts of their new spinner: Ajantha Mendis.

Everyone is going mental at how brilliant he is. Kingo praises his carrom ball, Q thinks he's good, but not as good as Rodger Federerer, Martyd thought it all rather pretty, Ankit thought him magical, JRod tells us all to calm down and that his mum is better.

So, I’m not going to talk about him. He has been grubbed by the hands of many bloggers before me.

But what I will pick out is a key even that I only saw. This event was the turning point of the match. The mark of no return for my holiday destination and the unseen triumph of the Lankans.

It came in the twelve over in the Indian’s innings. I’ll take cricinfo’s commentary of the moment.

Vaas to Dhoni, no run, cuts away after landing on a length, pushed to covers.

From that point on, the Indians were screwed. Poor blighters.

Right. I’ve got my visa and passport and stuff, so I’ll be off on Wednesday. Not sure if I’ll update before then, or whether I’ll bother posting whilst in India.

But, if I don’t do anything these things, best of luck surviving over the next few weeks without me.


Don’t get Dengue.

Younis Khan looks good

Not in that way, but in a I’m-going-to-get-lots-of-runs-and-win-a-match way.

You see, Pakistan’s cricket team, home of the Lesser Spotted Younis Khan, is playing India. They play each other a lot. They’re neighbours, you see; saves on plane fees.

India, in fairness, did alright in their innings. A solid opening partnership, followed by a timely lower order fifties allowed the Indians to hit 308 runs from their innings. Although this isn’t a New Zealanian score, it is highly defendable.

Then the OMG-WE’RE-RUBBISH!!1/OMG-WE’RE-AMAZING!!1 Pakistan casually knocked off the runs with the loss of only two wickets and with five overs remaining.

Misbah-ul-Haq and some bloke I’ve never heard of eased half fifties each. Younis tossed off a century.

Bish bash bosh. Simple stuff. Cricket’s easy. La la la.

In their next match, Pakistan will lose by twelve wickets with 34.5 overs remaining. Some effigies will also be burnt. And the world will look on, wondering whether Andy Murray will ever go away.

It, alas, seems doubtful.

In other, more interesting news, my impending Indian holiday is cracking on apace. Bought some travel books: E.M. Forster and William Dalrymple. Can anyone recommend any other Indian books?

Also, anyone recommend any things to do? Currently, we plan to sit in our rooms; occasionally looking out the window.

How do deal with India

Obviously, these people have become a right pain in the neck. They’ve become the Russia of modern cricket. Pushing everyone around, and no one is really sure why. It’s as if they’ve got lots of nuclear bombs, or something.

First, they refuse to involve themselves in twenty20 cricket. Then some people think twenty20 is a good idea. The BCCI reverses its decision and attempts to cash in on twenty20 and sets about ruining the lives of anyone involved in the original “rebel” league.

The BCCI’s own “legitimate” league is a farcical, purely commercial affair that ignored its effects on any other country.

Following the “amazing success” of the IPL, a Champions League of between domestic champions from across the world is announced. As soon as it is publicised, the BCCI decide to remove the English, because some of their players thought that twenty20 was a good idea before they did.

Then, the BCCI unilaterally announced that the international players playing for their sides would remain in their Indian team, presumably, they will be forced to play against their own home side.

Now, all of this is fine. Where the line must be drawn is when they make you spend your entire day off queuing at the Indian Embassy in London.

These buggers must be stopped.

I reckon we should remove the Indian teams from the Champions League, except for perhaps the ICL sides, which should solve some of our player-overlap problem. Then we naturalise Geoff Boycott as an Indian citizen, and make sure he’s on the telly all the time. That’ll learn ‘em.

That'll learn 'em good.

A discourse on Indian administrative policies

Apparently, cricket happened today. I wouldn’t know; the Indians authorities detained me in an over-crowded, under-red nasty corporate room for the entire day.

It was like the 21st century equivalent of the Black Hole of Calcutta.

I had to get a visa for my sub-continental holiday. Oh you bastard, India, you couldn’t have made a normally painless procedure much worse today.

First off, I completed their damned forms weeks ago, but for my hellishly busy life, I was unable to submit them.

However, since my obedient pen-pushing, the buggers had changed the system – unbeknownst to me. So I turn up at the Indian High Commission promptly first thing this morning, on my day off.

Eventually, some incomprehensible goon starts bleating at me,

“A blur Vec toria a blur blue” he said, whilst pointing at an obscure piece of paper on the room.

I squinted at it,

“Visa applications have been outsourced. These are now being handled at Victoria. Fuck off.”

Where in Victoria, I had no idea. Fortunately, work was just around the corner, so I actually went into office on my day off. Searching the internet for a bloody map, fielding “I thought you were off today?” remarks.

Only, I would of, if anyone talks to me. Mercifully, this is one torment I do not presently endure.

I go to office at Victoria. Chaos is all about me. It’s like human-marmalade factory. A woman barked at me: “HAVE YOU APPLIED ONLINE?”

I simper.

“YOU IDIOT, GO AWAY AND TRY AGAIN.”

So back I go to the office, conveniently located on the other side of London. To re-fill those bloody forms. And then get on the same bloody train back again to Victoria.

Now, I have some experience of dealing with third world officials. There are two approaches to take.

Method one: obsequious toadying. Hardened travellers don’t have spines: the customs bureaucrat has a chip on their shoulder the size of Sourav Ganguly’s head, use it against them and flatter your way across the border.

Method two: the British Bluster. A technique used by many colonials throughout time, you bamboozle the official with your feigned air of superiority.

So, in I went, opening with “Now, I say, look here”, when Madame Card Index pointed me towards a ticket. It said 2180. I looked at the board. It said 157. My “methods” nullified in a second. Damn, she was good. Damned good.

The next eight hours were spent losing my sanity, and convincing myself I was a battery farmed chicken. It was a fantastic experience, being sandwiches between man who endlessly informed me of his housing opportunities in Harrow and man who belched vivaciously and joyfully for all he was worth.

£40 and a day off well spent.

Damn your eyes, India!

Harbhajan “Happy Slap” Singh

The captain of Mumbai Indians (as opposed to the Mumbai Clangers) has allegedly slapped Sri Sreesanth across the chops in a game against Kings XI Punjab.

In post-match interviews, Harbhajan has been a bit cagey about this. He hasn’t exactly denied the brutal attack, but he suggested something had happened but it not a “big issue”.

The fall-out has been cataclysmic. I quote the following from the BBC website:

“TV pictures showed Santh crying at the end of the game, which his side won.”

Indeed they do. Take a look for yourself.

I think you’ll agree that this is a priceless piece of video footage. This is an important addition to cricketing records.

Harbhajan has never been well-liked in AYALAC. But this moment of wisdom has recovered some of his lost esteem.

Every time Sreesanth graces my screen my sub-conscious, my consciousness, my Id and my knees all scream out: “He needs a slap.”

And today, their wish was delivered. Perhaps I should re-think my theological position?

Video 10: Incredible Sehwag, The

My rather late honouring of Virender Sehwag's recent achievements.

YouTube really butchered the sound quality of this one. I tried to upload a uncompressed version, but all was in vain. So, sorry for that. You are welcome to come to my house and watch the original.

Also, for those of you in the third world (France) I have uploaded this film to my Daily Motion page. (I'll try to upload the rest when I have time, too.)

[EDIT - NEW HIGH-QUALITY UPLOAD.]

BOR-RING!

Well, the inevitable happened. The lifeless pancake produced a predictably dull result. I blame the children.

After Virender Sehwagosaurus hit a surprisingly disappointing triple hundred, India collapsed to a mere six hundred and something. Then some Saffers scored some runs. But no one really cared at this point.

Not even Navjot Singh Sidhu.

This match was rather like a school Battle of the Bands. Only worse.

Now, take a batsman. There is probably a rough correlation between his success and his personal repulsiveness (statisticians, I’m looking for a little help here).

Like a lead singer, he probably has “charisma” and “a personality”, but take him away from the lime light and he just becomes your bog standard twat. Although, conversely, this actually increases his propensity for attracting the opposite sex.

But, for the purposes of this analogy I am willing to ignore women. They tend up to mess up most theories, I find.

Wicket keepers are your drummers: they are far too noisy and everyone wishes they’d just shut up. Look, if you really want to keep time, have a bloody triangle. But, they won’t listen – permanent damage to their ears (and brains).

Makhaya Ntini is the fat kid at the front of the audience. Occassionally, he would dance in time, but more often than not, he'd flail around just wide of the mark.

Medium pacers are your bass players. Sure, they’re good at putting the note in the right place, but no one really wants to talk to them.

Virender Sehwag is your lead guitarist who played that “amazing” solo that had all the kids talking for weeks. But the next day saw a series of bum notes, and so he smashed up his instrument and most of the bass player.

Spinners are your token trumpet players. Both trumpet players and spinners are cool. And sexy. But, strangely, this does not result in much interest from women. See what I mean? They bugger up the system.

Graeme Smith is the dad that volunteered to compere to tell them their time is up. They all hate Graeme Smith.

So, you see, if you think about this enough, you’ll see how this match was just like the battle of the bands.

Sehwag is the brown tape of the sellotape world

Virender Sehwag scored 300 and everyone is excited. This was perhaps one of the best innings in the history of test cricket. Not only because of the fierce heat and the ferocious strokeplay, but because so many people had written off Sehwag only a few months again.

And like your finest roll of brown tape, Sehwag calmly and efficiently covered everything with his shiny and strong cellulose-based, pressure-sensitive adhesive tape. Got the job done. Unlike pretanders Wasim “Masking Tape” Jaffer or Rahul “Duct Tape” Rahul, who only managed faintly sticky half centuries to Sehwag’s gloriously adhesive triple ton.

This was taping at its best. Exhibition taping.

To hit so cleanly, whilst playing so dangerously, rocks my tiny world. I assumed that this sort of play was reserved for the “quick fifty”, but, oh no, the Master of Taping turned my world upside down.

They who would craft a large innings over a period of time, I’m looking at you The Wall, scored substantially less than the Mighty Sehwag. They scored the half-centuries, whereas the biffer racked up a monster.

This makes no sense to me. I shall need a sit down to cope with this whole episode.

Suave reckons that our Virender will go on an beat Lara’s record. You know what, he might just be right.

Sehwag knows where his Weetabix is

Virender Sehwag is, of course, most famous for his firm and lusty backside. But he is starting to make a name for himself as a cricketer, nay, a batsman to boot.

In this role as batter of men, he scores runs for his team, which are called “innings”. Conventially, all the team to contribute to a score greater than their own. However, after a period out of the side, Sehwag has alterated the laws of mathematics to suit his own game.

In an unexpected turn, Sehwag has scored 250, whereas the Indian team has only managed 202. Although the other batsmen scored small, but nonetheless positive scores, commentators are at a loss to explain this development.

Jimmy de Range said:

“Oh. He’s played an alright innings. Although, they should probably think about replacing the scorers here. Or the physicists.”

We all know that Sehwag is mad. Scoring 250 off 220 isn’t really test cricket. Scoring more than the team is also crazy. What is he doing? What is going on?

The answer is: I don’t know.

Running away in India

South Africa are touring India. We should all be excited about this. These are two big teams with players that not only understand the rules, but can use them to their advantage, too.

However, the excitement ends when you see the pitch. The groundsman didn’t so much as roll it out, tend it and make love to it, as is the normal custom, but he went to the nearest Dutch Restaurant and ordered an extra lifeless pankcake for this pitch.

The results can be seen in the gaping mouths of fans across the world: Graeme Smith, Neil McKenzie and a man with an upside down head scored runs.

In the Indians reply, Virender “My Arse Is Suprisingly Firm” Sehwag has already blitzed his way to 52 from 61 in an unbroken partnership of 82.

This looks like an intriguing match, but, by gum, the bowlers will have to work hard.

Right, now, the real point of this post. I’m thinking of going to India for a holiday in August. I have never been before, have a limited understanding of Indian geography and have only modest smatterings of French, German and Swahili. These languages, I understand, are not widely spoken in India.

So, people of the great blogosphere, where should I go? What should I do? And how should I do it?