July 2, 2010

England’s World Cup chances, and a cathartic confession

Andy Zaltzman

2 Shaun Tait: that's Mr Grumpy to you © Getty Images

England have chosen a very good time to register a convincing win over Australia. It has dovetailed extremely neatly with the hydraulically hyped football team exploring hitherto uncharted territories of incompetence in a World Cup humiliation that is being widely viewed as the nation’s biggest embarrassment since King Harold was tricked by the Normans into a game of Catch The Arrow With Your Eye. (In relative terms, watching England’s World Cup unfold was the footballing equivalent of sitting in a darkened cellar, watching Steve Harmison’s first ball of the 2006-07 Ashes on a continuous loop for two weeks.)

The one-day series triumph has also coincided with the government’s jovially portentous forecasts of continuing economic gloom. So by playing to their potential, and by offering genuine promise for the future, Strauss’s team have surely thrust cricket back to the top of English children’s favourite-hobbies lists, ahead of football and macroeconomics.

Congratulations are due to England not only for the all-round excellence of their play in the first two-and-nine-tenths matches, but also for cleverly raising then crushing Australian hopes by collapsing spectacularly to the point of defeat in the final one-tenth of match three, and then convincingly losing match four in order to maintain public interest in the build-up to the Ashes. If the whitewash that was obviously inevitable had been allowed to happen, who would have bothered tuning in to see Ponting’s men ritually humiliated yet again this winter? Only true sadists with no love of a genuine sporting contest.

Perhaps I read too much into it. But England have now played well enough often enough in recent limited-overs matches to suggest that their current run is not an uncharacteristic blip in a long era of carefully nurtured underachievement.

This five-match effective whitewash spread over a mere 12 days will sadly be of little value when the World Cup comes around next year. The tournament will be a test of psychological endurance as much as cricketing ability, as it crawls slowly onwards like the asthmatic brontosaurus it is. In fact, the gaps between games are mostly long enough to allow teams to commute to and from home to minimise the chances of homesickness.

Perhaps the much-and-rightly-criticised World Cup schedules of recent tournaments have been designed with this specifically in mind – not, as most people had assumed, in order to render the events so stultifying that by the time they finally ended, no one really noticed Australia winning, thus taking the gloss from their triumphs, but as a means to reduce the unfair advantage enjoyed by the host nation, by enabling all the teams to nip home to spend some quality time with their family and check their post.

Nevertheless England look a well-balanced team with plenty of batting power. Whether they can adapt to subcontinental conditions and take enough top-order wickets early in their opponents’ innings will probably dictate how far they can progress. However, the tournament basically involves a largely ceremonial month-long group stage to whittle the seven teams with an ICC ODI ranking score of 100 or more up to eight teams, followed by a three-round shoot-out featuring all the potential randomness of tosses, conditions, weather and Daryl Harper. Therefore, any team could win it with a well-timed streak of (a) form, (b) luck and (c) Daryl Harper.

It was good to see Shaun Tait damaging the speed gun again. The world needs a few more bowlers who waddle up the crease and then wang it as fast as possible. It makes for unavoidably exciting cricket. Especially if “as fast as possible” clocks in at above 95 mph, as Tait did in that fourth game.

He has played one wicketless Test in the five years since his 2005 Ashes debut games, in which he proved himself to be fast, erratic, occasionally dangerous, and, as I witnessed first-hand at The Oval, exceedingly (and self-defeatingly) grumpy in the face of mild crowd banter. Since playing a major role in Australia’s 2007 World Cup campaign, he had played just a handful of ODIs before this series, so let us hope he will feature considerably more in coming years. Too many properly fast bowlers have played far too little top-level cricket this millennium, in particular Shane Bond, Shoaib Akhtar, Jermaine Lawson and, more understandably, Harold Larwood.

I well remember my first encounter with fast bowling. It was in my second ever game of cricket, as an eight-year-old. On the back of a battling, almost heroic, innings of 1 in my debut match, I was promoted to open the batting. Having taken two extraordinary slip catches – extraordinary at least to all those who had seen me attempt to catch before – I had helped my school Under-9s reduce our opponents to 63 all out. At the age of eight, with a career best of 1, this was a daunting target, the mental equivalent, I imagine, of chasing 500 to win a Test match.

I walked out to bat with the confidence of one who had never known true failure, like a pre-1991 Graeme Hick but smaller. I was the non-striking batsman. The umpire said “Play”. I looked round to see the bowler. He was not there. Odd, I thought. I looked again. He was there. Standing on the boundary with the ball in his hand. At this point, I was 90% defeated. I had seen Michael Holding on TV. In thundered the bowler, if an eight-year-old can indeed thunder, before flinging his missile of destruction towards my opening partner. I barely saw it. Perhaps because my eyes instinctively closed in anticipatory terror. I heard a distant thud, as the ball hit the batsman on the pad. He called me through for a single. It was an easy single. It was also a single that was extremely low on my priority list. My partner was half-way up the pitch, I had to run. I now had to face the demon. I took a nervous middle-and-leg guard, and surveyed the potential gaps in the field, for the sake of convention if nothing else, and also for potential escape routes. I settled into my stance. The run-up began.

As the bowler’s long approach unfolded, like a lion sprinting towards a 2-for-1 offer in a zebra shop, I steeled myself to be brave, watch the ball, and trust my brand new pads, gloves and box to avoid life-threatening injuries. He passed the umpire, uncoiled like the eight-year-old Garner-Croft-Holding-Roberts hybrid he clearly was, and whanged it. I studiously played the perfect forward-defensive. The ball smashed into the stumps. I looked up to see a disapproving teacher looking at me as if I had just betrayed my team-mates, my school and my country. I looked at the stumps. Which were further away than I had remembered them being. I looked at my feet. They were just off the edge of the pitch, heading towards square leg. It transpired that what would today be called my “trigger movements” had let me down. And taken me a good four feet out of harm’s way. A technical glitch to be ironed out, certainly. My career average slumped to 0.50. I batted at eight in the next match.

RELATED LINKS

Andy Zaltzman is a stand-up comedian, a regular on the BBC Radio 4, and a writer

RSS Feeds: Andy Zaltzman

© ESPN Sports Media Ltd.

Posted by physician assistant on (July 14, 2010, 19:15 GMT)

What a great resource!

Posted by waterbuffalo on (July 6, 2010, 5:55 GMT)

Mr. Zaltzman, I hope you enjoy watching Asif, Gul and in particular, Mohd Aamer this summer, however you should only buy tickets for the first two days of each test, it'll be over by lunch on Day 3. Pakistan just cannot bat, which is a shame, but they can bowl, and they are going to clonk some people around, all they have to do is pitch it up. The only good bat Pakistan has is Umar Akmal, who will provide an estimated 75% of the runs.

Posted by Umair_umair on (July 3, 2010, 23:41 GMT)

Hi Andy, good thing about you is that your blogs are not only for the sake of making people laugh. I love your analysis too. ;). (no pun intended).

Would love to see you in the commentry box (offcourse as a commentator). I am sure your average in commentry box will be much better than you average at the crease as a batsman.

Posted by Pochard on (July 3, 2010, 19:51 GMT)

@Derajydac (or something): 'matches are played at obscene times for us thus if we were to watch it we would be staying up to 5am in the morning'. Gosh yes, just imagine if they were to be played at 5am in the afternoon.

Posted by The Bear Jew on (July 3, 2010, 9:53 GMT)

contd.

The ball crashed straight into one of the 4 bamboo poles holding up the nets and the pole went flat onto the ground. The nets and the remaining 3 poles caved in as well and buried me alive.

The coach, though had seen the shot that had put me into that tangle, and liked what he saw. I was to open in the next week's match. Three consecutive ducks ensued, all lbw to pace bowling, and I have never played leather ball cricket since.

Posted by The Bear Jew on (July 3, 2010, 9:50 GMT)

Great article Mr. Zaltman, particularly loved - "ahead of football and macroeconomics."

Your recounting of your first experience with pace bowling makes me misty eyed and takes me back to the time when I was an 11-year old (though it was only 8 years ago that I was 11). Admittedly, I was considerably luckier than you, as I first faced up to pace not in a match but in the nets. On the flip side, I was practicing with 14-yearolds, which, apart from being bullied around, meant I had to use oversized gear and a bat that I could barely lift off the ground.

After barely managing to pull myself out of harm's way for the first dozen or so deliveries, came the first time I put bat on ball. It was a resounding success coupled with a tragic outcome.

It was only the first overpitched delivery I got, and the only one I sighted completely. Instinct took over, and the classiest of sweetly timed straight drives came out. Disaster.

Posted by justin on (July 3, 2010, 1:02 GMT)

andy, you bring the exciting and mostly horrific memories of my childhood cricketing efforts back to me. The glorious 6* down to the 1st ball duck playing an elegant cut shot that I somehow managed to miss!! It's a heady time to be an english cricket fan. You have the ashes, the world 2020, able to beat australia in all three forms. Oh well, brisbane is only 4 to 5 mths away. We'll see if everything is rosy then shell we!!

Posted by Tyler Durden on (July 2, 2010, 22:57 GMT)

Hahahaaha..

Ahh andy, you and your sad tales. I'm guessing you must have been a handful batting against the spinners, eh?

Posted by Manihammad on (July 2, 2010, 22:06 GMT)

well i am really proud to hear about your heroic batting display. it was really rude of your teacher to give you a disapproving look..did they make you do lines that "i would never open again" like 500 times?

Posted by Hiran on (July 2, 2010, 21:22 GMT)

What a artical. easily one of the best i'v read in cricinfo.

Comments have now been closed for this article

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andy Zaltzman
Andy Zaltzman was born in obscurity in 1974. He has been a sporadically-acclaimed stand-up comedian since 1999, and has appeared regularly on BBC Radio 4. He is currently one half of TimesOnline's hit satirical podcast The Bugle, alongside John Oliver. Zaltzman's love of cricket outshone his aptitude for the game by a humiliating margin. He once scored 6 in 75 minutes in an Under-15 match, and failed to hit a six between the ages of 9 and 23. He would have been ideally suited to Tests, had not a congenital defect left him unable to play the game to anything above genuine village standard. He writes the Confectionery Stall blog on Cricinfo.

All articles by this writer