Filed under aussies

The title on this should be some pun on the name Wade

The first time I saw Matthew Wade keep he was horrible.  Truly disgustingly bad.  In the schoolyard we would have called him a bit shit.

It was like his gloves were ceramic tiles that had be attached just for the day.  At the time I couldn’t work out why Victoria had been talking this kid up.

And kid was the right word, he looked 7.

Victoria’s wicket keepers usually look like angry men who you’d see at the back of dodgy pubs playing cards.  Men like Darren Berry or Slug Jordon who could dismiss you with their gloves, chunky thighs or behind the wicket abuse. In my mind the skill of a Victorian keeper had to be judged in soft hands and vicious profanity, it seemed Wade had neither.

At this point it wasn’t clear if Wade had been allowed into a pub.

Wade’s batting was never in question.  From the first time I saw Wade bat three things were blatantly obvious.  For a tiny little 7 year old, he could really murder the ball.  He was a fighter.  And he could really bat.

At this stage it hardly mattered.  Wade was a young man trying to make his way.  Brad Haddin was the national keeper.  Luke Ronchi was back up limited overs keeper. Graham Manou was picked for the Ashes back up slot before Tim Paine was Haddin’s unlucky back up.  Paine was better with the gloves than Wade, was a solid more reliable batsmen than Wade. With Chris Hartleyaround as well, Wade might have been as far back as 5th in line.

But things changed quickly.  Manou was seen as a one series back up (perhaps discriminated against because of the hole in his heart).  Ronchi lost form and is now moving to NZ (like he always said he wouldn’t).  Hartley could never shake the tag of not being quite good enough with the bat (he’s too good as a keeper for his batting to be seen as good).  Paine’s hands have never recovered from facing Dirk Nannes (who can blame him).  And now Brad Haddin has a family illness (no brackets here).

You can’t ask for much more luck than this.  Not that Wade needs the luck.  The player you see now is not the same Wade I saw back at the MCG with ceramic hands and the face of a 7 year old.  His wicket keeping is not great, but compared with most international wicket keepers it’s not horrible.  Most importantly he’s improving all the time.  His face has also changed.  Australian wicket keepers have a certain look more often than not.  It’s that Marsh, Haddin and Healy face. Grizzled down by a working class life but with a touch of cheekiness to it and vicious squinty eyes.  Wade already has that face three Tests in.

Wade looks, walks and plays like a fighter.  He’s perpetually scrappy.

Wade also has a Test Century to his name.  In only his 3rd Test.   Haddin only has three from 43 Tests, and those came in totals of 481, 535 and 674.  Wade’s was in a total of 328 when no other batsman had made a hundred.  Something else Haddin has never done.  It was the sort of Test Century you make in a really good day dream.  The team are away from home, they’re struggling, and the big names have disappeared.  In this knock showed he could defend, attack and annihilate when it was required.  And most importantly that he was reliable when really needed.

According to Michael Clarke, and an ever-decreasing group of Haddin loyalists, Brad Haddin is still the number one choice for Australian Test keeper.

It’s hard to see that when Wade plays like this.

Matthew Wade has overcome cancer, improved his keeping at every opportunity, fights as hard as anyone in the Australian set up and has now shown he can seriously bat.  Perhaps he’s not the man just yet, but he’s certainly more than the nervous boy I saw only a few years back.

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two attacking captains and an alien/god

When I was young I used to look out my window all night waiting for a UFO to go past, and during the day I would stare at cricket games looking for attacking captaincy.

Michael Clarke sent his batsmen out to slog and then declared giving the opposition a chance of winning.

Darren Sammy changed the batting order and took it upon himself to slog large.

Modern captains don’t really like doing things like this.

Probably because newspapers, websites, twitter, facebook and asshole bloggers abuse them for making mistakes. Being a bit defensive is a couple of day story, losing a Test you could have drawn is a couple of year story.

Or if it’s Adelaide in 2006/07, it’ll never go away.

So when two captains decided to actually try and win a Test, knowing that they might have to risk losing to do so, it was kinda weird.

Michael Clarke didn’t have to play aggressive cricket. He could have sat back and made sure that Australia couldn’t lose the series.

Darren Sammy could have played out the draw. I doubt it would have surprised that many people.

Test Cricket scoring rates went up, then the pitches started to get a bit fun, but teams were still largely conservative.

Sporting declarations had been eased out of the game.

But here we had two captains who were willing to look a bit stupid to win a game.

Clarke didn’t consult his PR team, Sammy didn’t talk about sweet sweet inner thigh honey.

They just threw it out there and had a go.

Their reward was for the game to end in a draw.

Which means if there was a cricket god, he’d be a real fucken prick.

It’s more likely that the cricket god is an alien who has been to Adelaide, and hates it when you shine a torch in their eyes.

Adelaide.

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what cricket boards spend their money on

Because of Doag I’ve been allowed into the buildings where the cricket thinking goes on.  This is what I remembered of each.

The ECB offices are like that of a high class paper manufacturer.  They have their awards scattered in a very tine reception area that was built to impress no one.  The reception is actually tiny, and if you are waiting at the desk with more than one person or a bag, it’s actually hard for people to get around you.  Other than the fact the office is in Lord’s, it doesn’t really feel all that crickety.

It could be the headquarters of a company with an owner who likes cricket rather than a cricket headquarters.

Although no could be disappointed seeing their Jack Russell painting.

Cricket Australia’s headquarters are instantly a bit more swish.  They’ve tried to put a touch of wow factor in there.  It’s got a boutique ad agency feel to it.  The reception has enough room for an entire crowd of a shield match to hang out in.  It feels like it’s been designed by the same person who designs the MCG members bar areas.  Smart, casual and just a bit sporty.

The headquarters aren’t in the MCG, but just down the road far enough to lose any magic the ground holds.

It’s all a bit too planned out for me.  A bit too much we like cricket, but we want to look good doing it.  Like someone who gets a tailor made Richie Benaud jacket to wear to games.

The BCCI have a decent sized stumpy the elephant in their reception at Wankhede stadium.  As shit as stumpy was, it’s nice to see him on a reception desk.  The BCCI office is quite nice, it’s like a industrilists office with photons on every wall.

Just that these photos are brilliant.  The Nawab with a sun hat on. Shastri with the world’s angriest eyebrows.  Sachin with a photoshopped afro.

It’s all there.  They even have a completely unnecessary 3d photo of the team winning the world cup, which is impossible to look at without getting a headache.

The conference room we went into was just covered at one end with photos of their captains.  It was much like that room where proud parents put up every school photo of their kids.  They’d run out of walls and just started putting players up in random spots, but no one was left out.

They even had time to put up a painting of Don Bradman and photos of Jardine and Grace.

I never saw the IPL level, where I am sure that they had stripper poles and dance tracks using commentators in a sexually suggestive way.  But I still really liked it.  It was impressive to look at, fairly new, not overly designed, but grand enough you still felt like you were in a place where people did real work.

Any place with that many cricket photos, including one that was quite clearly a tourist snap, is going to win the award for being my favourite cricket board building.

Australia was pretty but sort of lacking heart, England was gritty but utterly forgettable, but India had that cricket feeling combined with an office that looked like important people could meet you in it.

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TRD – Team Rebuilding Desire

Genetic sexual attraction is as fancy way of saying that you’ve fallen in love with a relative. It doesn’t happen often, and most of us will never truly understand how a sister and brother or father and daughter, can have romantic feelings for each other, yet alone act on them.

Cricket has a similar syndrome that few fans could ever truly understand. Most fans want their side to be the best of the best. They want to be able to gloat to everyone who had the misfortune of not being born in their part of the world. They want to go into each series thinking that the opposition will be little more than road kill for their heroes. There are other fans including those who truly want cricket to be the real winner. And even those other sick fans who prefer their side to lose just so their natural pessimism is proved to prophetic.

Then there is the TRD fans.

 

TRD (Team Rebuilding Desire) is something that certain fans suffer from. While they get some satisfaction from their team’s heady success, they get much more from the new players coming into the team and replacing the old players they know everything about. The problem is, this turnover can also bring losses. Now true TRD fans don’t care about this, that’s what distances them from just the shouty guy who wants everyone dropped who hangs out at your local corner store. The TRD fans desire the new blood, they crave it like some tween heroine from an otherwordly novel, and they care little for things like ending careers or a few series losses.

I can finally out myself as someone who has this affliction. Over the years I’ve wanted everyone from David Boon, Adam Gilchrist, Steve Waugh and even Ricky Ponting to move on just so I can see the next crop come through. These guys don’t have to be dropped. They can retire if they want; I want new blood, not needless blood.

During the mid-90s I wanted David Boon dropped more than anything in the world, even though I loved watching him bat, just so I could see guys like Damien Martyn, Ricky Ponting and even Greg Blewett. It became far more important to me for these guys to come in than for Australia to keep winning. David Boon couldn’t shock me, I knew exactly what to expect from him. I could tell you how many times a day he’d readjust his box just by how many runs he’d made.
Then in the mid-2000s I felt the same. So Australia’s collapse in 2008 was perfect for me. Because I don’t even need the next big thing. I just need lots of new things. I need the old things repackaged. I need the new things still in the box. I need the damaged things. I need the things I never wanted. I just need it new. I need Michael Beer, Phil Hughes, James Pattinson and Matthew Wade. I need Bryce McGain and Patrick Cummins. New, fresh, different.

Right now you’re probably assuming I just have a one-off illness, it’s even possible you think I’ve made this up, that TRD is just some figment of my imagination. But I bet there are some Indian readers who get this. They love Sachin, Rahul and VVS, but their TRD means they want to see Che, Rohit and Ajinkya now.

To some of you this may seem sick and wrong. You’d want us locked up and our tickets taken from us and given to loving normal fans who don’t need to get their satisfaction from something this disgusting. You probably think we should all change our ways and continue to support and appreciate our aged greats.

This may not be normal to you, but please let us get our kicks from something as simple as a selector or coach saying, “we’re in a rebuilding phase, we’ll be looking at some new faces soon for sure”. Nothing makes a TRD happier than that.

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Ravi and Chappelli stuck in a lift: a CWB amateur theatre production

RS: Chappelli, it’s stuck my friend, jammed in tight, we’re going nowhere right now.

 

IC: I know, Ravi, but Australians don’t give up, if Les Favell taught me anything it’s to fight until the very end.

 

RS: It seems that the machine doesn’t always work in Australia after all.

 

IC: You know full well that it’s not about the machine, it’s about the individual people, and that’s what makes Australia great.

 

RS: Yet here we are, stuck in the elevator, and we may go down without all guns blazing.

 

IC: I have the utmost respect for Australian engineers to get the job done right, as long as the powers that be just let them get on with doing that job.

 

RS: Make no mistake about it; I hope you’re right.  If this were an Indian elevator getting stuck, you’d be claiming we were in third world conditions.

 

IC: India has changed a lot these days, Ravi.

 

RS: It’s just what the doctor ordered, but your old imperial chums don’t always see that.

 

IC: I have no chums.

 

RS: You hit the nail on the head there.

 

IC: Let’s just calm down a bit now, I’ve rung upstairs for assistance.

 

RS: One just gets the feeling that we may not be able to trust technology in all cases.

 

IC: Who paid you to say that?

 

RS: That sets the cat amongst the pigeons.

 

IC: Look, we need to get together, work hard, and achieve something here.

 

RS: We’re at a crucial stage; it’s touch and go.

 

IC: Holy shit, mate, I think the cable is breaking, we’re fucken screwed.

 

RS: Tracer bullet.

 

RS: Tracer bullet.

 

IC: Fuck.

 

RS: At the end of the day…

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the devil’s reject

According to Malcolm Conn, Peter Forest is a New South Wales reject.

And he is. Forrest couldn’t cut it at NSW. He had a great start, played for Australia A and was talked about as a potential future player for Australia before he slipped off the radar. Eventually he struggled to even hold a place with NSW.

At some states, a player with his obvious talent might have been given more time, but you don’t get long at NSW. You’re either the next big thing, comfortable being a well loved but underused back up, or you’re out.

In his book, Eddie Cowan refers to the superstar culture there. No other state looks for the next big thing more than NSW, and it means that quality cricketers in average form can be overlooked for a 17-year-old potential once-in-a-generation player. To put it as bluntly as Malcolm Conn might, and slightly misquote the band TISM, “If you’re not famous at 20, you’re finished”.

In recent years Australia has called up John Hastings, Dan Christian, Eddie Cowan, Jason Krejza and even Nathan Lyon. All are NSW rejects. All went through the system there in one way or another. Christian, Cowan and Krejza even played for NSW, before moving to another state. But all were only picked for Australia when they were performing for their new states.

 

Perhaps they felt more appreciated. Perhaps the coaching systems helped them. Or that their positions weren’t in constant jeopardy meant they could relax and played better cricket. But leaving home was a good thing for these players, who all found happy times in their new surroundings.

Hastings looks like he should be bare-knuckle fighting for his salary. Every time you see him on a cricket ground you can hear Tony Greig whisper “broad-shouldered young man”. His bowling is steady, clever and efficient. His batting is handy. He has worked hard to become a semi-regular for his country in limited-overs cricket. He’s probably never going to be an all time great, but that’s okay, few players are. If he recovers from his injuries, well he can become a reasonable player for Australia for a few years. If, like Tim Bresnan, he continues to develop his skills, he could become a very important player for Australia and perhaps even a Test-bowling allrounder.

Hastings left NSW for Victoria. At that time Moises Henriques was going to be cricket’s version of the best thing since sliced bread, a genuine allrounder. Henriques could bowl as fast as Hastings, was a realistic middle-order batsman, was younger and was potentially the allrounder that Australia had been looking for since Keith Miller left cricket.

In the five years since Hastings made his debut for Victoria, he has outperformed Henriques consistently. So instead of Henriques fulfilling his potential, he’s played three matches for Australia while Hastings has played 14. On pure talent you’d always go for Henriques, but on performances, Hastings is a no brainer.

 

That’s just one obvious case of someone having to leave NSW. The search for a young superstar once led NSW to have Beau Casson and Steve Smith in their line-up ahead of Nathan Hauritz, only for Hauritz to be picked for Australia.

 

Having NSW rejects looking for a new home makes Shield Cricket stronger as well. Players like Brendon Drew and Aaron O’Brien may never play for their country, but by playing in Shield Cricket they improve its standard. Even below Shield cricket there are many NSW imports around the country strengthening club cricket standards.

 

Kurtis Patterson is 18 and made 157 on debut in first-class cricket. If that isn’t enough to get some fringe-squad batsman to move states, countries, or even galaxies just to get another opportunity, I’m not sure what is.

Forrest has scored his first hundred for Australia. One, there is almost no chance he would have scored if he’d stayed in NSW. He’s currently averaging over 50 in his four games. He’s not an obvious ODI player, but his talent and current form will mean that before long he may be seen in Tests.

There’s no doubt that NSW look towards the future more than any other state side, and Australia have benefitted from that many times. However, it’s also good that the other states are willing to give these guys a second chance.

Forrest may never be a superstar Australian player, but he could be a very good one, especially for a reject.

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Ricky Ponting at the dogs

Ricky Ponting is still playing international cricket. So a testimonial seems like an odd thing to do.

Instead here is a video of Ricky Ponting with Ben Affleck hair and his goatee.

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How good is Clint McKay?

I’ve never rated Clint McKay. Never.

Every time I see him on the Australian team sheet I think it’s a weakened team. And it goes back farther than that, when he played for Victoria in the old days I felt the same way.

For years I’d be one of seven people in the G watching him for Victoria and telling the other six people that I didn’t rate him. Only for one of them to point out that he’d taken 4 for 60.

I should love Clint McKay. I should talk him up in random conversations and wear a t-shirt that just has his face on it. Clint McKay grew up 15 minutes from where I did. We should share a Northern Suburbs of Melbourne bond.

Instead of complaining about him I should be worshipping his head-swaying run-up, fetishizing his good lengths and eagerly anticipating his back of the hand slower ball.

A friend of mine had heard McKay might be their team’s overseas player and wanted to know about him. All I had for them was that he was tall and had a good slower ball. I could give them no more information of a guy who I’ve seen bowl probably 40 times.

To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen McKay not take wickets. But somehow I never seem to remember how he took them. They just appear over and over again.

He’s just one of those bowlers who takes wickets. In 18 ODIs, Mckay has 38 wickets at just under 20. That’s the sort of numbers that make any sort of preconceived perception sort of irrelevant.

And as I was writing this, he was Australia’s only bowler who looked like taking wickets. And then he was the only Australian bowler to be hit on to the cathedral by MS Dhoni, before following up with a waist-high no ball.

I’ve always felt that when someone hits McKay the ball goes further. He doesn’t get hit for small sixes, or gentle fours, people just hit him really hard. That could even be the whole reason I have had this thing against him.

Wickets are good, but everyone remembers the big hits.

That will probably be the case here again. McKay’s three wickets were handy, but I’d think more people will talk about how Dhoni almost killed spectators who were over a hundred metres away to win the game.

People are fickle like that.

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A debut on NDTV and talking bout t20

NDTV wanted the lighter side of cricket when talking about India, so they locked Sam and I into an ADL oval room. I talked to them about Sophie’s Choice, North Korea and horror films.

You can watch it here, if you feel the need.

I also wrote this.

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Brad Hogg’s comeback and George Bailey’s rise don’t seem to have made people all that angry.

That’s odd, isn’t it?

Australia have picked an oldy and a dude to replace a dude with roughly the same record of the other dude who is slightly older. Where is the disdain, the outrage, the editorial’s sprouting anti-Victorian intent and how Australia are overlooking their future for some old dude the commentators all like?

Australia have picked a player who has been retired for years. I’m not even sure we knew that Justin Bieber was a thing when Brad Hogg last played, and Zach Galifianakis was a fat funny dude starring in such classics as Speed Freaks. Hogg isn’t exactly Bob Simpson, who was dragged from a retirement village to save Australian cricket.

I suppose if your lifestyle-hosting career is working well or you’re dating a famous model/actor/it girl, you don’t need to make a comeback at 40, but for Hogg it makes perfect sense. Statistically you can make an argument for Hogg. His economy rate is 5.4, he takes wickets, and no one has a better strike-rate on twitter abusing Mitchell Marsh. The only number not on his side is his age.

However, if you see Twenty20 as a way of easing young Australian cricketers into the team, then picking a guy who’s been retired four years who is only year younger than your selector is odd.

Then there is Bailey, who I am really glad is being given a chance to captain any Australian XI, but it’s not as if he’s hitting the captaincy with a stellar Twenty20 season behind him.

And age is also quite odd, as he’s a few months younger than Michael Clarke, and only a few months older than Cameron White. There’s no doubt Bailey can captain, he’s won more than his share of silverware, but so has White. Neither White nor Bailey made a cracker in a high class and low performance Melbourne Stars middle order this year.

You’d think that one of these decisions, if not both would be the catalyst for the first vicious attack on the John Inverarity reign as chief selector.

But it’s quite clear that virtually no one cares. Australians may casually enjoy the Big Bash League, and they may even make the trek down to see the odd match, but at the end of the day, you could have a man with a rubber chicken stuck to his head as captain and some bloke’s dog as the spinner and people would still spend more time discussing Shaun Marsh’s form or whether Punter (Ponting) should retire.

For all the hype and concern, Twenty20 is still just that thing people watch

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the waca

I’ve been convinced to start putting my cricinfo work up here as well. So, I am. 

The scoreboard has a sort of don’t mess with me attitude. The ducks in Queens Park’s look more sinister than most. And the light towers have a violent look to them.

My first memories of the WACA involved Geoff Lawson’s jaw, or what was left of it after Curtly Ambrose tried to decapitate him. For a few years the pitch changed to a PG rating, and the allure of the WACA almost disappeared. Now some of the brutal mystique has returned. The pitch is once again fast and bouncy. Once you’ve worn a few on the hands and chest, like a scene from a bad disaster film the pitch slowly opens up and lets the bowler aim at massive cracks.

Then there is the heat. Perth is hot. I don’t want to get into specifics, but I’m washing undergarments over here more than David Warner hits boundaries. Peter Siddle looked like he was too tired to celebrate a wicket on day one. Siddle and I are from Melbourne, so maybe us handling heat means little, but in Perth even the Indians have been complaining about the heat. I’m counting that as hot.

There is something slightly wrong about the stands too. Any ground with grass hills on both sides should be lovely, but the WACA still feels ominous. The Inverarity is the sort of stand that would be used for a prison football match. The inside seems to have been made to survive a riot. The TV and Radio press are at the top of the Lillee/Marsh stand, with only one disabled toilet – well I hope that is all there is, otherwise someone is playing one hell of a joke on me.

The written press have no room of their own due to their numbers. Cricket grounds in Australia are always surprised at the amount of press India and England have. So at the WACA, almost all of them are dumped out behind the grass bank in a square-of-the-wicket hospitality tent. It’s not bad, unless you’re in the front row in which the heat of the sun and your laptop bring you to a slow boil. They don’t even have their own toilet over there. The punters and the press near the Shepherd gate share a concrete box, which strangely has no urinals and is backed up ably by portaloos, with no humanity at all on a hot Perth day.

The WACA doesn’t even make it easy to commentate. The ABC are commentating standing up, just so they can see the entire ground. They have five cameras stationed directly in front of them. It looks more like a comedy skit about the different way TV and Radio is treated by sport.

The stewards here are scary. They don’t guard, they aggressively patrol waiting for patron or press to roam slightly out of line. If you walk up the wrong hallway, an elderly woman with a name badge will tackle you. Discussions about staircases here are brutal. And if you’re standing where it says no standing, even on a non-match day, you will be moved by any means necessary.

Even the WACA press conference room (which is actually a weight’s room) leaks from a suspicious looking pipe that says waste.

Whether you’re facing Curtly Ambrose, waiting for the one toilet, getting food in the Inverarity dungeon or commentating on your tippy toes, the WACA has a real tough Test feel about it.

It’s kind of harsh and nice at the same time.

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