Early this year it dawned on me that at the start of July I will have been blogging for ten years. Over the next couple of weeks, running up to the anniversary on Friday 1st July, I'm going to repost ten of my favourite pieces from two half decades of writing about cricket on the Web. I also hope to post some reflections on how the 'blogosphere' has changed since 2006, which will probably, inevitably, end with me wondering if it still exists, or is simply diminished by the passage of time and the inexorable evolution of the digital world.
But that's for the future. The piece below was written the day after Brian Lara's career ended during the 2007 World Cup. As with all retirements it felt like the end of an era, probably because it was. Everyone has their favourites, and, when it came to batting, he was mine. Thanks chiefly to the priceless memory of being up in the old Radcliffe Road End stand at Trent Bridge when he made his 145 against England in 1995, I always regarded him as the greatest genius I ever saw hold a bat.
Another feature of this piece is that I end it by quoting from Green Fading into Blue, a collection of the writings of my favourite cricket writer of the old school, Alan Ross, which came out in 1999. I can't remember precisely what was going through my head at the time, but I know that the title of the book somehow gave rise to the name of this blog. I think it was a kind of tribute, and I thought it sounded good.
Anyway, Brian Lara.
Long day, yesterday.
For one thing England and the West Indies fought each other to a standstill in the World Cup's best game. The fact that it was a contest between two of the competition's most uneasy and mediocre teams didn't matter as we at last had a match which encapsulated everything which people hoped for from the West Indies' first World Cup but which it has almost completely failed to deliver - noise, atmosphere, colour, vibrancy, brilliant strokeplay from Gayle, Samuels, Vaughan and Pietersen, passionate athleticism in the field from Collingwod and Bravo, further obvious signs of promise from Ravi Bopara.
And then there was Brian Lara. Run out for a staccato 18 in a mix-up with Samuels, unable in the end to stem the tide of England's run-chase, and finally gone for good from cricket in a welter of flash bulbs, autographs and snatched handshakes.
When I woke up on Friday morning and heard that Lara was going to retire I was surprised but also saddened. At the very first it was selfish personal disappointment as I was looking forward to seeing him bat in person for the last time at Lord's in May, but later it evolved into a wider awareness that cricket currently stands at one of those tipping points in its history when a range of pivotal figures slip from the international stage and we're left to wonder who will take their places. In the past few months Warne, Lara, Langer and Woolmer have gone, McGrath has one or two games left and even Sachin's once unimpeachable seat at the head of the game's top table looks vulnerable.
I've written before about how I was always a Lara man. It started with the 375, which I followed on the radio as I didn't have Sky then, went on through the 501, his destruction of Australia in an ODI at the Queen's Park Oval in March 1995, then to Trent Bridge that August and just about the greatest work of genius I ever saw in person. And on to the peerless 1999 series: 213 at Sabina and his finest hour of many, the undefeated 153 in Bridgetown that saw his side to the narrowest of victories. And on to Antigua again, to the world records, to a walk-on part in his team's 418 in the final innings against Australia in 2003, and the 400 not out against England in 2004. And on into retirement.
The essence of Lara can be hard to capture in words, but the inimitable Alan Ross, in Green Fading Into Blue, did better than most:
'He keeps very still at the wicket and is stillness personified. Alert as a gundog, scenting something, giving nothing away. Leaning on his bat between overs he may be dreaming, perhaps doing mental arithmetic.
The bowler approaches and now everything works together in harmony, the bat an extension of the arms, the legs and feet as in the first steps of a dance, abruptly halted.
In defence he is classically correct, body and head aligned, something of the martial arts in his position, pose held just long enough to be admired.
Runs appear to flow from him rather than he make them. He is anticipatory, a sixth sense making him ready, even before the bowler lets go. He strokes not hurts, times, caresses, even in moments of aggression melodious.'
And Rahul Bhattacharya does pretty well here.
I'm not going to say that things will never be the same again as it's the oldest cliche in the book and they probably will be, one day.
But who will take his place?
Showing posts with label Brian Lara. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brian Lara. Show all posts
5.5.08
Time's Arrow
Talking of Taunton, it occurred to me over the weekend that it's twenty years ago tomorrow that Graeme Hick made 405 not out there for Worcestershire, a monumental innings which remained the highest first-class score made in England during the twentieth century. In fact twenty years ago today he was just settling in, and he finished the first day unbeaten on 179.
My memories of the day it happened are crystal clear. At the time I was approaching the end of my three years at Warwick University, and, while I'd never, at that time, visited Taunton, I was obsessed with Graeme Hick and thought (didn't everyone?) that he was going to be the greatest batsman of his generation (in the world, never mind England). Having seen his overnight score I was trying to revise for my finals when I heard on the radio that he was ploughing on towards a score the like of which those of us born after the era of Bradman, Ponsford and Hanif Mohammed had never known.
I obviously can't remember exactly how many he had when I heard about it, but it was probably about 370, and I spent the next hour in a state of febrile excitement as I waited to hear whether he'd made it to 400.
At the time, of course, I didn't think I'd ever see anyone else do it, let alone make 500. But then, at that time, few people outside the West indies had heard of Brian Lara.
If you'd told me at the time that he'd still be playing for Worcestershire twenty years later I wouldn't have believed you. But then if you'd told me he'd finish his Test career with just six centuries and an average of 31, I wouldn't have believed that either.
My memories of the day it happened are crystal clear. At the time I was approaching the end of my three years at Warwick University, and, while I'd never, at that time, visited Taunton, I was obsessed with Graeme Hick and thought (didn't everyone?) that he was going to be the greatest batsman of his generation (in the world, never mind England). Having seen his overnight score I was trying to revise for my finals when I heard on the radio that he was ploughing on towards a score the like of which those of us born after the era of Bradman, Ponsford and Hanif Mohammed had never known.
I obviously can't remember exactly how many he had when I heard about it, but it was probably about 370, and I spent the next hour in a state of febrile excitement as I waited to hear whether he'd made it to 400.
At the time, of course, I didn't think I'd ever see anyone else do it, let alone make 500. But then, at that time, few people outside the West indies had heard of Brian Lara.
If you'd told me at the time that he'd still be playing for Worcestershire twenty years later I wouldn't have believed you. But then if you'd told me he'd finish his Test career with just six centuries and an average of 31, I wouldn't have believed that either.
6.11.07
Wondering What It's Like
I don't usually write about rugby here - it's a cricket blog, after all - but I spend a lot of my time during the English winter watching the game, and occasionally you come across something which you not only enjoy, but which makes you think a bit more about the wider resonances and parallels of what you've seen.
Last night I had the pleasure of watching Joe Roff, 86 Australian caps and two World Cup finals behind him, play for Oxford University against the second team of my local club, the Exeter Chiefs. Unsurprisingly he excelled, while at the same time gliding through the game with the type of effortless poise and command that not only signifies a gifted sportsman but also one playing in a game far below the level to which he's accustomed.
It's hard to come across such experiences in cricket. No international in my experience has retired at 29 and gone back to university as Roff has, so you can only think of the times you managed to see one of the game's more gifted batsmen ply their trade against an attack that simply couldn't touch them. My most penetrating memories revolve around Lara at Trent Bridge in 1995, and, more vividly, a fifty by Darren Lehmann at Taunton when he looked as if he could have humiliated the Somerset bowlers while batting with a stump and only got himself out when it all became a little too easy.
At the end of the first half there was the type of exchange between players which is commonplace at any level of the game - a bit of grappling, a few random and harmless punches, a release for surplus aggression. Roff stood well away from it and trotted off, smiling to himself. He'd seen it all before. He'd been to places his compatriots and opponents could only dream of going, where the stakes are overwhelmingly high and the blows really hurt.
Those of us who spend our time on the sidelines, or vainly trying to emulate the actions and experiences of our heroes, can never really go there either. The best we can do is to see those places through their eyes and wonder at what it might be like.
Last night I had the pleasure of watching Joe Roff, 86 Australian caps and two World Cup finals behind him, play for Oxford University against the second team of my local club, the Exeter Chiefs. Unsurprisingly he excelled, while at the same time gliding through the game with the type of effortless poise and command that not only signifies a gifted sportsman but also one playing in a game far below the level to which he's accustomed.
It's hard to come across such experiences in cricket. No international in my experience has retired at 29 and gone back to university as Roff has, so you can only think of the times you managed to see one of the game's more gifted batsmen ply their trade against an attack that simply couldn't touch them. My most penetrating memories revolve around Lara at Trent Bridge in 1995, and, more vividly, a fifty by Darren Lehmann at Taunton when he looked as if he could have humiliated the Somerset bowlers while batting with a stump and only got himself out when it all became a little too easy.
At the end of the first half there was the type of exchange between players which is commonplace at any level of the game - a bit of grappling, a few random and harmless punches, a release for surplus aggression. Roff stood well away from it and trotted off, smiling to himself. He'd seen it all before. He'd been to places his compatriots and opponents could only dream of going, where the stakes are overwhelmingly high and the blows really hurt.
Those of us who spend our time on the sidelines, or vainly trying to emulate the actions and experiences of our heroes, can never really go there either. The best we can do is to see those places through their eyes and wonder at what it might be like.
1.7.07
One Year On, One Year In
It's exactly a year since I began writing this blog. After years of writing articles for magazines and journals I'd started to feel frustrated by the length of time it took for anything I'd written to appear in print and I felt that this format would give my work greater immediacy and the opportunity to write about whatever was in my head at the time, rather than what an editor wanted me to write about or what they were prepared to accept.
I'd spent some wonderful hours in the early part of last season watching Graeme Hick bat at Taunton and Worcester and wanted to write something about a cricketer whose career I'd been associated with since he was a youngster and who was nearly as old as me but was still performing with distinction. That piece, still one of the best things I've written, can be found here, and, a year on, Hick is still batting superbly; on Friday evening he made 110 from 49 balls in a Twenty20 game for Worcestershire against Northants.
It's been a crowded and intriguing year for world cricket. I've seen and commented upon the first forfeited Test match and all the controversy that went with it, Australia regaining the Ashes with dismissive excellence and then going on to dominate the World Cup in much the same way (although it's questionable how many people were still awake by the end to see them do it). I've also covered the shockingly sudden death of Bob Woolmer and the retirements of three of the greatest cricketers of this or any era, Brian Lara, Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne. It's been hard work at times, but I'm still enjoying it.
To my regular readers - you know who you are, even if I don't - thanks a lot for dropping by and coming back. And special thanks to Andrew Riley, Simon Orpen, Simon Hattenstone of The Guardian, Patrick Kidd of The Times, Mark Ray for the photos, Russell Degnan, Homer, and anyone else who's been kind enough to add me to their blogrolls.
The only thing that's disappointed me slightly is that thousands of people read the blog but few comment. I've gone through spells of getting reasonable numbers of comments (usually when I've written something about the Indian team) but things usually go dead again after a while. It's one of those spells at the moment.
So, if you're reading the blog and feel that you've got something to say, leave a comment. It's not difficult and I always reply.
At the last count this site had been visited by people from 62 countries, although a large proportion of those simply wanted to know about the different shades of green. To them, and the people whose searches for 'Guildford Swingers' on Google always lead them to my appreciation of Martin Bicknell, sorry I couldn't help you.
I'd spent some wonderful hours in the early part of last season watching Graeme Hick bat at Taunton and Worcester and wanted to write something about a cricketer whose career I'd been associated with since he was a youngster and who was nearly as old as me but was still performing with distinction. That piece, still one of the best things I've written, can be found here, and, a year on, Hick is still batting superbly; on Friday evening he made 110 from 49 balls in a Twenty20 game for Worcestershire against Northants.
It's been a crowded and intriguing year for world cricket. I've seen and commented upon the first forfeited Test match and all the controversy that went with it, Australia regaining the Ashes with dismissive excellence and then going on to dominate the World Cup in much the same way (although it's questionable how many people were still awake by the end to see them do it). I've also covered the shockingly sudden death of Bob Woolmer and the retirements of three of the greatest cricketers of this or any era, Brian Lara, Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne. It's been hard work at times, but I'm still enjoying it.
To my regular readers - you know who you are, even if I don't - thanks a lot for dropping by and coming back. And special thanks to Andrew Riley, Simon Orpen, Simon Hattenstone of The Guardian, Patrick Kidd of The Times, Mark Ray for the photos, Russell Degnan, Homer, and anyone else who's been kind enough to add me to their blogrolls.
The only thing that's disappointed me slightly is that thousands of people read the blog but few comment. I've gone through spells of getting reasonable numbers of comments (usually when I've written something about the Indian team) but things usually go dead again after a while. It's one of those spells at the moment.
So, if you're reading the blog and feel that you've got something to say, leave a comment. It's not difficult and I always reply.
At the last count this site had been visited by people from 62 countries, although a large proportion of those simply wanted to know about the different shades of green. To them, and the people whose searches for 'Guildford Swingers' on Google always lead them to my appreciation of Martin Bicknell, sorry I couldn't help you.
22.4.07
Lara at the Last
Long day, yesterday.
For one thing England and the West Indies fought each other to a standstill in the World Cup's best game. The fact that it was a contest between two of the competition's most uneasy and mediocre teams didn't matter as we at last had a match which encapsulated everything which people hoped for from the West Indies' first World Cup but which it has almost completely failed to deliver - noise, atmosphere, colour, vibrancy, brilliant strokeplay from Gayle, Samuels, Vaughan and Pietersen, passionate athleticism in the field from Collingwod and Bravo, further obvious signs of promise from Ravi Bopara.
And then there was Brian Lara. Run out for a staccato 18 in a mix-up with Samuels, unable in the end to stem the tide of England's run-chase, and finally gone for good from cricket in a welter of flash bulbs, autographs and snatched handshakes.
When I woke up on Friday morning and heard that Lara was going to retire I was surprised but also saddened. At the very first it was selfish personal disappointment as I was looking forward to seeing him bat in person for the last time at Lord's in May, but later it evolved into a wider awareness that cricket currently stands at one of those tipping points in its history when a range of pivotal figures slip from the international stage and we're left to wonder who will take their places. In the past few months Warne, Lara, Langer and Woolmer have gone, McGrath has one or two games left and even Sachin's once unimpeachable seat at the head of the game's top table looks vulnerable.
I've written before about how I was always a Lara man. It started with the 375, which I followed on the radio as I didn't have Sky then, went on through the 501, his destruction of Australia in an ODI at the Queen's Park Oval in March 1995, then to Trent Bridge that August and just about the greatest work of genius I ever saw in person. And on to the peerless 1999 series: 213 at Sabina and his finest hour of many, the undefeated 153 in Bridgetown that saw his side to the narrowest of victories. And on to Antigua again, to the world records, to a walk-on part in his team's 418 in the final innings against Australia in 2003, and the 400 not out against England in 2004. And on into retirement.
The essence of Lara can be hard to capture in words, but the inimitable Alan Ross, in Green Fading Into Blue, did better than most:
'He keeps very still at the wicket and is stillness personified. Alert as a gundog, scenting something, giving nothing away. Leaning on his bat between overs he may be dreaming, perhaps doing mental arithmetic.
The bowler approaches and now everything works together in harmony, the bat an extension of the arms, the legs and feet as in the first steps of a dance, abruptly halted.
In defence he is classically correct, body and head aligned, something of the martial arts in his position, pose held just long enough to be admired.
Runs appear to flow from him rather than he make them. He is anticipatory, a sixth sense making him ready, even before the bowler lets go. He strokes not hurts, times, caresses, even in moments of aggression melodious.'
And Rahul Bhattacharya does pretty well here.
I'm not going to say that things will never be the same again as it's the oldest cliche in the book and they probably will be, one day.
But who will take his place?
For one thing England and the West Indies fought each other to a standstill in the World Cup's best game. The fact that it was a contest between two of the competition's most uneasy and mediocre teams didn't matter as we at last had a match which encapsulated everything which people hoped for from the West Indies' first World Cup but which it has almost completely failed to deliver - noise, atmosphere, colour, vibrancy, brilliant strokeplay from Gayle, Samuels, Vaughan and Pietersen, passionate athleticism in the field from Collingwod and Bravo, further obvious signs of promise from Ravi Bopara.
And then there was Brian Lara. Run out for a staccato 18 in a mix-up with Samuels, unable in the end to stem the tide of England's run-chase, and finally gone for good from cricket in a welter of flash bulbs, autographs and snatched handshakes.
When I woke up on Friday morning and heard that Lara was going to retire I was surprised but also saddened. At the very first it was selfish personal disappointment as I was looking forward to seeing him bat in person for the last time at Lord's in May, but later it evolved into a wider awareness that cricket currently stands at one of those tipping points in its history when a range of pivotal figures slip from the international stage and we're left to wonder who will take their places. In the past few months Warne, Lara, Langer and Woolmer have gone, McGrath has one or two games left and even Sachin's once unimpeachable seat at the head of the game's top table looks vulnerable.
I've written before about how I was always a Lara man. It started with the 375, which I followed on the radio as I didn't have Sky then, went on through the 501, his destruction of Australia in an ODI at the Queen's Park Oval in March 1995, then to Trent Bridge that August and just about the greatest work of genius I ever saw in person. And on to the peerless 1999 series: 213 at Sabina and his finest hour of many, the undefeated 153 in Bridgetown that saw his side to the narrowest of victories. And on to Antigua again, to the world records, to a walk-on part in his team's 418 in the final innings against Australia in 2003, and the 400 not out against England in 2004. And on into retirement.
The essence of Lara can be hard to capture in words, but the inimitable Alan Ross, in Green Fading Into Blue, did better than most:
'He keeps very still at the wicket and is stillness personified. Alert as a gundog, scenting something, giving nothing away. Leaning on his bat between overs he may be dreaming, perhaps doing mental arithmetic.
The bowler approaches and now everything works together in harmony, the bat an extension of the arms, the legs and feet as in the first steps of a dance, abruptly halted.
In defence he is classically correct, body and head aligned, something of the martial arts in his position, pose held just long enough to be admired.
Runs appear to flow from him rather than he make them. He is anticipatory, a sixth sense making him ready, even before the bowler lets go. He strokes not hurts, times, caresses, even in moments of aggression melodious.'
And Rahul Bhattacharya does pretty well here.
I'm not going to say that things will never be the same again as it's the oldest cliche in the book and they probably will be, one day.
But who will take his place?
29.3.07
Culture Changes
Elsewhere, the poor crowds are starting to cause comment, and a range of reasons is being advanced, including high prices, the Caribbean last-minute culture and the banning of the type of displays of support which have always been commonplace in the West Indies.
Here's Cricinfo's take on things, with some well-judged and wise words from the great BCL.
Here's Cricinfo's take on things, with some well-judged and wise words from the great BCL.
22.11.06
Lara Man
Somebody once said that when it comes to the two greatest batsmen of the modern era you're either a 'Lara Man or a 'Tendulkar Man'. Well, ever since I saw him make 152 against England at Trent Bridge in August 1995, I've been a Lara Man.
I haven't written about him here before as he hasn't been doing much since I started this blog in July, but his 216 against Pakistan in Multan is resonant confirmation that, with his 38th birthday on the horizon, he remains as potent a batting artist as ever.
With Tendulkar you get as much technical quality as you could possibly want and a good many shots which are so sublime that nobody else around (except possibly Lara) could play them. Lara, though, exhibits an even more remarkable brand of brilliance, distinguished by the priceless ability to play really large innings when they're most required, comprising periods of studied defence and coruscating attacking shots, all emanating from the most distinctive backlift in the game. It's possible, occasionally and if everything goes right, to keep Tendulkar relatively quiet. It's much, much harder to do so with Lara.
I'm old enough to have seen Viv Richards, Greg Chappell and Gavaskar at their best, but I firmly believe Lara to be the greatest batsman I've ever seen and it looks likely that he'll be back in England again next spring.
I will certainly be at Lord's and possibly Chester-le-Street. I hope he's there too.
I haven't written about him here before as he hasn't been doing much since I started this blog in July, but his 216 against Pakistan in Multan is resonant confirmation that, with his 38th birthday on the horizon, he remains as potent a batting artist as ever.
With Tendulkar you get as much technical quality as you could possibly want and a good many shots which are so sublime that nobody else around (except possibly Lara) could play them. Lara, though, exhibits an even more remarkable brand of brilliance, distinguished by the priceless ability to play really large innings when they're most required, comprising periods of studied defence and coruscating attacking shots, all emanating from the most distinctive backlift in the game. It's possible, occasionally and if everything goes right, to keep Tendulkar relatively quiet. It's much, much harder to do so with Lara.
I'm old enough to have seen Viv Richards, Greg Chappell and Gavaskar at their best, but I firmly believe Lara to be the greatest batsman I've ever seen and it looks likely that he'll be back in England again next spring.
I will certainly be at Lord's and possibly Chester-le-Street. I hope he's there too.
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