I have seen the future

Purists,

I have seen the future.
Very happy indeed to count myself, along with the good lady wife, among the 23,737 punters in attendance at the Olympic Stadium last night for the T20 game NSW v QLD which was billed as Ohh Aah’s Last Hurrah.
Some bright spark at the NSW Cricket Association had figured out that Glenn McGrath had retired from test cricket a full twelve months ago and still went on to play in the World Cup, but had never really had a proper send off wearing the Blue Bag.
Sydney cricket fans voted with their feet.
First got wind that something was up when I got to Lidcombe station from Strathfield and found the Olympic Park platform absolutely jammed packed.
Thankfully Shitty Rail had the decency and sense to put on a train every ten minutes to shift the crowds.
When I got to the Novotel bar it was like a Sydney Swans match crowd – except they were in either blue or maroon state of origin style – one bloke had contrived to dress up like Marcel Marceu, a couple of refugees from the Sydney test match had slipped on colourful summer frocks over their hairy manboobs, and I was expecting to see people in monkey/gorilla suits – but there were none that I saw.
And a crowd of that size can make some noise in that fishbowl!
Cold, full strength beer and hot pies were on tap; something unheard of in this day and age.
There was even a mob of speed daters in on the middle deck.
Whenever a wicket fell or a six was scored , the boys moved along one seat to the next girl, and all repaired to the Cauldron Bar for some shitfacedness after the game.
The game itself was a quite curios affair on an even curiouser drop in pitch that made scoring difficult.
When NSW found themselves five wickets down for not many on the board, Katich sent out the edict that there would be no heroics under any circumstances, and the aim of the game was to bunt singles and make sure you scored off every ball.
Queensland pretty much tried the same tactic in the conditions and only fell just short in reply.
The great McGrath had an excellent game with one wicket and two catches, although he thought he’d lost the game for the Mighty Bleeeeews when he grassed a sitter late in the QLD innings.
Moped around at third man slapping his thigh
Not to matter.
Had them all out on the last ball of the match anyway.
Ooh Ahh would be hurting this morning – he’s been in a good paddock since retirement.
SPD Smith, a hitherto unknown NSW 18 year old right arm leggie, known to his mother as “Steven”, to his team mates as “Junior”, and to everyone else as “Smiffy”, took four wickets late in the piece to snare the man-of-the match award
Smiffy has the weirdest run up in world cricket for mine.
He takes three small steps then literally stops [!!] mid stride, then somehow gets going again by dragging his left foot and then three more sort of strange loping steps to the crease and then he’s into his delivery stride.
No one could have possibly coached him to do it that way.
Any batsman seeing that would be going “What the…?”
Trades on the surprise factor.
On interview after game:
Ground Announcer: “that would have been the biggest crowd you’ve ever played in front of”
Smiffy: “oh, yeah, right, yeah, it was”
GA: “you must have been pretty happy with your own performance”
Smiffy “um, yeah, I was just happy to get a game”
GA: “must have been great playing with Glenn McGrath”
Smiffy: “oh, yeah, erm, yeah, a fantastic legend”
End of interview.
Dave Warner from the Suburbs also turned out for NSW and the nickname in pink on the back of his shirt read “Wee Man”.
I couldn’t help wondering if he is related to the late, great “Trough Man” of Oxford Street fame?
The more you look at it, the more it becomes apparent that it is a fielder’s game, best played by kiddies.
Whoever is best at short sprints and accurate throws do the best.
While I consider myself something of a purist, I fell in love with T20 from the moment I first witnessed it at Hurstville Oval, maybe four or five seasons backs now.
I am sure it would simply horrify the good folks who invented the caper, particularly the blokes from the Hambledon CC who perfected the art in Hampshire all those years ago.
They imagined the game as a long, languid, liquid pursuit that was frequently punctuated by long breaks in play for drinks and meals, something still reflected in the long form of the game today.
Very happy when not much happened.
But Hambledon’s utter refusal to change ultimately led to the club’s oblivion, and the control of the game being thieved off them.
They would take one look at T20 and say “What the!! You haven’t even got time to fart!”
Strangely, the game was played in the spirit of the game, and I thought the umpires swarthy GA Abood and the fat boy RD Goodger both put in creditable exhibitions.
Especially the Abood, who gave a very close run out decision against Queensland – the Bamford was crouched like a close in catcher and had his hands on his knees taking a close look at the action from a shortish square leg, and when the appeal went up in a flurry of arms, legs, bat, ball and flying bails, he had no hesitation in jumping to his feet and raising the finger.
Respect.