Antidote to Madness

When people make definitive statements about places, or about books, or about people, there is always room for doubt, for contrary opinion.

Some you take, others you leave. Some you agree with, others you dismiss.

When people, as people often do, say that Lord's is 'the greatest cricket ground in the world', I tend to agree (Although that other familiar cliché 'the Home of Cricket' I'm less sure about. The Home of Cricket these days surely lies, literally or metaphorically, somewhere in India.).

I've been going to Lord's since the summer when Sunny Gavaskar batted through sixty overs for 36 not out. Today the ground, and the game, and the Indian cricket psyche, are very different. But they still fascinate and compel.

Friday 18th July 2014 is the hottest day of the British year. The mercury is in the low thirties - Lord's is a Fahrenheit sort of place, you feel, but these twenty-first century days Celsius is king - and, in the early afternoon, with the sky a deep and bottomless shade of blue, the fading vapour trails left by soaring aircraft traverse the sky. They, and the outside world they represent, seem abstract and separate, as they always do when cricket, even slow Test cricket, captures the attention.

The game is an antidote to the madness of the world.

Late the previous afternoon the news comes via Twitter that a civil airliner has been blown out of the sky over the Ukraine, probably by a ground-to-air missile. Then there is Gaza, where defenceless people are killed on a daily basis. Syria, where much the same thing has been happening for more than three years, has been temporarily relegated from the front pages, but it will, as surely as night follows day, return. These are examples of the lunatic chaos of a world in which millions of people have more important things on their mind - simple survival will do - than the outcome of a bat and ball game.

At Lord's, though, things are different, especially in the old Victorian pavilion and the adjacent Warner Stand. The talk is of the lives of sons, of daughters, of former pupils, of the price of London property, which, it seems, is rising faster than the shade temperature. In certain conversations there are deaths and serious, painful injuries, but these are the result of leisure time accidents, suffered while hiking, or skiing, or playing rugby; not of unavoidable exposure to terrorism or war.

During the hour before lunch in the Warner Stand the incessant chatter is punctuated by the sound of corks being forcibly expelled from champagne bottles. Such is their velocity, many of these end up on the beautifully manicured turf, which can often look more like a carpet than something composed of living, growing, grass. And, on a Sunday, when the pavilion fills with a younger class of member, with their pristine yellow passes and their sharp dress sense, the prevailing sensation for the older member is that of a friendless outsider at a public school reunion.

Lord's, with its hotchpotch of ancient and modern buildings, is a very different place from virtually any other cricket ground in the world. And, despite the heat, for the Indian players, brought up on the parched dustbowls of Uttar Pradesh or the cramped suburban fields of Greater Mumbai, that difference must seem especially pronounced.

But it is also welcome and inspirational. At different points in a match which remains even and compellingly contested until lunch on the last day, we are treated to the beautiful yet combative neatness of the Mumbaikar Ajinkya Rahane, and the versatility of Uttar Pradesh's Bhuvneshwar Kumar, a man who knows he can bowl but is finding out at international level that he also has an unsuspected gift for batting. Ishant Sharma, a man who has always looked to have the potential to take on the world but has rarely hinted at consistency, supplies the coup de grâce.

On the English side there are only poignancies and uncertainties and regrets. As the match hurtles to its conclusion on Monday afternoon, Matt Prior and Joe Root are both dismissed pulling the ball to deep fielders placed specifically for such errant shots. It is a kind of collective madness, based on the confidence deficit which repeated failure to win brings, and the uncertainty of the confused mind, brought low by injury and defeat.

As he leaves the field and walks slowly through the Long Room, Prior holds his head high. Although he surely knows, as we do, that not only has he played a poor shot but that it may be the last thing he ever does in an England shirt, he shows little remorse. He is the old warrior leaving the stage. Root, by contrast, can barely drag himself off the field, such is his obvious regret. For all his runs, Root is still a young pro who has yet to learn to guard his emotions. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

A short while later, with the game over and Alastair Cook, a drowning man clinging desperately to a sinking ship, answering Michael Atherton's questions with the same bland assurances we have heard so often before, the eye turns to Paul Downton, standing on his own, close to the pavilion gate. He looks around him with unfeigned seriousness, but you sense that he isn't seeing or hearing much.

He is wondering what on earth he has got himself into.

Images of Lord's (again)

A few shots from the five days at Lord's, ranging from Alastair Cook on his way back to the pavilion on Friday morning, 105 to his name, through Matt Prior cutting Chris Gayle for four to reach his century on Friday evening, to England's first innings score and the grim scene on Monday...

All Our Yesterdays

Over recent months I've been watching a lot of cricket on ESPN Classic (it's on Sky 442 for anyone who hasn't heard about it yet). During the summer they showed highlights of most of the England-West Indies Tests from the 1973, 1976, 1984 and 1995 series in England, and, as the 2006-07 Ashes series approaches, they're currently showing England-Australia matches of a similar vintage.

One of the best things about watching the ancient BBC highlights packages (apart, of course, from laughing at what Richie Benaud was wearing in the 1970s) is that the images and voices, especially the sublimely evocative tones of Jim Laker, take me back to (and sometimes beyond) the very edge of my cricketing consciousness. While I can remember bits of the 1972 series between England and Australia (for years I had a hazy memory in my head of a bowler with a ridiculously curved run-up and had no idea who it was until, during an eighties rain break, the BBC showed the highlights of Lord's '72 and I realised it was John Price) my memories of the 1973 series against the West Indies are more limited (trying to impersonate Gary Sobers in the garden after my father and elder brother had told me I was watching the best all-rounder of all time). So it was pretty shocking and more than a bit amusing to see Geoff Boycott repeatedly trying to commit suicide at Lord's before finally hooking the ball down Rohan Kanhai's throat with the sort of ill-judgement which would make him apoplectic today. And then there was the unbelievable hostility of the West Indies attack and the coolness and stoicism of Edrich and Close at Old Trafford in 1976, Richards at The Oval in the same year, the peerless Greg Chappell at Old Trafford in 1977, the pace, rhythm and class of John Snow and the young Dennis Lillee. The one and only Malcolm Marshall at Headingley and The Oval in 1984 and Botham (not the best commentator but hell what a player) trying his best to fight fire with fire.

It's been great.

As The World Turns

It seems these days as though on any given day there's usually at least a couple of Test matches going on somewhere around the world. We've just seen Sri Lanka defeat South Africa by one wicket in what was obviously a thrilling finish, and England draw away to a much more comfortable win over Pakistan.

I didn't see much of either game (well, I didn't see any of the Sri Lankan one) so it's difficult to comment in depth, but it's enough to say that I've always regarded Mahela Jayawardene as a truly special batsman and it's been good to have his greatness confirmed these past few months.

It's also true to say that I couldn't stand Dean Jones as a commentator - something to do with his excessive mateyness and his inability to say anything remotely original - and I won't lose any sleep if he's never heard from again after his, er, 'clumsy' remark during the Colombo game.

Back in Leeds (I can't quite bring myself to refer to the ground as 'Headingley Carnegie'), England were excellent, while Pakistan were very disappointing, capitulating lamely to an England side that played increasingly tight and powerful cricket on either side of the Pennines.

Prior to the series much was made of the influence of Woolmer's coaching, his relationship with Inzamam and the players' discovery and re-discovery of Islamic devotion in turning the Pakistan side from a perennially inconsistent blend of disparate talents and personalities into a lean and mean unit that was good enough to challenge the world's best. While there appeared to be something in this during the last English winter, especially in the home series victory over England, they have fallen away badly on this tour, something which they, and their many followers, must feel very uncomfortable about.

True, they have been denied the services of Shoaib Akhtar, the vaunted Mohammad Asif and the Hove favourite Rana Naved-ul-Hasan by injury, but, unlike England, who, since Lord's, seem to have drawn strength from the absence of Flintoff (and Vaughan and Giles), Pakistan have withered. They have frequently appeared little more than a three man team, relying almost completely on Mohammad Yousuf, Inzamam and Younis Khan (who didn't even play at Lord's), with no opening pair, a pronounced tendency to drop catches and run each other out, and a range of mediocre bowlers (although we all know what Kaneria is capable of and I maintain that much more will be seen and heard of Umar Gul). All in all, in the last two Tests, much of their cricket has bordered on the shambolic.

England's progress must be set against Pakistan's decline, but there can be no doubt that England have rediscovered an intensity and bite to their game which largely went missing in the first six months after The Ashes were regained.

While life is certainly easier when you're playing at home and have a new player who's better than the hitherto established one whom he's replaced (and no prizes for guessing who I'm talking about), England have shown a desire and mental toughness which has been absent from Pakistan's displays.

Strauss must take much of the credit for this - Fletcher has rightly praised his mental strength, as evidenced by his centuries at Lord's and Leeds and his increasingly assured captaincy - but we've also started to glimpse a little of what Saj Mahmood could be capable of, both with the ball and in the field, where his first innings run out of Younis set the tone for some bristling English out-cricket.

I've already said enough about Harmison and Panesar, Bell, Cook and Collingwood, so the final word on Headingley has to go with Chris Read. As I said after his recall here, I was pleased that he'd been picked again but was concerned about how he would cope with such an intensely pressurized situation. I needn't have worried. He appeared to keep flawlessly, and, after some early luck, batted just about as well as could be expected in both innings. I'm still not convinced that Jones won't be back for Brisbane but Chris has at least given himself a fighting chance.

It's all he ever wanted, and with Fletcher even starting to praise Panesar, you never know where it could lead...

Read for Jones

Well, having wanted Chris Read to replace Geraint Jones for much of the last two years, I've got mixed feelings now it's finally happened.

Jones's keeping has been a lot better this season and he was virtually flawless at both Lord's and Old Trafford. His batting, though, has become increasingly hesitant, and I felt that his inability to get a shift on at an important time had a lot to do with England's delayed declaration at Lord's. As Geoff Boycott, in his characteristically compassionate and understated way, said on TMS during the Lord's Test: 'He's gone from being a batsman who can't keep to being a keeper who can't bat'.

Truth is, he's now a pretty good keeper who's simply going through a very bad trot with the bat, and I feel slightly sorry for him, having worked so hard to improve what was (correctly) perceived as his weakness, only to find that his form in the stronger part of his game has deserted him.

The timing of the change is surprising. With only two more Tests before the resumption of the battle for the Ashes, I had largely given up hope of seeing Read recalled, and, considering Jones's improvement behind the stumps, the more conservative move (and how frequently do English cricket selectors spurn the conservative option?) would have been to stick with the Kent man.

I doubt if it was rationalized (or even discussed) in these terms, but the move smacks of an attempt by the selectors to settle the argument once and for all. Time for Read to put up or shut up. Avoid any fatal errors with the gloves and make a few runs and you'll arrive in Brisbane as first choice, fail in either department (but especially with the bat), and you won't. Come back Geraint, all is forgiven.

As I've said before, I've got a natural affinity with Read as I've watched him since he first got into the Devon side at the age of sixteen, but I've become slightly concerned about some of the stuff that's been written about him in the press, which may have led people to believe that he's some sort of cross between Alan Knott, Bob Taylor and Jack Russell.

He's a good keeper - but not a great one - and he's always been able to bat, an area of the game which unquestionably let him down during his previous flirtations with the Test side. He's worked on that, made plenty of runs, and deserves a go. But the pressure will really be on.

This is Chris Read's big opportunity. I just hope it's not too big.

Records are Made to be Broken

For anyone who grew up, as I did, obsessed with cricket statistics (as well as every other aspect of the game), the breaking of records such as the highest partnership in Test and first-class cricket history carries particular significance, and I was strangely tense as I counted the runs down on Cricinfo's ball-by-ball commentary on the Sri Lanka-South Africa Test at the SSC in Colombo this morning.

After the stand between Kumar Sangakkara and his close friend Mahela Jayawardene had ended on 624 I reflected on the fact that it's gratifying that the runs were made against a relatively strong attack, although it was clearly rendered impotent by a combination of unforgiving conditions and fine batting.

Sangakkara, with a number of assured starts which failed to develop, and Jayawardene, with his superb batting at Lord's in particular, gave hints of what they were capable of on their team's tour of England earlier this summer.

Even after a quarter-century of Test cricket, Sri Lankan players still tend to be underestimated, but Sangakkara and Jayawardene are unquestionably among the finest batsmen operating in the world today.

Just look in the book.

Anything You Can Do...

I haven't seen enough of the first two days of the Old Trafford Test. In fact I haven't seen any of it live because I've had to go to work. Inconvenient, that.

Obviously I have been keeping a regular eye on Cricinfo, listening to bits of TMS and I've seen the Sky highlights on the first two evenings, so I have a good idea of what's gone on.

It was great to see Alastair Cook get another hundred, but even better to watch Ian Bell do so, especially when it sounded (and looked) like his best innings for England.

After watching Cook score 89 against Sri Lanka at Lord's in May (and having seen his debut in Nagpur on television) I started telling people that I thought he was going to be England's next truly great batsman. During and after his Lord's century against Pakistan I started to wonder if I'd got a bit too excited, but I now think I got it about right. There's a poise, style and maturity of temperament about Cook that is truly remarkable, and, as he already has a sound defence and a wide range of strokes which will get better, it's a case, for the next ten or twelve years, of 'look out world'.

Bell I'm just really pleased about. Like most people I've had my eye on him for a few years. First saw him play for England Under-19s in the late nineties, knew what Dayle Hadlee had said about him being the best sixteen year-old he'd ever seen, saw his unbeaten 65 in the 2002 Benson and Hedges final, waited for him to do it for England. Saw the assured debut versus the West Indies, the boot-filling against Bangladesh, the struggles against Australia and the intermittent runs during last winter.

I remained a believer, but just a few weeks ago a group of 'Cricket Writers on TV' (couldn't anyone think of a more original title?) were discussing their doubts about his temperament and wondering if he really had it in him to succeed at the highest level.

I can't be sure as I've never got anywhere near meeting him, but Bell does give an impression of diffidence. This doesn't, however, mean that he can't bat. In most cases (and the exceptions are widely known), true quality will always reveal itself, and that is what is now happening with Bell.

I never saw him play as a real junior but, seeing him walk out now it doesn't take a great leap of the imagination to see him as a tiny thirteen year-old, the sort of kid who looks as though he's not sure he should be there but goes on to bat like a dream. His technique isn't completely perfect (there's still work to be done around and outside off stump for sure) but it isn't at all bad to be going on with.
And nor are his runs.