Two Sundays ago I, for the first time in (I think) 17 years, I went to a game of AFL – and, as the title would suggest, it was the Adelaide Crows versus the West Coast Eagles. I went with Rochelle, my girlfriend (who's somewhat of a Crows fan), and two of her friends who are Eagles fans.
I'm mostly uninterested in football1. There was a time when I paid attention to it, but that was a while ago and now I'm barely aware of who's playing well and who's not, other than what I might hear mentioned as I wander the corridors of the office. And, given that few of my co-workers (that I've noticed at least) are super-keen, that's not very much.
Why, then, did I go? Well, I like doing something different, and I knew that Rochelle wanted to go, both to see a game and spend some time with her friends. I also hadn't been to the Adelaide Oval since it'd been redeveloped2, so there was that as well.
Showing posts with label sport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sport. Show all posts
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The week that was #29
This week's post covers a tv show about
cricket, a musical comedy gig, a recent Stephen King novel about
time travel, and one of the best films of the year.
I started watching cricket in the early 80s, by which time all the events covered in the mini-series had taken place, so most of what I knew about the formation of World Series Cricket came from some televised interviews with Ian Chappell – mostly that the players were extremely poorly treated by the cricket boards, who were making large amounts of money but refusing to play the players what they were worth.
Howzat! Kerry Packer's War
[For the non-Australians/Australians
who don't know the story, this was a tv mini-series about a man named
Kerry Packer, who was an Australian businessman whose primary
interest was in broadcasting and publishing; in the late seventies he
wanted the television rights for cricket and was refused. He found
out many of the players were dissatisfied with the poor wages they
were paid (relative to the money the organisations were making) and
together they attempted to stage their own cricket competition. As
you can imagine, it was not well-received by the very traditional
cricket boards around the world, and it went to the courts.]
I started watching cricket in the early 80s, by which time all the events covered in the mini-series had taken place, so most of what I knew about the formation of World Series Cricket came from some televised interviews with Ian Chappell – mostly that the players were extremely poorly treated by the cricket boards, who were making large amounts of money but refusing to play the players what they were worth.
Monday, August 20, 2012
The Week that Was #27
Okay, so I'm going back to the weekly – well, try at least – blog post thing, doing short summaries of things that have happened recently. This one, though, is going to include some stuff a bit further back than the last week or so, simply because there were longer blog posts that I decided to not finish.
The Dark Knight Rises
While I wouldn't call myself a fan of Christopher Nolan's Batman series – I didn't like the first one all that much, and while I did like aspects of the second, that was mostly because of Heath Ledger's amazing performance as The Joker – I did want to see the third and final installment, both to see how they ended it and (once again) because of the supporting cast, in this case Anne Hathaway (for whom my fondness is already documented here) as Selena Kyle/Catwoman and Tom Hardy as Bane.
The Dark Knight Rises
While I wouldn't call myself a fan of Christopher Nolan's Batman series – I didn't like the first one all that much, and while I did like aspects of the second, that was mostly because of Heath Ledger's amazing performance as The Joker – I did want to see the third and final installment, both to see how they ended it and (once again) because of the supporting cast, in this case Anne Hathaway (for whom my fondness is already documented here) as Selena Kyle/Catwoman and Tom Hardy as Bane.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
A Day at the Cricket
For the third year in a row I got myself along the the picturesque Adelaide oval to watch some test match cricket; this year it was against India, and was the fourth and final test of the summer – in a series which Australia had dominated; it was, prior to the Adelaide test, 3-0 in our favour.
The powers-that-be, in their infinite wisdom, had scheduled the test to begin on a Tuesday, a truly mindboggling decision given that the vast majority of people don't actually take time off work to go to the cricket, preferring to go on the weekend. Yes, it would mean that the third day would be the Australia Day public holiday (falling this year on the Thursday), but if they'd made that the first day, they'd have gotten that huge crowd plus good ones on Saturday and Sunday – should the match go into its third and fourth days.
The powers-that-be, in their infinite wisdom, had scheduled the test to begin on a Tuesday, a truly mindboggling decision given that the vast majority of people don't actually take time off work to go to the cricket, preferring to go on the weekend. Yes, it would mean that the third day would be the Australia Day public holiday (falling this year on the Thursday), but if they'd made that the first day, they'd have gotten that huge crowd plus good ones on Saturday and Sunday – should the match go into its third and fourth days.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Losing the Ashes
To provide some context: while I watch tennis when it's on, will occasionally check the internet to see how Tottenham Hotspur are doing in the English Premier League, and keep an eye on how Saint Kilda are doing in the AFL, cricket – test cricket in particular – is the only sport I really follow, in the sense that I spend a lot of time not only watching it, but also reading about it and talking about it with other people.
I've played cricket1, so I've got a good understanding of how it all works – and, given just how esoteric the minutiae of the game is2, this is quite significant. I remember most of the terms for field positions, batting strokes and bowling techniques and, having spent a decent part of most of the last thirty or so summers watching the coverage on television, I've observed the ups and downs of the Australian team.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Roller Derby Grand Final
Last weekend I went to the Adelaide Roller Derby grand final double header in the Jubilee Pavilion at the Wayville showgrounds.
Some background
As I noted in my blog post on rollerskating a couple of weeks back, I was aware of the existence of the local roller derby competition, but not much more than that. So, I was going in there not knowing what to expect. It'd sold out a couple of days beforehand, but my friend Jen (also mentioned in the rollerskating post) had tracked down a ticket for me; she was going to be there since it was her team, the Road Train Rollers, who were playing in the grand final.
Gates opened at 2pm. I'd had rehearsal for my play that morning so I had to go straight from the theatre up in Tea Tree Gully down to Wayville – about a forty minute drive – and we didn't finish until 1 o'clock so it was getting fairly close to opening by the time I got there. I hadn't thought this'd be a problem, but when I got there I realised it was: the line was huge, snaking around outside the pavilion for hundreds of meters.
Turns out they'd sold something like 3000 tickets - which is brilliant for the sport, but less wonderful for the fans waiting to go inside. And, since I hadn't foreseen this, I'd neglected to bring my otherwise omnipresent mp3 player with me, so I had to stand around in the unenviable state of musical deprivation – something I really don't experience very often1.
Anyway, after about half an hour or so of trudging at a glacial pace toward the doors, I got inside. Jen was on the gate so I had a quick word to her and wandered off to find a spot. While I was doing that, though, I ran into my friends Paul and Kelly, who were there because Paul is an exec for RipItUp2, who are one of the sponsors. They had a spare pass to the sponsor's section, which meant I got a spot up in the bleachers, rather than sit in the crowd.
So I sat chatting with them for a while before Jen found me and told me I could sit with her and the team – right in front of the track section. And then it all started.
1And will do my darndest not to experience again.
2Adelaide's best street magazine; check out the website.
The game itself
So, I got a crash course in roller derby; I'd better pass this information on if the rest of what I write is going to make sense.
On an oval-shaped space (it probably has a technical name, but I don't recall anyone mentioning it) you have two teams competing for points in two thirty-minute halves, played in segments called 'jams', each lasting a maximum of ninety seconds. The teams – five on each (at least to begin with; there can be fewer if players have been sent off for incurring penalties) – have two positions, the jammer (one only) and the blockers (as many as four).
The blockers of both teams combined constitute 'the pack', and it's the job of the jammers to get from behind the pack – they start twenty yards behind - through the pack and out in front. Points are scored when the jammer laps the pack; one point is given for each member of the opposing team the jammer passes. And, as noted, they've got the length of the jam (ninety seconds) to get around the opposing team as many times as possible to score points.
But it's not quite as simple as that. Strategy is important; the jammers needs to get points, but it's also important to do what they can do to keep the other team's jammer from scoring. The jammer who's the furthest ahead of the pack is called the 'lead jammer', and they have the power to call off the jam whenever they choose to.
This sometimes happens quite early on; if the speed of the pack is such that the jammer decides they won't have the opportunity to score very many points – or that the opposition jammer would score too many – they can call it off.
Then there are the penalties – and I can't really explain those, 'cause I never quite worked it out. But there are fairly strict rules on what you can and can't do, and where you can do it (one I did pick up on is that you aren't allowed to do too much pushing and shoving if you aren't in the pack; then there's going out of bounds, which if it's done by the jammer means - I think - they're ineligible to score any points in that jam) and the squad of umpires are keeping constant watch for infractions.
The penalty aspect can make a huge difference – especially if it's your jammer who's been sent off; if that happens then the opposition jammer can go on scoring points all the way through to the end of the jam.
For more – and probably better – information, check out the Adelaide Roller Derby webpage that explains it all.
One more thing: one of the great aspects of Roller Derby is that all the players (and, apparently, the umpires - at least I hope so, otherwise there really is someone in Adelaide who's actually named 'Rowan de Boate') use humorous pseudonyms as their 'player names' - at least, it's great if you're a pun-loving word-nerd like me...
The matches
First up was the playoff for third, which was between the Salty Dolls and the Mile Die Club3. Of course, what I would have done had I realised I'd want to write about the match in detail is take notes. But I didn't, so I can't really give too much insight into what happened. But it was a good game, with the lead changing throughout, and it came down to the last couple of jams. However, the Mile Die Club held on and managed to get their first win of the season - when it mattered most.
Stars for the Salty Dolls included Radical Edward, Kissy Suzuki and captain Melvin Star; for the Mile Die Club it was Pistola Balboa, Push My Toosh and their captain, Raw Dog.
I'd watched the first half with Jen and the Road Train Rollers – which was handy, 'cause I could get my many questions answered – but at half time they went off to get ready for their game. So I went back to the stands and sat with Paul and Kelly, and from there watched the second half of the first game and all the second.
That match – the grand final between Jen's team, the Road Train Rollers and the Wild Hearses – was even better than the first. There was a noticeable increase in skill level, and the fact that it was the grand final meant (presumably) there was a lot more motivation.
It was also a lot more physical. I was actually expecting it to be more violent in general, but it wasn't; that's probably practical, since if it'd been like I'd thought it was going to be they'd have to be stretchering players off left right and centre. And that's also the reason for the harsh penalties and constant vigilance from the umpires. In fact, there was - as far as I can recall - only one bad fall during the whole afternoon. Despite the lack of serious injury, though, there was a lot more pushing and shoving in the second match.
The crowd also got into it more - though there was no shortage of shouting in the Salty Dolls vs. Mile Die Club match, it really ramped up for the playoff for first. Since they have a scoreboard with the current jammers' names on it - in case you're too far from the action to read the names on the players' backs - so there's a plenty of opportunity to cheer for your favourites (or jeer those you dislike) when it's their turn to jam.
At no point was this more obvious than when the Wild Hearses' star jammer Barrelhouse Bessy was on the floor; the combined cheers from the Wild Hearses fans and jeers from the Road Train Rollers were deafening. But the Rollers had their own stars - Violent Krumble, Kit Kat Crunch and Tricksey Belt'em, as well as their almost unpassable blocker, Vaderella.
Despite the power of the internet I couldn't find a blog or a webpage that gave a more thorough description of how it all went - I suppose one will show up before too long; when that happens I'll come back and link to it, and/or edit my post accordingly. But for the moment I'm depending on my memory here, and that's just a little sketchy given that I didn't take notes. But I'll do my best - bearing in mind I'm really not a sports writer...
The Rollers were behind at the break, and the Hearses were looking close to unstoppable; the aforementioned Barrelhouse Bessy was tearing up the floor every time she pulled on the jammer's star4. But then the Rollers turned it around with some solid blocking, bold jamming, clever strategy and keeping the pressure on the Hearses, who ended up making too many mistakes and getting players - including a few jammers - sent to the penalty box.
With a few minutes to go it was looking like the Rollers were there, but Barrelhouse Bessy wasn't going to let them have it without a fight; she got the Hearses some more points on the board but even she couldn't beat the clock, and the truck-stop ladies in blue5 held on for a 91-73 win. And the crowd went wild!
Overall, it was a pretty damn good afternoon's entertainment. The only sad part is that this was - obviously - the end of the season, and it won't be until next year that it starts up again. But I'm almost certain I'll be going again when it does. Paul and Kelly indicated they'd be keen, and I know a few others who've expressed interest as well, so chances are pretty good I'll be seeing a few matches in 2011.
Again, check out the website; no doubt as soon as there's information about next year's season it'll be up there.
3Their outfits/uniforms tend to reflect the team names, e.g. the Salty Dolls are very nautically themed.
4Oh, I forgot to mention - the jammers wear helmet covers with a star on them in the team colours. This helps the umpires - and the audience - keep track of them.
5Wow, I'm really getting into this, aren't I?
Some background
As I noted in my blog post on rollerskating a couple of weeks back, I was aware of the existence of the local roller derby competition, but not much more than that. So, I was going in there not knowing what to expect. It'd sold out a couple of days beforehand, but my friend Jen (also mentioned in the rollerskating post) had tracked down a ticket for me; she was going to be there since it was her team, the Road Train Rollers, who were playing in the grand final.
Gates opened at 2pm. I'd had rehearsal for my play that morning so I had to go straight from the theatre up in Tea Tree Gully down to Wayville – about a forty minute drive – and we didn't finish until 1 o'clock so it was getting fairly close to opening by the time I got there. I hadn't thought this'd be a problem, but when I got there I realised it was: the line was huge, snaking around outside the pavilion for hundreds of meters.
Turns out they'd sold something like 3000 tickets - which is brilliant for the sport, but less wonderful for the fans waiting to go inside. And, since I hadn't foreseen this, I'd neglected to bring my otherwise omnipresent mp3 player with me, so I had to stand around in the unenviable state of musical deprivation – something I really don't experience very often1.
Anyway, after about half an hour or so of trudging at a glacial pace toward the doors, I got inside. Jen was on the gate so I had a quick word to her and wandered off to find a spot. While I was doing that, though, I ran into my friends Paul and Kelly, who were there because Paul is an exec for RipItUp2, who are one of the sponsors. They had a spare pass to the sponsor's section, which meant I got a spot up in the bleachers, rather than sit in the crowd.
So I sat chatting with them for a while before Jen found me and told me I could sit with her and the team – right in front of the track section. And then it all started.
1And will do my darndest not to experience again.
2Adelaide's best street magazine; check out the website.
The game itself
So, I got a crash course in roller derby; I'd better pass this information on if the rest of what I write is going to make sense.
On an oval-shaped space (it probably has a technical name, but I don't recall anyone mentioning it) you have two teams competing for points in two thirty-minute halves, played in segments called 'jams', each lasting a maximum of ninety seconds. The teams – five on each (at least to begin with; there can be fewer if players have been sent off for incurring penalties) – have two positions, the jammer (one only) and the blockers (as many as four).
The blockers of both teams combined constitute 'the pack', and it's the job of the jammers to get from behind the pack – they start twenty yards behind - through the pack and out in front. Points are scored when the jammer laps the pack; one point is given for each member of the opposing team the jammer passes. And, as noted, they've got the length of the jam (ninety seconds) to get around the opposing team as many times as possible to score points.
But it's not quite as simple as that. Strategy is important; the jammers needs to get points, but it's also important to do what they can do to keep the other team's jammer from scoring. The jammer who's the furthest ahead of the pack is called the 'lead jammer', and they have the power to call off the jam whenever they choose to.
This sometimes happens quite early on; if the speed of the pack is such that the jammer decides they won't have the opportunity to score very many points – or that the opposition jammer would score too many – they can call it off.
Then there are the penalties – and I can't really explain those, 'cause I never quite worked it out. But there are fairly strict rules on what you can and can't do, and where you can do it (one I did pick up on is that you aren't allowed to do too much pushing and shoving if you aren't in the pack; then there's going out of bounds, which if it's done by the jammer means - I think - they're ineligible to score any points in that jam) and the squad of umpires are keeping constant watch for infractions.
The penalty aspect can make a huge difference – especially if it's your jammer who's been sent off; if that happens then the opposition jammer can go on scoring points all the way through to the end of the jam.
For more – and probably better – information, check out the Adelaide Roller Derby webpage that explains it all.
One more thing: one of the great aspects of Roller Derby is that all the players (and, apparently, the umpires - at least I hope so, otherwise there really is someone in Adelaide who's actually named 'Rowan de Boate') use humorous pseudonyms as their 'player names' - at least, it's great if you're a pun-loving word-nerd like me...
The matches
First up was the playoff for third, which was between the Salty Dolls and the Mile Die Club3. Of course, what I would have done had I realised I'd want to write about the match in detail is take notes. But I didn't, so I can't really give too much insight into what happened. But it was a good game, with the lead changing throughout, and it came down to the last couple of jams. However, the Mile Die Club held on and managed to get their first win of the season - when it mattered most.
Stars for the Salty Dolls included Radical Edward, Kissy Suzuki and captain Melvin Star; for the Mile Die Club it was Pistola Balboa, Push My Toosh and their captain, Raw Dog.
I'd watched the first half with Jen and the Road Train Rollers – which was handy, 'cause I could get my many questions answered – but at half time they went off to get ready for their game. So I went back to the stands and sat with Paul and Kelly, and from there watched the second half of the first game and all the second.
That match – the grand final between Jen's team, the Road Train Rollers and the Wild Hearses – was even better than the first. There was a noticeable increase in skill level, and the fact that it was the grand final meant (presumably) there was a lot more motivation.
It was also a lot more physical. I was actually expecting it to be more violent in general, but it wasn't; that's probably practical, since if it'd been like I'd thought it was going to be they'd have to be stretchering players off left right and centre. And that's also the reason for the harsh penalties and constant vigilance from the umpires. In fact, there was - as far as I can recall - only one bad fall during the whole afternoon. Despite the lack of serious injury, though, there was a lot more pushing and shoving in the second match.
The crowd also got into it more - though there was no shortage of shouting in the Salty Dolls vs. Mile Die Club match, it really ramped up for the playoff for first. Since they have a scoreboard with the current jammers' names on it - in case you're too far from the action to read the names on the players' backs - so there's a plenty of opportunity to cheer for your favourites (or jeer those you dislike) when it's their turn to jam.
At no point was this more obvious than when the Wild Hearses' star jammer Barrelhouse Bessy was on the floor; the combined cheers from the Wild Hearses fans and jeers from the Road Train Rollers were deafening. But the Rollers had their own stars - Violent Krumble, Kit Kat Crunch and Tricksey Belt'em, as well as their almost unpassable blocker, Vaderella.
Despite the power of the internet I couldn't find a blog or a webpage that gave a more thorough description of how it all went - I suppose one will show up before too long; when that happens I'll come back and link to it, and/or edit my post accordingly. But for the moment I'm depending on my memory here, and that's just a little sketchy given that I didn't take notes. But I'll do my best - bearing in mind I'm really not a sports writer...
The Rollers were behind at the break, and the Hearses were looking close to unstoppable; the aforementioned Barrelhouse Bessy was tearing up the floor every time she pulled on the jammer's star4. But then the Rollers turned it around with some solid blocking, bold jamming, clever strategy and keeping the pressure on the Hearses, who ended up making too many mistakes and getting players - including a few jammers - sent to the penalty box.
With a few minutes to go it was looking like the Rollers were there, but Barrelhouse Bessy wasn't going to let them have it without a fight; she got the Hearses some more points on the board but even she couldn't beat the clock, and the truck-stop ladies in blue5 held on for a 91-73 win. And the crowd went wild!
Overall, it was a pretty damn good afternoon's entertainment. The only sad part is that this was - obviously - the end of the season, and it won't be until next year that it starts up again. But I'm almost certain I'll be going again when it does. Paul and Kelly indicated they'd be keen, and I know a few others who've expressed interest as well, so chances are pretty good I'll be seeing a few matches in 2011.
Again, check out the website; no doubt as soon as there's information about next year's season it'll be up there.
3Their outfits/uniforms tend to reflect the team names, e.g. the Salty Dolls are very nautically themed.
4Oh, I forgot to mention - the jammers wear helmet covers with a star on them in the team colours. This helps the umpires - and the audience - keep track of them.
5Wow, I'm really getting into this, aren't I?
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Ashes débâcle
Right now I’m furious with the Australian cricket team – and, if that term does not already include everyone associated with making the decisions that led to this miserable result, anyone else involved in anything that led to this abysmal piece-of-crap performance in England.
But I’m also annoyed with pretty much the entire sports journalism industry.
Why? Because of the idiotic way in which, after Australia’s win in the fourth test, it was announced the result of the fifth was a foregone conclusion with the prediction that the Aussies would continue the form they showed in the fourth and demolish the Poms without breaking a sweat.
It bugged me enough at the time, but – now that it turned out they were all so horribly, horribly wrong – I’m even more shitty.
At no point in the series, other than the couple of sessions in the fourth test, was Australia truly dominant. We struggled to bowl England out almost every time they batted, and our batsmen – on paper some of the best players in the world – never really took to the English bowlers as often as players of their talent should have.
In the first test we managed to bat well but couldn’t bowl out the English tail – Anderson and Monty fucking Panesar, for crying out loud – to win.
The second test had us once again struggling to finish them off, and the runs the tailenders made – and the time they spent at the crease, keeping us from it – had an impact. We then did a complete about-face from the impressive efforts of the first test and the innings collapsed to the point where we were facing a follow-on. The English batsmen went on a run-a-thon before we got back in and were let down by our top- and middle- order.
A drawn third test due to the weather – not a big shock; it’s England, after all.
The fourth test we won by a good margin: an innings and 80 runs. But, considering the position we had them in – 5/82 at the end of the second day; had we got them out then we’d have won by an innings and 261 runs – that they managed to hang on as long as they did (included flogging our bowlers out of the park and achieving the second-fastest century partnership in test history) was perhaps an indicator that we’d gotten lucky, rather than because of superior skill.
But somehow this piece of good fortune got interpreted as Australia’s obvious superiority and a precursor to the inevitable demise of England in the fifth and final test.
Which, of course, wasn’t how it turned out. We bowled okay, but still couldn’t manage to bring them down before they’d put together a decent total. And while we started out well, the sudden collapse to be all out for 160 wasn’t just a little less than was expected of a team who’d hadn’t out a shellacking the match before. If we’d managed to bowl them out for a low second inning score – as, once again, you’d expect we’d have been able to do if we really were the team they’d praised so highly only a week or so before – we might have had a chance. But once again their batsmen were almost entirely unthreatened by us, and put together what would have been a nigh-on impossible score to chase even if all our batsmen had been performing at their absolute best.
Which they weren’t; therefore, we fell way short. Game over. England take back the Ashes 2-1. A nation sits in shock, mostly because - prior to the toss - they’d read at least one of the approximately 17,000 articles about how Australia were going to romp it in because they’d showed their true form in the fourth test.
Wrong. So fucking wrong. Which matches had they been watching?
At no point except for day 2 and 3 of the first test, and the first session of the fourth test, did I feel we were playing at anything near well enough to win the series. And much of the good we did achieve was because we were playing against an understrength England team.
The problem was the bowling; we only truly dominated England with the ball in one innings of one test: the first of the fourth, when we took the ten for 102. Every other time they were at the crease we struggled to get them all out – the next lowest was 263, also in the fourth – and that was after we had them, as I noted before, 5/82. Every other completed innings was over 300.
Batting was better, at least in comparison – but, apart from the first test, never when it really counted. The first innings of the second test, third and fifth tests were all poor – 215, 263 and 160 respectively. With those poor starts we weren’t able to give our inexperienced and underperforming bowlers anything to try and defend.
I think it’s fair to say that, even if we’d won the last test and retained the poxy little trophy, we wouldn’t have had much right to say we’d done so in a decisive fashion.
But we didn’t win; we lost, and lost by a significant margin. And it pains me to say that, while England didn’t really deserve to win, they were – to put it bluntly - better at not losing than we were.
What to do now? Well, we really have to work on putting together a better, more consistent bowling lineup. Brett Lee, if he stays fit, is the key; if Mitchell Johnson and Stuart Clark can get back the consistency that served them so well in previous series then we should be able to put pressure on a batting side.
I don’t know what to do about a spinner. Perhaps between now and the firs test against the West Indies later this year one of the several options will present himself as the obvious choice for the turning pitches.
Actually, if what’s being reported in the media is anything to go by, the selecting may well be done by several people not currently holding the position of selector. While Cricket Australia is not quite as ready to let heads roll as, say, an English Premier League soccer club, they are now under a lot of pressure to answer the question of exactly whose fault it was our better-than-average team was bested by a bunch of very ordinary Englishmen.
And I’m not very happy about that, and am wondering if a new selection panel would do a better job. I guess we just wait and see.
But I’m also annoyed with pretty much the entire sports journalism industry.
Why? Because of the idiotic way in which, after Australia’s win in the fourth test, it was announced the result of the fifth was a foregone conclusion with the prediction that the Aussies would continue the form they showed in the fourth and demolish the Poms without breaking a sweat.
It bugged me enough at the time, but – now that it turned out they were all so horribly, horribly wrong – I’m even more shitty.
At no point in the series, other than the couple of sessions in the fourth test, was Australia truly dominant. We struggled to bowl England out almost every time they batted, and our batsmen – on paper some of the best players in the world – never really took to the English bowlers as often as players of their talent should have.
In the first test we managed to bat well but couldn’t bowl out the English tail – Anderson and Monty fucking Panesar, for crying out loud – to win.
The second test had us once again struggling to finish them off, and the runs the tailenders made – and the time they spent at the crease, keeping us from it – had an impact. We then did a complete about-face from the impressive efforts of the first test and the innings collapsed to the point where we were facing a follow-on. The English batsmen went on a run-a-thon before we got back in and were let down by our top- and middle- order.
A drawn third test due to the weather – not a big shock; it’s England, after all.
The fourth test we won by a good margin: an innings and 80 runs. But, considering the position we had them in – 5/82 at the end of the second day; had we got them out then we’d have won by an innings and 261 runs – that they managed to hang on as long as they did (included flogging our bowlers out of the park and achieving the second-fastest century partnership in test history) was perhaps an indicator that we’d gotten lucky, rather than because of superior skill.
But somehow this piece of good fortune got interpreted as Australia’s obvious superiority and a precursor to the inevitable demise of England in the fifth and final test.
Which, of course, wasn’t how it turned out. We bowled okay, but still couldn’t manage to bring them down before they’d put together a decent total. And while we started out well, the sudden collapse to be all out for 160 wasn’t just a little less than was expected of a team who’d hadn’t out a shellacking the match before. If we’d managed to bowl them out for a low second inning score – as, once again, you’d expect we’d have been able to do if we really were the team they’d praised so highly only a week or so before – we might have had a chance. But once again their batsmen were almost entirely unthreatened by us, and put together what would have been a nigh-on impossible score to chase even if all our batsmen had been performing at their absolute best.
Which they weren’t; therefore, we fell way short. Game over. England take back the Ashes 2-1. A nation sits in shock, mostly because - prior to the toss - they’d read at least one of the approximately 17,000 articles about how Australia were going to romp it in because they’d showed their true form in the fourth test.
Wrong. So fucking wrong. Which matches had they been watching?
At no point except for day 2 and 3 of the first test, and the first session of the fourth test, did I feel we were playing at anything near well enough to win the series. And much of the good we did achieve was because we were playing against an understrength England team.
The problem was the bowling; we only truly dominated England with the ball in one innings of one test: the first of the fourth, when we took the ten for 102. Every other time they were at the crease we struggled to get them all out – the next lowest was 263, also in the fourth – and that was after we had them, as I noted before, 5/82. Every other completed innings was over 300.
Batting was better, at least in comparison – but, apart from the first test, never when it really counted. The first innings of the second test, third and fifth tests were all poor – 215, 263 and 160 respectively. With those poor starts we weren’t able to give our inexperienced and underperforming bowlers anything to try and defend.
I think it’s fair to say that, even if we’d won the last test and retained the poxy little trophy, we wouldn’t have had much right to say we’d done so in a decisive fashion.
But we didn’t win; we lost, and lost by a significant margin. And it pains me to say that, while England didn’t really deserve to win, they were – to put it bluntly - better at not losing than we were.
What to do now? Well, we really have to work on putting together a better, more consistent bowling lineup. Brett Lee, if he stays fit, is the key; if Mitchell Johnson and Stuart Clark can get back the consistency that served them so well in previous series then we should be able to put pressure on a batting side.
I don’t know what to do about a spinner. Perhaps between now and the firs test against the West Indies later this year one of the several options will present himself as the obvious choice for the turning pitches.
Actually, if what’s being reported in the media is anything to go by, the selecting may well be done by several people not currently holding the position of selector. While Cricket Australia is not quite as ready to let heads roll as, say, an English Premier League soccer club, they are now under a lot of pressure to answer the question of exactly whose fault it was our better-than-average team was bested by a bunch of very ordinary Englishmen.
And I’m not very happy about that, and am wondering if a new selection panel would do a better job. I guess we just wait and see.
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