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:

Australia: the new England

Australia have lost. Rejoice! Rejoice!

Once again, they were dispatched with ease in another final. A sensibly numbered three-match final failed to reach the final game, such was Australia’s incompetence.

Leading commentator Barrie Fnugg (affectionately known to millions as “Fnuggy”) summed up the Ausslers performance:

“Bugger m’dingos! That was appalling. I’m so angry! It makes me forget my bewildering territorial rivalries and strange fascination for watered down beer. That was….that was like watching England.”

Although this parallel was noted by many spectators, most observed that England rarely reach the finals of any non-pub-related sport, and don’t have any players that are considered good.

The chief actor (or, as some would say, “architect”) of India’s victory over Australian was young Sachin Tendulkar. He thwonked his way to 117 to see India home in the first final (oxymoron? Or just moronic?) and bladdered 91 further runs in the final final.

If I was Indian, I would hunt him down and worship his toes, kidneys and knees. Although if he fails, I’ll be out with the effigies like a shot.

The Indians bowled well as a unit throughout the tournament, with four bowlers taking more than nine wickets each. In this match, another architect of India’s victory (perhaps “sub-contractor”?) was Praveen Kumar who took 4 wickets and bowled well at the nervy death.

The most gratifying fact is Ricky Ponting’s inability to play any form of cricket. In the ten ODIs he has played in 2008, he has averaged under 20. Leading analysts have categorised this development as “hilarious”.

So, there’s more pictures of Indians with trophies. If they continue at this rate, they might topple the Australians as “Number One Target For Jealousy and Unreasonable Abuse.”

That’s enough of words in parenthesis for one day, I think. Well done Sachin, the principal design engineer of modern Indian success. And the rest of your hangers-on.

Sachin Tendulkar: worthy of some respect

So, ol’ Sachin wangled his way to a 39th test century. Not bad. He receives the official AYALAC wink of approval.

The last Tendulkar run-glut I remember reading about was an account of his one-off game with a Cambridgeshire village team. Apparently, he more or less hit every ball for a nonchalant boundary. It wasn’t a Shahid Afridi onslaught, it was classic batting, or, in the words of an opponent,

“He just timed the pants off everything.”

Of course, he did go after Brenda Hogg a bit in this match, but it wasn’t slogging. And that is the genius of Tendulkar. If you or I wanted to beef some quick runs, we’d leap around the crease, close our eyes and throw everything we had in the vicinity of the ball. Of course, we’d pirouette onto the floor and cause much mirth.

But we mortals have no other option. There’s blind battering or Ol’ Trusty: the forward defensive.

Tendulkar, on the other hand, is aloof to all this unseemly bat flying. If he wants to score, he twinkles his toes into the perfect MCC manual position, and caresses the ball with effortless, pant-removing timing.

It is as if his poise at the crease naturally makes the ball seem slower, and others rubbisher. Although, when facing Hogg, even Shaun Tait would look a more elegant.

Sadly, this style had rather abandoned the Little Master as late, he was reduced to gritty innings in an almost constant rear-guard. People started talking about his bowling ability.

But this innings was like re-finding an old pack of chocolate biscuits that you forgot about, that needed to be eaten immediately lest they go off and whose existence were unknown to anyone else. Joy upon joy, Sachin is playing like a pack of chocolate biscuits again.

Not only that, but the pants that these Tesco’s Finest Biscuits removed were none other than Australia's. Ha! Take that, pants of Australia! Take that!

Hilariously, and rather honestly, Hogg admitted that Tendulkar hit his best ball for six. Although, rather like the heavy-set Suave thinks he can have most of the England team in a one-on-one death match, I would fancy my changes against Hogg’s best ball. (That is the ball which isn’t a long-hop, right?)

Ninety's plenty

I love watching India play Pakistan. It isn’t as fun as seal clubbing, but still a good laugh nonetheless.

India polished off Pakistan by six wickets, to take the series by 17-12. Two players nearly got centuries, but couldn’t be arsed with those last few runs. Predictably, Yuvraj Singh scored a fifty.

It was a strange old knock by Pakistan, which seemed to be always behind par and building “recovering partnerships”. India, conversely, seemed comfortably ahead of the rate, and built lots of “this is a piece of easy cricket” partnerships.

It’s nice to see someone other than Yuvraj score the runs for India. Sachin Tendulkar played imperiously and didn’t appear to be “winging it” as was his impression in England. Maybe he’s going to stick around for another few years to beat Murali’s record. But, it really shows you have scary the Indian ODI line-up has become.

Being English, I backed Pakistan as the underdogs, and when the third Indian wicket fell I thought “oh good, perhaps we’re in for a chance”. And then Yuvraj strolled in like a batting bastard from hell. It was all over within a twinkling of paedophile’s newly polished glass eye.

I wish the underdogs were less rubbish. But they always are. Just look at New Zealand.

It’s a good job that this serious is so reasonably short, otherwise the remaining matches would just be a meaningless bore.

Tendulkar: I’m just a temp

Weirdly reminiscent of the Ukes of Hazzard’s “Just a Temp” classic, Sachin Tendulkar has refused the imposition of further responsibility and said NO to the captaincy. Most people would say YES if they were offered the captaincy of their country. But, then again, most people aren’t Indians.

Niranjan Shah, the BCCI secretary, said in a statement.

"He [Tendulkar] was of the view that presently the Indian team was doing extremely well and the Board must think of appointing a younger person as the captain, looking at the future of the team."

Clearly, this is a weird thing to say, which obviously leads to the conclusion that Tendulkar is only in it for the free pens. A hero to cricket fanatics and work-shy temporary staff alike.

Now the BCCI has a bit of a problem. Rahul Dravid’s natural successor would be MS Dhoni, but most people that he needs another year’s test cricket before he can lead in the longer format. Once again, Indian cricket reels in chaos. Which, to be frank, is their standard way of managing things.

Throughout all this, there is an obvious solution, but concealed to all eyes. All but, of course, mine. Appoint Anil Kumble as captain.

“Wait! That’s crazy! You can’t appoint a bowler as captain. If you did that, the slip fielders would revolt.”

No, this wouldn’t happen you crazy, prejudice, ranting world. He’s the next most experienced player. He knows loads. He’s a spinner. And he’s been Official God here for ages. I have said before (sorry, can’t be bothered to link) that bowlers should be captains. But this time, I actually mean and I'm not just trying to pad out another blog.

Appoint Kumble. Really.

I would consider MS Dhoni, but, like Shane Watson, I think he has other unattractive features which are not suggestive of captaincy material.

Australia crushed like tiny shrimps

Continuing the theme of Antipodean sporting defeat, Australia were battered by the mighty Indians. Snapping defeat from the jaws of victory, the Aussos looked well set at 122-1, with the first hundred coming in just 13 overs. Both Matthew Hayden (92) and Andrew Symonds (75) looked dominant.

And then, for no particular reason, they lost. Not only did they lose, but they FAILED as well. Knowing this, humanity wept with joy and sacrificed many goats to the gods of justice and incompetence.

I rather suspect supernatural involvement. Unwittingly, the entire population of mankind (if you are feeling generous with your definitions, excluding Australians from this class) were sending a mental message to the boys in Tacky Yellow: Lose.

It appears to have rubbed off on the rugby too. Which is excellent.

Other noteworthy events was Sachin Tendulkar’s breaking of the most fifties in ODIs record. Surpassing Inzamam-ul-Haq's 83 by one. This isn’t bad. Especially by someone who has looked “out-of-sorts” for the last year or so.

When I look “out-of-sorts” it usually means I have to pull another sicky at work, and spend all day thinking about eating cornflakes. By Tendulkar goes out and breaks cricketing records. I am, in many ways, inferior to Tendulkar. I bet he doesn’t have his own blog though. Loser.