Different Strokes
Shine Udal
Maybe my naming him my Man of the Tournament will persuade him to at least be around for the Twenty20
Mike Holmans
25-Feb-2013
Incredible! Not only was the Twenty20 Final a fantastic game of cricket, but Middlesex won their first trophy since Mike Gatting was playing. And in a format which they have been useless at for the five previous years of the tournament.
But it was the semi-final which really showed up the injustice of the Man of the Match system. Tyron Henderson got it for his quickfire 59 but the real engineers of the win were, as usual, Murali Kartik and Shaun Udal, the two spinners who delivered overs 7-14 for a mere 36 runs. Throughout the tournament their typical combined figures have been 8-0-43-2, the equivalent of putting the opposition batsmen in a box and sitting on the lid for eight overs, or 40% of the innings, and it’s been the ‘Flash Harries’ who’ve got the 60 in 40 balls who walk off with the Man-of-the-Match awards.
Full post‘The bowler’s Henderson, the batsman’s Kemp’
Oops
Stephen Gelb
25-Feb-2013
There was a great moment of irony on the radio commentary of the English 20-20 final last night. Kent v Middlesex. Both get to play in the Champions League, if it happens, but the winners also get onto the Stanford bandwagon and various other money-spinning opportunities. Kent needed 16 off the last over and then 4 off the last ball. The commentator – not sure who it was – said, “Here it comes, the most valuable ball in the history of county cricket.”
According to Wisden, Surrey were the first county champions in 1864, so that’s 144 years of history, tens of thousands of first class and limited overs matches, millions of balls bowled. This one was worth more than any other. He continued, “The bowler’s Henderson, the batsman’s Kemp.”
Oops. The most valuable ball ever bowled in England, and both bowler and batsman are South African. The most valuable ball ever bowled in England, and no Englishmen involved.
Full postGreat expectations
Perhaps anyone with an understanding of the South African cricket mentality can help us make sense of this
Michael Jeh
25-Feb-2013
Being firmly in the neutral corner, I’m going to show rare bravado and put in my two cents worth about South Africa. I suspect my fellow blogger Stephen Gelb will respond by cutting me down, but it might make for an interesting debate.
South Africa is the most predictable team in both forms of the game, Tests and ODI’s. Apart from when they play against the minnows of Bangladesh or Zimbabwe, I reckon their performances can be predicted with some certainty.
Ironically, their Test cricket is almost the mirror opposite of their one-day cricket. On-field pressure is one thing but South Africa seem to have a major problem with coping with the hype and pressure that comes before a major event. The great tragedy is that a lot of it is self-inflicted. South Africa seem to fall on their own sword, often unable to meet their own benchmark standards imposed on themselves, by themselves. Countries like Australia love building them up before a major series, love watching the South Africans work themselves up into a frenzy and then choking on the fumes of their own gas truck.
In Test cricket, their much vaunted pace attack often fails to deliver in the opening Test match of a series. The recent Lords Test aside, Edgbaston in 1998 was one example when both Donald and Pollock got over-anxious on their ‘home ground’ (Warwickshire) and bowled poorly on a green pitch that should have suited them down to the ground. England was 249/1 at the end of play on Day 1.
Full postHeadingley v Lord’s
The difference is evident long before one reaches the ground
Mike Holmans
25-Feb-2013
The difference is evident long before one reaches the ground. The bus to Lord’s fills up with elderly men wearing red-and-yellow ties, whereas the bus to Headingley is packed with groups of young men dressed as medieval knights or popular chanteuses. On the top deck, a beach ball is tossed around, occasionally descending downstairs to be propelled back up with some force.
I get off before the more fancily-dressed, heading through the members’ entrance to the sanity of the East Stand while they go two more stops and take up position in the West.
Headingley on Test match Saturday is divided into four zones. In the Football Stand to the south Yorkshire’s plutocracy grace this premier sporting event with their presence. To the north and northeast are the general cricket followers, while the southeast and east is filled with the Yorkshire members, possibly the toughest conversational company known to cricket.
The MCC member’s view of cricket is an impressionist painting, the Yorkshireman’s a sheaf of detailed engineering blueprints. Suggest at Lord’s that Ashwell Prince reminds you of that West Indian fellow Gomes and someone will nod understandingly. The Tyke will snort and give a point-by-point dissection of exactly how Gomes’ technique was different, his range of shot completely other and generally make it clear that you do not know what you are talking about. Only when countered with an encyclopaedic treatment of the parallels will a grudging truce be offered.
Full postUmpire burlesque
One thing that most cricketers will readily admit to is the fact that in some cases, you genuinely do not know if you’ve nicked it or caught a low catch cleanly
Michael Jeh
25-Feb-2013
The issue of cricket’s morality conundrum when it comes to walking and low catches in my most recent post, is not an easy one to leave alone. Like facing gentle outswing, it teases me to fiddle outside off stump and not just let it go through to the keeper.
One thing that most cricketers will readily admit to is the fact that in some cases, you genuinely do not know if you’ve nicked it or caught a low catch cleanly. Those instances happen from time to time and it is perfectly acceptable to leave that to the umpire’s discretion. In the case of a low catch, if you indicate any uncertainty, it normally goes in the batsman’s favour anyway.
If I was to take an ultra-cynical approach, could it be that players like Lara and Gilchrist were visionary enough to cultivate an aura of honesty that also worked in their favour? If you were known to be a walker, would umpires be more prepared to ignore their own instincts and wait that fraction of a second longer to see if you walk? If you didn’t tuck the bat under the arms and start that move towards the pavilion, would you possibly dodge a bullet or two because the umpire might think “he mustn’t have nicked it because he hasn’t walked?”
To be honest, I don’t think for one moment that either Gilly or Lara have ever been that disingenuous. But it’s not a bad one for the conspiracy theorists is it? It tends to work better for wicketkeepers too because they can also trade on that honesty when appealing for catches.
Full postFive stars
Ashwell Prince is now the ideal number five, the mould for the position having shifted 180 degrees from Dexter to Steve Waugh (or maybe Allan Border?) Five is now the ‘glue’ of the batting order, the one around whom the rest bat.
Stephen Gelb
25-Feb-2013
One of the stories of the England-SA series so far is about the number five batsmen. Bell and Prince both started the series with question marks over their places but both responded decisively. The similarities don’t end there – both are small in stature and apparently quiet in demeanour, both showed great early talent as attacking batsmen but now have different personas and different roles. Until recently, neither was a regular part of their countries’ ODI setup.
Their Test records are remarkably similar. Headingley is Bell’s 41st test, Prince’s 43rd. After the first innings, Bell had played 72 innings (8 not outs) for 2821 runs at 44.07, 8 hundreds, 18 fifties and strike-rate 50.8. Prince’s numbers were 70 innings (10 not outs) for 2634 runs at 43.90, with 9 hundreds, 7 fifties and S/R 42.7.
Curiously, there has been a huge difference against Bangladesh: Prince has only 52 in 5 innings, Bell 227 in 2 (both not out). I don’t believe one should discount performances against the weaker teams, but without Bangladesh, Prince averages 47, Bell 40.5.
Prince must now be regarded as South Africa’s best ever number five. Hansie Cronje’s numbers (111 innings, 3714 runs, average 36.41, strike-rate 44.5, 6 hundreds and 23 fifties) are surprisingly mediocre, and clearly inferior to Prince. When Cronje disappeared, Gary Kirsten moved down the order, since there was no obvious replacement at five. Prince has now surely locked up the position for a long time.
Full postTo walk or not to walk?
Is 'walking' one of those special things that defy explanation, an exotic beast that should be allowed to retain an air of mystique
Michael Jeh
25-Feb-2013
Samir’s insightful take on park cricket etiquette and Stephen’s plea on behalf of umpires raises some interesting questions about the duality of morality. Is cricket unique for its double standards and contradictions which are almost impossible to define in black and white terms?
Let's explore the issue of 'walking' then. Most international players prefer to let the umpire make the decision, a perfectly reasonable position if they take the good and bad with equal grace. But, as we see all-too-frequently, this is definitely not the case. It was never more evident than in the ill-tempered Sydney 2008 Test when Ricky Ponting set the tone for a fractious atmosphere when he was given out in the first innings, totally oblivious to the fortunate decision earlier that morning when he tickled one down the leg side. Live by the sword, die by the sword - not for Ponting that day.
Full postCrowded house
Constant yelling and cheering from the 15000 crowd, a fair amount of it fuelled by copious drinking – and those infernal musical stings every time a boundary was hit or a wicket fell
Mike Holmans
25-Feb-2013
The house was only 98% full on the fourth afternoon and the cricket was enervatingly tedious to watch, but still the group in the Upper Compton stand who were trying to start a Mexican wave found no takers. Not until the game’s corpse was twitching its last on the final afternoon did one get going.
A Lord’s Test crowd needs little more than the cricket to keep it entertained in the main arena. Announcements of the names of the new bowler and the incoming batsman and instant replays on the big screens are all we get during play.
Full postYesterday is not today
If the Test stars of today do not seem to shine as brightly in county cricket as their predecessors, it may be because the background is so much lighter than it was
Mike Holmans
25-Feb-2013
In a recent article in Cricinfo Magazine, Christopher Martin-Jenkins lamented the performances of the England top-order Test batsmen in their county championship games, comparing them unfavourably to those of Len Hutton, Denis Compton, Geoff Boycott, Graham Gooch and Bill and John Edrich. Those past batsmen stood out a long way from the pack and were clearly a class above their contemporaries. Since today’s don’t, they aren’t, is the conclusion we are invited to draw.
But that relies on the baselines being the same, on the pack staying where it was – and that is manifestly not the case.
I was sitting with a friend of mine (who, unlike CMJ, has first-hand memory of Bill and Denis in their pomp) the other day when a batsman aimed a meaty biff through extra cover. A couple of the one-saving fielders set off in pursuit, overhauled it and threw the ball in quickly enough to pressure the batsmen on their second run.
Full postWisdom of the crowds
Watching a Test match is still a great way to spend a day, and for your kids to learn the game
Stephen Gelb
25-Feb-2013
 | ||
|
| ||
|
|
|
I grew up in the 1960s watching cricket at Newlands, sitting on the grass in front of the grandstand [by law only whites, by custom only men], watching three-day inter-provincial matches and the occasional Test. My first Test, England in 1964, was dull as ditch water. On the other hand, Australia in 1967 and 1970 was fantastic. But before 50-over games and before television [introduced into South Africa only in 1976], provincial matches were major events often with full grounds.
Even on the grass, there was a strict etiquette. Most importantly, you never ever moved during an over. If you wanted a cold beverage or go to the loo, you waited till the end of the over. On your return, you parked yourself at the section entrance. Even the ice-cream sellers, the only blacks in our section, picked their way among us only between overs. By mid-afternoon drinks, the Castle Lagers, abetted by the sun, had done their work on the adults on the ‘white’ grass and on the ‘black’ grass just across the sight-screen, and the wisecracks came fast and loud. But not during play: barracking between balls and overs only.
Full post