It's not been a bad IPL so far. There have been some outstanding individual and collective performances, but this year's edition requires patience and optimism to keep punters interested.
Let's get one thing straight - we like t20. We accept it for what it is and embrace that. Indeed, it's the way some of us got into playing cricket in the evening village leagues around and about, getting our little off-breaks heaved into the field next door by a burly farmer with a deep-seated hatred of young lads who thought they could bowl a bit. But despite that, we still have a fondness for the shortest form of the game here a Morkels Acres. What we most certainly are not is jealous and neither is what follows (whatever thay may be - it's not been written yet) is not written with green eyes.
There have been some really quite spectacular games in this IPL already. Bangalore needing 21 off the last over against Pune and not just getting there, but doing it with some comfort was one, Chennai's Albie Morkel-inspired chase of 206 against Bangalore was another. Both were outstanding games of t20 cricket, epitomising everything that this format should be about. Rajasthan got home against Deccan despite needing 55 runs from the last four overs in another excellent game, but these three matches - of 22 completed at time of writing - stand out for their rarity value.
For every one game where 190-odd plays 200, there have been six near-walkovers. Indeed, the Chennai v Bangalore game referred to earlier was followed immediately by Pune getting bundled out for 115 by Kings XI who then knocked off the required runs at a canter, eventually staggering over the line in the 18th over. Even without the pyrotechnics of the game that immediately preceded it, this was an absolute turd of a match. Kolkata have beaten Kings XI with almost a quarter of their overs not required, Delhi have skittled Mumbai and knocked off the requirement with even more balls than that remaining. What particularly frustrates with these games is the always-irritating strategic time-out. Yes we know they're extended ad breaks, but what strategy do you discuss when you need eight runs to win, have four overs to get them in and have seven wickets in hand? "What do you reckon Jacques?". "I reckon I'm going to clobber the next two balls to the fence Gautam". "Good plan big feller".
There have been some pitiful chases as well such as Rajasthan coming up short by 59 runs against Bangalore and Deccan failing by just the 74 against Chennai. Another nadir was Kolkata failing to beat Kings XI in their first meeting despite chasing a derisory 135 and being 73/2 at one stage. Not one facet of that game was anything like top class.
Rubbish captaincy, bizarre bowling changes and truly horrible batting has blighted the tournament this year so far, but we keep watching, hoping the next 200+ chase is just around the corner. AB de Villiers's improvisation, the sheer power of Chris Gayle and all the snarling aggression of Dale Steyn keep us interested and good job that they do, because sometimes the IPL makes itself very hard to love.
Thursday, 19 April 2012
Thursday, 29 March 2012
Put it away
England were skittled for 264 chasing 340 for an improbable win in Galle today, a ground where the highest successful fourth innings chase is still just 96. A trademark obdurate century from Jonathan Trott apart, it was a pretty miserable effort with all ten wickets falling to spin, six for Rangana Herath and four to Suraj Randiv, as England brought their form from the UAE with them to Sri Lanka.
Whereas in the Emirates they were undone by the unerringly accurate Abdur Rehman and the talent and mind-trickery of Saeed Ajmal, here there was no talk even of doosras, let alone teesras and carom balls. For all they are skilful bowlers, Herath and Randiv are not mystery spinners in the way Ajantha Mendis is. Neither are they prodigious spinners of the ball in the manner of a Muralitharan. At this particular moment, Sunil Narine looks - outwardly at least - fuller of tricks than this pair. Where they have flourished, however, is with a peculiarly English obsession with the sweep shot.
The curiosity arises because of the coach. Andy Flower was brilliant against spin and also a fine player of the sweep. However he succeeded there as he played the ball on it's merits and brought the sweep out where appropriate. The current England line-up use it in pre-meditated fashion and invariably end up getting out to it. It's a low percentage shot and perhaps indicative of the pressure England's batsmen are putting themselves under against the spinners. Tying themselves in knots playing straight the sweep is used to relieve pressure, the irony being that by playing it badly to balls that aren't there to sweep, it keeps getting them out and piles more pressure on the next man who then resorts to the sweep. It's a never-ending cycle, a self-fulfilling prophecy with an air of the inevitable that Sisyphus would think was a bit much.
England's loss here was down to many things - Mahela's brilliance, dropped catches, not polishing the tail off, one crucial no-ball, the continued absence of Tim "ten for ten" Bresnan - but taking the sweep shot outside and leaving it by the bins would be a good way to start putting things right.
Whereas in the Emirates they were undone by the unerringly accurate Abdur Rehman and the talent and mind-trickery of Saeed Ajmal, here there was no talk even of doosras, let alone teesras and carom balls. For all they are skilful bowlers, Herath and Randiv are not mystery spinners in the way Ajantha Mendis is. Neither are they prodigious spinners of the ball in the manner of a Muralitharan. At this particular moment, Sunil Narine looks - outwardly at least - fuller of tricks than this pair. Where they have flourished, however, is with a peculiarly English obsession with the sweep shot.
The curiosity arises because of the coach. Andy Flower was brilliant against spin and also a fine player of the sweep. However he succeeded there as he played the ball on it's merits and brought the sweep out where appropriate. The current England line-up use it in pre-meditated fashion and invariably end up getting out to it. It's a low percentage shot and perhaps indicative of the pressure England's batsmen are putting themselves under against the spinners. Tying themselves in knots playing straight the sweep is used to relieve pressure, the irony being that by playing it badly to balls that aren't there to sweep, it keeps getting them out and piles more pressure on the next man who then resorts to the sweep. It's a never-ending cycle, a self-fulfilling prophecy with an air of the inevitable that Sisyphus would think was a bit much.
England's loss here was down to many things - Mahela's brilliance, dropped catches, not polishing the tail off, one crucial no-ball, the continued absence of Tim "ten for ten" Bresnan - but taking the sweep shot outside and leaving it by the bins would be a good way to start putting things right.
Friday, 16 March 2012
Finally - SRT and the statistical bucket
It's not been that long since the completely arbitrary landmark of one hundred international centuries became a thing, but a thing it undoubtedly has become, a thing of such weight and importance that it's loomed large and forebodingly over no such a head as that of the Little Master, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.
But he has done it. He's finally done the thing that nobody thought was a thing until he reached about 95 international hundreds in all formats of the game. After the longest century-drought* in his career, he knocked 114 against Bangladesh in the Asia Cup and India basically stopped for an hour.
This thing about doing things 'in international cricket' only seemed to become a landmark when Muttiah Muralitharan was approaching 1000 wickets in all forms of the game. Yes, it's impressive, but does it really mean anything? Maybe with international players playing less domestic cricket it's had to become more of a thing as you're not going to get players scoring a hundred first-class hundreds a la Geoff Boycott, Mark Ramprakash, Jack Hobbs and many others. Denied that, maybe we have to start lumping all international cricket into the same statistical bucket and sieving out the nuggets we perceive to be significant. Is a t20 power-blast even comparable to a ten-hour grind to save a Test match? Or, more pertinently, should it be?
In all seriousness though, it was a huge deal. Since his 99th, the expectation level has gone through the roof and that happened to coincide with one of those dips in form that even happen to cricket immortals such as SRT. It would be nice - statistically speaking - for him to notch another ODI ton and make it 50 hundreds in both ODIs and Tests, but frankly, he's done enough. At times during this last year, it's looked like he's had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's seen his good friend Rahul Dravid - only a few months older - retire from the game and it would not be a surprise to see Tendulkar call it a day after this tournament.
If he does retire, fine. If he carries on, fine. He owes the cricketing world nothing. Or at least he doesn't until someone reaches into the statistical bucket and discovers another thing that isn't really a thing but is portrayed as a hugely significant landmark.
EDIT: The above was written while the game was still ongoing. It has just finished and India have lost thanks in part to some horrible bowling and some thunderblasts off the bat of Mushfiqur Rahim. This is sort of poetic. It means that Sachin's meaningless hundred that came in a meaningless game in a meaningless tournament against meaningless opposition (if we're being very mean) to reach a meaningless statistical landmark becomes even more meaningless. And that's possibly the most meaningful thing about it.
* - one year and three months. Pfft. This author's century drought stands at 36 years, 11 months and three weeks. And counting.
But he has done it. He's finally done the thing that nobody thought was a thing until he reached about 95 international hundreds in all formats of the game. After the longest century-drought* in his career, he knocked 114 against Bangladesh in the Asia Cup and India basically stopped for an hour.
This thing about doing things 'in international cricket' only seemed to become a landmark when Muttiah Muralitharan was approaching 1000 wickets in all forms of the game. Yes, it's impressive, but does it really mean anything? Maybe with international players playing less domestic cricket it's had to become more of a thing as you're not going to get players scoring a hundred first-class hundreds a la Geoff Boycott, Mark Ramprakash, Jack Hobbs and many others. Denied that, maybe we have to start lumping all international cricket into the same statistical bucket and sieving out the nuggets we perceive to be significant. Is a t20 power-blast even comparable to a ten-hour grind to save a Test match? Or, more pertinently, should it be?
In all seriousness though, it was a huge deal. Since his 99th, the expectation level has gone through the roof and that happened to coincide with one of those dips in form that even happen to cricket immortals such as SRT. It would be nice - statistically speaking - for him to notch another ODI ton and make it 50 hundreds in both ODIs and Tests, but frankly, he's done enough. At times during this last year, it's looked like he's had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's seen his good friend Rahul Dravid - only a few months older - retire from the game and it would not be a surprise to see Tendulkar call it a day after this tournament.
If he does retire, fine. If he carries on, fine. He owes the cricketing world nothing. Or at least he doesn't until someone reaches into the statistical bucket and discovers another thing that isn't really a thing but is portrayed as a hugely significant landmark.
EDIT: The above was written while the game was still ongoing. It has just finished and India have lost thanks in part to some horrible bowling and some thunderblasts off the bat of Mushfiqur Rahim. This is sort of poetic. It means that Sachin's meaningless hundred that came in a meaningless game in a meaningless tournament against meaningless opposition (if we're being very mean) to reach a meaningless statistical landmark becomes even more meaningless. And that's possibly the most meaningful thing about it.
* - one year and three months. Pfft. This author's century drought stands at 36 years, 11 months and three weeks. And counting.
Friday, 9 March 2012
The Wall
The writing was pretty much on the wall (pun completely intended) as six of his last eight dismissals have come by way of being clean bowled. As soon as Rahul Dravid announced that he was to hold a press conference today, it wasn't difficult to guess what was coming. After 164 Test matches, 344 ODIs, 24,000 patiently gathered runs, an astonishing number of catches and, lest we forget, 14 stumpings, The Wall has retired.
One of the true greats, he seemed happy to let Sachin Tendulkar get the headlines, to remain stoic at one end while Virender Sehwag go batshit insane at the other, but he was no less important to that Dream Team of the last decade and more. Moreover, he seemed to shun the limelight away from the field of play. Not for him the armed entourage of SRT, nor the front page headlines when he had a haircut a la MS Dhoni. No swagger or sneer (here's looking at you, Yuvraj), no theatrics, pantomime villainry or Billy Big-bollocks type behaviour. The term 'role model' always sits uneasily when referring to sportsmen, but here is one. He would do anything for the team, including keeping wicket and opening in times of emergency. Team before self every time and, as such, it's difficult to avoid the feeling that his contribution has always been under-appreciated. It began to get the recognition it deserved towards the end of his career, especially in that tour of England when he was the outstanding player of the series, despite being on the end of a 4-0 whitewash.
It remains something of a grotesque legacy that he will continue to play in the pantomime/circus environs of the IPL, his game the absolute antithesis of what t20 cricket stands for, but hey ho. Everyone has to earn a living, right? It also remains a bizarre statistical anomaly that he both made his international t20 debut and announced his international t20 retirement on the same day, a long way north of his 38th birthday.
Of that Dream Team, Saurav Ganguly went some time ago and Dravid has now followed. VVS Laxman surely can't have much longer and Sehwag and Tendulkar are hardly young men. There seems to have been a lack of succession planning and while the like of Virat Kohli and Suresh Raina look good fleetingly in one-dayers, their lack of Test credentials have been horribly exposed by both England and Australia while Gautam Gambhir can only be relied upon outside of the wedding season. The retirement of Dravid denies the younger players the rock around which they can build an innings. They're going to have to start thinking for themselves.
So long, The Wall. If only the next generation of Indian batsmen had cojones like yours.
One of the true greats, he seemed happy to let Sachin Tendulkar get the headlines, to remain stoic at one end while Virender Sehwag go batshit insane at the other, but he was no less important to that Dream Team of the last decade and more. Moreover, he seemed to shun the limelight away from the field of play. Not for him the armed entourage of SRT, nor the front page headlines when he had a haircut a la MS Dhoni. No swagger or sneer (here's looking at you, Yuvraj), no theatrics, pantomime villainry or Billy Big-bollocks type behaviour. The term 'role model' always sits uneasily when referring to sportsmen, but here is one. He would do anything for the team, including keeping wicket and opening in times of emergency. Team before self every time and, as such, it's difficult to avoid the feeling that his contribution has always been under-appreciated. It began to get the recognition it deserved towards the end of his career, especially in that tour of England when he was the outstanding player of the series, despite being on the end of a 4-0 whitewash.
It remains something of a grotesque legacy that he will continue to play in the pantomime/circus environs of the IPL, his game the absolute antithesis of what t20 cricket stands for, but hey ho. Everyone has to earn a living, right? It also remains a bizarre statistical anomaly that he both made his international t20 debut and announced his international t20 retirement on the same day, a long way north of his 38th birthday.
Of that Dream Team, Saurav Ganguly went some time ago and Dravid has now followed. VVS Laxman surely can't have much longer and Sehwag and Tendulkar are hardly young men. There seems to have been a lack of succession planning and while the like of Virat Kohli and Suresh Raina look good fleetingly in one-dayers, their lack of Test credentials have been horribly exposed by both England and Australia while Gautam Gambhir can only be relied upon outside of the wedding season. The retirement of Dravid denies the younger players the rock around which they can build an innings. They're going to have to start thinking for themselves.
So long, The Wall. If only the next generation of Indian batsmen had cojones like yours.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Sir Viv at 60
Vivian Richards. The name still conjures great memories and images. Even watching him speak on the documentary Fire In Babylon which was televised free-to-air just a couple of weeks ago, he still commands attention and respect.
The West Indian side of the late 1970s was fearsome. Pace and aggression from the bowlers, power and aggression from the batsmen. Have you ever seen an aggressive wicket-keeper? Well Jeffrey Dujon was, somehow. Gordon Greenidge was brilliant. You wept for bowlers if he limped to the crease. Clive Lloyd and, more latterly, Carl Hooper were languidly destructive. The seemingly never-ending battery of hostile bowlers, from Andy Roberts and Colin Croft through Michael Holding, Joel Garner and the sublime Malcolm Marshall to Courtney Walsh and Curtly Ambrose could frighten the life out of you when watching on TV some 4000 miles away.
But then there was Viv. Probably the most frightening of the lot, he was so much more. He was cool. He swaggered. He owned the game for 15 years. He was the one everybody wanted to be when the bat and ball came out at lunchtime at school, which in a very white Catholic school in North Yorkshire was quite something. He turns 60 years old today and still looks like he could do a decent job out in the middle.
His natural heir is Chris Gayle. Not as talented, but equally as laid-back, destructive and, above all, cool. Gayle is still not being picked by the West Indies, but Tino Best is. Maybe sorting that clear aberration would be the best way to honour the great man on this anniversary.
The West Indian side of the late 1970s was fearsome. Pace and aggression from the bowlers, power and aggression from the batsmen. Have you ever seen an aggressive wicket-keeper? Well Jeffrey Dujon was, somehow. Gordon Greenidge was brilliant. You wept for bowlers if he limped to the crease. Clive Lloyd and, more latterly, Carl Hooper were languidly destructive. The seemingly never-ending battery of hostile bowlers, from Andy Roberts and Colin Croft through Michael Holding, Joel Garner and the sublime Malcolm Marshall to Courtney Walsh and Curtly Ambrose could frighten the life out of you when watching on TV some 4000 miles away.
But then there was Viv. Probably the most frightening of the lot, he was so much more. He was cool. He swaggered. He owned the game for 15 years. He was the one everybody wanted to be when the bat and ball came out at lunchtime at school, which in a very white Catholic school in North Yorkshire was quite something. He turns 60 years old today and still looks like he could do a decent job out in the middle.
His natural heir is Chris Gayle. Not as talented, but equally as laid-back, destructive and, above all, cool. Gayle is still not being picked by the West Indies, but Tino Best is. Maybe sorting that clear aberration would be the best way to honour the great man on this anniversary.
Monday, 6 February 2012
England undone by the Emperor's New Delivery
It's a pretty hard bump that England have returned to earth with. After dismissing a fading India with disdain, an up-and-coming Pakistan have made them look like amateurs.
England's bowlers have played very well. Monty Panesar was brought back into the fold after they toiled with a lone spin option in the first Test and played very well on helpful pitches. Graeme Swann was effective, if a little overshadowed by the returning Panesar, while Stuart Broad and James Anderson both had exceptional spells in trying conditions for exponents of swing such as they. But no matter what the bowling unit achieved, they were persistently and consistently let down by the batting. The top six were just awful.
Ian Bell came into this series having finished third highest scorer in 2011 - behind Rahul Dravid and Kumar Sangakkara who had twelve and ten more innings respectively - and an average of over 118. He made 51 runs at 8 in the UAE. Kevin Pietersen fared slightly better making 67 at 11 and Eoin Morgan averaged 14 in making 82 runs in the series. Jonathan Trott has been the most successful of the top six batsmen out there, but he only made 161 runs at a snip under 27 each. All of them have found a variety of ways of getting out and much of that is down to a piece of confidence trickery from Saeed Ajmal before anyone turned their arm over.
The teesra, he claimed, was a new delivery he'd been working on and was ready to show it to England's batsmen. It's a brilliant ball, and the real cleverness of it lies in the fact that it doesn't exist.
Ajmal genuinely turns it both ways - not by much, but that's hardly the point. Like all spinners, he's also got one that goes on with the arm. By inventing a non-existent ball, he added an extra level of uncertainty into the minds of the batsmen. Already uncertain as to which direction it was turning, they were all waiting for this mystery ball that never arrived. They couldn't take risks against Ajmal, so were forced to against the unerringly consistent Abdur Rehman and the seamers who all weighed in with decent contributions. Ajmal was picking up wickets with stock off-breaks, players failing to read it from the hand, in flight or off the pitch, mesmerised by his insistence that he'd created something when what he had in fact invented was the Emperor's New Delivery.
This is a triumph for the art of deception. Test cricket is an much a test of mental fortitude as it is of technique and the clear winner in the mind games stakes is the Derren Brown of cricket, Saeed Ajmal.
England's bowlers have played very well. Monty Panesar was brought back into the fold after they toiled with a lone spin option in the first Test and played very well on helpful pitches. Graeme Swann was effective, if a little overshadowed by the returning Panesar, while Stuart Broad and James Anderson both had exceptional spells in trying conditions for exponents of swing such as they. But no matter what the bowling unit achieved, they were persistently and consistently let down by the batting. The top six were just awful.
Ian Bell came into this series having finished third highest scorer in 2011 - behind Rahul Dravid and Kumar Sangakkara who had twelve and ten more innings respectively - and an average of over 118. He made 51 runs at 8 in the UAE. Kevin Pietersen fared slightly better making 67 at 11 and Eoin Morgan averaged 14 in making 82 runs in the series. Jonathan Trott has been the most successful of the top six batsmen out there, but he only made 161 runs at a snip under 27 each. All of them have found a variety of ways of getting out and much of that is down to a piece of confidence trickery from Saeed Ajmal before anyone turned their arm over.
The teesra, he claimed, was a new delivery he'd been working on and was ready to show it to England's batsmen. It's a brilliant ball, and the real cleverness of it lies in the fact that it doesn't exist.
Ajmal genuinely turns it both ways - not by much, but that's hardly the point. Like all spinners, he's also got one that goes on with the arm. By inventing a non-existent ball, he added an extra level of uncertainty into the minds of the batsmen. Already uncertain as to which direction it was turning, they were all waiting for this mystery ball that never arrived. They couldn't take risks against Ajmal, so were forced to against the unerringly consistent Abdur Rehman and the seamers who all weighed in with decent contributions. Ajmal was picking up wickets with stock off-breaks, players failing to read it from the hand, in flight or off the pitch, mesmerised by his insistence that he'd created something when what he had in fact invented was the Emperor's New Delivery.
This is a triumph for the art of deception. Test cricket is an much a test of mental fortitude as it is of technique and the clear winner in the mind games stakes is the Derren Brown of cricket, Saeed Ajmal.
Friday, 3 February 2012
Letters to my late father #1
Hi Dad.
You'd have liked this. Proper, attritional Test cricket. There's something there for the bowlers, which would be new to you, or at least a throwback. Moreover, bowlers are being rewarded, far more than you were used to before... well, y'know.
You'd probably have hated the DRS when it was first mooted. My fear too was that it would undermine the on-field umpire, but after a few teething troubles, it's pretty much won me over. I dare say that the BCCI's intransigence on this has emboldened my stance, but I'd have to consider myself pro-DRS now whatever the reasons. It's definitely had an effect on umpires and what they will and will not give out. TV evidence has shown that things they'd never give previously are indeed as out as you and I always suspected they were. No longer can you get away with plonking your front pad five feet down the track and expect to get away with it.
The art of spinning the ball is back with a vengeance as a result. So is the art of reading it, out of the hand and off the wicket. For all England are ranked number one in the world - no I'm not kidding - there's an alarming lack of ability to read spin. Ian Bell looks absolutely clueless and Kevin Pietersen is trying his usual approach of trying to hit the slow bowlers into submission. Predictably, it rarely works.
203 for 16 today. Just like three-day county games on uncovered pitches. You'd have bloody loved it. Well, right up until England sent out a nightwatchman to protect their number eight batsman. That, beyond all the batting incomptences, made me really bloody angry.
BACKGROUND: My dad died just over three years ago. He brought me up on cricket and we'd spend hours watching it together. Good times. When I moved away, we'd still chew the cud over the day's play and when cricket moved onto Sky, I'd call him at lunch, tea and/or close to relate what had happened. The first England Test after he died, I found myself reaching for the phone to call him. I was half way through dialling when I remembered he wouldn't be there. I still find myself doing it now. Instead, I'm going to start writing him these letters.
You'd have liked this. Proper, attritional Test cricket. There's something there for the bowlers, which would be new to you, or at least a throwback. Moreover, bowlers are being rewarded, far more than you were used to before... well, y'know.
You'd probably have hated the DRS when it was first mooted. My fear too was that it would undermine the on-field umpire, but after a few teething troubles, it's pretty much won me over. I dare say that the BCCI's intransigence on this has emboldened my stance, but I'd have to consider myself pro-DRS now whatever the reasons. It's definitely had an effect on umpires and what they will and will not give out. TV evidence has shown that things they'd never give previously are indeed as out as you and I always suspected they were. No longer can you get away with plonking your front pad five feet down the track and expect to get away with it.
The art of spinning the ball is back with a vengeance as a result. So is the art of reading it, out of the hand and off the wicket. For all England are ranked number one in the world - no I'm not kidding - there's an alarming lack of ability to read spin. Ian Bell looks absolutely clueless and Kevin Pietersen is trying his usual approach of trying to hit the slow bowlers into submission. Predictably, it rarely works.
203 for 16 today. Just like three-day county games on uncovered pitches. You'd have bloody loved it. Well, right up until England sent out a nightwatchman to protect their number eight batsman. That, beyond all the batting incomptences, made me really bloody angry.
BACKGROUND: My dad died just over three years ago. He brought me up on cricket and we'd spend hours watching it together. Good times. When I moved away, we'd still chew the cud over the day's play and when cricket moved onto Sky, I'd call him at lunch, tea and/or close to relate what had happened. The first England Test after he died, I found myself reaching for the phone to call him. I was half way through dialling when I remembered he wouldn't be there. I still find myself doing it now. Instead, I'm going to start writing him these letters.
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