Pakistan spring forth from India’s can of worms

The ensuing madness that India have created has emboldened the Pakistan Cricket Board to request the ridiculous: Overturn the forfeited test.

Never mind the fact that it is only a year and a half late and unnecessarily re-opening old wounds, it’s just a bit daft. Can any imagine a possible world where the ICC would reverse its own rulings? Perhaps the key change in context is that subcontinental sides feel they can bully the ICC to do anything.

Well done India. You’ve completely cocked up international cricket. Nice one.

At the heart of this ridiculous series of events is the unsportsmanlike pressure behind the scenes. The ICC succumbed to Pakistan’s insistence that the ball tampering charges were dropped. Yet, despite the lack of any novel evidence to suggest that there was no interference with the ball and Daryl Hair’s maintained status as a “pukka bloke” by the ICC, the accusation was dropped.

Just how pathetic, derisible and shit the ICC is begs belief. Could they not foresee by granting Pakistan this impossible request that the PCB would inevitably move to annul that test match? Now the ICC has admitted that Inzy was right to protest a decision – so the match was unfairly forfeited. So, the only logical course of action is to annul the test.

Even though no new evidence has emerged and the ICC still considers Hair a reliable arbiter.

The ICC: installing confidence through incompetence.

I'd like to take this opportunity to honour my great blogging friend, the most unwormlike and tolerably opinionated J-Rod. If I had a real, live, proper cricket team, I'd definitely make him the side's photographer. Some of his shots are stunning.

West Indies: All your dreams are dead

Well, I say “dead”, it would be more accurate to say “killed”. Borrowing catch-phrases from a fellow internet phenomenon aside, there was something cute about the resurgent West Indies.

Their recent success wasn’t an arrogant dispatching of the Saffers, but a boy’s own tale of team spirit and happy-go-lucky cricket. From this, the world wondered if they could resurrect their 1980s confidence. However, the South Africans effortlessly crushed all these hopes in Durban.

Disappointment is part of the Proteas’ natural game. Much like the Four Eyed Monsters film, which promised heart and quirky charm, but only delivered unendurable, introspective whining. Of course, South Africa don’t so much as whine the elbows off you, but rather, they gradually dismember your optimism, extract your joy for the world and leave your happiness a shrivelled, moist lump.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not like this guy, I don’t hate South Africa. They’re not like Australia. It’s just that they’re beating the underdog, indeed, they’re slaying the puppies.

After bowling the Windies out for 132, South Africa finished the day on 213 for 1. Graeme “Smug Saffer Number Seven” Smith managed to biff his day into a rapid century.

Even the creaking and newly recalled Shaun Pollock eased to 4-35 from his 11 overs.

What this means is that the West Indies’ are back to where they were a few months ago: rubbish. OK – they’ve had a few injuries that denied that competitiveness. But, at this level, you have to have some depth in your squad. Depending on a handful of key men will lead to disaster.

I like towels.

Windies defend their last international cricketer

After the ensuing insanity pants which resulted in the indefinite canning of Steve Bucknor, the West Indies Cricket Board have hit back.

Julian Hunte, WICB President, wrote an angry letter to the ICC.
He condemned the ditching of Bucknor as “extreme”. Not as in skate boarding on a collapsing glacier extreme, more planting daffodils next to snow drops extreme. Another irritated party in this happy episode of pisspoor public relations and insipid administration.

"There is no question that even the best umpires make mistakes. They are human and there are circumstances which may affect their judgement. What worries us is whether the action of the ICC in the case of Bucknor might create even more problems for the ICC and international cricket down the line."

The press has lapped up this ever-growing debacle. I noticed that it was page five in yesterday’s (London) Financial Times and page three news in the Guardian. This is no mean feat, in the context of American primaries, a collapsing Kenya and continued Pakistani bonkerness. Only cricket can cause such an international firestorm. One wonders whether it is a sport at all, and not some sort of geopolitical death match.

I heard Navjot Singh Sidhu give an interview on the radio last night. He pointed out that world create is “dependent” upon sub-continental revenues and, as such, “India rules the roost.” This means that India should get its way in all matters; racism be hanged. This, more or less, is exactly what happened.

The ICC, ever conscious bean-counters, trembled at the BBCI’s chest-beating, and caved in. Consequently, they have annoyed the West Indies, Australia and tacitly condoned racism.

Glad to see world cricket in splendid health.

Oh no, they got Bucknor

Well, next victim in this elasticated rollercoaster of insanity pants is Steve Buckner. One of the most loved umpires in international cricket, Bucknor delighted millions by apparently doing nothing.

It takes a great man indeed to inspire such loyalty through sloth.

As well as his apathetic approach to the game, he also was a good judge. Never roused. Never riled. Never seemingly interested much in cricket. Weirdly, he was charismatic in his quiet way.

And now the sub-continental madness has subsumed this noble figure. Of course, Bucknor made a series of unfortunate mistakes; India bizarrely claim turned the match decisively in Australia’s favour, but we all have off days.

With Daryl Hair’s recent deposition, the infallibility of umpires’ is beginning to crumble. First, technology robbed them of their omniscience and now cocky players and have-a-go boards are stripping their omnipotence.

Cricket is a game that stands on respect: for the spirit and for its institutions. Australia did their bit by destroying the spirit, and now the sub-continental teams and steadily undermining its institutions.

Cricket is supposed to be aloof to petty concerns about minor events and “winning” – it is about conducting yourself in a gentlemanly manner. Now all we have left is high political intrigue in the ICC and Shane Warne’s marriages.

Perhaps the Empire was wrong to export it? Damned natives can’t be trusted with it.

What the hell is going on?

In an unexpected move, the world has reportedly “gone mad” today, with the collapsing in the laws of logic.

The integrity of reason first began to disintegrate in the final moments of the second test of the Australia/India series. In a suspicious series of events, Michael Clarke was awarded responsibility in knocking over the last three Indian batsmen with two remaining overs. He decided to stretch the tension, by single-handedly wrapping up the Indian innings in the last over of the match.

During the bad natured game, in which India placed a novel accusation at Australia’s door by calling them “cheats”, Harbhajan Singh allegedly racially abused Andrew Symonds. Mike Procter, the match referee, ruled at the end of a four-hour hearing that Harbhajan had breached Level 3 of the ICC's Code of Conduct. He was consequently served with a three-match ban.

In a mature move, the Indians accused Brad Hogg of “using offensive language” and another hearing is likely.

It was reported by the BBC this morning that, not only is the BCCI appealing against the verdict, but they are also pulling out of the remainder of the tour in protest. I was a little surprised. Hissy fits are not unknown in India, but this was a huge toy ejected from a gargantuan pram.

Now, the Indians claim that these were only “rumours” and that the tour is going ahead. Which means, it’s ok, because someone from the ICL collected the toy and sent it back from whence it came.

Whenever India do anything, really, anything at all, it will be imbued with bonkerness. Nothing seems to be straightforward over there. It’s like the PCB has stapled insanity pants permanently on them.

We could appoint a sensible coach – nah, we’ll pick some bloke who’s once coached his way to Durban. We’re above twenty20 – sod it, we’ll win the world championship. We could have a twenty20 tournament - oh wait, we’ll go mental and divide world cricket instead.

What the hell? WHAT THE HELL!

Come on, Tim!

In a rather surprising development, Matt Prior has been dropped. Generally, I don’t like Matt Prior; he’s a bit of a twat, really. But paradoxically, I’m not too keen on this decision.

I’m in agreement with Angus Fraser when he says:

“It is easy to call for Prior’s head and those who do would have little idea of how physically demanding it is to keep wicket in such heat in back-to-back tests… Prior is a very capable cricketer and he deserves one more opportunity to show that he can do it.”

Indeed, he certainly proved himself with the bat: scoring the fourth highest in the recent Sri Lanka tour. Overall he averages over 40 and scored a century in his debut.

OK – he dropped about a million catches in Sri Lanka, but he’s not exactly the only player to under-perform in difficult conditions.

Compare Prior’s treatment to Geraint Jones’. Jones scored a century early in his career, and that, despite uncertain keeping, got him about three years of ECB support. Prior, who looks dominant with the bat, gets the boot after about half a year after one dubious tour.

Harsh, unfair and, frankly, arbitrary. Choosing Ravi Bopara over Owais Shah was another mistake. But why, when with even my dodgy foresight, did they not see the overwhelming argument in favour of Shah’s inclusion. Why so? I wonder if these “brave decisions” might have anything to do with the Selectors having to apply for their own jobs again? Justifying your existence with feck-brained decisions may not be the best approach to secure your position.

Anyway, who’s this young Tim Ambrose fellow? He averages in the mid-thirties with the bat, and not as many drops as Prior with the gloves. He first rose to prominence with a double century against Cobden second XI last season. He seems competent enough but, to be honest, I don’t think he’s going to much different.

The England keeping debate will not find resolution for some years. There are a lot of “quite good” keepers at county-level, but all of whom are only “mediocre” at best when playing test matches. May as well stick with one and hope he improves, you would think. Oh no. Let’s drop the bugger and try another one for three months.

Angel of Cruelness intervenes in Cape Town

The West Indies have played superbly in this tour. Not only did their new captain, Chris Gayle, lead them to a handsome 126-run victory over South Africa in the first game of the series, but the Windies are battling hard in this match too.

During their tour of England, the buzz word in the Windies camp was “capitulation”. All aside from the god-like Shivnarine Chanderpaul and always lively Dwayne Bravo, the team looked hopeless and were deservedly battered.

The most saddening element of their loss was the totally ineptitude of their bowling attack – a once terrifying squadron of batsman-eaters, deflated into a feeble dud’s army.

Yet, from the pits of ineffectiveness, their bowlers suddenly skittle the Saffers for only 195 in Port Elizabeth – with that man Bravo taking four wickets.

The West Indian all-rounder galvanised his side once again with three quick wickets during his marathon 24-over spell. His over-use was indicative of a crippling problem in the Windies’ attack: an epidemic of crockitis.

Jerome Taylor and then Fidel Edwards both received injuries. Although Taylor eventually recovered, Edwards is out for the remainder of the match. With Daren Powell bowling his usual mix of threatening wides and under-cooked half-volleys, Gayle was forced to turn to some part-timers.

Letting the Proteas of the hook. If their attack was fully stocked the Saffers would be struggling to save the follow on. It would be naïve and foolhardy to say that the Windies are back. But it is this blogger’s hopeful, desperate belief that The Windies Are Back, Baby.

2008: proving as predictably depressing as 2007

Well, just as you think that India might create an interesting match against Australia, the Ausslers grind out a strong position and begin to press home their own advantage.

The seemingly effortless success of those bastards is all the proof I need for the non-existence of god.

New years always start badly for me. First, you struggle with verticality. Can I do it? After hours of trying you manage this feat, by sitting upright in bed, trying not to fall on the ceiling. Most of the day is spent man-handling yourself into your trousers and seeing whether you can cope with a cup of tea.

After two day’s recovering, I decided to look up the cricket score. I think that this reckless act reversed all progress on my condition, sending me staggering back to bed with a grey illness. This is what Australia does for you.

V.V.S. Laxman, however, like a bad joke, keeps repeating the same, desperate rear-guard in the SCG. His century improved my mood a little. But, you already feel that, once the Ausslers take the advantage, they do not yield it.

It is interesting to note that, if Zaheer Khan was playing, Australia would probably been skittled for less that 200. It is even more interesting to note that if my dead Aunt Gwendolyn was an Indian out-fielder, they’d probably be all out for 150. Sadly, the BCCI opted for hopeless butterfingers instead of my expired relative. A mistake that they never seem to learn from.

With a little intent and some well-time injuries, India may squeeze a draw from this match. I have my well-stabbed Bret Lee voodoo doll at the ready. It’s never worked in the past. Although, when my little niece started inviting it to her tea-parties, the Australian fast bowler started releasing pop songs. It would make for an interesting match if I invited little Sarah over for some Earl Grey tomorrow.

2007 in words

This is the last post of 2007. Scary thought, isn’t it? Your life dripping away, and all you have to speak for are a few incoherent thoughts on the internet. Well, today I will put that right. I shall review each international team in turn and say whether this year has been good or not.

Australia

The Ozzlers had an alright year, I suppose. If I remember correctly, they lost no test matches. Although, the highlight of their year was losing to Zimbabwe. That was fantastic. They also received a hilarious battering by New Zealand. “AHAHAHA” I said.



Bangladesh

To be honest, Bangladesh are still crap. Although, they did ok in the World Cup – getting into the Super Sevens or whatever it was called. They seem content to be “alright” at ODIs but as useless as fetid dingo kidneys at test match cricket.



England

Don’t get me started about that lot.



India

Another year, another yearn for the past, another failure to achieve their potential. Of course, they won the twenty20, but that’s a bit like winning a tap-dancing competition. Sure, it requires skill but you wouldn’t tell your mates about it. They also beat England. On the domestic front, the ICL thing seems to be fading out - like the careers of its players.



Pakistan

Pakistan look great. Always have; always will. Although, they were embarrassingly evicted from the World Cup by a country of happy drunks, 2007 was a year of “rebuilding”. They still have some awesome players, but they have a new captain and plenty of young blood. These new brooms acted as obliging cannon fodder to India in one of their many series.



New Zealand

I don’t really know what to say about these. OK – they got into the World Cup semis. OK – they thrashed Australia. They have some good players. But, you know, they’re really rubbish. Fortunately, so are England, so 2008 promises a superb battle of the retards. I am also keen to advise them, as well.



South Africa

Felt like they should have won the World Cup, or the Twenty20, or a raffle contest. Instead, they decided to sit about and tell the world how great they are. The world replied by pulling on the choke chain. And then laughed at them. They also dropped their best player for a bit.



Sri Lanka

These guys are great. The island has the population of Milton Keynes and produces the best batsman and bowler in the world. The rest of them aren’t bad, either. They managed to get into the final of the World Cup. They also beat England.


West Indies

Lost against England and then won again. Didn’t win the World Cup. Still look pants. Won a game against South Africa causing the whole world to go crazy.


Other note-worthy things

Jason Gillespie scored a double hundred for Yorkshire.

I discovered Sluggo.

And dancing. And jigging. And other pretty pictures.

Ayalac gained not one, but two guest bloggers.

I lead a campaign at the ECB to install Matthew Hoggard as captain. I even told them how to win the World Cup. Although, I didn’t bring that up when I met Paul Collingwood.

England were also unexpectedly and deservedly attacked by various animals in their recent series in Sri Lanka. They also lost. Like a bunch of knackered cretins.


Lovely cricket bloggers held a nice birthday party for me, celebrating the wonder of spin bowling.


And that’s my 2007. Happy New Year everyone!

Bring back Jardine

The question I want to answer today is: just how mad was Douglas Jardine?

Among the assortment of dubious ties and suspicious socks, I was given a book for Christmas that can finally answer that question. The Game of Cricket by “Many Authorities” include some interesting and bonkers essays by a D. R. Jardine, former England captain.

Jardine, of course, is famous for trying to maim and kill as many Australians as possible in the ultimately successful Bodyline campaign.

Donald Bradman, for instance, had a promising career ahead of him, before Jardine personally took the new ball and beat “that little bastard” to death with it.

This is a laudable aim. The Antipodes is an area apt for a little culling here and there. Fine. Worthy of an MBE, etc. etc.

However, where I lose track of Jardine’s murderous thought-process is the introduction of organised slaughter into a game to which my Swedish friend refers to, “that game Englishmen play on the lawn, like croquet or bowls”. Although, ending your neighbour’s days is a novel way of livening up afternoon tea.

To quote the former England captain directly, he suggests some reforms to improve the sport:

“There is nothing wrong with cricket if by cricket we mean the body generally; certain limbs need pruning … both in the quantity and duration in and at which it is played to-day may need reform.”

The “limbs” to which he referred were soon amputated in Brisbane Distract Hospital, after he ordered his silly mid-on to gnaw off appendages of strong front-foot players.

For some reason, maybe he was too clever or something, the Australian public didn’t take to this giant man. He received much unfair criticism from the crowds. He waves off such foolishness with the typical aplomb inherent in every non-Ian Botham Englishman:

“Cricket when all is said and done is a game for twenty-two people, and no game that I know of, unless community singing be a game, is improved by thirty or forty thousand people endeavoring to take part in it.”

Quite so, old bean. Well said. Kill them all, I say. Damned natives.

Of course, no Bodyline blog would be complete without my second favourite exchange in cricketing history:

"They don't seem to like you very much over here, Mr Jardine." Jardine replied, "It's fucking mutual."

And on that spirit of anti-Australianness, let me leave you a little riddle:

Q: What’s the difference between Australia and a pot of yoghurt?

A: If you leave the yoghurt long enough, it’ll eventually grow its own culture.

Eating cricket

Thank the gods that’s over with.

The worst thing about Christmas is the lingering feeling of guilt. Yes Mum, I know we have barely spoken and I have been a terrible son to you for a year, but let me make it up by chopping some carrots. What’s that? I’m making an awful job of it? Maybe I can help you most by sitting in front of the telly? Oh, Finding Nemo is on.

Then, once your annual offspringly duties are fulfilled, you can happily retreat to your seat and continue with your quiet experiment: Can Bailey’s Get You Drunk?

Anyway, it is reassuring to discover that it is possible to engage in physical activity immediately after Christmas. The Australians, proving their super-human powers, are cracking on with a test match on Boxing Day, no less.

Now, I have seen Matthew Hayden. He has splodged himself on my television screen many a time. He is not a man to say no to that extra mince pie. Not only can he brush away those chocolate wrappers from about his person and manage to lift himself out of his armchair, but he can even go out-side and stand at some wickets. I have heard rumours that he’s even running from one wicket to another, some 22 yards away. These are obvious lies.

This doesn’t surprise me. There is a lot of lying around the festive period. Like, “Aunty Jane, how lovely to see you” or “Father Christmas is going to get you something nice.” You just have to get used to it.

Wonderfully, Shivnarine Chanderpaul has scored a century to put the West Indies in a strong position against South Africa. This is great news. I like Chanders. If he does something half decent in the next innings, we might have a change of God.

Not only does he more or less single-handedly prop out the Windies line-up, but he grinds the opposition down with his remorselessly weird shots. And lo! I rejoice with much happiness.

It is a joy akin to discovering that, after much dedication and patience, not only is it possible to inebriate using Bailey’s, but its effects are pleasingly similar to acid. Although, it does rather make your family nervous about next Christmas, when one of their kin locks himself into the bathroom for a few hours to stare at the “really cool” patterns on the soap dish.

The animals’ series

(This will probably be the last post for a while; I’ll be off for Christmas week – so no getting angry at me.)

Weather permitting, England can look forward to a solid day’s worth of forward defensives tomorrow. As I have mentioned many times, the negativity of playing for a draw is a great thrill to me. Rather like going to the toilet on a moving train, desperate rear-guards mix anxiety with excitement. “Will I get my trousers wet, or won’t I?”

England’s last innings was beyond a shambles. They transcend rubbish. They are meta-rubbish.

But enough of that, let’s have a cheery Christmas post.

The one winners of this series have been the animals. As previously reported on Ayalac, matches have been disrupted by dogs, snakes, bees and Matthew Hoggard.

Their enthusiasm for cricket should not be ignored. We should give them playing equipment and a chance to shine. Here is an England animal team:

Graham Pooch
*Len Mutton
Allan Lamb
Rob (Mon)Key
Phillip Pronghorn
Jonathan Trot
+Jack Russell
Graeme Swann
Jeremy Snake
Peter House Martin
Andrew Haddock

A good adversary for the Tigers, I think.

As a Christmas treat, here’s a video of my local Member of Parliament, showing the stateliness of his ancient position and value for my tax money.





You all have a lovely Christmas. Don’t get too depressed. Drink and eat too much, and I’ll see you on the other side. Cheerio!

Ah, Humiliation, my old friend.

Well. Just when you thought that the viscous, pulsating flow of faeces that constitutes life couldn’t get any thicker, the England cricket team thicken the mix by collapsing to 21 all out.

It looked really shaky, at one point. We lost six wickets for only three runs. But we recovered to a stronger position when Ulbator Choobleton worked his magic on the skies. But lo! Even England Chief Raining Coach was having a shocker, and we were dismissed in short time.

For those of us waking up to the news that the country of our birth is incapable of producing (or importing) a single decent cricketer are familiar with the bad mood that pertains.

It’s not just a little annoyed disposition. By way of constrast, say you’ve hit “back” on a site, but, because it has some infuriating ad thing you remain on the page. So you have to launch a frenzied attack upon the back button to get anywhere. And then you usually end up on your home page. (I mean really people, how could that possibly constitute effective marketing? You aren’t even directed to another site. You just sit there. What? What are you thinking?)

No. After that you remain annoyed for about two seconds, before you realise that the little “back” button has a drop-down, that could have effortless obviated this problem. Of course, you’ll always forget this convenient fact, and the frustration will return.

But the point is this: the annoyance is temporal. Whereas England’s river of poo is permanent. Occasionally, it empties into a clear, clean lake. But it won’t be long before the pristine waters are contaminated by sewage.

Observe Pratty Prior’s technique here. Just look at him. He’s a broken man. I heard that he has dropped six catches off Ryan Hairybottom alone during this tour. Prior isn’t a bad player. At least, he wasn’t before he joined the England team.

Another is Kevin Pietersen. When he burst onto the scene he openly declared his ambition to be the best batsman in the world. Some applauded his motivation, others thought him a twat, some of us even believed him.

But how long has it taken for the grinding drudgery of all things English to crush his aspiration and obliterate his spirits? I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you the answer to the question.

No time.

Stop the melon

I’m not happy today. This morning, as I was making my famous way through Tower Hill Station, I was accosted by what can only be described as a “Community Support Officer”.

“Ho!” said he, “Stop! I must search your bag.”
“No.” said I, “I’m late for work.”
“I don’t care,” said he, “I’m searching your bag.”

And, so he did; whilst his colleague directed asinine questions about my ethnicity towards my bored personage. After a sufficient proportion of my dignity had been removed (apparently, the line is drawn at examining the contents of potential terrorists’ lunchboxes) the original bastard proclaimed, “all clear!” Can you believe that? All clear? What was he worried about? Exploding sandwiches?

Anyway, I wish that someone stopped and searched Michael Vaughan’s brain before he decided to put Sri Lanka into bat.

No one has any idea how this brand new pitch is going to play. And, as such, don’t you think that it would be sensible if we tried to avoid facing Murali on this untested track on the fifth day?

I accept that England have to make the move to draw the series. But acts of spell-binding stupidity and maddeningly unorthodox gimmicks are occasional companions on Vaughan’s curious journey through the captaincy.

You know, this reminds me of the scale of political ideology. The more you move away from the right wing, you are strangely compelled to fascism. You hop from Nazism, conservatism, liberalism, socialism and then, before you know it, you’re Joseph Stalin and a total fascist. Similarly, if you try to be too clever, you end up being a melon.

“Why put in two slips,” he thinks, “when I cam have two short mid-wickets instead.” This is melon-talk, I’m afraid. Melon-talk.

Harmison: oh go on then

I have repeatedly campaigned for Steve Harmison to be dropped and forgotten forever. Sometimes the ECB listens to the first part of my advice, but, crucially, ignores the latter.

However, in my old age, and the festive spirit, I have deemed to allow Harmison to play one more game. He did alright at the Sinhalese Sports Ground, I suppose. He didn’t take many wickets, but he did provide the English attack with the “cutting edge”.

Never mind the fact that bugger all was cut, and we spend most of the time collecting balls from the boundary.

I have accepted that my Chris Tremlett fantasy is a bit of a pipe dream. Plus, he’d probably not add too much to the equation. We have all accepted that we need three swingers and one bouncy bowler. And Monty.

Although, this deranged observer reckons we should drop the Sikh of Tweak for Graeme Swann! Graeme Swann!

Cricket: the cure for Christmas shopping

I saw David Aaronovich in Covent Garden yesterday, whilst I was Christmas shopping. An Incredible Happening indeed. (Actually, he's not so incredible, and annoying. But hey, it's time to be generous.) Judging by the directionless scowl on his face, he was worrying about Matthew Hoggard’s fitness.

You see, that’s what we’re thinking about this Christmas: cricket. Bugger mum’s book; the sister’s socks and dad’s…whatever the hell it is you think of this year, what we’re worried about is the possibility of losing second place.

Christmas, for me, used to be a time of suffering and fear. What on earth am I supposed to get this year? Why can’t they just leave me alone and stop demanding things from me.

But then, I came across the England tour. Suddenly, from the pits of winter, a little summer warmth emerged. Of course, the results of England foreign adventures were just as depressing as being a paper boy in the snow, but there was something to hold on to. I don’t mind holding on to someone else’s shit. Not if it is Michael Atherton’s.

Yesterday, I went in search of a newspaper to read something about cricket over some lunch. Stupidly, I did so in Soho, expecting there to be a shop that sold something remotely useful. I was stymied.

So, I went to get some lunch anyway. I went to a little café place. It claimed to sell pies. I ordered my pie and offered a card for payment. “Sorry sir,” the bastard said “we don’t accept cards. There is a hole-in-the-wall machine just over there.”

So, just as they were putting my lunch in the oven, off I went and, upon inspecting the ATM, decided that I would just go and buy a copy of The Cricketer and read it in a place that acknowledged the advent of the modern world not by putting cherry bloody tomatoes and random sprinkles of green on a perfectly good pie but by taking a debit card.

It just shows you, if you try to do something that is unrelated to cricket you are doing it wrong.

I hope my pie caught fire and burn down that place. Serves those corporate hippies right.

By the way: we've got some new links on the Spinning Party. Check 'em out at the bottom.

Does anyone remember what winning’s like?

Don’t answer that question if you are an Australian. You people can’t possible understand the meaning of “winning”. Not like us losers.

I think my last memory of success was beating that old women to the last seat on the train a few months ago. Since then, it has been a baron, numbing existence.

The nearest thing that England get to victory is a draw. The nation greeted England’s latest achievement of not making a total pig’s ear of it as a major cause for celebration. The BBC Radio 4 programmers have been on a marathon bender since Paul Collingwood blocked the last ball of the day. All of tomorrow’s broadcasts are cancelled. Well, not if you consider white noise and pained groaning you perfect idea of an Archer’s episode.

I think we pretty much have to accept this tour as a write-off. Let’s give it to the Lankans and concentrating on not cocking up against the Kiwis. That would be truly humiliating, and I would have to consider more seriously my allegiance to China.

Although, in fairness, it was rather like Sri Lanka resigned this test to a draw as well. “Look”, they collectively asked, “can anyone actually be bothered?” There could only be one answer to such a question. So, they proceeded to waste an entire day batting like a hermit crab with a broken stick, and failed to force the win.

England gratefully accepted this let off. And the fans dutifully turned off in droves. All excepting the barmy army. Who were pissed.

In other news, didn’t Chamara Silva bowl well? I liked the look of him. He’ll look like a useful, dare I say it, Jayasuriya-type figure for years to come. He’s also a spinner. Which automatically makes him cool.

And, for the first time in 33 years, England’s openers scored century partnerships in both innings. Openers are my favourite sort of batsman, and there is something mathematically pleasing when the first wicket partnership is a big one. It’s like a righted jumper.

I’m worried about Monty

There is something wrong. This is an innate, perhaps even distant, anxiety. Like unwittingly putting a jumper on the wrong way around – you are vaguely aware of the world being disrupted, but it’s not worth going to the doctors about. Eventually, a mocking friend points out your mistake and the universe is brought into order. Today, I am that friend.

One component of England’s seemingly ineffective attack is Monty Panesar. Although he is England’s leading wicket-taker (with 8 (Hoggard has 6; Murali has 14)), if we are to be honest without ourselves, the Sri Lankan batsman are untroubled by the Luton spinner. Those wickets he did take were, in the main, tail-enders (I count 5/8).

Moreover, even though he has been generally economical (going for three an over) he has only bowled 16 maidens. By my calculations, he bowls a maiden every 6.8 overs (Murali takes 3.4 to do likewise; Hoggard takes 4). In conditions where you seriously consider deploying two spinners, this is not good enough.

We all love Monty; he’s great. But there is much to criticise. His batting and fielding are just about passable.

But these weaknesses reveal a wonderful quality in Monty: his ability to improve his game. When he first entered our consciousness, his batting was appalling and his fielding derisible. But now, after working incredibly hard, he is now able to support an upper-order batsman in a handy late partnership and even effect match-changing run-outs.

But now Monty needs to slow down, and perhaps think a little more deeply about his game. Undoubtedly, he has an admirable work ethic, but his bowling doesn’t lack effort, he just needs to put some more thought into his deliveries.

He has always emphasised the importance of getting the ball “in the right areas”. He is very good at achieving this objective– just look at this. But, at this level, accuracy is not enough; you need to outfox your opponent. Vary your pace, change the loop, alter the spin or Warne the hell out of the batsman.

He is doing these things, obviously, but it is lacking direction and predatory intent. Rather, there is something mechanical about his approach. He has heaps of talent, but, if we look at lesser bowlers, like Stuart Clark, we notice that talent is not everything.

Monty needs to integrate these other, more crafty sides of bowling into his arsenal. Once he does (and he will ECB, you hear? Leave him alone) he’ll be better than free pens.

Thanks to all contributors to yesterday's party. Sometimes, I wonder if it is the links to other blogs are the best thing about Ayalac.

The Ayalac Festival of Spin

Spontaneously, and quite unexpectantly, the cricket blog community has collectively noticed my anniversary and celebrated my greatness with some lovely posts on spin bowling. Thanks chaps.

We're a year old today (ish) so bring on the cake!
First off, King Cricket has written an interesting narrative on his internal struggle to cope with Shane Warne’s greatness.

Jrod, recognising that I had no friends, kindly filled the void by writing no less than four pieces on spin.

• Why the pain of living under Shane Warne’s shadow can be a mixed blessing. No. That’s not true. It’s just rubbish.
• Why some Kenyan I have never heard of is brilliant. A 3-7 against Australia is pretty good, I suppose.
• Why leg spinners are from another planet. “Bishen Bedi probably has his own solar system.”
• Why leg spinners are cool. As if the answer isn’t obvious.

Cricket with Balls is truly a great little blog. More perverts should write about cricket.

Marty, of Cricket=Action=Art, one of the most original and attractive cricket blogs, has contributed three wonderful pictures. One old, another less old and one of a fearsome action of yore. Great stuff.

Samir Chopra, from Eye on Cricket, reveals all in his interview with the great Murali.

Patrick Kidd tells us about his encounter with the mighty Neil Edwards (not, not the Somerset champion; apparently, this one's an accountant).

If anyone has anything they'd like to add, please give me a bell.

Facing spin bowling is a nightmare. It’s much harder to face than facing fast bowling. You have a simple plan when up against a quick: don’t make eye contact and try not to whimper as the bowler approaches the crease. When the ball is delivered, leap backwards and towards leg-side, leaving your bat free to flail widely at the ball. This may allow you to deflect it over the slips, but, if you’re lucky, you’ll nick it to the keeper, enabling you to scuttle to the safety of the pavilion.

Spin bowling, on the other hand, is impossible. Running away is not an option. You simply have to stand there, and helplessly watch the ball spin into your stumps.

Spin bowlers are great. Spin bowling is great. Hurrah for all things rotational!

Update: David from Harrow Drive (yes, the one with the cheesy grin) has offered up a brilliant article on how to bowl like Ray Illingworth. It's full of tips that are actually usual. In that regard, this blog is unique.

Marty from the wonderful cricket=lust=pornography has created another cryptic spinning image. Who could it be?

Do umpires make England rubbish?

No. We do the hard work ourselves.

The recent flurry of dodgy umpiring decisions has galvanised the technophiles, and they are once again calling for increased use of the Third Umpire in adjudicating appeals.

Alastair Cook fell to a shocker, and Kevin Pietersen may feel rightfully upset. This, coupled with the freak dismissal of Michael Vaughan and the loss of Ravi Bopara, who should never been out there, leaves England feeling persecuted and hard-done-by.

The England captain has said in an interview,

“Those bastards! I’ll kill them! Why do we get the dodgy decisions, why do we get attacked by killer bees? Why us? It’s not fair! IT’S NOT FAIR!”

However, despite this, King Cricket thinks that these decisions didn’t affect the match. And that corresponds with my general mistrust of technology.

Here, I’m lazy tonight; let’s quote an old post of mine:

“Not only will [the increased use of technology] act to further undermine the field umpires confidence and authority on the pitch, but it also has the potential to reduce the quality of umpiring in the long-term. If the umpires give a decision based on their immediate thoughts, knowing that poor judgement can be corrected, we might develop a culture of dependence.”

Weirdly, I haven’t changed my views since then. Actually, the more I read of that blog, the more I agree with it. That bloke talks a lot of sense. Technology is pants.

I think this is because I hate all things technological. My copy of Word at work is completely buggered, and IT refuses to do anything about it. So I’ll be damned if I’d help the IT sector in any way by advocating its continual interference into the noble game.

That’s cricket, by the way.

Anyway, make sure you have a look at the blog tomorrow… I have some special treats for you tomorrow…oooooh….

England: psychologically ill-equipped for success

England, feeling pity for their toiling Ceylonese chums, and remorse for doing so well in their recent test match at the Singhalese Cricket Club, decided to give away whatever advantage they gained.

By contrast, Sourav Ganguly, an Indian, when he’s on top he rams home the advantage by relentlessly battering his way to a double hundred. England, on the other hand, are happy to simper out into the sunset.

In an interview, England captain Michael Vaughan said,

“Well, it’s like this: we rolled up to Colombo in a satisfactory “under-dog” position, ready for a plucky, British come-back, and upon enacting that spirited recovery, we rather, well, you know, we felt sorry for winning and held a vote and decided to sort of let Sri Lanka win.”

There was some gestures toward out-cry by the press, but Vaughan was only saying what every Englishman thinks. We don’t like winning. Victory on the field is like beating your dad at chess, you want to do it, you yearn to do it, but when you do, you are overcome with a strange guilt. Perhaps it’s best just to lose, we think. Avoid all that unseemly smugness.

This, I deeply suspect, is a pervasive and sub-conscious presence that guides all Englishmen’s actions. We have the loser gene. Look at football, Eurovision, primary school results, etc.

There are some players that have had intensive shovel-around-the-head therapy, enabling them to turn off this gene – take Ian Botham. Others have evaded it through foreignness – take Kevin Pietersen. The rest of us, however, irresistibly follow instinct. Trying to fight it is foolish. You’ll just go all Matt Priory, and no one wants that.

Not even Matt Prior's mum.

No, it’s best just to accept failure. This is why English beer is the best in the world – we have so many opportunities to drown our sorrows.

By the way, the answer to the last blog’s question was, inevitably, overpoweringly, crushingly, “no”.

Will a deranged Tremlett crawl back into the side?

Before the match in Kandy, I was a little worried that picking three swing bowlers may not be the best plan. I wanted Stuart Broad to “add something different”. The extra ingredient may have been chump sandwiches for the Lankan batsmen for all we know, but I’ll be smug nonetheless.

Seeing as Matthew Hoggard has broken his aging body, a replacement has become necessary. Normally, I would happily have picked the youngster.

However, with the benefit of some time and thought, I have come to wonder a little about Broad. Perhaps Sri Lanka is not ideal debut territory (Paul Collingwood didn’t flourish here when he started). Plus, Broad has looked OK but not terrifying.

So, if not Broad, then who? Well, there is, of course, an immediately available option. But that is too terrible to contemplate further.

This pretty much leaves one international class bowler standing: Chris Tremlett. Not only is that Hampshire quick a handsome fellow, but he’s also handy with the bat.

But the “thing” about Tremlett is that he’s a good bowler. Off a short run up, he hits the deck hard and generates bounce. He is difficult to play.

I was very impressed with his performance against the Indians, although he did look patchy in patches, but nonetheless, I felt annoyed when I heard that Durham geezer got in the squad ahead of Tremlett’s proven talent.

On the hard pitches and oppressive atmosphere in the matches to come I think that Ryan Hairybottom and James Anderson will break down. My man Tremlett won’t, though. He’ll get a few five-fors, I wager.

I have no evidence for this. It’s just a casual wager, you see.

The future is Red

Let us find new heros. The country of my birth, England, isproving to be more rubbish than Darth Vader could possibly have imagined, so I looking about for some alternatives.

(JRod suggested that neither New Zealand or Sri Lanka were good enough for test cricket and should merge. Given recent developments, perhaps England are in the same boat – they should merge with Bangladesh maybe?)

So who to support? Obviously all the test playing nations are taken. I would support Sluggo, but I have too much love to give for just one man. I would pick a Pimmy, but they're worse than England. I need a team with a future; a team with a plan; a team that intends to take over the world.

That team is China.

In 2005 the Chinese Ministry of Sport decided that it would be a major force in world cricket by 2020 in qualifying as a test nation. Apparently, there are 115 teams in China, giving, roughly, 1725 players a game. In 2004 there were none. At this rate of development they will have 22 thousand players by 2020. That is more than the population of Twickenham. Frightening, isn’t it?

With their almost cruel training regimes and crushing political pressure, they are sure to perform at an international level. I would even fancy their chances against Australia. Although, I am a little worried about coping with their names. That might be awkward.

Perhaps not, though, we have handled Ko Ling Wud and Mon Tee Pan Sar without difficultly.

70 Chinese having taken a course in cricket coaching. It has taken on, it seems, to quote one Zhang Yufei, 15, from Beijing Zhichunli High School,

“I’m crazy about cricket. I train three times a week at school. My greatest wish is to play against foreign teams and defeat them.”

Which, funnily enough, the aim of many other Chinese institutions.

Once the Red Army comes steaming across the English Channel, I think I'm pretty safe. "Look at my blog," I'll say, "I'm nice to Chinamen there. Look at its name." And they shall say, "ah so" and I'll get a cushy position as Commissar for Cricket.

My first act will be to execute the readers of my blog. They're a lazy, unproductive bunch. I'll say "they lack ideological integrity, comrades". Then I'll be laughing. HA HA HA.

England waylaid by bees

First the dogs attacked. Then the snakes. Now England are swarmed by killer bees.

Good.

Pakistan DON'T earn moral victory, but do pretty well anyway, I suppose. It could have been worse

No. I don’t want to talk about England. I pretty much summed it all up yesterday and, as Tim pointed out, it has just got worse since then.

Today we’re going to look at India and Pakistan – sides that know how to play cricket. Their recent test match in Kolkata had everything. Huge scores, squash-buckling innings, defiant stands and a spin bowling taking the new ball – all that we want to see. Others didn't appreciate the subtler sides of this match - but, then again, I am a purist.

What I liked most about this match is that you had a winning and losing team throughout the course of the game, both trying to pursue divergent objectives. From day one, India were never going to lose, and Pakistan had to fight hard to earn a draw. This was the story of the whole match: one attempting a ruthless victory another belligerently standing their own.

Pakistan pulled together some unlikely partnerships (heck, even Kamran Akmal got some runs) and defied Indian pressure as a team. It is a wonder that the Pakistan line-up don’t do this every match and wipe the floor with everyone.

India played handsomely and were probably denied their victory by the uncooperative pitch. Anil Kumble captained like James Tiberius Kirk and showed his inferior colleagues the way forward. He even inspired the will-he-won’t-he Harbhajan Singh into a five-for in the first innings. Impressive.

There is nothing to question in Kumble’s timing of the declaration, and he was very magnanimous in scoffing at the idea of Pakistan’s moral victory in their brave rear-guard in the face of relentless attack:

"I don't believe in moral victories. It's really crazy; I don't know why people talk about moral victories. When you struggle to pick up five wickets in both innings, that's no moral victory to me. To me what matters is the result and I think overall we dominated the match over the five days."

Anil Kumble: he may be angry, but he’s still GOD. Watch out in the next test, he’ll be wrathful then.

England: is there no relief?

No. No there isn't. After clawing ourselves into a decent lead, England have thrown it all away by allowing Sanath Jayasuriya to catapult Sri Lanka into a defendable position. It is the same old depressing story for England fans. It is the dependable endurance of those following these well-meaning goons, we’re used to dealing with this now. We have coping strategies.

For a brief, reckless moment I thought that England could perhaps win this match. And then, before you could say “Oh fucking marvellous, it’s Christmas again” the tourists generously forwent any vestige of advantage.

In his last test match (unless the King of Ceylon calls recalls him from Columbo's Home For The Old and Passed It), Jayasriya has moved the Lankans from a first innings deficit to a second innings surplus. What a guy.

This is not the first time that Jayasuriya has battered my boyish hopes into oblivion. I remember in 1998, England totalled an unusually large score: 445. This was exciting to me; I was used to reading about massive scorecards in the sub-continent, but following the England team leaves you accustomed to undignified slumps.

But a score of over 400 gave the heart a flutter. Perhaps we could win? In strolled Jayasuriya, who promptly smote 213. Smashing England’s cream and dreams to all corners. We lost in that familiarly English fashion of pathetic.

Nonetheless, that match was very interesting. Notice Darren Gough’s 133-ball 15. Oh, and Muralitharan got some wickets, too.

Anyway, back to this century, with Matthew Hoggard looking injured and Monty Panesar lacking threat, England's attack has wilted in the sun. To this, Sri Lanka say "ha" adding "you're rubbish" before whacking us around the park. For an England fan, it is easy to confuse heat-stroke with déjà vu.

Who is better: Warne or Murali?

The answer, of course, is Matthew Hoggard. In blasting away four Sri Lankan batsman in their over-whelmed first innings attempt, Hoggy has proven his quality and me right. In the second innings, he has taken a wicket, despite losing the use of a leg and his right eye.

After a six months absence, you would have expected him to be a bit Harmisony, but not a bit of it.

The wonder of Hoggard’s consistent amazingness is inexplicable to me as my television’s constant demands that I press some mysterious red button.

Effortlessly blowing the opposition away like the smell of fresh summer roses being expunged by the clattering arrival of the refuse collectors is impressive in itself. But given the unfriendly conditions and limited swing, it provides mathematical proof that Hoggard is some sort of fluffy Yorkshire swing-bowling god.

I’m starting to doubt my Hoggard for Captain Campaign, as this will probably mean that he couldn’t be Prime Minister. Although, I don’t know. There is no law against holding both positions simultaneously; PMQ’s are held on Wednesday and test matches don’t start until Thursday. It sounds like a perfect job-share.

Sohail Tanvir sees the error of his ways

In a prudent mood, Pakistan’s Sohail Tanvir decided to defect from the dark side and become a spinner.

Usually, as an “alright” left-arm fast-medium pacer, he opens the bowling and concedes lots of runs. But as a spinner, he’s dynamite. (Unfortunately, he didn’t bowl Chinamen, otherwise I would have given birth on the spot.)

Briefing escaping ennui at work, I have analysed his bowling stats:

Bowling boring fast: 21-3-99-1
Bowling amazing spin: 3-0-19-0

If they are not incredible figures, I don’t know what are. Just look at his mighty success as a twirler. This is proof that all bowlers should specialise in spin immediately.

Sadly, for the cricket community, Sohail turned back to the dark side to take the new ball as a quick. Frankly, he got battered once when he attempted pace once again. A lesson to us all.

Prior makes bald claims

Some of you may remember that I don’t like Matt Prior. It’s not really, a bitter, obsessive loathing, more a generalised hatred. It’s akin to the feelings you have for the person who has just taken up that seat next to you on the train. Nothing personal; you just find their presence insufferable.

Here’s what he has to say for himself, in a recent BBC column:

“It's been two weeks now since we arrived in Sri Lanka and, so far, pretty much everything has been going according to plan.”

If England planned to lose their best bowler’s boots and the use of his spine; if they planned for James Anderson receiving an injury; if they planned to have no idea who was going to fill the number six spot; if they planned to get humiliated in the first warm-up game then everything has gone splendidly.

He then proffers the usual cricketers’ line of “playing too much” and being over-worked. Then he goes on to say that he is addicted to a non-cricket related computer game. (For shame!) But re-assures us that “[t]he work ethic of this squad is second to none.”

Second to perhaps more devoted people? Perhaps to me, even, who have never been addicted to a computer game involving football.

It’s at this point that my hatred moves from the generalised, to the specific: when the over-adjacent passenger pulls out her mobile telephone and relates to the carriage the romantic failings of her “over half”, Darren.

I imagine we all expect Prior to disappoint on some level. But we’re used to a shambles in the number seven department. And no matter how strongly you argue that there is an obvious replacement in the form of [insert name of mediocre county trudger here] you know that we’re just going to have to put up with nonsense for some years to come.

It’s like the Northern Line all over again.

News of the World

I have received some requests to provide an update on the neglected, although no less important, nations in world cricket. So here we go.

The West Indies

They’re about to face the fearsome Zimbabweans. This may never happen as there’s an article on cricinfo headlined “West Indies delayed by luggage.” Apparently, Chris Gayle took too many spangly man-bags, or something, and the team had to catch a later flight.

They have also been enjoying turmoil in the ol’ captaincy department. Dwayne Bravo has been appointed vice-captain, which is a bit like employing an Elvis-impersonator as a judge. It’ll probably be alright, but there might be a few fruity decisions now and then.

After Zimbabwe, they will receive a royal battering at the hands of the South Africans

Kenya

Domestic cricket continues its shambolic exploration through life. The Nairobi Provincial Cricket Association has held up the national administrative process with some constitutional rambles about something. To be honest, I care more about Bjork’s views on whales. Anyway, Steve Tikolo is still from Kenya and he’s Ace. Their next match is in January. It will be against the United Arab Emirates. Fascinating.

Bermuda

Otherwise known as “Sluggo-land”, Bermuda is another example of a cricket board that has stopped responding to my emails. Do you think there’s an international black-list or something; perhaps the ECB has point out a warner? Anyway, the big news is that Gus Logie, Bermudan coach, reckons that Bermuda can qualify for the World Cup again. Judging by their recent performances, Gussie, they’d by lucky to get into my local’s Open Mike night. (The Broker, in case you are unaware, is not known for its discriminating approach to talent.)

The Pimmies

In other news, UAE beat Namibia by five wickets at the Wanderers. This means they are still at the top of Division Two of the World Cricket League. Fantastically, Uganda thrashed Argentina. There’s not many contexts in life that you can say that. But, in cricket, anything is possible. Even making Namibia seem faintly interesting.

Namibia, in case you are unaware, is not, and never will be, interesting.

Angry Cook prepares meal of rage

It is important to keep a healthy level of bubbling hatred within you topped up at all times to maintain a balanced lifestyle. I get mine from walking home over Tower Bridge every evening, and thinking evil thoughts about the tourists who inexplicably stop in my path.

Yes - it’s the London skyline. Brilliant. If you don’t take a picture of it now, it might disappear.

This is the kind of internal bitter ranting that keeps me breathing. And now Alastair Cook, proving his divinity beyond mortal doubt, is starting to adopt these principles.

In a recent interview, he said that he wanted to be “more aggressive”. That’s the stuff, Alastair, being an angry, red-faced, fight-starter is the only way to succeed in life. This is what got me to where I am today.

"Obviously we don't know what these wickets will be like, but we saw how aggressively [Australia] played, and we know that you've got to be positive and look to score. On those wickets you could probably hit through the ball more, but if you just look to survive there will be a ball that gets you out."

Reading between the standard sportsman’s spiel lines, this essentially means: RRRRAARRR! I’M GUNNA POUND ME SOME MURALI! I think he ripped off his shirt at this point.

You may have thought that Cook was a mild-mannered Essex muppet, not any more! He’s going to attack without mercy.

Although, I found this a little surprising, given his interviews some time ago saying that, because of his conversations with veteran Sri Lankan tourists, he’s going to play more conservatively. Preserving his wicket and scoring slowly was the name of game in Sri Lanka. Perhaps I misheard him?

It is almost as though the England team is desperately swinging from one extreme to the next on some forlorn mission for “a plan”. But, what do I know? I push American photographers into the Thames; the ECB have the tour all sorted. It’ll be fine.

Anderson or Broad?

After the weekend’s embarrassing antics, I felt that some worthy and boring pieces about selection policy should redress the balance. So bear with me whilst I indulgence my ego.

Mercifully, the England management broke into Steve Harmison’s room at night, and attacked his spine with hammers. This injury should keep him well clear from temptation and ensure that we should have proper bowlers in the set-up. For a while, at least.

The remaining places should go to Matthew Hoggard (who’s great), Ryan Hairybottom (who has Done Enough) and Monty Panesar (who is like whelks to the gulls). There is one more spot, but two bowlers: James Anderson and Stuart Broad.

Who should take it?

This is an awkward one, because, unlike the Shah/Bopara debate it’s not a simple matter of old vs. young. They are both young players, and we should hope that they’ll both be in the side when the two old swing bowlers retire to the big swingers’ party in the sky.

So, as bowlers, what do they offer? So far this season, Anderson has taken 14 wickets in three matches (averaging just under five wickets a match), although in 2006/07 he was less impressive: averaging nearly ninety runs per wicket. Plus, he’s yet to take a wicket during this tour.

Broad, on the other hand, extracted wickets and some bounce from the slow Lankan pitches. Although, the difference isn’t great; both offer a similar package. At test level, it seems sensible to assume that Anderson is the incumbent and, as he has not performed terribly, should retain his place in the interests of stability and fair-treatment.

The issue may be decided, however, not by bowling, but by this “three dimensional cricketer” nonsense. As you can see from the picture, but Anderson is not a natural batsman.

If Anderson was picked, Hairybottom would have to come in at eight – leaving a very long and vulnerable tail. If you are picking Owais Shah at six, as a specialist batsman, and Matt Prior as batsman-wicket keeper at seven, you might consider this ample protection for a weak tail.

I’m not convinced by this line.

This may be negative, but in Sri Lanka you must look to extract the maximum from your squad. Furthermore, given that neither bowler offers an obvious edge over the other, then it is reasonable to bring in this additional factor, and consequently, we must side with Broad.

Pick Broad I say.

Shah or Bopara?

According to Peter Moores, the England coach, there is one batting space available in their up-and-coming Test series against Sri Lanka. There are two candidates for the spot: Owais Shah and Ravi Bopara.

As always with this sort of decision, it is not easy. Shah is an established international batsman, and has a strong track record against Sri Lankans in Sri Lanka. Bopara is packed with talent, and famously took England to the brink of victory against them during the World Cup.

Bopara is certainly one to watch. Scoring heavily when so young augers for a successful international future. Also, he has an old head and a proven performer in pressure situations. He also can wobble up with some “handy” medium pacers.

Shah seems to be on form. Having scored a handsome century in the home ODI series against India, and single-handedly saved one one-day match in the recent games in Sri Lanka. His test record is harder to read. He started with a bang, scoring 88 in his first match, and then falling to pieces in his return this summer.

Also, unlike Bopara, he doesn’t have time on his side – at 28 he’s no spring chicken. Whereas Bopara is young, full of potential and certain to have a long England career ahead of him. But, I do not feel that age is a good indicator for selection.

Look at Australia: they have been picking geezers for years and have consistently been wiping the floor with the world. Perhaps English selection policy should re-adjust to reflect the fact that cricketers take a little longer to mature, and most batsman peak during their early thirties. As such, Shah’s best years are still ahead of him, and we’re about to get the best out of him now.

So, on balance, I would back Shah. He is a stylish batsman and an excellent player of spin. Bopara’s record, although superb, is not quite so accomplished as Shah’s and, to be honest, in terms of a test future, it is now or never for Shah.

Some post-pub thoughts

OK. I may be a bit merry tonight. This is not unusual. So, I think that, to add extra spice tonight, I shall write this post whilst continue to drink heavily and muse upon recent humbling experiences involving me, a microwave and rubber spatula.

It’s not just extra spelling errors and typos you can expect; it’s not just the near-unreadable prose – Oh no. You are talking 100%, bone fide sobriety-liberated incite, my fireinds.

Right. Let’s list the points, I want to make in list format. If I work out how to bullet them, I shall, but don’t be getting your hopes up you silent bunch of judging ingrates.

1. Harmison. He’s rubbish. Unlike mythical African football players, he does not improve when playing with no boots. Like mythical African diseases, he just gets worse the more you are exposed to him. I mean really. He’s bollarks. Really. Why won’t you people listen to me. I have been publishing for yaers now. Bloody useless buggers.

2. Point two. Matthew Hoggard should be made captain. You bastards in the ECB, you may have stopped answering my emails and making subtlke suggestions about court injunctions, but the people will have their way! THE TRUTH WILL OTU!

3. Blooggers should be provided with booze more often. Especially to those who’s Enlish it does improve and makes more lucid. Yeah?

4. WHY IS THERE A GRAEME SWANN. Why the hell would you have a bloke in your side who’s name looks like a drunken typo? I mean Jesus. Why on earth would anyone bother with another Christing spinner when we have Monty? What are they doing?

5. West Indies. Why aren’t they in the news that much? Why do I always have to read about South Africa, or Pakistan or bloody Australia. I WANT TO HEAR MORE ABOUT DWANYE DRAVO, ALRIGHT?

There. That’s off my chest. And, this time, I’m not even going to pretend to proof this post. Proofing is for poofs. Actually, I apologise for that comment. Even I know that’s Beyond the pale. But, it’s ok, I’ve been drinking; and we all think that everything is acceptable when you are drinking. Except if you are a girlfriend of any kind, than you totally lose any sense of perspective, and apply the same “standards” to the drunk. Like muppets.

Inzy cocks up

WOW! I can do videos! OK. Lets do another!

Here is poor Inzy losing his wicket. I thought this was hilarious when I first saw it.




But now I see it again. It is strangely sad. It’s like the loss of your favourite teddy bear’s dignity. I want to cuddle him when I see him rub his tummy. Oh Inzy. Let me protect you from the cruel world! Come and live on my window sill

Misbah cocks up

Spectacularly, I first heard of this hilarious incident from the kindly commenters from the previous post. So cheers you lot. You get a Special Ayalac nob, I mean nod. I mean thumbs up.

We’re trying an experiment today. POSTING A VIDEO. I’m not really sure how to do it. So it might take me all evening, but, damnit, I don’t have work tomorrow or a girlfriend, so I can fiddle with implements as much as I want – all night long if necessary.

HERE. WE. GO!



Wow. Wasn’t that amazing. It was definitely worth the five hours of fiddling. Especially for the “India must be jumping for joy pun”. Pure Gold.

Pakistan hang on

The one thing I like better than a gritty forward defensive played to a rank half-volley is seeing a team play for draw on day one. Like watching Michael Atherton hang on against Allen Donald, I enjoy seeing batsman sweat it out and fight for priceless runs.

This is what Misbah-ul-Haq, ably supported by Mohammad Sami, is doing in his excellent rear-guard against India. With his 71 off 204 balls, Misbuh showed immense mental strength and stature in moving Pakistan from certain disaster to probable defeat. And, to be honest, losing like an Englishman, is all I expect from an international cricketer.

The Indian dominance is due to one factor: the simply out-standing captaincy of Anil Kumble. Understanding the innate genius of spin bowlers, he quickly brought himself on as first-change bowler. After 15 overs of Pakistani ascendancy, and powerfully positioned on 45/2 it was clear that something needed to be done.

Sure enough, after four overs, the man delivered. Overall he returned figures of 3-38 off his 20 overs. Excellent work Anil.

He also brought the best out of the usually hopeless Munaf Patel. This is the sort of radical turn-around that only a bowler-captain can achieve. Whereas under Rahul Dravid he was told to “take some bloody wickets and stop bowling wides, what’s the matter with you?” Whereas Kumble simply gave him the ball, a steely nod and told “I want to get back in for some tea. Take a wicket you muppet.” And so he did.

Anyway, Anil Kumble is great, even if Ramiz Raja thought he was “prosaic”.

Don’t get Hairy on me

I wish that headline made sense. I really do.

Anyway, Darrell Hair has come out to defend his bonkerness. Not only did he single-handedly ruin a test match, but when the ICC questioned his seriously questionable judgement, he decided to sue them. He lost that.

He also called Murali a chucker. He has frequently been nasty to sub-continental sides. To the point that sub-continental types began calling him racist. Although, every is racist these days. Even Nelson Mandela. Wait, especially Nelson Mandela.

Anyway, Hair is hated by all. And he’s fat.

To amend this ogre’s image, he has said in a recent interview,

"It's easy to say, look, if I'd known how to deal with that sort of issue, the communication and management issues then, if I knew then what I know now I may have done things differently.

But I don't believe so because there's a certain limit to what the umpire needs to do under those circumstances and I believe that both the umpires fulfilled those obligations both with the ball tampering and the refusal to play.”

He did come to a deal with the ICC to go to “man management” courses, and it is clear that he’s still open to learn and took on board a lot of things from attending.

Hilariously, he went on to contend:

"A lot of people have said to me you must be really annoyed with cricket and the fact is I'm not annoyed with cricket. It's just a couple of people made a strange decision to remove me from umpiring."

By “a lot of people” he, of course, means David Forester, his Basset Hound and his demented octogenarian neighbour Phyllis.

Darrell Hair is mad.