Tour Diary
The match that turned the Ashes?
The seeds of Australia’s revival in the Ashes were sown not in the nets at Adelaide, where Mitchell Johnson appears to have undergone some devastatingly effective remedial work, but across the Nullabor at the University of Western Australia, where a
Andrew Miller
25-Feb-2013
The seeds of Australia’s revival in the Ashes were sown not in the nets at Adelaide, where Mitchell Johnson appears to have undergone some devastatingly effective remedial work, but across the Nullabor at the University of Western Australia, where a hitherto little-noticed cricket match has gone on to have a massive effect on the morale of a battered nation.
At least, that’s how the Australian media are seeking to portray it, after their Pommie counterparts were flayed in the revival of a fixture that had been in mothballs since an encounter at Radlett during the 2001 tour of England – a match which had finished in a similarly unflattering result.
In hindsight, therefore, it was perhaps unwise to accept the challenge thrown down by John Townsend, aka “Skipper”, the combative correspondent of the West Australian newspaper, and a veteran of that fixture a decade earlier – the result of which had been superimposed onto a tour T-shirt in place of England’s Test victory at Headingley, to give the impression that Steve Waugh’s men had completed a 5-0 whitewash. It clearly mattered to the Aussies. A lot.
Full postSoaking in Wanderers and SuperSport Park
My oldest memory of South Africa is from the mid-nineties - not that I came here then – and cold winter nights in India
Sidharth Monga
25-Feb-2013
My oldest memory of South Africa is from the mid-nineties - not that I came here then – and cold winter nights in India. It was the winter break from school, I would come home tired from a whole day of cricket in the freezing cold, get a nice hot-water bath, and watch India play Tests in South Africa.
Apart from how Venkatesh Prasad became a monster in those conditions, and how Allan Donald celebrated Sachin Tendulkar’s wicket more than he has ever celebrated any other wicket, from what I saw on TV, I remember how much the spectators enjoyed their cricket. The grounds seemed to have the right mix of character and comfort: the brick structures gave them an old-world charm, people on portable chairs on grass banks on sunny days made me want to be there. So from the moment I was told I was going to travel to South Africa for this Test series, I have been looking forward to visiting these grounds. What’s more, coming early has allowed me to soak in the Wanderers and the Supersport Park when they were empty, on cold, overcast days despite this being summer. Perhaps just to remind me of the winter nights back in the day.
What I saw on my first two days in the country has lived up to what I expected and more. I was not allowed to walk onto the playing area at the Wanderers, but I could imagine the Bull Ring effect when the stadium would be full. For a ground supposed to be intimidating, the grass banks seemed pleasant. I walked up the famous tunnel, and to the players’ balcony with the plush chairs. It is not a steep climb, but still takes an effort. From there I took a step down, then turned left, and then right into the tunnel. I walked down the 36 steps of the tunnel, and I realised how lonely those 40 to 50 seconds would be for the batsman. There was enough time for doubt to creep in, for the moment to soak in, enough time to contemplate success and failure, enough time to fly out of the present moment. Enough time I thought to wonder how bad it would feel to walk back up after a failure. With so much drama happening when nothing is actually happening, cricket can do with these pauses; dugouts be damned.
Full postMemories of the Adelaide 'miracle'
After the claustrophobic confines of the Gabba, the Adelaide Oval feels like the land of the free in every sense
Andrew Miller
25-Feb-2013
After the claustrophobic confines of the Gabba, the Adelaide Oval feels like the land of the free in every sense. The region, after all, was colonised by free settlers, as opposed to the vagabonds and bread thieves so beloved of the Barmy Army’s chants, and this is a ground that reflects such grandiose heritage. The Lord’s of the Southern Hemisphere is a grand sweeping venue on the banks of the River Torrens which prides itself on its architectural merits and makes a virtue of the nooks and crannies between and behind its individually designed stands.
That’s not to say, however, that the Oval is immune to the curse of the stadium that is sweeping across Australia – and the rest of the cricket-playing world for that matter. Since England were last in town, phase one of an ambitious redevelopment project has been completed, with the imposing Western Grandstand now curving around the boundary from the red-roofed Bradman Stand to the Cathedral End hill, where the ground’s iconic scoreboard stands in defiance of the march of time.
The Aus$116million renovation has been tastefully done in the circumstances, but that’s not the same thing as it being to everyone’s taste. In the 21st Century, the economic necessity of all such venues, no matter how historic or beautiful, is to make themselves available to a multitude of sports, and the lure of the 2022 World Cup – for which Australia's bid today fell victim to the oil-rich dollars of Qatar – has driven the agenda without question. One day the hill too will surely fall victim to the whims of filthy lucre, and then the cricket world will be one step closer to uniformity in its viewing experiences. It will be a sad day when that happens. But the fans this week are sure to enjoy the grass while it lasts.
Full postNowhere to hide
On Monday afternoon, as England’s batsmen were shifting through the gears to transform their second-innings score from substantial to iconic, a bad day for Ricky Ponting got just that little bit worse when he spilled a sharp chance in the slips with
Andrew Miller
25-Feb-2013
On Monday afternoon, as England’s batsmen were shifting through the gears to transform their second-innings score from substantial to iconic, a bad day for Ricky Ponting got just that little bit worse when he spilled a sharp chance in the slips with Alastair Cook on 222. It was Australia’s fifth drop out of five for the innings, and the Barmy Army (to the bongs of Ben Ben) instantly chimed in with a sympathetic response: “Bad Luck Rick Key. Catch The Next One!”
That same sentiment might well have crossed Ponting’s mind the following morning, when he and the Australia squad assembled at Brisbane Airport to set off on their three-hour flight to Adelaide. Aside from a glut of newspaper journalists from both England and Australia, whose reaction to the run-fest was all too visible to the players as they milled around the departure-lounge newsagents, the 10.55am flight also happened to be carrying the High Command of said Barmy Army, including their cheerleader Jimmy Saville with his trademark stovepipe St George’s Hat.
Jimmy and his cohorts were impeccably behaved, it must be said – after more than a decade of following England around the globe, they are as used to the rigours of touring life as the players themselves. But nevertheless, their presence on the same flight confirmed the fact that, sometimes, there’s just no place to hide – especially when you’re travelling en masse in those garish grey and orange training kits that Cricket Australia have settled on for this series.
Being gawped at in domestic terminals is as much as part of a cricketer’s life as dealing with the chants from the crowd during matches, and Ponting’s demeanour remained as grizzled in the departure lounge as it had been on the pitch at the Gabba. He relaxed a touch once he’d settled into his seat, away from the autograph-hunters and phone-camera-wielders (although he wasn’t quite as relaxed as the Test Match Special veteran up at the front of the plane in first-class) but nevertheless, when the bloke in the opposite aisle is reading a newspaper with the headline “Clueless” on the back page, it’s not really an option to switch off entirely.
Full postWelcome to the Gabbatoir
If Prince Charles was a cricket fan, the Gabba would be the sort of venue he’d deride as a “monstrous carbuncle”
Andrew Miller
25-Feb-2013
If Prince Charles was a cricket fan, the Gabba would be the sort of venue he’d deride as a “monstrous carbuncle”. It is functional, practical and ghastly on the eye, a towering ring of concrete that sticks two fingers up at aesthetics, and concentrates entirely on the business of subjugation. No ground in the country better epitomises the Australian sporting mentality.
Its role as host of the first Test of an Australian summer owes as much to practicality as tradition, seeing as Brisbane’s tropical heat is simply too oppressive any later in the year, but as a venue in which to set the season’s agenda, it is unrivalled. A holding pen on Ellis Island has a more accommodating vibe.
It’s not merely the size and shape of the venue that is awesome. The Melbourne Ground Cricket, after all, has more than twice the capacity, but the G has a status more akin to a cathedral, set as it is in the heart of a park in the heart of the city, with the banks of the Yarra providing an anachronistically bucolic vibe.
The Gabba, on the other hand, neither seeks nor offers any such saving graces. It is parked in the midst of a motorway in the industrial wastelands of Brisbane’s south side, with the evocative Stanley and Vulture streets thundering past on either side. It is what it is – its nearest neighbours are a shabby Seven-11 and the down-at-heel German Club, a venue that falls someway short of the oasis promised by the aboriginal origin of “Woolloongabba” – place of many watering holes.
Full postJohannesburg's sprawling retail capital
It was not until the third day of my wanderings through Johannesburg’s sprawling central monument to consumerism, Sandton City, that I began to find my bearings
Liam Brickhill
25-Feb-2013
It was not until the third day of my wanderings through Johannesburg’s sprawling central monument to consumerism, Sandton City, that I began to find my bearings. If it’s for sale, it can be bought here, and mile upon seeming mile of retail space is bejewelled with neon signs for everything from Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Fendi, iStore, Geldhof Chocolatier, Swarovski and Browns diamond jewellers to Checkers hypermarket, McDonald’s and Postnet. It’s an easy place to get lost, and people who have been resident in Jo'burg for years tell me that they still do.
It was here – or rather, in an adjoining hotel of similarly cash-fuelled opulence where the teams (but not the journalists...) were staying – that I conducted several interviews in the days between the second and third one-dayers. Potchefstroom is not much more than 100 kilometres from the edge of Johannesburg, but sitting in rush-hour traffic on one of the many arteries leading to Jozi’s economic heart, quaint little Potch - where there was just one establishment open after 4pm on Sunday (unsurprisingly, an Irish pub) - seems another continent, another era.
Not that Johannesburg is without its own peculiar charms. On Tuesday morning, a waiter at one of the many coffee shops spied the ESPNcricinfo logo on my laptop screen, sauntered over, and was soon engaged in an animated monologue on the state of South African cricket, and how it could all be put right (if only they’d ask him). The more intricate details of his synopsis are beyond my recall, but I do remember that the immediate reinstatement of Neil McKenzie – possibly to the captaincy - was of vital importance to the whole plan. Our subsequent conversations certainly helped take the edge off my early morning coffee and email breaks.
Full postEmphasis on the future in Potchefstroom
It was rugby, rather than cricket, that dominated the conversation on my journey from Bloemfontein to the tiny town of Potchefstroom in South Africa’s Northwest Province for the second one-dayer
Liam Brickhill
25-Feb-2013
It was rugby, rather than cricket, that dominated the conversation on my journey from Bloemfontein to the tiny town of Potchefstroom in South Africa’s Northwest Province for the second one-dayer. My companions, eager for news of the Currie Cup semi-final between the Free State Cheetahs and the Natal Sharks, flicked impulsively through radio stations on the car radio and texted friends for updates on the opening salvo of the match.
Several minutes after the scheduled kick-off time passed, and still there was no news. And then a phone buzzed, and the radio crackled into life. Bizarrely, bees – millions of them – had delayed the start of play. An enormous swarm – mega-swarm, if you will – had descended upon the stadium in Durban and would not budge. An arsenal of fire extinguishers was deployed followed by, as the radio presenter informed us, “pink smoke”. Eventually the queen was located, and the bugs began to disperse as pot plants were placed around the edge of the playing area “to attract any stragglers and give them a place to rest”.
No wonder we got slightly lost, taking a wrong turn somewhere past Kroonstad and then almost missing the turn-off for Viljoenskroon. Speeding along arrow-straight roads with 360-degree views of an imposingly distant horizon, the odd roadside meerkat sometimes the only sign of life, we eventually found the right track, however, and soon crossed the Vaal river – the boundary between the Free State and the Northwest - and closed in upon our destination.
It is fitting that this miniature series at the beginning of the cricket season includes a fixture in little old Potchefstroom, just beyond the southern-most reach of the Kalahari. ‘Potch’ was the first town established north of the Vaal river, it’s position decided by the distance a horse and rider could travel from the sluggish water’s edge in an hour. The town is steeped in South Africa’s difficult history: the first constitution of the old South African Republic was drafted here and the ‘Vierkleur’ flag was designed and hoisted here for the first time.
Full postSouth Africa prepares for KP's return
“KP left us when we were rebuilding our nation
Sriram Veera
25-Feb-2013
“KP left us when we were rebuilding our nation. Now that he is in trouble, he wants to come back. It’s interesting.” That’s one point of view. Another local, a journalist, says, “I am surprised that KP has admitted that he is in trouble. He is saying ‘please help me’. That’s a sign of maturity. The young KP wouldn’t have done that. So all the best of luck to him.”
You might feel that Kevin Pietersen coming to play cricket in his place of birth will be a small matter. It would perhaps be so in another country. In many ways this is a young nation in its teenage years. Its past throws up many adolescence issues and the people are trying to grow up. The KwaZulu-Natal CEO Jesse Chellan sees Pietersen’s return as a part of the bigger reconciliatory mood in the country.
It wouldn’t have been easy for Pietersen to admit that he was in trouble. It certainly wouldn’t have been easier for the locals to accept him. “South African sport in many ways is in a period of reconciliation,” Chellan says. “We are doing different things; the bulls are playing rugby in Suweto. All of these are brand new part of the reconciliatory efforts. I see KP’s return as part of that. He didn’t endear himself, not only to the Natal public but also to entire South Africa, but that was then. A lot of water has flown under the bridge since then. We want to move on.”
Full postTrip down a not-too-serious memory lane
Port Elizabeth is the oldest Test ground in South Africa
Sriram Veera
25-Feb-2013
Port Elizabeth is the oldest Test ground in South Africa. They let you know it too. Sepia-toned photographs hang on every wall. History screams at you. Look at this picture: Leribe, Basotholand 1934 - African kids playing cricket. By the look of things, they seem to have been over-coached. The batsman’s front elbow is appropriately high and the slip fielders are crouching perfectly.
There's the first grandstand picture from 1884 and assorted vignettes. Then there are a series of old newspaper cuttings, which deal with apartheid, the subsequent abolition of cricket tours and sporting isolation of South Africa. It’s a well-known story that I won’t go into here. What caught the eye, though, was the absolutely trivial, and hence funny, news items that were right next to the serious life-changing news of apartheid in the sporting world.
Sample this from August 1971: The Eastern Province Herald capturing the socio-political drama in just two words. “Tour Off”. Another headline shouts “Cricketers stress need to speak out - Transvaal cricketer Mackay-Coghill urges his fraternity to fight. Below it is pure farce: “Sex symbol injured in film fight.” The copy reads: “Raquel Welch, the leading sex symbol who is playing the role of a roller-coasting star in the film Kansas City Bomber, suffered from a cut lip and a swollen wrist after being hit too realistically in an action sequence. The over-enthusiastic slugger was Helena Kallianiotes.”
Full postHow many crew members does it take to run a flight?
There were ten of us in the flight from Durban to Port Elizabeth and it was a packed house
Sriram Veera
25-Feb-2013
It perhaps was the smallest commercial flight ever, and certainly the smallest I have taken. If Kanye West was there, he would have cut me off and said, “Veera, I'm real happy for ya, and Imma let you finish your diary, but the flight from my birthplace Atlanta, Georgia is the smallest flight of all time. Of all time.”
There were ten of us in the flight from Durban to Port Elizabeth (PE, as the locals call it. How original) and it was a packed house. But there was just a one-man crew. Or so it seemed. In fact, I increasingly began to suspect that he was the pilot as well. Only a thin curtain separated us from the cockpit and every time Freddy emerged from behind it he would be laughing as though he had just spoken to the pilot. Nice try Freddy! I was convinced there was no there. It was a deliberate ruse to fool us, to imply there was someone there, to suggest another human presence. I'd read enough Agatha Christies to know that.
I was sure he would put the flight on autopilot when he had to serve us coffee. He was always smiling when he emerged - a conspiratorial smile, as if to say, “Look at the fools there, they don’t know the truth.”
Sometimes, truth sets you free. Sometimes, it shackles you. This was one of those moments. Every time the "pilot" made an announcement, Freddy happened to be on the other side of the curtain. When we were landing, he was nowhere to be seen. You think it was mere coincidence? Then you probably think match-fixing is just another term for arranged marriage and are wondering what the recent fuss is all about.
Full post