Cricket 1

I watched the news all day with expectations of something interesting with this whole Ute-gate thing (again, I hate the -gate suffix thing).

Nothing did happen.

So instead I will blog about something that didn’t even appear once in the headlines today: The Twenty20 World Cup final.

Do you know who was in the final? Sri Lanka and Pakistan.

Do you know who won? Pakistan.

Quite deserving, at the end of the day. They played good, and they found form at the right time. Sri Lanka too.

Pakistan team, if their Twenty20 team is anything to go by, have a lot of potential in the future. Very young, and a lot of raw and unrefined talent there. There was a 17 year old who had the best bowling performance over the whole tournament. And there’s a good mix of experienced players in there – Shaid Afridi is the first name that springs to mind (mainly because he is the best all-rounder in the world at the moment).

The Ashes is very soon. Looking forward to it more now, though I still hold little by ways of expectations for it. Drawn series I maintain. Our team is in a slump (and that’s not judging it by the Twenty20 performance). England is suffering from an ill-timed ‘renewal’. There’s a good chance less than even half the team they field the first day played in the last Ashes series, and maybe only a couple will have played in their winning series. None of them are in great form – that’s if any of them are in any form.

I’m going to be blogging about cricket for the next few posts I think. So I won’t put all my material into this one.

Thomas.

How cricket saved itself

Test cricket is alive and well. It is still the premier form of the game where the greatest skills of technical cricket, of endurance, and, above all, sportsmanship is shown. If a team lacks in any one of these three elements of the game and they are exposed as frauds taking part in a gentleman’s game. To show this, I want to contrast two test match series – and they should come as no surprise to anyone. Hark back to the previous cricketing season of 07/08 in Australia. India was touring here, taking part of a 4 test match series. Both countries were excited and anticipating a close and hard-fought series. Both teams had been preparing for this tour in particular.

Australia was keen to reestablish and show off their winning ways. They had lost some big names to retirement – Shane Warne, Justin Langer, and Damien Martyn after the Ashes 5-0 victory against England in 06/07, and then McGrath after the 2007 World Cup. Gone were some of the names that brought the winning Australian team of recent years to domination of the sport. Could a mix of veterans, players trained to take these new places, and new blood keep Australia on top?

India, always the cricketing mad hatters of the world, had a chance to take it to the world’s best team and prove their worth. They were keen to exact cricketing revenge from the 2007 ODI series loss, at the hands of Aussies, in September/Ocotober of 2007, and right before their tour Down Under. This was a hard loss to swallow because it had been hyped to no end: Australia had won the 2007 ICC World Cup, India had won the 2007 ICC World Twenty20 Cup. The clash of the two best limited overs teams, and India lost.

Some bad blood had been spilled between the two teams when Australia previously toured India – bad blood that hardly needs attention or covering in detail again. Generally, charges of racism, of cheating, and bad sportsmanship were thrown about. After it all, it didn’t matter who was right or wrong, the game of cricket, and its loyal fans, were the losers for over a year. Come the 07/08 series on Australian soil, both teams pledged to do their best not to recreated the fiasco again, promising to play in an honest, good natured way – a way that cricket demands in order to keep the sport true and live.

The series ended up going Australia’s way, 2-1 with 1 draw. But that’s not what most cricketing fans* remember. The pledge was broken – by both teams (not matter how much bias you inject into the argument). We remember how pathetic on-field and off-field behaviour was. We remember how both teams went back down a path towards bad play – not going so far as to cheat (which goes against some of the claims made by Indian players), but going so far as to not be playing in the spirit of the game. But most of all, we remember the series because the quality of cricket was good. Both teams endured for 18 days out of a possible 20. But the sportsmanship, the respect, and the nature of the game were gone.

Australians played cocky, and their behaviour on the field was, granted, their ‘natural game’. But they have been criticised for their ‘natural game’ (of sledging, of appealing excessively, of playing ‘too hard’) for a long time – with a lot of the criticism coming from the Indian cricket team and commentators of late. The second test of the series saw Australia ramp up all facets of their ‘natural game’ to a point where fans of the team had moments that made them cringe. They would be criticised harshly by the Australian media, cricketing greats, and commentators around the country. The Indians, after getting some bad decisions by umpire Steve Bucknor, lobbied the ICC to remove him from the series – not only breaking breaking both team’s pledge of “Neither team has a right to object to an umpire’s appointment”, but also demeaning the game to the point that Australia didn’t win by skill, they won because of bad umpiring. The Indian team were rumoured to be planning to abandon the tour, because of the suspension of Harbhajan Singh for racial abuse towards Andrew Symonds, until the ICC intervened and settled the matter.

The rest of the series hardly mattered in the light of all this mess. I can’t remember any greaat innings, bowling performances, displays of sportsmanship, anything that brought credit to either team. I’m sure there were moments, but no cricket fans remember them because the whole thing now had a shadow over it.

Lets contrast this to the test series that just finished between Australia and South Africa.It was hyped as much – the number 2 team in the world of South Africa having been nipping at the heels of the number 1 team in the world of Australia for a year and some. A clash of the titans, but a test for both. Australia had to find its footing without a host of players to rely on. It would, in a sense, have to find its next generation in action – and hope they hit the ground running. South Africa, having been through the trough of losses and defeat associated with bringing up the next generation, was poised to be what Australia was some 10 years ago: the winning team that would eventually become the dominating team in world cricket. This was bound to be a great match.

Not even a day finished, and it is being touted as one of the best test match series you will see in a long time. Each test went to the fifth day – endurance. Each team showed off their depth of talent, with magnificent innings by some batters, masterful displays of bowling, and lively players in the field – technical skills. But, and again this is the most important, both teams respected each other, Australian crowds could stand and applaud either team in their efforts, and there were no charges of dissent or abuse filed, nor did any issues really raise their head – sportsmanship. The three elements of cricket that make the game great were alive and well, and, as a result, the game flourished. The form of the game that some say is dead kept two nations on the edge of their seats for weeks.

We saw, and will remember, the moment that the Australian test team had serious and real competition at home, and thus on the world stage, when J.P. Duminy hit the winning runs in Perth for the first defeat on home soil, and then Hashim Amla for the series winning runs in Melbourne. We will remember Dale Steyn for the great bowler that has debuted to the world, and Makhaya Ntini for the great player he has become. We will be able to recall the great performances of the opposition for this series. We won’t forget about Australia’s moments in the sun – the nail-biting, gutsy victory in Sydney, Michael Clarke’s stand-out series with the bat, Ricky Ponting’s back-to-back (almost) centuries in Melbourne, Mitchell Johnson’s coming of age in international cricket, or the debuts of a whole bunch of new blood. The thing we will remember most about the series is Graeme Smith walking out to the SCG with a busted elbow, broken finger, and rugged resolve to save his team from defeat. He would fall short, but by gosh it was a gutsy performance that real cricket is all about. Braving the odds, fighting for glory, and taking the match to the last ball.

This is what cricket is about. This is the cricket that I could only ever remember in my very early years, and had been missing for over a decade. I tasted this type of match, this style of play, the closeness of this series and I want more. Go back to this time last year and I wanted nothing to do with cricket. I dispised the sport for what it had become. I couldn’t care less what happened to any team on the field. I only waited until the sick sport got better. I didn’t care how long I had to wait, I would wait. I had tasted a bitter victory that I wanted no part of. And I wanted no part of a sport where the Australian team and the Indian team could be successful in.

Looking at this series, and the series since that debarcle with India, it would seem the Australians have turned a new leaf. I can’t speak about the Indian team because they haven’t had to prove themselves to me. Next time they play our team, then I’ll judge them. But for now, I’m not interested in them. I’m only interested in Australia’s team – our team. My team. The team that represents my country when they walk onto the field. The team I expect to play in the spirit of the game, with sportsmanship, with sound technical skill, and able to endure defeat, victory, and the responsibilities of each. The series just finished showed the world that they can. An old Australian spirit of fair before tough play, of fighting spirit in the proper nature, and bringing back the gentleman’s game has been on display.

Last year fans and casual observers said that cricket was dead, that Twenty20 and ODIs were the way because no one was prepared to watch test matches go for three days with predictable play and outcomes. I argued against them then. I told them they were wrong then. I said they would be proved wrong sooner, rather than later. I was right. People have been talking about the cricket non-stop now. It’s back in the papers, on the front page. Armchair professionals have come out in force. The solution to Australia’s problems can be found on thousands of blogs, while tributes to South Africa can be found on as many. Cricket is alive and well again. And it didn’t need some cop-out excuse, some broken version, some flash-bangs to get the attention back. Cricket needed cricket to save it. And for my money, it has.

Thomas.

Crowds at Martin Place

So today was the voluntary trek into the City to cheer on the cricketing world champions. Of course, as you would have seen on the news, there wasn’t just two people standing at a barricade, rather a couple thousand all crammed in between two office blocks and a stage. And it was crammed tighter than a tin of sardines, or a CityRail train at peak hour. Either or.

However, we arrived rather early (what we thought was fifty minutes, but turned into an hour), and secured a spot 3 deep from the front. I wasn’t all that displeased, until it got busier. Now, of course, Thursday 12pm isn’t going to attract the population of Sydney – people work, people are students, people are busy. So who would you expect to see there? Fanatics, university students and retirees. And after this crowded experience, I have come to realise something.

For the deriding that my generation gets for being uncouth, rude and obnoxious (and I’m not about to say we’re not), the older generation, 55+, they shouldn’t be talking. I was elbowed, slapped, punched, head butted, kneed, glared at and inconvenienced more than I had ever been in my life! To my left: some old biddy. To my right: an old guy with a brimmed hat on. Behind me: a lady shrunk with age. In front of me: an old couple who couldn’t decide on the weather. Let’s start with my left shall we?

This lady had commuted in from some nowhere just to be here, so you would think that she’d be more interested in making the most of the day, rather than talking to two people who she’d never met. Alas, she wasn’t, and my friend and I had to engage in conversation with her. Of course, she wasn’t saying anything applicable, interesting or remotely true to the conversation we were having. Whatever that conversation was, because I certainly was conscious though it.

To my right, well, Satan couldn’t have annoyed me more. Now I’m a frequent Akubra hat wearer. In fact, I think in all non-posed photo of me on my holiday (and then some that were) I have a black Akubra hat on. Now, do you know when I take it off? Indoors (because it’s plain rude to wear a hat indoors) and when I’m somewhere crowded. Why when it’s crowded? BECAUSE THE BRIM HITS OTHER PEOPLE’S HEADS! Being neither short nor tall, my brim doesn’t brush against a person stomach nor ride above everyone, it generally hits other people in the head. That’s if I left it on. Funnily enough, this jackass beside me, who hat a cricketing brimmed hat on with a stiff edge, left it on. And apparently he could see better with his chin on my shoulder and his cheek touching mine. Ok, that’s not literal, but his best vantage point was leaning over my shoulder, so his hat again and again and again kept dinging into the side off my head. It’s not all that annoying the first couple of times, but after the thirty fourth in half an hour (yes, I counted), it’s plain rage-inducing.

Behind me, well, how can you be angry at someone who has been ravished by the process of aging? Quite easily when they kept trying to move you. I’m not talking about subtlety here, I’m talking about arms and hand grabbing you and trying to push you aside. Thankfully enough, I’m pretty solid, and the only thing that can move me has to be between the ages of 18 and 40. Not a 1800s relic. I did feel sorry that she couldn’t see as well as she could – sorry that she could see anything at all actually.

And now for the persons in front of me. If ever I have encountered a more annoying, a more ruder, a more obnoxious couple in my life, I have no memory. They must have come from the North Shore, France or Melbourne because I was elbowed, I had my feet stepped on with high heels, received a face-full of gray and blue hair, and received not one single excuse me or apology from either Mrs. Ass or Mr. Ass. Either these people thought they were the centre of the universe or they were descendants of God. They were so arrogant. Let’s take, for example, when Mrs. Ass tried to take off her jacket. The sun had no competition in the sky since the second it rose – there wasn’t a single cloud and it certainly didn’t look like rain or snow was on the horizon. So why would someone wear a jacket out? Well, apparently up her ass, this lady, while her head was there, detected a chill coming from somewhere. So she donned a jacket. And then when it got too hot, she decided to take it off. So, instead of either moving yourself within the space you take up or stepping away for more room, she decided to step back, onto me, ram an elbow into my chest, turn around, shove her shoulder into my chest as well, then take off her jacket and flop it all over me until she bundled it up. Quite an enjoyable experience. And when I say enjoyable, I mean crap house.

And that’s just one story about this pair of insolent apes. I won’t bother to recite in detail their problem with their empty cups and how Mr. Ass decided to attempt an achievement that The Flash could do, and walk through me (for reference, The Flash could walk through solid walls by vibrating), or how the lady couldn’t decide if she wanted to watch the big screen on the left, the one on the right or the people that were making the damn speeches on the stage!

The common denominator: they were all old people that were pissing me off. Now, there were also three or four people who must have thought I was a thief or a mugger because the looks I was getting from old people just showed their mind: this person is going to steal my 1950s handbag, the pension cheque I got on Tuesday and the blue hair-dye I brought on the way in. I was more offended by the looks I was getting for daring to be in a congregation of old persons, who could only complain that this team wasn’t a patch on yesteryear’s teams, than being physically assaulted by those that surrounded me. And I wasn’t the only one getting those looks; my friend who came in was getting them and this teenager near to us as well. Seriously, if my generation is rude, we only learned it from the senior generation that exists now, and there ain’t no reason to improve if that’s how we’re going to be treated.

Anyway, despite my new-founded disdain for senior citizens, the day was enjoyable. We saw the gang turn up, say a couple of speeches, pose for some photos, then sign a thing or two. By now my friend had abandoned me to the crowd, otherwise I’d have been able to get photos and videos of Ponting, Hussey, Gilchrist and pretty much everyone who had turned up with The 18 Cup. But, alas, he had gone, and I was left to snap photos as best I could. I took thirty. These were the best seven:

The World Cup
Team photo one
Team photo two
Team photo three
Ponting
Hussey
Bracken

My favourites are team photo two and three.

I decided to leave by then because it was way too crowded with people fighting for autographs (similar to the way the crowds fought over the red hats that Emirates through out to the crowd. I tried my best to avoid getting one, but I ended up getting two), and people’s stress levels had begun to go through the roof as a few verbal spats began to erupt between, you guessed it, old people and young people. Before I had a chance to weigh in and say something that I might have regretted (or at least caused a few heart attacks with) I snaked my way through the people, found my friend and we were out. But yes, an enjoyable day despite the problems.

Thomas.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate all senior citizens, I despise those that I don’t hate.