Tagged with angelo mathews

Hi Angelo

I once wrote that Angelo Mathews did not really exist. He just seemed a bit too awesome. And not like other Sri Lankan cricketers. Angelo wasn’t a graceful middle-order mestro, or a tubby fighter. Angelo wasn’t a top-order slogger, or even a tricky spinner. That’s what Sri Lankan cricket was; we’d got use to their best players fitting these stereotypes. And suddenly here was this broad-shouldered (© Tony Greig), seam-bowling allrounder who could win a game batting, bowling or fielding.

It was too weird for me to process, so I just pretended he didn’t exist.

I felt like this when he fell over wickets against India, bowled Sri Lanka into a World T20 final, took a catch that went viral on Youtube and smashed Australia around the G. Now, finally after all these years, I am willing to admit that Angelo Mathews does exist, and he exists well. Really well. Weller than most. Peter Weller, well.

Forget for a minute he looks like he’s been drawn by a Sri Lankan artist trying to make a cool superhero, and that his skin looks so smooth that I sometimes think it’s not actually skin. And just think about the way he fights.
Allrounders usually come in two ways: gifted and lazy, or plucky and up for a fight. Mathews is gifted and up for a fight. He loves a fight. The worse Sri Lanka play, the better he seems to be. Every time I come into some pointless ODI with Sri Lanka already having collapsed to no real chance of a win, there is Mathews, annoyingly stuck at the non-striker’s end, looking frustrated and angry.

Always angry. So very angry.

Mathews really doesn’t like to lose. And I don’t mean that in the clichéd sports way, I mean it in the you can see it in his face way.

When he brought up his half-century tonight at the WACA, he didn’t raise his bat for the crowd’s polite adulation. He just looked angry. Angry that yet again his team was not playing as well as a team that 8 months ago was in a World Cup final.

Players who don’t like to lose are the best to watch up close. Their faces are magnificent. There is a reason fans talk of Ponting face. Players like Mathews and Ponting just despise losing, and don’t really try and hide it.

The last time he had to carry an unworthy side over the line against Australia, his anger turned to joy, when armed with just a plucky tail, he won the game and was uber-heroic. This time he tried to use that anger again and very nearly did, but even without the win this just adds to his character.

The hero can’t win every time, after all.

I now look forward to my future watching of an Angelo Mathews who does exist. Or maybe I was always right, and he doesn’t exist, because it seems he wasn’t given Man of the Match. Which seems odd.

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Sri Lankan soap opera production’s presents: The Balcony

A team in political crisis playing the form of the game they understand, completely choke an English line up to within inches of defeat.

We start with overpriced bad blended whisky poured into glasses in preparation for their win at the unofficial home of cricket.

Stuart Law is out the back booking flights to bangladesh, his work is done.  Marvan Attapatu is doing stomach crunches.  Lasith Malinga is eating whatever food Duleep Mendis has left behind.

And only Dilshan watches on the whole time. His face tattooed into a single look of “I think we’re alright, aren’t we?”

As the tension, from an artificial plot device, builds, the rest of the characters start becoming more prominent.

Lasith Malinga, who sprays the Lord’s members with samosa crumbs, is vitriolic towards the men in the middle. Screaming at them as the food in his mouth makes his words unintelligible.

Law, leaving his laptop for a moment, comes out to tell Dilshan that he has sent gloves out, and these are magic gloves that will save the day.

Dumith’s run out on the ground to bring gloves and water was brief respite from the seriouesness of the balcony, and his run back a few seconds later with a bat was a lovely almost instant call back that soap operas usually ignore.

The English boys all played their part.  KP the main who could not believe that anyone would put himself before his team.  Kieswetter as the guy trying to look angry while really looking like he was miscast.  To the outsider it may have looked Cook’s face never changed for a moment, but his subtle performance was all in the gap between his eyebrowes.

Mathews and Chandimal were amazing, giving the scene tension and farce, whilst reminding us that good writing doesn’t always have to be drama.  Mathews did so little in his performance that you could argue he was hardly there, but that was the real genius of him, he was the rock that the angst and worry pivoted around.

Attapatu was brilliant as the stoic friend to Dilshan who sits beside him as he goes through all the emotions, but never feels the need to complicate their relationship by speaking.

But ultimately it is Dilshan who steals the show.

Dilshan may be a pirate with a bat in his hand, but on the balcony he is the nervous matriarch of the family.  It’s his face that tells us that he is watching something going wrong.

As Chandimal and Mathews decided to get the remaining runs in agony, Dilshan’s face spoke to us all.

“Have I left the oven on.

Maybe I did leave the oven on.

I really can’t remember if I’ve left the oven on.

If I’ve left the oven, what will happen?

No, I didn’t leave the oven on, but I should always double check before leaving the house just to be sure.”

The whole time this happens, Dilshan barely says a word.

Yet, he carries the whole show.

It takes some special effort to be the man on the balcony, and still be the star.

Credits.

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balls profile: Angelo Mathews

No player has changed his name mid tournament with more aplomb than Mathews.  Mathews could be one of the greatest all rounder’s of his generation or a medium paced hack who slaps the ball around a bit that people forget before they finish their bottle of wipe out. There has always been a rumour that he doesn’t exist.

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The IPL has started

There was Lionel Ritchie singing with his microphone turned down. And other western acts.

Some drag queen dancing acts, except with the drag queens.

Bollywood stuff seemed to be happening as well.

Costumes that some people were comparing to klu klux klan on twitter.

Then Ravi yelled.

Andy Bichel did some commentary, he sounded like Danny Morrison on ketamine.

Lalit was missing most of the time, but in his place was a lady in a red dress, an obvious homage to the Matrix.

Brad Hodge looked pissed off.

Many snatch shots of the cheerleaders, none on super slow mo, maybe next year.

Angelo Mathews continues to not exist.

The Chargers song was remixed, still shit though.

Owais Shah had cut down his sleeves to show off the guns.

There were time outs, but they weren’t strategically named, but they were strategically used.

The IPL has ads between the balls, they are louder and less awkward than the Channel 9 versions.

ITV brought out Hoggard, Hick and some dude and some Indian chick for their coverage. Hoggy was ok, the rest were ordinary and only the Indian chick had done any research.

Gilly seemed to keep hitting the ball in the air and not getting caught.

I never thought I’d say this, but I wanted fake smiles from SRK.

Rohit Sharma continues to vie for Indian batsmen most likely to be assassinated.

The game fizzled out.

The Windies beat Zimbabwe.

Nap.

The IPL has started, not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with a carefully stage managed event that had shit western acts, lots of dancing, two teams making decent totals and Andy Bichel.

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Angelo Mathews does not exist

He is Ian Bishop’s favourite player.

His name implies he is some sort of Italian Welsh dockworker.

And he comes across as some sort of Shane Watson prototype except without the mental baggage and jellybean body.

He just isn’t real.

I am sorry to break this illusion, but Angelo Mathews does not exist.

Sri Lanka has a team full of amazing dudes.

King Kumar, coolest motherfucker out there.
Murali, keeper of the record.
Malinga, with the sling and hair.
Mendis, magic fingers.
Sanath, the swashbuckling old man of the ODI.
Dilshan, pimpin’ the scoop.
Samaraweera, the bastard got shot.

All these dudes are match winners and are memorable in one way or another.

They all have a presence. Samaraweera and Dilshan both have gangsta limps for fucks sake.

You expect them to make an impact, you know how to feel about them winning a game of cricket.

Mathews is different.

It isn’t his fault.

He just doesn’t seem to have any reasons to recognise he actually exists.

And I was there when he destroyed the Windies in the world 2020 thingy.

I saw it, with my eyes.

But I was clever enough to look beyond the reality.

Nothing he has ever done has felt real to me.

So I have a theory.

He does not actually exist, he is a construct.

With a team with so much players capable of freakish acts of awesomeness our brains could no longer process it all.

Our brains had to make something that explained the phenomena of Sri Lanka.

So a medium fast not so special looking bowler who bats pretty well without being that explosive or eye catching was created.

It makes sense really.

Our collective unconscious has created this man.

So now when Kumar or Dilshan play a lusty innings, and our minds can’t handle it, we see Angelo Mathews on the scorecard.

If Malinga or Murali bowl so well that the batsmen appear to be on converyor belts, it is Mathews who our eyes see before us.

Ofcourse you might have not seen his name, to you he may not exist.

It could just be my head coming up with this Angelo character and the rest of you can’t see him.

Or maybe he does exist for real.

I doubt it though.

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Ian Bishop’s favourite cricketer plays volley ball

Ian Chappell doesn’t like it.

Harsha Bhogle is almost out of breath talking about it.

Ian Bishop refuses to say the last name of the guy who did it.

What do you think of Angelo Mathew/Mathews volleyball save?

I like it, not enough people slap cricket balls with their hands.


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