Martin Johnson: Complex race still on top in patriot games (02 June 1997)

Monday 2 June 1997

Complex race still on top in patriot games

By Martin Johnson

WHENEVER an Australian begins gloating about the last decade of Ashes conflict, there is nothing much a Pom can do but grin and bear it. Apart, perhaps, from reminding him, or her, that England`s results precisely mirror the original qualification for a trip to Australia. A criminal record.

Passions run remarkably high in the most ancient of all cricketing conflicts, as the Australians discovered half an hour after arriving for their 1985 tour here, when their illegally parked baggage van was towed away by the Heathrow police. A kind of "good to see you, but this is war" message. Where the Ashes are concerned there are no neutrals. Just stuffy poms, and bloody colonials.

Underneath it all, however, we really rather like each other. There are prejudices on both sides, and the Englishman will never be entirely free of the conviction that all Australians wear corked hats, have impossibly swollen bellies, and whose contribution to world culture embraces Rolf Harris, Kylie Minogue, and completely tasteless lager.

For their part, the Australians remain convinced that the English are to personal hygiene what myxomatosis is to rabbits, hence one of their wittier crowd banners (not difficult) during the 1991 Test match in Brisbane: "Hide The Ashes Under A Bar Of Soap".

What we like most about the Australians is their total lack of pretension. Evidence of their earthy nature can be gleaned from a stroll around the Gabba in Brisbane. There is one very large stand, named after a famous Queensland wicketkeeper, called the Don Tallon Pavilion. Inside, you can find bow-tied waiters dispensing champagne and crayfish.

On the opposite side of the ground is a rather more modest structure, named after another famous Queensland wicketkeeper, and called the Wally Grout Snack Bar. Inside, someone wearing a greasy apron over his stubbies, and struggling to keep his pot inside a T-shirt bearing the subtle message "Pommy Bastards" serves hot dogs and chips.

"Why was Wally fobbed off with the snack bar?" I inquired of a local journalist. "Because," he replied with total seriousness, "they thought a lot more of old Wally." You get the point. If they`d have warmed to Douglas Jardine, they`d have named the Gents after him.

Perhaps the biggest difference between these sides lies in the degree of patriotic fervour, though in David Lloyd, the England coach, we are not far away from issuing our opening batsmen with stereo Walkmans, from which Bumble will pipe through old Winston Churchill speeches, and a few verses of Land of Hope and Glory while Glenn McGrath is running in to bowl.

In patriotic terms, Australia are way ahead - possibly because they have a complex about being remote and on their own. They sell everything from margarine to motor cars behind choruses of Advance Australia Fair, and when Australian-born Martin McCague threw in his lot with England some years ago, one of their journalists memorably described it as "the only known case of a rat joining a sinking ship".

This patriotic fervour, however, has, in my view at any rate, been far more influential in recent results than anything else - Cricket Academy, covered pitches, too much one-day cricket, you name it.

The two countries also have different media perspectives, less so in victory than defeat. When England lose, cartoonists are employed to turn their captains into root vegetables, but when Australia lose, they actually pretend it`s never happened.

When England last won the Ashes, on Mike Gatting`s tour of 1986-87, the cricket led every sports bulletin until the decisive Test in Melbourne, at which point they miraculously discovered someone from Lower Billabong who had won a tiddlywink tournament in Kuala Lumpur, and led the Channel Nine news with him. The Test match, by contrast, was afforded equal status with the Tasmanian greyhound results.

Before that series began, the Australians` cockiness stopped only just short of selecting Dame Edna Everage to open the batting, and much the same scenario applies (or least did until the Texacos) this time. A not un-typical headline would have run roughly along the lines of "Border`s Boys Set To Crush Puny Poms", and the shock of losing that series galvanised their cricket into what it is today.

By contrast, England have grown increasingly puny, to the extent that Australia now regard beating the Poms as the equivalent of pinching dead flies from blind spiders. Retribution is long overdue. England have the talent to put an end to this ritual humiliation - all they need is the bottle.

Source :: The Electronic Telegraph (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/)