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The Long Handle

The shot that ended the world

Geoff Boycott explains the calamity to us

Andrew Hughes
Andrew Hughes
25-Feb-2013
Thursday, 29th March Every cricket watcher knows that the post-mortem after a Test defeat is far more entertaining than a victory celebration. Who wants to listen to sweaty sportsmen being tediously self-effacing about their success when you can wallow in the angry recrimination and existential despair of the unhappy professional pundit?
These decommissioned pros may spend most of their time on air reminiscing, snoring or talking about their lunch, but at times of national despondency, they really come into their own. When England lose, we connoisseurs of cricket misery have a range of choices from Bob Willis, the high priest of woe, through Nasser Hussain’s disapproving parent to Ian Botham, the angry man’s angry man.
But after this latest defeat, I thought I’d give Geoffrey Boycott a try. His style is straightforward, yet strangely compelling. To begin with, he tries a variety of grumbles on for size: Ian Bell’s sweep shot; the theory that the England players “have got nowt between the ears”; the state of the Greek economy. Soon, however, he settles on the grumble de jour and his oratory really takes flight.
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Spin: only on a washing machine

It’s an art that England just don’t do

Andrew Hughes
Andrew Hughes
25-Feb-2013
Tuesday, 27th March The England batting order is starting to resemble one of those sets of building bricks that toddlers like to play with. You can stack them in any order, perhaps moving Bell here, maybe taking out a Morgan and putting in a Patel, but whatever you do, the whole wobbly construction ends up in a heap on the floor, with a delighted spin bowler clapping his hands gleefully and shouting “Again, again!”
This time it was Rangana Herath carrying out the demolition but it could just as easily have been Herath’s great aunt, his ten-year-old niece or a suitably motivated orangutan. It seems that any sentient being capable of propelling the ball towards the English batsmen at under 50mph is on to a winner.
Is it genetic? Is the doosra-picking gene missing from the English DNA? Or is it biological? Just as dogs can’t see certain colours, perhaps English people can’t work out whether a spherical object is spinning clockwise or anti-clockwise. Or could it be educational? Does the chapter on spin bowling in the England coaching manual read, “Take a big stride forward, don’t look at the umpire and hope for the best”?
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Chris and Julian kiss and make up

Or do they

Andrew Hughes
Andrew Hughes
25-Feb-2013
Tuesday, 20th March As the Gayle v Hunte row enters its 723rd week, a high-level meeting was held today to break the deadlock. In attendance were the prime ministers of St Vincent and Antigua, officials from CARICOM, WIPA, WICB and Interpol; Kofi Annan, His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Rolf Harris, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men and the universe’s most diplomatic robot, C-3PO, who, as we know, is fluent in over six million dialects including “Sulking Sportsman” and “Pompous Administrator”.
Sadly their combined efforts to put West Indian cricket back together again came to naught because no one could remember what it was that Gayle had said in the first place. This is hardly surprising. It seems so long ago now that the truth is obscured by myth and legend. For example, there are people in downtown Kingston who will tell you that it all started because Gayle accused Ottis Gibson of trying to undermine Ramnaresh Sarwan by saying rude things about his shoes.
Still, it’s not all bad news. Things must be going swimmingly in the Caribbean if two of the region’s prime ministers have the time to play agony aunts to Chris and Julian. By way of a contrast, David Cameron has completely failed to get to grips with the Carlos Tevez situation at Manchester City whilst Barack Obama clearly can’t be bothered to bring his influence to bear on the long-running feud that is threatening to tear apart the Chicago and District Pekinese Breeders Association.
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Are bookies doing it all wrong?

They're putting their money in places no one dreams of visiting

Andrew Hughes
Andrew Hughes
25-Feb-2013
Tuesday, 13th March I’m worried about Gautam. His century was very nice, but it’s not as though he hasn’t done it before or was poised on 99 hundreds or had his mortgage on it at 25-1 or anything. His reaction upon securing three figures was a bit of a jolt. I haven’t seen that much unexpected fist-pumping since the Pope received the news that Germany had knocked England out of the World Cup.
And then there were the verbal ejaculations. Traditionally, this kind of thing is left to the chap with the ball. Ryan Sidebottom is a master of the fist-clenched primal roar and Dale Steyn does that thing where all his upper body muscles go taut and he looks like he’s about to turn into some kind of mutant super hero. Or dislocate his jaw.
So what could have provoked mild-mannered Gautam to join the ranks of the screamers and ravers? His frenzied finger-jabbing in the direction of the dressing room suggested that he’d proved a point to someone. “There you go,” he seemed to be saying, “I told you I could score a century on a flat pitch against a toothless bowling attack in a minor tournament. Take that!”
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From debacle to damp

How England rained on South Africa’s parade

Andrew Hughes
Andrew Hughes
25-Feb-2013
Saturday, 10th March Vacancies in the Indian batting line-up do not occur that often, and now that Rahul has gone, the hopefuls are queuing round the block. Like casting directors for a Bollywood blockbuster, BCCI selectors have been leafing through headshots and resumes for several days, but nothing has yet caught their eye. So today this advert appeared in the Indian batting industry’s trade newspaper, The Bling and Nurdle:
A position has recently become available in our top order. The successful candidate must be good in a crisis, with strong damage limitation skills and considerable firefighting expertise. Experience of working with the elderly an advantage. Some foreign travel necessary but this will be kept to a minimum. Ability to duck essential. Apply to Mr Srinivasan, Super Kings Mansions, Cement Street, Mumbai.
Sunday, 11th March If you thought that the diabolical debacle in Dubai surely meant the end of England’s spell as head prefects at the Test Cricket Academy, you were wrong. It looks like Strauss and chums will still be hanging on to the shiny mace of supremacy come April Fools Day, thanks to an old ally.
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How to deal with the Woolf Report

The damned thing refuses to shut up and go away quietly

Andrew Hughes
Andrew Hughes
25-Feb-2013
Monday, 5th March Despite the best efforts of senior administrators to lose the Woolf Report (leaving it in the toilets on the 5:45 to Euston; posting it to Outer Mongolia; taking it ten miles into the desert and burying it under a pile of Alastair Cook’s autobiographies) the perishing thing keeps turning up again, and so now the ICC’s Convincing Excuses Committee has been forced to call a meeting to talk about it.
Many of cricket’s top administrators are unhappy with the Woolf Report. For example, Mr Srinivasan, head of the BCCI, is said to be unconvinced by the pie charts on page seven; the owner of the Chennai Super Kings, a Mr Srinivasan, doesn’t really like the title, and Mr Srinivasan, ICC director, has expressed considerable reservations about the font.
Following the meeting, I understand that the ICC’s contact in the Indian Space Agency (a Mr Srinivasan, no relation) has agreed to put the Woolf Report into a sealed canister aboard their next rocket. The document will then be released into space for wider consultation amongst other life forms and a final decision on implementation of its recommendations is expected sometime in June 2212.
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The Jesse and Doug show

Invited are mugs who like to have a go at off-duty cricketers and New Zealand Cricket

Andrew Hughes
Andrew Hughes
25-Feb-2013
Thursday, 1st March Due to the recent spate of naughtiness, the ECB have arranged an amnesty for players to report corruption. During this time, they will be able to hand over any brown envelopes, bundles of cash or leather jackets they might have about their person and ‘fess up to anything even remotely dodgy that they might have seen, heard, dreamt about or vaguely remembered from an early episode of Starsky and Hutch.
Now, an amnesty is a lovely thing, the nearest that non-Catholics will get to confession. After a brief admission of wrongdoing, your conscience is wiped clean and off you go, whistling into the sunshine, a better person. A similar amnesty was recently tried in the Houses of Parliament although it had to be abandoned after half an hour as the staff taking the details ran out of notepaper.
But I’m certain cricket can make more use of amnesties. Ahead of the IPL, guilty-looking microphone botherers could, from behind a curtain of anonymity, perhaps with their words voiced by an actor, admit to offences relating to Row Z, blimps, tracer bullets and Indian mobile phone companies. We’ve tackled the dodgy players, now let’s root out the oral terrorism that is ruining our beautiful game.
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