Talking of the phoney war, it was great to listen to Michael Vaughan, Gladstone Small and Allan Lamb reminiscing about past Ashes series on the radio during the week.
The fact that, prior to their triumphant Test series in 1986-87, Mike Gatting's side only had three things wrong with them* has passed into English cricket folklore. So it was great to hear from Small that there were reasons for this. From the sound of it the side spent most of the first few weeks of the tour enjoying themselves, only putting their minds to the main objective of the trip the night before the Brisbane Test, which they went on to win handsomely. The clear implication was that the odd alcoholic drink was consumed.
This time, unlike the last time they were in Australia, England have the opportunity to prepare properly. But I suspect their methods of refreshment might be a little different.
Such is the passing of time and the change of eras.
* According to Martin Johnson, writing in The Independent, England's only faults at the time were that 'they can't bat, they can't bowl and they can't field'.
30.10.10
Desire
Of course, in this time of phoney war, the headline focuses on what he said about the possible outcome of the Ashes series, but this interview with Sachin Tendulkar by the outstanding Donald McRae is much more interesting and wide-ranging than it appears at first.
Among many nuggets is the following:
'I'm really focusing now on how I can get to the next level as a batsman. How can I get even more competitive? How can I get even more consistent? How can I get better?'.
As McRae says, he speaks with the aspiration and focus of a young professional, and, such is Tendulkar's famed modesty and lack of artifice, I've got no doubt that the comment faithfully reflects where he stands in his twenty-first year as a Test cricketer and his thirty-eighth on earth.
Of course, as a player ages, everything depends upon his physical faculties, and, good as the signs are, no-one can say how long Tendulkar's body will last. But the desire to go on and on is clearly there.
We haven't seen anywhere near the last of this great batsman.
Among many nuggets is the following:
'I'm really focusing now on how I can get to the next level as a batsman. How can I get even more competitive? How can I get even more consistent? How can I get better?'.
As McRae says, he speaks with the aspiration and focus of a young professional, and, such is Tendulkar's famed modesty and lack of artifice, I've got no doubt that the comment faithfully reflects where he stands in his twenty-first year as a Test cricketer and his thirty-eighth on earth.
Of course, as a player ages, everything depends upon his physical faculties, and, good as the signs are, no-one can say how long Tendulkar's body will last. But the desire to go on and on is clearly there.
We haven't seen anywhere near the last of this great batsman.
17.10.10
Let's Get Ready to Rumble
The news that Jimmy Anderson cracked a rib during England's 'boot camp' about a month ago was as depressing as it was belated.
It's about time the sainted Mr. Flower realised that:
A. There's no need for England to imitate what Australia do any more. Australia aren't very good.
B. Cricketers training for cricket by doing other sports they're no good at - football, boxing - tend to get injured. Best just to leave them playing cricket.
C. Players who've been playing and travelling together for months on end don't need to 'bond'. They need to bond with their friends and family instead.
D. If you do insist on cricketers fighting each other, think about matching people according to height and weight. According to a good source (Michael Vaughan) Anderson was boxing Chris Tremlett, who, for all his famed lack of aggression, is a huge bloke.
No wonder someone got hurt.
It's about time the sainted Mr. Flower realised that:
A. There's no need for England to imitate what Australia do any more. Australia aren't very good.
B. Cricketers training for cricket by doing other sports they're no good at - football, boxing - tend to get injured. Best just to leave them playing cricket.
C. Players who've been playing and travelling together for months on end don't need to 'bond'. They need to bond with their friends and family instead.
D. If you do insist on cricketers fighting each other, think about matching people according to height and weight. According to a good source (Michael Vaughan) Anderson was boxing Chris Tremlett, who, for all his famed lack of aggression, is a huge bloke.
No wonder someone got hurt.
13.10.10
When the Music Stops
Ricky Thomas Ponting is, in more ways than you can count, a typical Australian Test cricketer. Indeed, he embodies the emotional makeup of virtually any successful professional sportsman. He doesn't do sentiment, or regret, or wistfulness. Such feelings are the privilege of the retired player, who can afford to look back at his career in anger, sorrow or pride with the certain knowledge that it can't blunt the sharpness of the competitive response that's vital for survival at the highest level of the game.
But Ponting wouldn't be human if he didn't reflect a little on the way things have changed for Australia in recent times. This is a man who's played nearly all his career in a team without peer; for much of that time he has been its leader and its best batsman. Now, as the autumn of his own great career draws in, he finds himself in charge of a team which just can't do what it used to. He knows it, his team-mates know it, and now other teams know it too.
Ponting said back in the English summer that he was relishing the different challenges that captaining a lesser side presented. I've no doubt he meant what he said at the time, but that was before they were beaten by Pakistan at Headingley; their two recent defeats, the second ultimately comfortable, to India have nailed the coffin lid shut on the invincible years. The music has stopped, and Ponting is still holding the parcel. The only trouble is that he doesn't know what to do with it.
While the batting is still respectable, it is far, far more vulnerable than it ever used to be, and his attack is too dependent on a spinner he doesn't trust and a quickie so erratic that it would be a shock if he really trusted himself. For all the optimism, promise and doggedness of Watson, George and Hilfenhaus, they're just not good enough to carry an attack, especially in unfamiliar conditions. There are alternatives - Bollinger, Siddle, Lee, Smith - but nobody capable of intimidating opponents with their sheer excellence in the way that was second nature to Warne and McGrath.
For me the outcome of the Ashes series still appears magnificently uncertain. Home advantage will tell, and, as everyone knows, Australians are never beaten. England's batting is a concern, but they will have seen nothing whatever to worry them over the past two weeks.
For every uncertainty, though, there is a certainty. While today's outstanding innings was Cheteshwar Pujara's first fifty for India, it sure as hell won't be his last.
But Ponting wouldn't be human if he didn't reflect a little on the way things have changed for Australia in recent times. This is a man who's played nearly all his career in a team without peer; for much of that time he has been its leader and its best batsman. Now, as the autumn of his own great career draws in, he finds himself in charge of a team which just can't do what it used to. He knows it, his team-mates know it, and now other teams know it too.
Ponting said back in the English summer that he was relishing the different challenges that captaining a lesser side presented. I've no doubt he meant what he said at the time, but that was before they were beaten by Pakistan at Headingley; their two recent defeats, the second ultimately comfortable, to India have nailed the coffin lid shut on the invincible years. The music has stopped, and Ponting is still holding the parcel. The only trouble is that he doesn't know what to do with it.
While the batting is still respectable, it is far, far more vulnerable than it ever used to be, and his attack is too dependent on a spinner he doesn't trust and a quickie so erratic that it would be a shock if he really trusted himself. For all the optimism, promise and doggedness of Watson, George and Hilfenhaus, they're just not good enough to carry an attack, especially in unfamiliar conditions. There are alternatives - Bollinger, Siddle, Lee, Smith - but nobody capable of intimidating opponents with their sheer excellence in the way that was second nature to Warne and McGrath.
For me the outcome of the Ashes series still appears magnificently uncertain. Home advantage will tell, and, as everyone knows, Australians are never beaten. England's batting is a concern, but they will have seen nothing whatever to worry them over the past two weeks.
For every uncertainty, though, there is a certainty. While today's outstanding innings was Cheteshwar Pujara's first fifty for India, it sure as hell won't be his last.
8.10.10
The Art of Cricket
I've always followed the county game closely.
Every season new names come along. They make a few runs or take a few wickets, and you notice them. Sometimes they go on to great things in the game, at others they fade from view and you forget all about them, perhaps occasionally wondering what happened to them when you flick through an old Wisden and their name catches your eye.
So it is with Elliott Wilson.
In 1999, Wilson, an opening batsman, broke into the Worcestershire side, making his maiden century against Middlesex at Worcester as the season's end approached. He followed this with two further tons in 2000, and, if the world wasn't quite at his feet, a career seeing off the new ball in the shadow of Worcester Cathedral beckoned (and that, my friends, strikes me as a pretty great way to earn your living).
Then it all went wrong. Wilson, in Australia to spend the winter playing grade cricket, sustained severe damage to his back as a result of a badly-administered injection. There were serious complications and he never played first-class cricket again.
Elliott Wilson is now an artist, and the gallery on his website reflects the depth and diversity of his talent.
Every season new names come along. They make a few runs or take a few wickets, and you notice them. Sometimes they go on to great things in the game, at others they fade from view and you forget all about them, perhaps occasionally wondering what happened to them when you flick through an old Wisden and their name catches your eye.
So it is with Elliott Wilson.
In 1999, Wilson, an opening batsman, broke into the Worcestershire side, making his maiden century against Middlesex at Worcester as the season's end approached. He followed this with two further tons in 2000, and, if the world wasn't quite at his feet, a career seeing off the new ball in the shadow of Worcester Cathedral beckoned (and that, my friends, strikes me as a pretty great way to earn your living).
Then it all went wrong. Wilson, in Australia to spend the winter playing grade cricket, sustained severe damage to his back as a result of a badly-administered injection. There were serious complications and he never played first-class cricket again.
Elliott Wilson is now an artist, and the gallery on his website reflects the depth and diversity of his talent.
6.10.10
Gould Will Live
Ian Gould is a friendly, avuncular man. I've been watching him around cricket for more than thirty years and he's always been like that. He likes a joke, and, despite the odd recent howler (of which more below), he can umpire bloody well. Players like him, and he's been one of the best recent additions to the ICC Elite Panel.
However, while allowing for his obvious and unquestioned impartiality, he would barely be human if he didn't feel a small hint of reflex pleasure when India flopped over the line yesterday. If they'd lost after he wrongly sent Ishant on his way then he would really have needed his sense of humour to deal with some of the stick that would have come his way.
He, and India, and Ishant, and the glorious Laxman, live to fight another day.
However, while allowing for his obvious and unquestioned impartiality, he would barely be human if he didn't feel a small hint of reflex pleasure when India flopped over the line yesterday. If they'd lost after he wrongly sent Ishant on his way then he would really have needed his sense of humour to deal with some of the stick that would have come his way.
He, and India, and Ishant, and the glorious Laxman, live to fight another day.
26.9.10
Ifs and Butts
When English cricket summers end I usually experience a feeling of disappointment and regret. Not this time.
Not just because of what's gone on in the past month, but also because this has been a messy, badly constructed season. England switching formats and opponents as frequently as Eoin Morgan switches hands. A needlessly divided and therefore denuded County Championship, a Twenty20 tournament expanded to the point of meaninglessness and another competition of a length, as Neil Kinnock said twenty-five years ago this coming week, 'irrelevant to the real needs'. For someone who loves the game but has an increasing number of competing demands on his time, it is becoming harder and harder to follow what is going on, let alone write about it. But the love will endure. It always does.
Talking of irrelevancies, a final word on Ijaz Butt, who's been making all the headlines this past week and will probably find himself on the receiving end of a writ before long. It would be interesting to know what the Pakistan players think of him, given that his statement simultaneously undermined the diligent efforts of the Pakistan team (especially the outstanding Umar Gul) and gave extra motivation to their opponents. Not much, I would guess.
England go to Australia in good shape. For the first time in many years they have the world's leading current spin bowler in their ranks, and they have a decent - I wouldn't put it any more strongly than that - chance of retaining the Ashes. I'll be with them in spirit, if not in person.
With or without the shadow of corruption, the endless carousel that is modern international cricket never stops (which, of course, is part of the problem), and Australia are now in India for a short series which will supply some further pointers as to what may happen in November and December.
See you soon.
Not just because of what's gone on in the past month, but also because this has been a messy, badly constructed season. England switching formats and opponents as frequently as Eoin Morgan switches hands. A needlessly divided and therefore denuded County Championship, a Twenty20 tournament expanded to the point of meaninglessness and another competition of a length, as Neil Kinnock said twenty-five years ago this coming week, 'irrelevant to the real needs'. For someone who loves the game but has an increasing number of competing demands on his time, it is becoming harder and harder to follow what is going on, let alone write about it. But the love will endure. It always does.
Talking of irrelevancies, a final word on Ijaz Butt, who's been making all the headlines this past week and will probably find himself on the receiving end of a writ before long. It would be interesting to know what the Pakistan players think of him, given that his statement simultaneously undermined the diligent efforts of the Pakistan team (especially the outstanding Umar Gul) and gave extra motivation to their opponents. Not much, I would guess.
England go to Australia in good shape. For the first time in many years they have the world's leading current spin bowler in their ranks, and they have a decent - I wouldn't put it any more strongly than that - chance of retaining the Ashes. I'll be with them in spirit, if not in person.
With or without the shadow of corruption, the endless carousel that is modern international cricket never stops (which, of course, is part of the problem), and Australia are now in India for a short series which will supply some further pointers as to what may happen in November and December.
See you soon.
19.9.10
The Glorious Uncertainty of the Unrefined Talent
My first clear memory of Andrew Flintoff dates back to a Test match between England and India at Lord's in 1996. David Lloyd, then the England coach, had invited the likely lad from Lancashire to act as his country's Twelfth Man. I stood and watched for a while at the gap between the Allen Stand and the pavilion and soon became aware of a looming presence next to me, blotting out the light. I'd seen his picture so knew when I looked up that I was literally being overshadowed by Andrew Flintoff. Despite regular exposure to the behemoths turned out by the professional Rugby Union academies, he remains one of the biggest eighteen year-olds I've ever seen.
Just two years later he was in the England side; raw, over-promoted, destined to take a very long time to rise and an equally long one to fall. But for a relatively short time his best was as good as anyone's around, and my favourite memories all come from that brief heyday between 2003 and 2006: Dispatching South Africa in an ODI uniform at Edgbaston in partnership with Michael Vaughan, July 2003, one sublime cover-drive instantly awakening memories of Ian Botham; raging against the dying of the light at Lord's and The Oval, same summer; repeatedly turning games in partnership with Geraint Jones, a contrasting man if ever there was, but someone he always seemed to bat well with, in 2004 and 2005; that over to Ponting and a wealth of other moments from the summer the Ashes came back.
Other than in one specific area of his game - his bowling in one-day cricket - Andrew Flintoff wasn't a truly great cricketer. Simply a very good one whose greatest individual Test series happened to coincide with what was perhaps the greatest Test series of all. But, to the average English cricket follower, his huge popularity owed far more to his image as an outwardly unsophisticated, often gauche everyman who embodied and fulfilled people's hopes while retaining an endearing sense of vulnerability. The British tend to be wary of self-conscious sporting excellence, preferring those who succeed in spite of themselves and who routinely appear to be only a step away from failure. The glorious uncertainty of the unrefined talent.
One image to leave: It is September 2003. Makhaya Ntini bowls, and the coiled, vengeful power of Flintoff's drive lofts the ball upwards, seemingly destined for space. It only makes it as far as the upper tier of the Oval pavilion but no matter. This is something we've waited since 1985 to see. It is special, he is special, and we want more.
Flintoff's future also has more than a tinge of uncertainty about it. But he, and we, will always have his past.
Just two years later he was in the England side; raw, over-promoted, destined to take a very long time to rise and an equally long one to fall. But for a relatively short time his best was as good as anyone's around, and my favourite memories all come from that brief heyday between 2003 and 2006: Dispatching South Africa in an ODI uniform at Edgbaston in partnership with Michael Vaughan, July 2003, one sublime cover-drive instantly awakening memories of Ian Botham; raging against the dying of the light at Lord's and The Oval, same summer; repeatedly turning games in partnership with Geraint Jones, a contrasting man if ever there was, but someone he always seemed to bat well with, in 2004 and 2005; that over to Ponting and a wealth of other moments from the summer the Ashes came back.
Other than in one specific area of his game - his bowling in one-day cricket - Andrew Flintoff wasn't a truly great cricketer. Simply a very good one whose greatest individual Test series happened to coincide with what was perhaps the greatest Test series of all. But, to the average English cricket follower, his huge popularity owed far more to his image as an outwardly unsophisticated, often gauche everyman who embodied and fulfilled people's hopes while retaining an endearing sense of vulnerability. The British tend to be wary of self-conscious sporting excellence, preferring those who succeed in spite of themselves and who routinely appear to be only a step away from failure. The glorious uncertainty of the unrefined talent.
One image to leave: It is September 2003. Makhaya Ntini bowls, and the coiled, vengeful power of Flintoff's drive lofts the ball upwards, seemingly destined for space. It only makes it as far as the upper tier of the Oval pavilion but no matter. This is something we've waited since 1985 to see. It is special, he is special, and we want more.
Flintoff's future also has more than a tinge of uncertainty about it. But he, and we, will always have his past.
Seeing is Believing
A recurrent theme in the first few years of this blog was the discrepancy between Ian Bell's transparently exceptional batting ability and his failure to establish himself in the England team. I well remember writing a sentence which began 'if Ian Bell ever realizes how good he could be...'.
Over the last year the disconnect between potential and performance has become less noticeable, largely as a result of his batting in South Africa last winter. After an injury-interrupted home season, his return to the Test side for the start of the forthcoming Ashes series appears a formality. At last, in his 29th year, there are signs that he's finally started to really believe in himself. And there's plenty to believe in.
Yesterday evening, as Bell steered Warwickshire to victory against Somerset in the final of the Clydesdale Bank 40 at a floodlit Lord's, he put together an innings which served both as reminder and confirmation of what he is capable of. Mark Turner is a journeyman seam bowler. He's just been released by Somerset and is joining Derbyshire, the team cricketers join when they can't go anywhere else. So, when he came on to bowl the 38th over of the Warwickshire innings with Bell facing, things didn't look good. Six balls later, with Bell having creamed Turner for twenty runs and the Warwickshire win assured, things looked even worse.
But, in fairness, it probably wouldn't have made much difference who was bowling. Bell was playing with such a potent mix of command, assurance and even, whisper it, arrogance, that many another more talented bowler would have gone precisely the same way. It looked to me suspiciously like the work of a player who finally knows how good he is, and that, my friends, is very good indeed.
Of course, attempting to hold together the England batting in the febrile cauldron of the Gabba, or amid the brutal partisanship of the MCG, is a different thing. We will see, but the signs are good.
The 'CB40' feels like an unloved competition, and Ian Bell has frequently appeared an unloved batsman. Defending his corner against the doubters has often been difficult; more than once I've given up and embraced the majority opinion.
Ian Bell won't be giving up any time soon. Last night he showed the British cricket community what he can do, but it's time he showed the world.
Over the last year the disconnect between potential and performance has become less noticeable, largely as a result of his batting in South Africa last winter. After an injury-interrupted home season, his return to the Test side for the start of the forthcoming Ashes series appears a formality. At last, in his 29th year, there are signs that he's finally started to really believe in himself. And there's plenty to believe in.
Yesterday evening, as Bell steered Warwickshire to victory against Somerset in the final of the Clydesdale Bank 40 at a floodlit Lord's, he put together an innings which served both as reminder and confirmation of what he is capable of. Mark Turner is a journeyman seam bowler. He's just been released by Somerset and is joining Derbyshire, the team cricketers join when they can't go anywhere else. So, when he came on to bowl the 38th over of the Warwickshire innings with Bell facing, things didn't look good. Six balls later, with Bell having creamed Turner for twenty runs and the Warwickshire win assured, things looked even worse.
But, in fairness, it probably wouldn't have made much difference who was bowling. Bell was playing with such a potent mix of command, assurance and even, whisper it, arrogance, that many another more talented bowler would have gone precisely the same way. It looked to me suspiciously like the work of a player who finally knows how good he is, and that, my friends, is very good indeed.
Of course, attempting to hold together the England batting in the febrile cauldron of the Gabba, or amid the brutal partisanship of the MCG, is a different thing. We will see, but the signs are good.
The 'CB40' feels like an unloved competition, and Ian Bell has frequently appeared an unloved batsman. Defending his corner against the doubters has often been difficult; more than once I've given up and embraced the majority opinion.
Ian Bell won't be giving up any time soon. Last night he showed the British cricket community what he can do, but it's time he showed the world.
6.9.10
To Tweet or Not to Tweet
I tried 'Tweeting' for a few months late last year and early this. I tried to be the Tweeter with the fewest followers in the world until the pointlessness of it all became clear and I gave up participation in favour of seeing what people more famous and interesting than me had to say about their lives.
Most of the people I follow are involved with cricket in some way, and are well-known. Graeme Swann's Tweets are ebullient and slightly childish. David Lloyd's reflect his humour and wide range of passions. Jimmy Anderson's tend towards the dull and worthy, but are notably well structured and punctuated. It's clear, unlike some, that he went to school. Agnew's reflect a life so utterly wonderful that he must wake up every day thanking some higher authority (the BBC Appointments Board, I suppose) for its munificence. Michael Vaughan is a late adopter who shows promise.
Something worth keeping in mind, though, is that if you put something on Twitter, more or less anyone, anywhere, can see it. And if they don't see it for themselves, someone will tell them about it.
If someone's responsible for selecting a cricket team that you'd like to play in, it's best only to refer to them as a c**t (or even a k**t) or a w****r in private. People generally don't like that sort of thing, and if you give them another reason not to select you, well, as good old Devon Malcolm apparently once said, 'you guys are history'.
Don't expect a call anytime soon, Dimitri.
Most of the people I follow are involved with cricket in some way, and are well-known. Graeme Swann's Tweets are ebullient and slightly childish. David Lloyd's reflect his humour and wide range of passions. Jimmy Anderson's tend towards the dull and worthy, but are notably well structured and punctuated. It's clear, unlike some, that he went to school. Agnew's reflect a life so utterly wonderful that he must wake up every day thanking some higher authority (the BBC Appointments Board, I suppose) for its munificence. Michael Vaughan is a late adopter who shows promise.
Something worth keeping in mind, though, is that if you put something on Twitter, more or less anyone, anywhere, can see it. And if they don't see it for themselves, someone will tell them about it.
If someone's responsible for selecting a cricket team that you'd like to play in, it's best only to refer to them as a c**t (or even a k**t) or a w****r in private. People generally don't like that sort of thing, and if you give them another reason not to select you, well, as good old Devon Malcolm apparently once said, 'you guys are history'.
Don't expect a call anytime soon, Dimitri.
31.8.10
On Reflection
It's hard to believe that it's barely been three days since the only story in town broke. It already seems like weeks, but the dust has barely settled.
The best moment I've had over the last few days was reading on Cricinfo yesterday - while loitering around Horse Guards Parade, of all places - that the ICC has scope for leniency when it comes to the imposition of suspensions for activities such as 'spot-fixing', and that, should it come to it, they'll be able to take into account Mohammad Amir's youth and possible naivete, which may mean that he could end up with a ban of 'only' five years rather than something much longer. Immediately after the event I got caught up in the prevailing mood which seemed to be suggesting that a life ban was the only acceptable outcome, and the thought of that happening to Amir was starting to genuinely upset me.
So, the future may not be quite as bleak for Amir as it may seem. Or, then again, it might.
Salman Butt and Mohammad Asif appear different. They've been around for long enough to really know the implications of what they were doing, and for all my deep admiration for Asif's bowling, if it's shown that they were complicit in this I'll be happy to see them both out of the game for good.
The best moment I've had over the last few days was reading on Cricinfo yesterday - while loitering around Horse Guards Parade, of all places - that the ICC has scope for leniency when it comes to the imposition of suspensions for activities such as 'spot-fixing', and that, should it come to it, they'll be able to take into account Mohammad Amir's youth and possible naivete, which may mean that he could end up with a ban of 'only' five years rather than something much longer. Immediately after the event I got caught up in the prevailing mood which seemed to be suggesting that a life ban was the only acceptable outcome, and the thought of that happening to Amir was starting to genuinely upset me.
So, the future may not be quite as bleak for Amir as it may seem. Or, then again, it might.
Salman Butt and Mohammad Asif appear different. They've been around for long enough to really know the implications of what they were doing, and for all my deep admiration for Asif's bowling, if it's shown that they were complicit in this I'll be happy to see them both out of the game for good.
29.8.10
History Repeated as Tragedy
On a grey, slightly chilly, autumnal morning, Lord's, on this of all days, was a strange place to be. The air of confusion, regret and uncertainty was tangible, and more MCC members were reading the News of the World than can ever have been the case before. Buying it felt a little dirty, but it had to be done.
Although Umar Akmal finally showed his true colours, defeat came quickly, but the ramifications of what may have been done in the course of that defeat will take a lot longer to play out. On the face of it, the evidence is strong, and, if it's as solid as it appears, the ICC will need to hit this one hard to stand any chance of rolling back what may, in the Indian sub-continent at least, be a rising tide of corruption.
No matter the lifelines it's thrown, it seems as though Pakistan cricket will always find a way to drag itself back into the mire. But, as it sinks, individual images linger.
From Lord's I'll go with the haunted, shuffling figure of Mohammad Yousuf, dismissed twice in an afternoon on Saturday and looking for all the world like a shattered man. This was someone who lived and played through the last great series of Pakistani match-fixing scandals, and, in retrospect, you have to wonder whether his crushed demeanour reflected the fact that he had discovered that history was repeating itself.
And then you had Mohammad Amir, striding off after succumbing to Graeme Swann for his second duck of the game. If things go badly for him it may be the last thing he ever does on a Test match field.
For Test cricket to lose a player of his staggering ability so soon would be little short of tragic, and, for his career to end prematurely would be unutterably sad. This time, though, people really need to hang for this, and if the case against Amir and others is proved, there should be no coming back.
We move on. Or we try to. This, like a partnership between Jonathan Trott and Stuart Broad, will run and run and run.
Although Umar Akmal finally showed his true colours, defeat came quickly, but the ramifications of what may have been done in the course of that defeat will take a lot longer to play out. On the face of it, the evidence is strong, and, if it's as solid as it appears, the ICC will need to hit this one hard to stand any chance of rolling back what may, in the Indian sub-continent at least, be a rising tide of corruption.
No matter the lifelines it's thrown, it seems as though Pakistan cricket will always find a way to drag itself back into the mire. But, as it sinks, individual images linger.
From Lord's I'll go with the haunted, shuffling figure of Mohammad Yousuf, dismissed twice in an afternoon on Saturday and looking for all the world like a shattered man. This was someone who lived and played through the last great series of Pakistani match-fixing scandals, and, in retrospect, you have to wonder whether his crushed demeanour reflected the fact that he had discovered that history was repeating itself.
And then you had Mohammad Amir, striding off after succumbing to Graeme Swann for his second duck of the game. If things go badly for him it may be the last thing he ever does on a Test match field.
For Test cricket to lose a player of his staggering ability so soon would be little short of tragic, and, for his career to end prematurely would be unutterably sad. This time, though, people really need to hang for this, and if the case against Amir and others is proved, there should be no coming back.
We move on. Or we try to. This, like a partnership between Jonathan Trott and Stuart Broad, will run and run and run.
27.8.10
A Sense of Belonging
Until today there was an uncertainty about Jonathan Trott's status in the England side. Of course, there was a nerveless maiden century in the deciding Test of an Ashes series, and a double century at Lord's, and a record-breaking ODI partnership, but there was also the timewasting fussiness of his guard-taking ritual, more than a hint of strokelessness under pressure and an innate lack of charisma and batting elegance. Earlier in the season it began to look as though many in the media wanted him to fail, simply so as the sainted Eoin Morgan could be welcomed into the Test side.
Today, though, he resoundingly came of age with a truly magnificent combination of patience, technical rigour and impeccable shot selection; as good a century as has been made in England colours in the past couple of decades.
And Stuart Broad, for once rejecting hubris in favour of simply showing what he can do with a bat in his hand, was equally impressive.
As the runs mounted, their body language between overs reflected the way in which their partnership moved from uncertainty to realisation to fulfilment. By the end they were pumping each other's hands like long-lost friends, and they resume tomorrow at 11 requiring a further three runs to break a record which has stood for 79 years.
If Jonathan Trott lives to be 79 he'll never play better.
This is a player who really belongs.
Today, though, he resoundingly came of age with a truly magnificent combination of patience, technical rigour and impeccable shot selection; as good a century as has been made in England colours in the past couple of decades.
And Stuart Broad, for once rejecting hubris in favour of simply showing what he can do with a bat in his hand, was equally impressive.
As the runs mounted, their body language between overs reflected the way in which their partnership moved from uncertainty to realisation to fulfilment. By the end they were pumping each other's hands like long-lost friends, and they resume tomorrow at 11 requiring a further three runs to break a record which has stood for 79 years.
If Jonathan Trott lives to be 79 he'll never play better.
This is a player who really belongs.
25.8.10
(Raining) Cats and Dogs
I'm in London for the Test, just down the road from Lord's. It's raining cats and dogs. Even with the famed Lord's drainage, early play tomorrow looks a tall order indeed.
If I was Graeme Swann I'd probably tweet about it. And if I was him I'd be staying in a better hotel.
If I was Graeme Swann I'd probably tweet about it. And if I was him I'd be staying in a better hotel.
19.8.10
Solidarity
International cricket - all international sport, in fact - is a cloistered world, inhabited by privileged people. People, on both sides of the boundary and touchline, with the talent and good fortune to be able to earn what, by most people's standards, are huge riches, while doing something they'd happily do for nothing if their lives had turned out differently. Not that everything (unless, perhaps, you're a member of the media) is wine and roses; playing professional sport well requires a high level of discipline and far more hard work than many people realize.
Perhaps it's because of this - the fact that their own lives are so pleasurable and absorbing - that people in sport often seem so unaware of what's going on in the outside world.
Like my fellow blogger at the idiosyncratic and excellent Down at Third Man, I've been surprised and concerned (to put it mildly) that there's been very little mention of the Pakistan floods during the media coverage of the Test series. Pakistan is nothing if not a country at the heart of the world cricket community, and one which required a huge amount of solidarity and support from the rest of that community even before the latest disaster came its way. Now it needs even more.
As I type, TMS is doing its bit to redress the balance by interviewing James Caan, who's heading a fundraising campaign on behalf of the British Pakistan Foundation and is about to travel to Pakistan, but much more can, and should surely, be done.
Watch this space, and, in the meantime, visit Third Man's Facebook page here.
Perhaps it's because of this - the fact that their own lives are so pleasurable and absorbing - that people in sport often seem so unaware of what's going on in the outside world.
Like my fellow blogger at the idiosyncratic and excellent Down at Third Man, I've been surprised and concerned (to put it mildly) that there's been very little mention of the Pakistan floods during the media coverage of the Test series. Pakistan is nothing if not a country at the heart of the world cricket community, and one which required a huge amount of solidarity and support from the rest of that community even before the latest disaster came its way. Now it needs even more.
As I type, TMS is doing its bit to redress the balance by interviewing James Caan, who's heading a fundraising campaign on behalf of the British Pakistan Foundation and is about to travel to Pakistan, but much more can, and should surely, be done.
Watch this space, and, in the meantime, visit Third Man's Facebook page here.
16.8.10
Chaos Theory
More often than not Twenty20 finals day ends in thinly-veiled chaos.
Saturday was one of those days. It ended at nearly 11 p.m. with the faintly surreal sight of a middle-aged man with a pot of paint and a big stick emerging into the glare of the Rose Bowl floodlights to paint a couple of white lines on a strip of turf as many thousands of cricket fans laughed, drank, cheered and looked at their watches. Oh, and wondered who out of Hampshire and Somerset would end up winning the thing.
The cricket wasn't bad either, with Jos Buttler showing a wider audience the virtues which those of us who inhabit Gimblett's Hill at Taunton have known about for a while. A technique both unfussy and innovative, backed by the iron temperament of the natural finisher. No sooner has the world started to recognize the remarkable ability and potential of Eoin Morgan than someone else comes along with many of the same qualities.
And then there were two of the most naturally rhythmical left-arm spinners you could ever wish to see. For once, though, Murali Kartik was put in the shade by Hampshire's highly-impressive 19 year-old from the Isle of Wight, Danny Briggs. In a snatched post-victory interview Briggs said something along the lines of 'I didn't know this many people watched cricket'.
You'd better get used to it, Danny, because, where you might be heading, they assuredly do.
Saturday was one of those days. It ended at nearly 11 p.m. with the faintly surreal sight of a middle-aged man with a pot of paint and a big stick emerging into the glare of the Rose Bowl floodlights to paint a couple of white lines on a strip of turf as many thousands of cricket fans laughed, drank, cheered and looked at their watches. Oh, and wondered who out of Hampshire and Somerset would end up winning the thing.
The cricket wasn't bad either, with Jos Buttler showing a wider audience the virtues which those of us who inhabit Gimblett's Hill at Taunton have known about for a while. A technique both unfussy and innovative, backed by the iron temperament of the natural finisher. No sooner has the world started to recognize the remarkable ability and potential of Eoin Morgan than someone else comes along with many of the same qualities.
And then there were two of the most naturally rhythmical left-arm spinners you could ever wish to see. For once, though, Murali Kartik was put in the shade by Hampshire's highly-impressive 19 year-old from the Isle of Wight, Danny Briggs. In a snatched post-victory interview Briggs said something along the lines of 'I didn't know this many people watched cricket'.
You'd better get used to it, Danny, because, where you might be heading, they assuredly do.
9.8.10
Rebuilding Respect
Regardless of what happens now - and as I write England are well on the way to victory - there was, in a counter-intuitive, old-fashioned, slightly grim way, something uplifting about yesterday afternoon's proceedings at Edgbaston.
After their shambolic displays with the bat and in the field on Friday and Saturday, and with Graeme Swann wheeling away with a venom few in the current international game can match, Pakistan needed something different, both to preserve their own credibility and to revive a series which was beginning to look like a barely-twitching corpse a matter of days after it had started.
The combative, brave and occasionally stylish batting of Zulqarnain Haider, Mohammad Aamer and Saeed Ajmal, did just that, providing a template for their supposed superiors at the top of the order (although much of the devil seemed to have gone both from the pitch and England's bowling by the afternoon) and showing that all is not lost. On a ground that currently resembles a building site, this was the brick-by-brick rebuilding of Pakistan's self-respect.
God, they need to learn how to catch, though.
After their shambolic displays with the bat and in the field on Friday and Saturday, and with Graeme Swann wheeling away with a venom few in the current international game can match, Pakistan needed something different, both to preserve their own credibility and to revive a series which was beginning to look like a barely-twitching corpse a matter of days after it had started.
The combative, brave and occasionally stylish batting of Zulqarnain Haider, Mohammad Aamer and Saeed Ajmal, did just that, providing a template for their supposed superiors at the top of the order (although much of the devil seemed to have gone both from the pitch and England's bowling by the afternoon) and showing that all is not lost. On a ground that currently resembles a building site, this was the brick-by-brick rebuilding of Pakistan's self-respect.
God, they need to learn how to catch, though.
2.8.10
The More Things Change...
In a performance which, in the field anyway, went beyond the realms of mere competence and into those of outright brilliance, James Anderson was England's stand-out player.
It was time. He's had an uneasy few months in the one-day game, omitted entirely from the T20 triumph in the Caribbean and intermittently expensive in the ODIs against Australia and Bangladesh. But he remains a bowler of talent, ingenuity and skill, best suited to the rhythms and attacking imperatives of the five-day game, especially when the conditions weigh as heavily in his favour as they did at the weekend.
As Vic Marks has written, he's the best exponent of genuine swing England have had since the heyday of the young Ian Botham, who, for anyone too young to remember him at his best, could really, really bowl. From visual memory (no speed guns then), Botham wasn't as quick as Anderson usually is, although, when riled by a batsman, an umpire, an Australian or any combination thereof (which was often) he could really charge in. Though attacking by nature Botham at his best probably had a slightly more consistent command of line and length than Anderson, reflective of the era in which he played and a parsimonious Westcountry cricket education at the hands of Tom Cartwright.
Plus ca Change. For Ian Botham at Lord's, June 1978, knocking over a range of hapless Pakistani batsmen like so many skittles, read Anderson at Trent Bridge, August 2010.
But sterner challenges, presented by the batsmen, pitches, cricket balls and climate of Australia, lie ahead.
It was time. He's had an uneasy few months in the one-day game, omitted entirely from the T20 triumph in the Caribbean and intermittently expensive in the ODIs against Australia and Bangladesh. But he remains a bowler of talent, ingenuity and skill, best suited to the rhythms and attacking imperatives of the five-day game, especially when the conditions weigh as heavily in his favour as they did at the weekend.
As Vic Marks has written, he's the best exponent of genuine swing England have had since the heyday of the young Ian Botham, who, for anyone too young to remember him at his best, could really, really bowl. From visual memory (no speed guns then), Botham wasn't as quick as Anderson usually is, although, when riled by a batsman, an umpire, an Australian or any combination thereof (which was often) he could really charge in. Though attacking by nature Botham at his best probably had a slightly more consistent command of line and length than Anderson, reflective of the era in which he played and a parsimonious Westcountry cricket education at the hands of Tom Cartwright.
Plus ca Change. For Ian Botham at Lord's, June 1978, knocking over a range of hapless Pakistani batsmen like so many skittles, read Anderson at Trent Bridge, August 2010.
But sterner challenges, presented by the batsmen, pitches, cricket balls and climate of Australia, lie ahead.
1.8.10
Go Back To What You First Thought Of. And Ignore It.
On balance, it's probably a good thing that I didn't write what I was thinking of writing before the Trent Bridge Test began, namely that Jimmy Anderson 'needed a big performance'. I've learnt from experience that the immutable Law of Sod as applied to blogging means that as soon as you write something like that it's rendered redundant by events which, in retrospect, have a terrible inevitability about them.
With this in mind, I won't be writing anything similar about Kevin Pietersen (for a week or two, anyway).
I'm not too sure about the Pakistan team, though. They, with bat and in the field at least, are really struggling. And I'm not sure that they're capable of proving me wrong.
With this in mind, I won't be writing anything similar about Kevin Pietersen (for a week or two, anyway).
I'm not too sure about the Pakistan team, though. They, with bat and in the field at least, are really struggling. And I'm not sure that they're capable of proving me wrong.
25.7.10
The Great Lost Bowler
The excellent short series in England between Pakistan and Australia was a contest of contrasts. Pakistan youthful, unavoidably inexperienced, slightly disorganised but hugely talented. Australia, inevitably diminished, ageing in important areas, but innately professional and as naturally competitive as ever. One side raging against the injustices and political complexities which compel them to play all their Test cricket away from home, the other against the passing of time and a cricket generation.
The lasting impressions include the manner in which Pakistan recovered from the Lord's defeat and its anarchic aftermath to stagger over the line at Headingley, and the fact that, with the coming winter ahead, Australia look to be vulnerable in a way they haven't been against England since Mitchell Johnson was in short trousers.
The abilities of Mohammad Aamer are so self-evidently extraordinary as to require no elaboration, but some of the spells and deliveries bowled, at Headingley in particular, by Mohammad Asif, set the mind rolling over Pakistan's lost years.
When he came to England for the first time in 2006 I was very impressed by Asif, and, for a time after that, he looked like taking his rightful place at the top table of world seam bowling. It never quite happened, mainly because he simply hasn't played enough, and his marginalisation carries echoes of the way in which Pakistan cricket as a whole has been confined to the shadows these past few years.
He looks slower now - presumably by choice, for he's yet to reach 28 and has, amazingly, only played in 19 Test matches - but his memory is good. He still knows how to probe a batsman's weaknesses around off-stump with a precision and control rarely seen from anyone since Glenn McGrath retired. It's a commonplace in most sports that in order to be regarded as truly great you have to play for a long time, but it's not an iron law. Mohammad Asif may be one of the exceptions.
In Pakistan cricket little is ever clear or transparent, but one thing currently is. Over the next few weeks Pakistan's attack will test the England batting to its very foundations.
The lasting impressions include the manner in which Pakistan recovered from the Lord's defeat and its anarchic aftermath to stagger over the line at Headingley, and the fact that, with the coming winter ahead, Australia look to be vulnerable in a way they haven't been against England since Mitchell Johnson was in short trousers.
The abilities of Mohammad Aamer are so self-evidently extraordinary as to require no elaboration, but some of the spells and deliveries bowled, at Headingley in particular, by Mohammad Asif, set the mind rolling over Pakistan's lost years.
When he came to England for the first time in 2006 I was very impressed by Asif, and, for a time after that, he looked like taking his rightful place at the top table of world seam bowling. It never quite happened, mainly because he simply hasn't played enough, and his marginalisation carries echoes of the way in which Pakistan cricket as a whole has been confined to the shadows these past few years.
He looks slower now - presumably by choice, for he's yet to reach 28 and has, amazingly, only played in 19 Test matches - but his memory is good. He still knows how to probe a batsman's weaknesses around off-stump with a precision and control rarely seen from anyone since Glenn McGrath retired. It's a commonplace in most sports that in order to be regarded as truly great you have to play for a long time, but it's not an iron law. Mohammad Asif may be one of the exceptions.
In Pakistan cricket little is ever clear or transparent, but one thing currently is. Over the next few weeks Pakistan's attack will test the England batting to its very foundations.
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