The Surfer
Vodafone's decision to cut its ties with English cricket is unconnected with a desire to save money
In the past, lots of players have tried to hit out of slumps but Dravid, as was expected from someone as meticulous as him, has opted to take the defensive route. He isn’t hurried in the middle, but he is hesitant. His lbw to Graeme Swann, and his edge off Andrew Flintoff were both examples of a muddled mind caught in indecision.
When he was a young boy, Peter Siddle got stuck in at a woodchopping competition
Sachin Tendulkar's epic century in Chennai coincided with the fourth-highest successful chase in Test history
It could not have been scripted more perfectly: a boundary to win the match and complete a century. It had to have been preordained. Had to be. And Tendulkar's articulate, measured summary of what it all meant, even as the euphoria reigned all around him and the adrenalin still coursed through his veins, placed it all into a proper context.
For, someone who had held the Indian batting together for almost a decade with his steely resolve and watertight technique, to be now considered the weak link in what is emerging as a champion side is, of course, replete with sadness and irony,
Inexplicably, his form started to wane from the series against South Africa in late 2006 just when he looked set to rule, as batsman and captain, for a long time. It is a moot point whether there was not something on that tour which affected him badly mentally, because clearly, Dravid’s poor run of scores since is located more in the mind than in his technique.
Reactions from the British press and experts on England's surprise defeat in Chennai
Hughes saw Dennis Lillee in a marquee on the same spot where they once practised and began to have flashbacks to a dark place. "I always get a bit nervous when I come here," Hughes said. "The sea breeze would be blowing and Dennis would be bowling and I always thought I was pretty lucky to get out of the nets with my head on my shoulders. Because when he did say 'sorry', it was 'sorry I missed your head'."
Andrew Strauss' delicate knuckle-nudge for every boundary scored barely compares to sport's once theatrically rapturous shared celebrations
The first time a jivingly joyous high five slapped into my consciousness was at the Olympic Games of 1964 in Tokyo. I was working then for ITV and remember our cameras, being British, didn't quite know where to look for embarrassment after, in the blistering blink of the 4x100m relay, US true-great Bob Hayes had hurtled through the last leg to win, his three conferes had leapt upon Hayes in midfield to enact this bewildering foursome-reel and, to me, fantastical impromptu routine of turbulently swaying, smiling, swaggeringly melodic hand-slapping highs, lows, in-their-faces, behind-their-backs, upstairs, downstairs and all.
Respected cricket writer Lynn McConnell, writing on sportal.co.nz , says that New Zealand Cricket is in a mess of its own making.
It is all to do with the administration of the game and the leadership style of chief executive Justin Vaughan.
Oodles of talent, consummate self-confidence and an insatiable hunger for success have enabled Cheteshwar Pujara score hundreds of Bradmanesque proportions in the Indian domestic season
I don’t believe in comparisons. I don’t think you can have two similar individuals. Though I idolise Dravid, I must say I’ve never tried to imitate him even in my wildest of dreams. It just isn’t possible. He is a great batsman, a living legend. I’m my own man and I always try to be as natural and original as I can.