Last Act

As a venue for the last act of what has been a compelling three act drama, The Oval couldn't be bettered. The wicket's usually hard, making life relatively comfortable for batsmen but offering plenty to bowlers of all types and it's a ground which holds great memories for both sides. India the seminal victory in 1971 and the magnificent near miss of '79, England the regaining of the Ashes in 2005 and a host of other dramatic matches, notably the series-levelling win over South Africa in 2003 which seemed to have it all at the time.

Things are evenly balanced and both sides have incentives beyond the game at hand. England have their post-2001 unbeaten home series record to preserve, India the desire to prove that they can win abroad and then avoid their usual collapse.

Sounds great.

The Oval, 12th September 2005

With it all about to start again I thought it would be good to post some of the pictures I took at The Oval last September. I was also thinking about writing something about that day but I can't find the time to do it justice at the moment. Another time, maybe.

If anybody fancies paying me to go to any of the forthcoming Tests and take some similar photos (perhaps without the element of English triumph), please get in touch.

Debate Or No Debate?

I haven't been around for a few days and already things have moved on. As anyone with enough interest in cricket to be here will know, England duly lost to John Howard's team in Canberra and have since moved on to Sydney where they are currently making a slightly better fist of a three-day game against New South Wales. I don't think it was necessary to lose too much sleep over the Prime Minister's game as it's normal for England touring sides to struggle in the early stages of tours, although, as the preparation time before the first Test in Brisbane is so short (with just four playing days left), it's been good to see that things have gone better at the SCG.

I was amused to hear Andrew Strauss's sideways reference the other day to the fact that 'Gatt's team' (the successful 1986-87 party led by Mike Gatting) were described as having only three things wrong with them before the first Test of that series - 'they can't bat, they can't bowl and they can't field'. Strauss used this as an example of the type of jibe that's traditionally wheeled out by the Australian press when England teams arrive on their shores but he had clearly forgotten (or, as he was just nine at the time, probably never knew) that that famous aside was penned by an English journalist, Martin Johnson, who made his name with The Independent in the late eighties by employing a deft range of sarcastic wit.

But that's beside the point. Of far greater significance in the overall scheme of things is the fact that Fletcher came out and confirmed what most people had assumed already, namely that an early decision had been taken that Geraint Jones was going to go into the series (and doubtless finish it) as the England wicket-keeper. I wouldn't want to say that I told you so, but I always had the feeling (and wrote so here) that Chris Read was selected for the final two Tests of the English summer despite rather than because of Fletcher, and I always felt that Jones would be back for Brisbane. Of course, the fact that Jones is felt by Fletcher (and apparently Flintoff) to be the better batsman has been advanced as the reason, but it seems unfair to judge Read on his poor displays with the willow in India when he actually batted quite well (and at least as well as Jones had been doing for the previous year) when he played against Pakistan at Headingley and the Oval. Also, although Jones was ostensibly sent away to score runs for Kent, he didn't do so. This said, I agree with Will Luke at The Corridor that Read's keeping wasn't that great, especially in India, although part of the problem is that a myth grew up around him when he wasn't in the Test side that he was a really exceptional keeper when, although he's a conspicuously more natural gloveman than his rival, he's not, and never will be, a Jack Russell, let alone a Bob Taylor.

I also agree that Jones's more orthodox technique and experience of growing up in Australian conditions make him more likely to make runs in the series.

It's a huge vote of confidence for Jones but he'd better make damn sure he keeps as well as he can and makes some serious runs, or I can see the whole debate starting again by Christmas (although I have no doubt that, in Fletcher's mind, there's no debate). Either way, I tend to take the view that they're both just keeping the seat warm for Steven Davies and, if Jones fails in the Ashes series, we may be seeing him in the side sooner (against West Indies next spring) rather than later.

In the meantime we'll be able to amuse ourselves by going back to thinking about Giles and Panesar. With those two you just know that in Fletcher's mind there is a debate, whereas in the minds of most England followers, there simply isn't.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow?

Now that the dust has settled after what happened at The Oval two weeks ago - and it's probably especially thick on Malcolm Speed's desk in Dubai - it's time to consider what went on.

The focus of the 'debate' (if the rather sickly blend of unvarnished hindsight, exaggeration and self-righteousness which has dominated the media can be dignified with that title) has been the actions on the day and subsequent conduct of Darrell Hair. While, as I stated in the brief post which I produced on the fateful evening, I can see that there was fault on both sides, I think that the incessant concentration on Hair's actions and assumed motivations has been unbalanced and unfair and has contrived to move the debate away from a proper assessment of the deeds of the Pakistan team and those of Hair's fellow umpire on the day, the Dominican Billy Doctrove.

Indeed, such has been the clamour to condemn Hair that most people who have made comments about the controversy (and that, my friends, is a lot of people) seem to have forgotten or deliberately ignored the fact that there were two umpires on the field on the day and the decision to replace the ball and award five penalty runs to England was taken jointly. True, Hair was the senior partner, and all visible evidence suggested that he took the initiative in the decision by first examining the ball, then discussing its condition with Doctrove, then beckoning Trevor Jesty onto the field with the replacement balls and finally signalling the penalty runs. But is it reasonable to assume that Doctrove, although an inexperienced umpire at Test level, would not have had the courage to debate the point with Hair if he did not agree that the condition of the ball was suspicious? Perhaps so, but the fact is that the decision was, at least in terms of protocol, a joint one, and while Hair has been cast into the wilderness, Doctrove was happily umpiring at Lord's yesterday (if he did look a bit cold at times).

Of course, it's also true to say that Hair, having begun to dig a small hole for himself (initially sharing the spade with Doctrove), has gone on to dig himself deeper and deeper into it, to the point where his head is surely about to disappear for good. His e-mailed offer to resign from the ICC's elite panel of umpires in return for a very substantial sum of money was crass, ill-timed and presumptuous, and has done more to seal his fate than any of his other actions in the saga. While it is likely that Hair would have continued to umpire at international level for some time and the sum concerned - we must assume - was roughly equivalent to what he would have earned over that period, how can he say that he would not have suffered a catastrophic loss of form or some other misfortune and been replaced in advance of his time anyway? If he was going to resign (and, since he clearly believed that he was in the right in changing the ball and then abandoning the match, why would he have done so?) he should simply have indicated as much and waited for his employers to suggest a suitable compensation figure.

With all this said, I think that it's a pity that Hair will be lost to international cricket, as, technically, he has always been a very good umpire (not perfect, but nobody, not even the blessed Simon Taufel, is). His main faults lie in a certain inflexibility of temperament and the fact that he has the courage to take unpopular decisions which he believes to be right, no matter what the potential consequences. Given his previous problems with Asian sides, including Pakistan, it was inevitable that trouble would follow the Oval decision, but too much of the comment which has followed has placed Hair a little too firmly in the wrong and failed to consider the fact that the actions of the Pakistan team were very far from being above reproach.

While the whole affair might have been avoided if Hair (or, even better, Doctrove) had spoken to Inzamam before replacing the ball and awarding the penalty runs, the actions of the Pakistan side in refusing to play when instructed to do so were a clear example of the type of weakness of temperament and spirit which has always prevented them, with one or two exceptions, from fulfilling their potential on the field. God knows, they were on top in the game at the time and could have salvaged a consolation victory from a series in which they had performed very poorly. That they chose to remain in their dressing room when surely they could have taken possession of even more of the moral high ground with a victory, was always guaranteed to cloud the waters of the debate in the eyes of those people (myself included) who tend towards the view that the decisions of officials in any sport are best regarded as being right even when they're transparently wrong.

Of course, the real problem lies in the framing of Law 42 (3) (d) (iii), which empowers the umpires to award five penalty runs against the fielding side in a case of adjudged ball tampering, without the fielding side having any opportunity to present a case for the defence. There can be little doubt that at The Oval the sense of injustice felt by the Pakistan side was compounded by the fact that when Hair and Doctrove took their decision they were not just being accused of ball tampering. In the eyes of the umpires, they were already guilty.

In among all the guff written by people who clearly didn't know better, two articles stood out. One by Martin Samuel in The Times, which, broadly speaking, put the case for the umpire's decision being final, and one by The Observer's veteran columnist Jon Henderson, who attempted, by reference to the Greig-Kallicharran incident in Port-of-Spain in 1974, to reassure younger readers (and that's most of us) that the Test world wasn't about to stop turning.

Not that I ever thought it would.

Shep in Retirement, Hair in the Spotlight

There was something a little bit unexpected, a little bit interesting, a little bit poignant and a little bit thought-provoking about coming across England's most experienced international umpire on the day which gave us the biggest umpiring controversy to hit international cricket since...oh, since the last time Darrell Hair annoyed an Asian Test team.

David Shepherd, in his capacity as President of Devon CCC, was at Exmouth, watching Devon play Wales in the Minor Counties Championship. As the sun glinted off the water in the bay, the swallows soared and swooped over the ground, and the former Somerset and Surrey bowler Ian Bishop gave one of the best demonstrations of fast-medium outswing bowling you could ever wish to see, the controversy of The Oval seemed a very long way away.

Shep in retirement is still an avuncular and genial figure; he's lost some weight and acquired some glasses. But what, in the position in which the Oval umpires found themselves, would he have done?

He wasn't saying, but it's a fair bet that he might have shown a bit more tact than Hair and had a quiet word with Inzamam before deciding to award any penalty runs. Hair (and, by association, Billy Doctrove) probably got things either slightly wrong (if the damage to the ball was illegally caused) or very wrong (if, as the Pakistan team seem to be claiming, nothing dubious happened at all).

The indignation of the Pakistan team can be understood, as can their perceived need to make a stand. However, when you're playing cricket at the highest level (or any level) it's generally best to get yourself onto the field when the umpires say so.

If you don't, you might just find that they've applied the laws of the game and you've lost a match which you could - indeed should - have won.

Beware Ramps

Over Easter I was chatting with a couple of members of my family about the prospects for the County Championship Division Two season (my Dad follows Derbyshire, you see). We didn't come to many firm conclusions but I do remember suggesting that Surrey would win it and 'Ramprakash will make millions of runs'.

That was obviously an exaggeration, but I knew that Mark Ramprakash would lay waste to the division's bowlers. And he has. The latest instalment was a career-best 301 not out against Northants at The Oval, an innings which, to me, had a remarkable inevitability about it. He was dismissed on 292 against Gloucestershire early in the season, but I was virtually certain, after he ended the first day on 174, that he'd make 300 this time.

It must be difficult at times, being Mark Ramprakash. To know that for much of the nineties you were one of the best batsmen in the whole world, but that you never managed to prove yourself properly at the highest level of the game, so you've been left to pile up runs against bowlers barely fit to lace your boots. But the runs still have to be made, and, whenever you hear him interviewed, he seems to have reconciled himself with the vicissitudes of his past.

And he's not alone, either in terms of past experiences or the quality of his batting. Down in Southampton John Crawley also continues to pile up runs like there's no tomorrow.

It must be difficult at times, being a county bowler.