It's a time of the week that immediately brings to mind images of Harry Secombe boring half of England senseless on the old ITV show Highway. It was a rival to BBC's Songs of Praise and featured the former Goodie singing Christian songs on hillsides up and down the country.
Every week its signature music would set off an alarm in my adolescent brain that said "homework can not be put off any longer". I would drag myself off to my bedroom to pore over crumpled pieces of Science or English papers that demanded attention. Before then putting my feet up on my desk and reading a comic.
The stresses that the spectre of unwritten essays held over me meant it took years before I learnt how to enjoy my Sundays. The dread of the upcoming schoolweek and the hungover regrets from preceedings nights out made even Formula One an appealing way to take ones mind off things.
But times change when you work six days a week; for now any day off is enjoyed to the maximum. It's no surprise that everyday things like newspapers, TV, lunch or football are elevated to elysian status simply by putting the word Sunday in front of them. However this particularly Sunday may prove a little different as two opposing worlds are destined to collide and the fallout could be quite devastating.
For this Sunday, my mental health and nervous system will be tested to the limit as Fulham play Chelsea at exactly the same time that England attempt to wrestle The Ashes off of the Aussies. And although my body will be at one of the spiritual sporting venues I call home my mind will not be at the other. I will be watching England versus Australia at The Oval but I will not be listening to Fulham versus Chelsea at Craven Cottage. I simply cannot take it.
The chances of Fulham emerging victorious are even greater than England beating Australia. With Fulham 6/1 and England 10/3 the chances of both winning are.......I don't know, I can't work it out. Anyway, it's not going to happen. So I'll try and cut out the events at Craven Cottage by limiting myself to half-time and full-time updates. And I'll direct all my attention to the action on the field in front of me.
I don't know what's going to happen this weekend but I do know this. I've been dreading the cricket ever since Headingley, that Fulham were lucky to score a late equaliser in the corresponding fixture last season, and that it probably won't be a good idea to call me at 5.55pm on Sunday afternoon.
About Me
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
How low can you go?
Every time Graham Onions bowls he tricks me into thinking he's about to pull up. After roughly six or seven paces he looks as though he's about to slow down. Never the most fearsome or in-your-face of fast bowlers he appears to run in with everyday thoughts running through his mind before suddenly a thought pops into his head. “Did I leave my daughter on top of the fridge?”
It’s enough to make him slow down but before he comes to a standstill and the batsman gives up his guard another thought flashes into his brain. "No wait, I don't haev a daughter. Or a fridge." With all well in the world again he continues at a regular pace to complete his delivery.
Despite having the best English bowling average in the series it looks as though Onions will be one of the fall guys after the Headingley debacle. It was a performance so inept that in a lifetime of watching English sporting disasters this is one without precedent. I’ve never watched a game of Test match cricket that was over by lunch on the first day. Statistically, it’s unlikely I ever will again; although Bangladesh are due to tour here next year.
All of which is probably my fault. Posting a blog heralding the greatest days in my cricket life was always going to tempt fate. And days one and two at Headingley more than matched the worst I’ve ever encountered. For this was worse than the tedium of Brisbane, was devoid of the animal carnality of Hamilton, and the pain lasted so much longer than it did in Antigua. Although the same can possibly not be said for my dad.
Earlier this year I was lucky enough to be in the press box for the astounding 4-4 game at Stamford Bridge between Chelsea and Liverpool. 3-1 down on aggregate, Liverpool somehow managed to drag themselves back into contention at 2-0 up. But the second half saw a revival from Chelsea who appeared to have put the tie to bed as they went 3-2 ahead on the night with just 15 minutes to go.
A good night’s entertainment then began to tinker with the boundaries of reality as Liverpool hit two goals inside three minutes. With nine minutes remaining they needed one goal to cap off the most incredible night of sporting drama in the history of the game. It was at about this point that I had actually stopped enjoying the game. Things had taken such a turn for the extraordinary I couldn’t take it in. I found it impossible to feel emotion for the match was entering unchartered waters. It was bordering on the surreal.
As it was, Chelsea scored once more to secure the match and soothe my sanity. But memories of this game came flooding back while I watched England steamrollered by the Aussies. After England were dismissed by the slip cordon inside two sessions our bowlers somehow managed to perform even worse. They put on the most ludicrous display of bowling ever seen. It was a bowling display that actually defied belief. For the second time in six months I found myself watching a sporting competition that required a deeper range of emotional ability than I possessed.
It really was that bad. But was it bad enough to top the worst days cricket ever seen? Sadly no, I honestly hope I never see anything that can knock that particular days cricket off the top of the list of worst witnessed.
AUS v ENG, Adelaide, Day Five – England start the day one wicket down and a lead of over 100 runs. They end it on the receiving end of a six-wicket defeat and are 2-0 down in The Ashes.
ENG v AUS, Headingley, Day One – England go into the game 1-0 up in the series and within two hours need to win the remaining match to retain The Ashes.
WI v ENG, Antigua, Day One – Game abandoned within an hour of play while three family members are on a plane on the way to watch the game. You couldn’t make it up.
AUS v ENG, Melbourne, Day One – England win the toss and bowl in the most bowler friendly conditions imaginable. In driving rain & heavy cloud cover England are bowled out for 159. Rudi Koertzen then fails to give Hayden out who was plumb LBW. The following day he goes on to make 153 to change the course of the match.
NZ v ENG, Hamilton, Day Three – England score 199 runs in the day against England ‘A. At the end of day press conference Kevin Pietersen bizarrely described his 131-ball knock of 43 as his best in an England shirt. This was greeted by widespread jaw dropping silence.
It’s enough to make him slow down but before he comes to a standstill and the batsman gives up his guard another thought flashes into his brain. "No wait, I don't haev a daughter. Or a fridge." With all well in the world again he continues at a regular pace to complete his delivery.
Despite having the best English bowling average in the series it looks as though Onions will be one of the fall guys after the Headingley debacle. It was a performance so inept that in a lifetime of watching English sporting disasters this is one without precedent. I’ve never watched a game of Test match cricket that was over by lunch on the first day. Statistically, it’s unlikely I ever will again; although Bangladesh are due to tour here next year.
All of which is probably my fault. Posting a blog heralding the greatest days in my cricket life was always going to tempt fate. And days one and two at Headingley more than matched the worst I’ve ever encountered. For this was worse than the tedium of Brisbane, was devoid of the animal carnality of Hamilton, and the pain lasted so much longer than it did in Antigua. Although the same can possibly not be said for my dad.
Earlier this year I was lucky enough to be in the press box for the astounding 4-4 game at Stamford Bridge between Chelsea and Liverpool. 3-1 down on aggregate, Liverpool somehow managed to drag themselves back into contention at 2-0 up. But the second half saw a revival from Chelsea who appeared to have put the tie to bed as they went 3-2 ahead on the night with just 15 minutes to go.
A good night’s entertainment then began to tinker with the boundaries of reality as Liverpool hit two goals inside three minutes. With nine minutes remaining they needed one goal to cap off the most incredible night of sporting drama in the history of the game. It was at about this point that I had actually stopped enjoying the game. Things had taken such a turn for the extraordinary I couldn’t take it in. I found it impossible to feel emotion for the match was entering unchartered waters. It was bordering on the surreal.
As it was, Chelsea scored once more to secure the match and soothe my sanity. But memories of this game came flooding back while I watched England steamrollered by the Aussies. After England were dismissed by the slip cordon inside two sessions our bowlers somehow managed to perform even worse. They put on the most ludicrous display of bowling ever seen. It was a bowling display that actually defied belief. For the second time in six months I found myself watching a sporting competition that required a deeper range of emotional ability than I possessed.
It really was that bad. But was it bad enough to top the worst days cricket ever seen? Sadly no, I honestly hope I never see anything that can knock that particular days cricket off the top of the list of worst witnessed.
AUS v ENG, Adelaide, Day Five – England start the day one wicket down and a lead of over 100 runs. They end it on the receiving end of a six-wicket defeat and are 2-0 down in The Ashes.
ENG v AUS, Headingley, Day One – England go into the game 1-0 up in the series and within two hours need to win the remaining match to retain The Ashes.
WI v ENG, Antigua, Day One – Game abandoned within an hour of play while three family members are on a plane on the way to watch the game. You couldn’t make it up.
AUS v ENG, Melbourne, Day One – England win the toss and bowl in the most bowler friendly conditions imaginable. In driving rain & heavy cloud cover England are bowled out for 159. Rudi Koertzen then fails to give Hayden out who was plumb LBW. The following day he goes on to make 153 to change the course of the match.
NZ v ENG, Hamilton, Day Three – England score 199 runs in the day against England ‘A. At the end of day press conference Kevin Pietersen bizarrely described his 131-ball knock of 43 as his best in an England shirt. This was greeted by widespread jaw dropping silence.
Monday, 10 August 2009
It's just not cricket
You know the world's turning on its head when at a time that football crowds are widely felt not to be as vocal as they used to be cricket fans are being slammed for being too boisterous. England supporters were recently rounded upon for booing Ricky Ponting to the crease; while the general boozy nature of cricket crowds these days also came under attack. The Australian captain is apparently too good a player to warrant such abuse. While the fans were seen to be letting themselves, the sport and England in general down by their overtly partisan, boorish and dare I say it.......working class attitude. “It simply wasn’t cricket, darling. The fans were behaving like football supporters!”..."Gasp!"..."There was swearing and everything!"
What most observers failed to pick up on, or opted to ignore, was the decidedly tongue-in-cheek nature of the abuse dished out. This wasn’t a returning Wayne Rooney to Goodison Park, nor a fat Frank appearing at Upton Park. Rather it was an English crowd giving stick to an opponent who hails from a country we can’t get enough of.
There wasn’t a hint of vitriol in affording Ricky Ponting this 'welcome' as the fans highlighted just what standing he has in the game. It’s not rocket science that any man who has scored over 11,000 Test runs and 8 centuries against England might just be the danger man, a man who could single-handed rest the Ashes away, a man to be targeted.
You can bet your last Aussie dollar that Michael Hussey would swap the lukewarm lethargy that surrounded his welcome with that of his captain. It says a lot about the man that Ponting is still regarded as a character worth bothering with. The crowd wouldn't know a Marcus North or Simon Katich if they were pulling pints at the bar. The lack of a Gilchrist, Warne or McGrath leaves just two comedy villains, and there’s no point telling the 12th man to keep his arm straight when all he’s doing is carrying the drinks.
But I'm not so naive to suggest that everyone in the crowd was gently jibing Ponting. Sure there would have been some whose vision was obscured by the descending red mist. For long memories aren’t needed to remember the claimed 'catches' against India, the apparent encouragement of his sides bullying manner and the perceived ungraciousness of his character. But they would hardly be the only ones who think like that. For let us not forget that Ricky Ponting has more than his fair share of critics back in the homeland.
And while we're focusing on that particular hemisphere let's look at the attitude of the Aussie fans, shall we? Glenn McGrath has been saying that Oz supporters would have never doled out such inhumane treatment to Andrew Strauss. Don't make me laugh. I can still hear the crowing that accompanied Steve Harmison every time he was thrown the ball during the last Ashes series overseas. I can still picture the Gabba crowd laughing at Simon Jones after he wrecked his career on the outfield. Hell, the Perth crowd once threw beer cans and a punch at John Snow while he patrolled the boundary. And any fan that has spent an afternoon at the cricket at the Adelaide Oval will know how it’s possible to keep one eye on the cricket and another on incoming missiles from the Aussie fans.
Nobody knows all this better than the Barmy Army. A group that have come in from a pummelling from all quarters and hit from pillar to post in the past week in a manner that the England bowling attack are becoming all too familiar with. Apart from the fact that their members apparently refused to get involved in the booing they were blamed with pretty much all that is wrong with the game in this country. All this despite the fact that even after travelling across Australia watching that 5-0 reverse in 06/07 they spent the final session in Sydney cheering on both sides. Hell, if they didn't boo then they're hardly going to start now.
And what's wrong with a bit of booing anyway? Racism, violent & homophobic chanting are understandably unacceptable in any walk of life. But booing? Really? What's next for the chop? Tutting? Booing would almost be seen as a term of affection on most inner city street corners.
All of which detracts from the recognition of the special place in our hearts that the Aussies are held in this country. The rivalry starts on the field and ends on it. We're not talking about the nastiness associated with our sporting rivalries with Germany, Argentina or Scotland. Australia is a country that we love to beat, love to poke fun at but also love to visit. The Aussies and English share a history, a sense of fair play and whenever possible a beer.
We also share a sense of humour. For if you had closed your eyes as Ricky Ponting stepped onto the Edgbaston stage you'd have almost be forgiven for thinking Captain Hook was going into bat. For the treatment dished out to him was nothing more than pantomime. On the field he was playing the part of the villain. Of it, one moron aside, he's immediately afforded the respect due to any human being.
At the end of next year it'll be an Englishman's time to don the black cape, cover one eye and put a parrot on the shoulder. You would have thought those moral custodians of the high ground would have realised and appreciated all this. For is their anything more upper or middle class than a visit to the pantomime?
What most observers failed to pick up on, or opted to ignore, was the decidedly tongue-in-cheek nature of the abuse dished out. This wasn’t a returning Wayne Rooney to Goodison Park, nor a fat Frank appearing at Upton Park. Rather it was an English crowd giving stick to an opponent who hails from a country we can’t get enough of.
There wasn’t a hint of vitriol in affording Ricky Ponting this 'welcome' as the fans highlighted just what standing he has in the game. It’s not rocket science that any man who has scored over 11,000 Test runs and 8 centuries against England might just be the danger man, a man who could single-handed rest the Ashes away, a man to be targeted.
You can bet your last Aussie dollar that Michael Hussey would swap the lukewarm lethargy that surrounded his welcome with that of his captain. It says a lot about the man that Ponting is still regarded as a character worth bothering with. The crowd wouldn't know a Marcus North or Simon Katich if they were pulling pints at the bar. The lack of a Gilchrist, Warne or McGrath leaves just two comedy villains, and there’s no point telling the 12th man to keep his arm straight when all he’s doing is carrying the drinks.
But I'm not so naive to suggest that everyone in the crowd was gently jibing Ponting. Sure there would have been some whose vision was obscured by the descending red mist. For long memories aren’t needed to remember the claimed 'catches' against India, the apparent encouragement of his sides bullying manner and the perceived ungraciousness of his character. But they would hardly be the only ones who think like that. For let us not forget that Ricky Ponting has more than his fair share of critics back in the homeland.
And while we're focusing on that particular hemisphere let's look at the attitude of the Aussie fans, shall we? Glenn McGrath has been saying that Oz supporters would have never doled out such inhumane treatment to Andrew Strauss. Don't make me laugh. I can still hear the crowing that accompanied Steve Harmison every time he was thrown the ball during the last Ashes series overseas. I can still picture the Gabba crowd laughing at Simon Jones after he wrecked his career on the outfield. Hell, the Perth crowd once threw beer cans and a punch at John Snow while he patrolled the boundary. And any fan that has spent an afternoon at the cricket at the Adelaide Oval will know how it’s possible to keep one eye on the cricket and another on incoming missiles from the Aussie fans.
Nobody knows all this better than the Barmy Army. A group that have come in from a pummelling from all quarters and hit from pillar to post in the past week in a manner that the England bowling attack are becoming all too familiar with. Apart from the fact that their members apparently refused to get involved in the booing they were blamed with pretty much all that is wrong with the game in this country. All this despite the fact that even after travelling across Australia watching that 5-0 reverse in 06/07 they spent the final session in Sydney cheering on both sides. Hell, if they didn't boo then they're hardly going to start now.
And what's wrong with a bit of booing anyway? Racism, violent & homophobic chanting are understandably unacceptable in any walk of life. But booing? Really? What's next for the chop? Tutting? Booing would almost be seen as a term of affection on most inner city street corners.
All of which detracts from the recognition of the special place in our hearts that the Aussies are held in this country. The rivalry starts on the field and ends on it. We're not talking about the nastiness associated with our sporting rivalries with Germany, Argentina or Scotland. Australia is a country that we love to beat, love to poke fun at but also love to visit. The Aussies and English share a history, a sense of fair play and whenever possible a beer.
We also share a sense of humour. For if you had closed your eyes as Ricky Ponting stepped onto the Edgbaston stage you'd have almost be forgiven for thinking Captain Hook was going into bat. For the treatment dished out to him was nothing more than pantomime. On the field he was playing the part of the villain. Of it, one moron aside, he's immediately afforded the respect due to any human being.
At the end of next year it'll be an Englishman's time to don the black cape, cover one eye and put a parrot on the shoulder. You would have thought those moral custodians of the high ground would have realised and appreciated all this. For is their anything more upper or middle class than a visit to the pantomime?
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