The New Messiah

Adorationists,

There was some animated talk mid-week among the wise men and fools scattered along the front bar at The Local about whether MJ Clarke’s effort in Sydney was his best test match hundred.
The Old Sage in the corner lifted his brandy and soda to his lips, nodded, and simply said “probably”.
Then someone piped up with “what about that hundred he scored in the West Indies – you know the one – first game back after he’d been late getting to the tour on account of his missus’ old man had shuffled off the mortal coil and he was suffering a recurrence of Shagger’s Back? Problem with it was - no one saw it – it was in the middle of the night here, and there was no one in the ground – just The Man and His Dog, a few dozen ground staff and a handful of journo’s -- and it took the best part of two days before they got around to printing an account of it in the papers. You remember.”
There were a few furrowed brows, other big scores were considered, and then most agreed that your maiden test match hundred on home soil is by definition, always going to count as your best, no matter how many more you make.
Of course, there was no disagreement that it was a superlative match winning knock.
And there is no doubting it’s the kiddie’s best domestic summer by the length of the street, and he could, at a pinch, rightfully lay claim to the title The New Messiah; he’s been called on to save that many people, that many times.
His 98 in Brisbane certainly saved Australia from ignominious defeat by the SheepShaggers, and they would have gone down much more heavily against the RhinoRooters and probably lost the series three-zip, if it wasn’t for him.
His cover driving and off cutting is getting more and more reminiscent of The Great KD Walters by the day, and some coaches have obviously been to work on his leg side play.
He seems to have, by and large, solved his LBW problem, and is a much better thinker on his feet when it comes to game situation while at the crease.
A quick fiddle on the abacus down in the games room reveals that Pup scored exactly 600 test match runs over the summer which would have almost certainly topped the aggregates, at an average of 75.00, which must have topped the averages too.
His overall average in 40+ test matches is now edging up to very close to 50.
A fine effort for a bloke who was dropped mid-way through that lot, and has batted almost his entire test career at No. 5
The proof of the pudding, of course, will come when he gets to Africa; once the aroma of the braai gets into his nostrils, and the lure of the iced mixed drinks and impossibly beautiful women hanging around in bars gets to him [as it did on his last visit to the Veldt], who knows what will happen.
At least he won’t have the problem of being tasked with breaking up fights that Roy gets himself involved in, not this time around.
That way, he might even have time, if he has room, for another tatt.

“does that mean they’ve all got headaches?”

Fellow Shatteredees,

Who’d be an Australian cricket selector at the moment, for love or money?
Not when you the team you picked has just been out played, out captained, and out coached.
To be done by nine wickets when you were odds on at the end of day two against a mob of Yarpies does tend to disappoint.
It’s a funny game
Someone was muttering under his breath something to do with the first time Straya had lost a test series at home in 16 or 17 years or something or another.
AMJ Hilditch?
What’s he ever done?
DC Boon and MG Hughes?
No one’s denying their deserved place in the pantheon of the greats – but how does that qualify them?
And then there’s the faceless man, who you would hope, acts as the obligatory fly in the ointment?
When they arrive in Sydney the “leadership group” would probably benefit from an afternoon in The Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Rd [it’s free – the footballers are in Hawaii].
Pup and Punter could hop into the sauna afterwards and they might discuss their injudicious second innings shots that didn’t even bother to trouble the umpire to put his finger up, as the whole ground knew.
It looked like both of them were using one of those curved sticks favoured by Irish hurling players.
And just when the test match was there to be saved for a second time.
To dolly one to the field in test cricket is a cardinal sin, only very slightly better, but not by much, than the original sin of running yourself out.
As a good mate remarked today when he heard of the result in Melbourne “Sydney looks like a good place for one or two to debut, but I’m damned if I know who.”
Noted from the television graphic at the office after the dénouement that IM Chappell had somebody called Marcus North somewhere in his batting order.
Marcus Who?
KJ O’Keeffe is keen on opening with PJ Hughes [NSW] on a horses for courses basis, but neglects to factor in the fact that the kiddie has only been playing first class cricket for five minutes.
There’s even been talk of playing both spinners on a track, which from my first hand observations this summer, will play like a four to six lane highway over the five days,
You’d only do that if you found that SK Warne and SCG MacGill weren’t overly busy in the New Year.
Speaking of blokes who have had the decency and sense to retire just after they had achieved the peak of their powers, there must be one or two jokers over the age of 30who are currently in the team, who might just take themselves to wondering in the light of what’s happened, whether they could have played on too long.
Maybe they should’ve followed the lead of DR Martyn and JL Langer, who are both decent and sensible men; just walk away from the caper and take your chances.
Who’s to say?
The young folk might have a few thoughts about it.
When news broke that B Lee had something wrong with his foot and that according to the news it had given the selectors a headache, the Good Lady Wife remarked “does that mean they’ve all got headaches?”
Enough said.

con artists

Frustratees,

The Royal Commissioners, who turned up in Melbourne to conduct the semi-public inquiry into the Pathetic Performance at Perth, would no doubt have had their minds concentrated by the proceedings on day three at the MCG with Straya’s inability to take two tail end wickets in a day.
This, after the Captain had scored a ton to lead from the front, and the Vice Captain was asked to save the test match and came good with a well made 80 odd not out.
An innings of two sensible halves by MJ Clarke, as he plunged the pitchfork into the deck just out in front of the popping crease on day one, only to help score at a run a minute on day two.
The rapidly developing cricket brain coming into play.
Everyone knew the wrong team had been picked by the selectors from the off.
Clueless.
Perhaps the Royal Commissioners should just sweep away the Chairman and the Three Wise Men in one fell swoop, and be done with it.
From now on, it’s me and you who pick the team, OK?
Nothing like it when yr bowling attack goes completely haywire.
I’m reluctant to bring my 84 year old mother into this, but she said to me on the phone “we are completely buggered aren’t we?” after watching the thing on the television all day as it went “on, and on, and on, and on….”
There’s been talk of turning up at the ground on the Monday of the Sydney test match.
But even the most rudimentary cost analysis reveals that good seats at the test cricket cost just about as much as good grandstand tickets to the Formula One in Melbun.
WHAT THE??!!
How much does it cost to pay two cricket teams to play?
Astonishing.
At least at Albert Park the beer is guaranteed full strength [and I’d imagine that the top shelf will be available in the two “exclusive” bars that I’ve paid to have access to] and even in general admission at the race track you can get things like savoury pancakes or a bratwurst on a bun with German mustard and caramelized onions to keep you going, and five dollar beers, all at a reasonable price for a main event.
After the last Ashes bonanza, the jokers at Cricket Australia must be the biggest con artists going around.
Give me five bucks in to ICC WWC at Newcastle No.1 Ground in early March, any day of the week.
Pup must be hoping that he’s not required to make much more of a contribution to the test match, while going to sleep smiling, and dreaming about plotting the coup d'état to take the Captaincy off Cap’n’Cockhead just in time for the Ashes tour.
Stranger things have happened.

an Aston Martin V8 Vantage

Wage earners,
On the eve of the Perth Test match and the only thing you’ve been able to read on the back of the fishwraps this past week is one MJ Clarke blithering on about a preponderance of six to twelve month old babies, money, wives, fiancés, girlfriends, bits-on-the-side, pay, pay, pay, never ending travel, outrageous scheduling, burn-out, unreasonable sponsors demands, and how the IPL is going to change the world as we know it forever, even to the point of sounding the death knell for CA contracts [heaven forbid].
Clearly the bloke has far too much time on his hands.
When pressed, the Rt. Hon.Vice-Captain dismissed out of hand suggestions that what he was really saying is that elite cricketers should be paid more for doing less…oh deary, no…
Of course every man is entitled to his opinion but as The Great Ian Healy remarked… “perception is better than the truth in many cases”
According to the Daily Terror [so it must be right] Pup made “$312,200 in match payments in the last calendar year” [that for less than 85 days in the office mind you, and of course doesn’t include his CA contract money and only the good lord joisus knows how much cash he pulls in through sponsorship deals, although the Deputy Commissioner of Taxation would dearly like to know, you’d imagine].
The Terror went on to comment “it was enough to cover the $300,000 he outlaid to deliver an Aston Martin V8 Vantage to his fiancé Lara Bingle”.
A couple of years back Pup’s minders suggested that he lose the Ferrari and get himself a vehicle, any vehicle, manufactured by his sponsor Ford.
He complied, but obviously that advice doesn’t extend to the bride-to-be, and in any case for a man in his position, it’s probably best to be driven about, rather than drive yourself.
There’s no arguing that the kiddie is in fine form; indeed what he’s been doing lately quite likely qualifies as a purple patch.
Didn’t pick up the man-of-the-series award against the sheepshaggers for nothing.
After finding some touch on the sub-continent, his streaky 98 in Brisbane after being called on to save the test match counts as one of his best test match innings, while his well made chanceless 110 in Adelaide just put the issue of a favourable result beyond doubt.
Always mindful of the match situation, as is only right for any wannabe skipper.
But, after being felled in the WACA nets by a sharp one that hit him under the heart, the Seth Efreakens on a treacherous pitch out West will be a different bottle of mussels altogether.

Dave Warner from The Suburbs

Spectators,

It’s not every day of the week that you wander into Hurstville Oval and by complete chance happen to witness one of the finest one-day hundreds that you would ever want to see.
The old ground is just as it was a few seasons back now, when me and the children attended our first ever Twenty20 game between two scratch NSW XI’s the week before Christmas because they had nothing else to do,
Now though, the eastern skyline is dominated by cranes and massive blocks of flats going up.
Went through the turnstiles at half time on Saturday afternoon, thinking Tasmania’s 246 off 45 overs after an early rain delay looked defendable, but wasn’t counting on the very small, perfectly circular nature of the oval, with the old velodrome running around the boundary.
It has fallen into a sad state of disrepair, and while some attempts have been made to repair the cracks, you wouldn’t want to race high-performance push bikes around there much anymore.
It seemed like they had rolled out a gorgeous batting track, and the first thing seen on entering the ground was David Warner punching a huge six off the back foot over cover, as if using a number three wood as the driver, that was still on the up as it cleared the perimeter fence, and would have dead set landed in someone’s front yard in Timothy Street.
They sent out a posse of children to look for the ball, but don’t know that they ever found it.
Dave “Suburban Boy” Warner is a solid, compact left hander, who appears to be made for the one-day game as an opening pinch hitter.
He’ll be a sensation in Twenty20,
Warner and Hughes put on 0/48 in the first five overs – which prompted a punter at the bar to remark to me “mate, look at this, this is going to be a carve up!”
How right he was.
Warner, in all, tonked nine sixes, including a corker from the northern end that sailed over the Ray Lindwall Sightscreen [Hurstville has a curious tradition of naming the sightscreens after famous local players – the Bill O’Reilly Sightscreen is at the other end] and landed on the pavilion roof and stayed there.
They sent some boy shimmying up a drain pipe to retrieve it.
Dave simply collared a fair half way decent bowling attack that featured the likes of Hilfenhaus & Dighton, among others, neck and crop.
In the over before bringing up his ton, he pulled three consecutive sixes over mid wicket off Marsh; all three clearing the bike track, and the picket fence.
And this from a 21 year old kiddie who only a couple of weeks ago on interview with some ratbag journo was quoted as saying something along the lines of “the likes of the Ricky Ponting’s of this world are finished. It’s time to let young blokes step up and have a go”.
As you can imagine, this raised some eyebrows in certain circles.
But it didn’t stop Dave, who ended up pummeling a chanceless 165 not out to win the game by nine wickets, with plenty of overs in hand.
When he got to his hundred, he had scored 80+ from boundaries.
He called for a runner on 145, when it appeared that he had cramped up so badly, that he had done himself a mischief.
There appeared to be a few hundred in, scattered around the ground, but for the first time in a long time, they actually published an official crowd figure, which was posted at 1,250.
Obviously, there was no pressure on the hospitality tents that had been nicely set up by the St George Cricket Club.
The Carlton Draught served off the tap that still had “the Official Beer of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games” logo etched onto it was nice and icy, and completely sensible at $5 a schooner.
There was a rush when they announced that the steak sandwiches were going for half price after 5pm, and that you’d be a fool to yourself and a burden on the community if you didn’t get one.
Had my first close encounter with the elusive The Man and His Dog.
He’d found a choice spot underneath the pavilion balcony and had set himself up in a fold out directors chair.
He was impeccably dressed in a class pair of track pants and sandals, teamed with a stylishly ratty jumper, with no shirt on underneath, and topped with a green and gold Australian cap that looked like it had been rescued from a bin at some Strayan one day game in the 80’s.
His only accoutrements appeared to be a couple of Thermos’s and a pair of field glasses.
Perched on his lap was a very small fox terrier type dog; you know the sort thing, the kind of canine whose head is constantly on the move, with the eyes always darting all over the shop.
It was the epitome of a very nervous dog.
Obviously, The Man has trained His Dog to sweat over the outcome NSW Bluebags games.
Perfect.
Dave Warner beat Rick McCosker’s record one-day score for NSW by one run, with a four, to bring up the winning runs, just as a big thunderstorm was brewing out the back, and umpires Abood & Tucker were happy enough to scurry off the ground.
Asked on interview after the game what it was like, the kiddie was beside himself:
“I can’t believe what I’ve just done. It was surreal out there”.

wise men and fools

Ruminators,

There’s been a fair amount of hue & cry down at my local from wise men and fools about how Simon Katich was so cruelly robbed of the man-of-the-match award in the first test by Mitchell Johnson.
Lots of blithering about how on earth a good first class bowler, but not much more than that, could be rated as best-on-ground, on a pitch that bowlers would like to take around with them everywhere they go, bleating about how easily century’s scored the day before are forgotten, whining about how match winners don’t even get so much as a pat on the back, that sort of thing.
Well, forget all that.
The Motm Crystal Vase should have been placed firmly at the feet of MJ Clarke, for mine.
He was called upon to save a test match yet again, this time very early on in the piece, and answered the call in spades with his first innings 98 - doubtless one of best ever9 knocks - without which New Zealand would have taken the priceless first innings lead and probably gone on to win the match.
Not that it was in anyway an exhibition of craft and style, what with edges through the slips, leg glances gone wrong, balls over the top of short stop, miscued drives that could have easily gone to hand, streaky boundaries aplenty, and what look like half-chances all over the shop.
But he does love the Woolloongabba Ground.
You can disregard the lack of art and grace, there were still a couple of breathtaking shots and given how pale and gaunt the kiddie looked after battling the “mystery virus’ that he picked up on the sub continent; it said plenty about moral fortitude.
Knew exactly what was required from the perils of 3/23 and was prepared, like no one else, to dig deep at the crease for three minutes short of five hours.
In the final paralysis, it has to be rated at least on a par with The Kat carrying his bat, a bit further down the track.
While Pup expressed disappointment on interview after the knock at not reaching the triple figures on account of a complete brain snap brought about by obvious fatigue, that produced such an awfully lazy shot, to see him bowled through the gate, he was very mindful of the match situation, saying first up…
“if you told me at the start of the day that I would get 98, I would have been stoked”.
Not sure that his Captain fully appreciated the magnitude of the contribution, knowing that he had the attack to better the opposition, even though Straya appeared to be a bowler short, and only a couple of bats would have to turn up in the second innings and the featherbed they found themselves bowling on would turn out to be a bed of roses.
Note in passing Bing Lee’s 300th test wicket; a champion effort by anyone’s standards, and his recent apparent attempts to reinvent himself in his old age to try and prolong his career by spearing off the short run for much of the time.
At least, that way, he won’t be chucking his really quick one any more.
In the hose down after the game, you’d have to be left shaking yr head in disbelief, saying why oh why oh why?
Did Roy allow himself to be out on the drink in public, and end up going around clocking blokes.
The Great Siddle must be counting his lucky stars, now that he’ll probably get a run in Adelaide.

the baby baby Blues

Bleacherists,

Me and me mate Trev shambled into the Sydney Cricket Ground on Sunday morning fully expecting New South Wales to complete a regulation win against the hapless New Zealanders.
And so it came to pass.
But did it have to take all day?
Impressed by the 17 yo Josh Hazlewood kiddie, classical upright action, generates some good pace off a relatively short run, has a tip top yorker, and can do a nice inswinger now and then off the seam.
Was at the latrine when he clean bowled Vettori with one, but apparently the nut was an absolute pearler.
Was trying to think who he reminded me of, then thought, ah yes…a young DK Lillee.
The yearling has got a future.
A few of his school mates came into the ground about midday and proceeded to give him a right royal razz from the garden seats in front of the Ladies Stand, which must have embarrassed the poor child no end.
However they were well aware that he was playing first class cricket, and they weren’t!
When he wrapped up the NZ innings in the shadows of lunch to come in with a very creditable 2/23 there was polite applause all round, before his mates went off!
Took all morning to take the five wickets to get the Kiwi’s out, but it was only a matter of time.
19 yo Smiffy also bowled well and turned a few at right angles.
He used to have a most unusual run up that stalled and stuttered mid way through where he almost came to a stop before bowling the ball, but some coach has been onto him and straightened out his run up over the winter.
After lunch, a few crates of booze must have appeared at the back of the NSW dressing room courtesy of the visitors Members Bar tab, with a request to provide a bit of bowling practice for the rest of the day.
As it was, NSW were 2/15 after a full hours play after lunch, chasing 162 to win.
The lone barman in Monty’s Bar took a stake in the ground staff sweep on the time of the winning ball, but began to look nervous when he realized he had taken 4.37pm
New Zealand proceeded to bowl just full of a length on middle and leg and crowd the off side with field, thereby completely strangling most run scoring opportunities, a tactic that they may well employ in the test match, if they have the luck to win the toss and put on a few.
Apart from Vettori, the Kiwi attack looked fairly pop gun to me; the other 19 yo in the pack, Hughes, punched a couple of good shots, before holing out to point, and The Young Muzzie, Usman Khawaja, laboured manfully trying to run singles, but being thwarted by the field, with the Portuguese kiddie Moises “Joisus” Henriques holding up the other end.
There was some talk among stats gurus mid week that NSW had picked its youngest side ever on aggregate age, but it turned out it was the second youngest side ever, after some team NSW had fielded in the summer of 1918/19, when there were simply no adult men around.
NSW certainly looked like a bunch of kids in the field, in stark contrast to the grown men of the visitor’s side who came out field after lunch!
In the end, Smiffy and the wicketkeeper Dan “Fat Boy Slim” Smith combined to put on 83 for the sixth wicket to see out the famous victory just as the shadows began to lengthen ever the ground.
Vettori described the loss as “annoying”, but for the baby baby Blues, they must have been stoked to win a first class game.
Not that it does their Sheffield Shield hopes any good.
There was an extraordinary scene at the end of the match, when you’d expect to see tractors appear on the ground with the covers to lay out over the wicket block, but no, a lone groundsman came marching through the gate with a standard Victa lawnmower going at full pelt. He wheeled it out onto the ground and proceeded to mow the pitch up and down no less than three times, raising huge clouds of dust, in which the lawnmower operator was completely enveloped from time to time.
Never seen such an eerie thing in fading light.
The Man and His Dog were transfixed, as they still sat in the Bradman Stand.