The term colossus is generally over used in sport when describing performances but it fits Andrew Flintoff to a tee after his extraordinary bowling that wrapped up the Second Test against Australia at Lord’s. Of course the stage was set for Flintoff when he announced on the eve of the match that he was due to retire from Test cricket at the end of this series.
He was a man inspired when the tense last day unravelled and having removed both openers the day before he tore into his task without a moment’s thought for his ravaged knee and generally weakened body. He never wavered from his intention of delivering the justified victory.
From the moment he made the crucial breakthrough with his fourth ball of the morning when Haddin edged to the secure hands of Collingwood he employed an impeccable line and length, making the batsmen jump and grope. He was the only fast bowler who really disturbed the batsmen on a still docile pitch and the only concern was that he would not last long enough to spearhead the English to victory.
Afterwards he revealed that he had told Strauss that he would not relinquish the ball until the job was done and as it was Flintoff you just had to believe him. This was not false bravado, but the reaction of a sporting hero who was not to be denied on his farewell appearance at Lord’s.
Appositely he collected his first ever five wicket haul at the home of cricket and etched his name on to the treasured honours board. Naturally he won the Man of the Match and with his aura restored the Ashes moved up a gear from the dramatic rescue secured in Cardiff.
When he does retire there will be a huge hole in the England team’s armoury as his very presence lifts the spirits and the crowd. Nobody in the current set-up has that galvanising effect on the game or the ability to strike fear into an opposition as cussed and determined as the Aussies.
Yet again this match emphasised the delicious and delicate nature of test cricket at its best, and the anticipation of the next three matches is growing apace, and one can hardly say that about any one day series or tournament. We need to savour the feats of the Colossus of Preston as he will be sorely missed.
Monday, 20 July 2009
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
First Test fluctuates around stubborn Pietersen
When will Kevin Pietersen learn? The answer is probably never and his advocates will insist that if he plays cavalier shots and dies by the sword then so be it. Pietersen himself justified the shot by saying he has been very successful with the sweep shot but that is poppycock. He will never become a truly classy test batsman if he continues to get out in the asinine way he did today.
In attempting to sweep the generally benign and toothless Hauritz from way outside the off stump he only succeeded in hitting the ball on to his helmet and deflecting a looping catch to Katich. He looked a fool and it is the fact that he is so talented yet so stubborn that makes him such an infuriating mixture.
It was an intriguing day’s cricket in Cardiff, which has happily confirmed that test cricket is still the only game in town. The subtle evolution of the first day’s affairs, where the game swung this way and that and then back again, was both entertaining and interesting.
The first session undoubtedly belonged to the Australians as the top three English batsmen got themselves out to injudicious shots. The pitch lacked any spite and the bowling was not exactly venomous, so England surrendered the advantage of batting first by some sloppy batting.
The flow then went England’s way in the middle session guided by the combination of Pietersen and Collingwood who provided grit and determination when it was most needed. Adding just over 100 and losing no wickets meant tea was taken with England in the ascendancy.
Collingwood’s lame dismissal alongside Pietersen’s shameful one handed the initiative back to the Australians in the last session, only for Prior and Flintoff to swing things back the other way with a rapid partnership which ended when the admirable Siddle got his just rewards for his indefatigable spirit when he cleaned up both of them just before the close of play.
The beauty of test cricket was encapsulated here as each team enjoyed periods of dominance, which were halted only for the initiative to be given back. Both teams will feel satisfaction mingled with disappointment, and the balance of play is such that it is not clear who eventually “won” the day.
If England fail to reach 400 then they will have missed out and given the Australians a chance which may be the crucial difference. Through all the ebb and flow of this match one thing of which we can be certain is that Pietersen will continue to be both impressive and irritating.
In attempting to sweep the generally benign and toothless Hauritz from way outside the off stump he only succeeded in hitting the ball on to his helmet and deflecting a looping catch to Katich. He looked a fool and it is the fact that he is so talented yet so stubborn that makes him such an infuriating mixture.
It was an intriguing day’s cricket in Cardiff, which has happily confirmed that test cricket is still the only game in town. The subtle evolution of the first day’s affairs, where the game swung this way and that and then back again, was both entertaining and interesting.
The first session undoubtedly belonged to the Australians as the top three English batsmen got themselves out to injudicious shots. The pitch lacked any spite and the bowling was not exactly venomous, so England surrendered the advantage of batting first by some sloppy batting.
The flow then went England’s way in the middle session guided by the combination of Pietersen and Collingwood who provided grit and determination when it was most needed. Adding just over 100 and losing no wickets meant tea was taken with England in the ascendancy.
Collingwood’s lame dismissal alongside Pietersen’s shameful one handed the initiative back to the Australians in the last session, only for Prior and Flintoff to swing things back the other way with a rapid partnership which ended when the admirable Siddle got his just rewards for his indefatigable spirit when he cleaned up both of them just before the close of play.
The beauty of test cricket was encapsulated here as each team enjoyed periods of dominance, which were halted only for the initiative to be given back. Both teams will feel satisfaction mingled with disappointment, and the balance of play is such that it is not clear who eventually “won” the day.
If England fail to reach 400 then they will have missed out and given the Australians a chance which may be the crucial difference. Through all the ebb and flow of this match one thing of which we can be certain is that Pietersen will continue to be both impressive and irritating.
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
Lessons for 2010
The South Africans must be satisfied with the hosting of the Confederation Cup, which has proved to be a well run rehearsal for the main event in a year’s time when the first World Cup held in Africa will begin. After all they have Sepp Blatter’s seal of approval and that’s worth its weight in Krugerands.
As with all rehearsals, it is important to learn the lessons and see if these can make for an even better tournament come 2010 when there will be larger and more cosmopolitan crowds .
The main points of interest, in no particular order, are as follows:
Spain are not invincible.
The shock defeat inflicted on them by the US in the semi-final came at a time when the Spanish were beginning to look so formidable that an undefeated run all the way to the World Cup Final was not out of the question. The fallibility against the US may act as a timely reminder that they cannot take things for granted, or may create doubt when the pressure is on and bring back the mental fragility of previous Spanish teams who flattered to deceive.
The ball will swerve more than at any previous World Cup.
This has happened at every tournament in living memory, so no need for the swerving quotient to slow down. I have a theory here that the ever-increasing propensity of the ball to deviate in the air is more to do with the shine of the ball than anything else, and each successive World Cup organiser produces a shinier ball because it looks good on TV, especially now with HDTV encroaching our viewing.
Vuvuzelas will be a continual aural backdrop.
Many people, including the players, have complained about the noise created by these trumpets. There have been many florid descriptions of the atmosphere but the closest I can get is that it sounds like a swarm of bees but unlike swarms this cacophony never moves, it just hangs there. The South Africans bristled with indignation at any criticism and are sure to insist they are around next year to create a “unique African atmosphere”. May be marginally better than White Stripes anthem of Euro 2008.
Gloves to be worn by outfield players possibly for the first time in a World Cup.
For those who become angered by the sight of players wearing gloves at Wigan in December be prepared for apoplexy. The tournament will be played during the South African winter and several players were spotted wearing gloves during the Confederation Cup. Danny Alvez outdid everyone by sporting a rather natty polo neck under his shirt. Cue comments about playing in Wigan on a chilly December….
Brazil look invincible
The tournament favourites may justify their position if they show a similar resolve and solidity come June 2009. They showed both sides of a class team in looking imperious at times and then vulnerable at others, whilst being able to score late goals and mount a comeback as they did against the US in the final. They have also unearthed a half-decent centre forward in Luis Fabiano who could carry them to glory. As you would expect, with any team managed by Dunga, they have a solid midfield which will hunt down opponents, leaving the niceties of the game to the full backs or the Kakas/ Robinhos of this world.
So the likelihood is that 2010 will be the noisiest, swerviest, coldest and most predictable World Cup ever. So when North Korea beat Brazil in the Quarter-Finals remember where you heard it first.
As with all rehearsals, it is important to learn the lessons and see if these can make for an even better tournament come 2010 when there will be larger and more cosmopolitan crowds .
The main points of interest, in no particular order, are as follows:
Spain are not invincible.
The shock defeat inflicted on them by the US in the semi-final came at a time when the Spanish were beginning to look so formidable that an undefeated run all the way to the World Cup Final was not out of the question. The fallibility against the US may act as a timely reminder that they cannot take things for granted, or may create doubt when the pressure is on and bring back the mental fragility of previous Spanish teams who flattered to deceive.
The ball will swerve more than at any previous World Cup.
This has happened at every tournament in living memory, so no need for the swerving quotient to slow down. I have a theory here that the ever-increasing propensity of the ball to deviate in the air is more to do with the shine of the ball than anything else, and each successive World Cup organiser produces a shinier ball because it looks good on TV, especially now with HDTV encroaching our viewing.
Vuvuzelas will be a continual aural backdrop.
Many people, including the players, have complained about the noise created by these trumpets. There have been many florid descriptions of the atmosphere but the closest I can get is that it sounds like a swarm of bees but unlike swarms this cacophony never moves, it just hangs there. The South Africans bristled with indignation at any criticism and are sure to insist they are around next year to create a “unique African atmosphere”. May be marginally better than White Stripes anthem of Euro 2008.
Gloves to be worn by outfield players possibly for the first time in a World Cup.
For those who become angered by the sight of players wearing gloves at Wigan in December be prepared for apoplexy. The tournament will be played during the South African winter and several players were spotted wearing gloves during the Confederation Cup. Danny Alvez outdid everyone by sporting a rather natty polo neck under his shirt. Cue comments about playing in Wigan on a chilly December….
Brazil look invincible
The tournament favourites may justify their position if they show a similar resolve and solidity come June 2009. They showed both sides of a class team in looking imperious at times and then vulnerable at others, whilst being able to score late goals and mount a comeback as they did against the US in the final. They have also unearthed a half-decent centre forward in Luis Fabiano who could carry them to glory. As you would expect, with any team managed by Dunga, they have a solid midfield which will hunt down opponents, leaving the niceties of the game to the full backs or the Kakas/ Robinhos of this world.
So the likelihood is that 2010 will be the noisiest, swerviest, coldest and most predictable World Cup ever. So when North Korea beat Brazil in the Quarter-Finals remember where you heard it first.
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Ferguson receives a Catalan Masterclass
As Andres Iniesta left the field in added time, the substitute who was about to replace him, was joyfully applauding as much as he was smiling. Like all of us, Pedro Rodriguez had been wowed by one of the best midfield performances of recent years. Alongside the equally impressive Xavi and the amazingly mature Busquets, Barcelona controlled the midfield with a deceptive ease that hid the superior technique, hard work and application of the players.
Before the match, much had been made of the gaps in Barca’s defensive unit and how the absence of first choice players Marquez, Daniel Alvez, and Abidal would give United room to exploit with their superior pace. On the night, apart from the opening ten minutes and a late flurry towards the end, Victor Valdes had very little to do. The back four had as comfortable an evening as they could have imagined, to the extent that Puyol and Toure were seen exchanging passes on the edge of the United penalty area in the first half, as if they were in a practice match.
The reason for their defensive comfort was that Barcelona pressed so effectively that United had to resort to either pumping long balls from the back which lacked both direction or angle or the midfield attempting to locate the ineffective Ronaldo and Rooney with hopeful “hail mary” passes. In contrast, Barcelona’s midfield trio kept possession by passing the ball accurately and crisply before waiting for the right moment to penetrate, as evidenced by Eto’s opening goal which was founded on Iniesta’s sharp change of pace and beautifully weighted pass.
Ferguson had no answer to the mastery Barcelona steadily built as they took control of the match and which they rarely looked like relinquishing at any time. It must be particularly galling for him to have to acknowledge the superiority of a 38 year-old manager in his first season. Guardiola was a teenager when Ferguson took over at Old Trafford and he has been a manager for some 35 years.
So much for Fergie’s experience and tactical nous, when he brought Tevez on as a second half substitute there was no change to the pattern of the game which had swung inexorably to Barcelona and his team appeared increasingly naïve compared to the sophistication of their opponents. The introduction of the talismanic Argentine might change the course of a game against the Wigans of this world but failed to ruffle the Catalans’ feathers. Tevez looked as nonplussed as his teammates within a few minutes of chasing around forlornly in search of the ball.
Lionel Messi, who was a constant threat with his clever movement and flawless control, rubbed salt into the open wounds with the free header midway through the second half, twisting in the air to artfully curl the ball beyond Van der Sar who could only watch as the ball sailed into the corner. Ferdinand was also a distant spectator.
When Paul Scholes committed one of his customary rash and spiteful challenges on 21 year-old Busquets we knew the game was up. All United had left was some futile, unpleasant aggression as Ronaldo’s simmering discontent with Puyol’s shackling ended up in a booking as did Vidic who finally got in touching distance of Messi and got some petty revenge.
To be fair to Ferguson and his players, they readily accepted that they had been out-thought, outfought and generally overwhelmed by the better side. Their expressions of grim resignation as they waited for the ceremonial crowning of the new European Champions, bore testimony to the undoubted superiority of Barcelona, the worthy victors.
Before the match, much had been made of the gaps in Barca’s defensive unit and how the absence of first choice players Marquez, Daniel Alvez, and Abidal would give United room to exploit with their superior pace. On the night, apart from the opening ten minutes and a late flurry towards the end, Victor Valdes had very little to do. The back four had as comfortable an evening as they could have imagined, to the extent that Puyol and Toure were seen exchanging passes on the edge of the United penalty area in the first half, as if they were in a practice match.
The reason for their defensive comfort was that Barcelona pressed so effectively that United had to resort to either pumping long balls from the back which lacked both direction or angle or the midfield attempting to locate the ineffective Ronaldo and Rooney with hopeful “hail mary” passes. In contrast, Barcelona’s midfield trio kept possession by passing the ball accurately and crisply before waiting for the right moment to penetrate, as evidenced by Eto’s opening goal which was founded on Iniesta’s sharp change of pace and beautifully weighted pass.
Ferguson had no answer to the mastery Barcelona steadily built as they took control of the match and which they rarely looked like relinquishing at any time. It must be particularly galling for him to have to acknowledge the superiority of a 38 year-old manager in his first season. Guardiola was a teenager when Ferguson took over at Old Trafford and he has been a manager for some 35 years.
So much for Fergie’s experience and tactical nous, when he brought Tevez on as a second half substitute there was no change to the pattern of the game which had swung inexorably to Barcelona and his team appeared increasingly naïve compared to the sophistication of their opponents. The introduction of the talismanic Argentine might change the course of a game against the Wigans of this world but failed to ruffle the Catalans’ feathers. Tevez looked as nonplussed as his teammates within a few minutes of chasing around forlornly in search of the ball.
Lionel Messi, who was a constant threat with his clever movement and flawless control, rubbed salt into the open wounds with the free header midway through the second half, twisting in the air to artfully curl the ball beyond Van der Sar who could only watch as the ball sailed into the corner. Ferdinand was also a distant spectator.
When Paul Scholes committed one of his customary rash and spiteful challenges on 21 year-old Busquets we knew the game was up. All United had left was some futile, unpleasant aggression as Ronaldo’s simmering discontent with Puyol’s shackling ended up in a booking as did Vidic who finally got in touching distance of Messi and got some petty revenge.
To be fair to Ferguson and his players, they readily accepted that they had been out-thought, outfought and generally overwhelmed by the better side. Their expressions of grim resignation as they waited for the ceremonial crowning of the new European Champions, bore testimony to the undoubted superiority of Barcelona, the worthy victors.
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Ferguson's flaws
In the aftermath of the Manchester United Everton FA Cup semi-final there was plenty of predictable bleating and moaning. This is Ferguson Land. Whenever anything goes slightly amiss it is always someone else’s fault. So the responsibility for the FA Cup semi-final defeat was laid fair and square on the pitch, which was neither fair nor square.
True enough the Wembley pitch was not up to scratch and was inferior to the majority of Premiership playing surfaces, The ball did not run true and also it cut up quickly with large divots of turf appearing, so it resembled a practice ground for a golf tournament within the first 10 minutes.
But both teams were similarly affected and it was Ferguson who selected the weakened United team who showed little inclination to chase the win in extra time. Furthermore, Berbatov’s lamentable penalty in the shoot-out was down to his own special brand of indifference, and not the scarred, as opposed to sacred, turf.
Many people claim Sir Alex is a master in psychological warfare and often beats his opponents in the mind games. His brilliant mental destruction of his rivals, the argument runs, leaves them powerless to survive in the match itself and they are beaten before kick-off.
This is utter nonsense, there is no subtlety to Ferguson’s rants and raves, he is more akin to a six year old sans toys than a genius of mind games. To be wound up by such blunt and unimaginative posturing does not bode well for anyone who is entering the school playground in the near future.
True enough the Wembley pitch was not up to scratch and was inferior to the majority of Premiership playing surfaces, The ball did not run true and also it cut up quickly with large divots of turf appearing, so it resembled a practice ground for a golf tournament within the first 10 minutes.
But both teams were similarly affected and it was Ferguson who selected the weakened United team who showed little inclination to chase the win in extra time. Furthermore, Berbatov’s lamentable penalty in the shoot-out was down to his own special brand of indifference, and not the scarred, as opposed to sacred, turf.
Many people claim Sir Alex is a master in psychological warfare and often beats his opponents in the mind games. His brilliant mental destruction of his rivals, the argument runs, leaves them powerless to survive in the match itself and they are beaten before kick-off.
This is utter nonsense, there is no subtlety to Ferguson’s rants and raves, he is more akin to a six year old sans toys than a genius of mind games. To be wound up by such blunt and unimaginative posturing does not bode well for anyone who is entering the school playground in the near future.
Friday, 17 April 2009
My brother and Syd Barrett
Playlist
Shine on you Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd
“Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun
Shine on you crazy diamond.”
I have never been a big fan of Pink Floyd. They were always a little too grandiose and over-dramatic for my tastes. The backlash against the universally admired Dark Side of the Moon had begun when I was a teenager and the Floyd were considered to be the antithesis of the vibrant sharp jolt that punk provided to us in the late 1970s. Such pomp was to be avoided at all costs.
I was only rewired into their music following my elder brother’s untimely death in 2006. At the funeral, one of his friends who struggled to speak because he was so over-wrought with emotion ended his short eulogy with a defiant call of “Shine on you Crazy Diamond.” It was a heartfelt and poignant tribute.
Then I listened again to the song and although it is a tad over-indulgent in its length, I realised that there were many parallels between my brother’s life and Syd Barrett’s, especially in the withdrawal from public life. The strong sense of wasteful loss is such that it never ceases to leave me both mournful and defiant. Barrett and my brother died within a few months of each other.
“Now there’s a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky
Shine on you crazy diamond.”
Shine on you Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd
“Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun
Shine on you crazy diamond.”
I have never been a big fan of Pink Floyd. They were always a little too grandiose and over-dramatic for my tastes. The backlash against the universally admired Dark Side of the Moon had begun when I was a teenager and the Floyd were considered to be the antithesis of the vibrant sharp jolt that punk provided to us in the late 1970s. Such pomp was to be avoided at all costs.
I was only rewired into their music following my elder brother’s untimely death in 2006. At the funeral, one of his friends who struggled to speak because he was so over-wrought with emotion ended his short eulogy with a defiant call of “Shine on you Crazy Diamond.” It was a heartfelt and poignant tribute.
Then I listened again to the song and although it is a tad over-indulgent in its length, I realised that there were many parallels between my brother’s life and Syd Barrett’s, especially in the withdrawal from public life. The strong sense of wasteful loss is such that it never ceases to leave me both mournful and defiant. Barrett and my brother died within a few months of each other.
“Now there’s a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky
Shine on you crazy diamond.”
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Umbro Mumbo Jumbo
Mumbo Jumbo
When I receive an email with grandiose claims the automatic response is a hasty prod on the delete button and a hope that nothing has lingered from the unsolicited trash invading my inbox.
However, this one was a little different. I was astonished by the sheer audacity of the opening gambit and was intrigued enough to be drawn into this world as it was imbued with fantasy and an utter lack of realism.
To give you a sense of this world here is the sentence that caught my eye and hazard a guess to what it might relate. “ The new ******* ***** is not an evolution of an old one. It is a complete new beginning.”
It sounds like a revolutionary new drug or maybe a radical approach to power generation. Actually it’s neither of these, it’s the fanfare for the arrival of the new England football shirt by Umbro. I kid you not. This exercise in squeezing more money out of cash-strapped fans is hailed in the style of some epoch-making instrument.
Beyond the attention grabbing, fallacious headline there is even more guff about “bringing together an innovative design philosophy with classic English tailoring.” Woe betide any player who allows any sweat to drip on this precious item, or heaven forfend if there is a trickle of saliva allowed to besmirch the classic English tailoring.
As a recipient of the email you are also invited into the lair of watching the shirt being designed with the players’ involvement included every step of the way. One can imagine Ashley Cole offering advice on the piping or Crouchy making sure the garment has sufficient elasticity.
Once you are lured into the clips showing how the new crest shows “substance and integrity” you know you have reached the final destination. Guided by the Senior Designer who rejoices in the wonderfully tailored name of Aitor Throup, we understand how the kit moulds to each curve of Rooney’s torso.
The big question which hangs over me after witnessing what goes on behind the scenes is whether the tradition of swapping shirts at the end of internationals may now be dead as surely no player will let go of his own individually tailored shirt. The title of this Mumbo Jumbo courtesy of Umbro is “Pride in the process”, but there is a more colloquial alternative “Bullshit in a Shirt”.
When I receive an email with grandiose claims the automatic response is a hasty prod on the delete button and a hope that nothing has lingered from the unsolicited trash invading my inbox.
However, this one was a little different. I was astonished by the sheer audacity of the opening gambit and was intrigued enough to be drawn into this world as it was imbued with fantasy and an utter lack of realism.
To give you a sense of this world here is the sentence that caught my eye and hazard a guess to what it might relate. “ The new ******* ***** is not an evolution of an old one. It is a complete new beginning.”
It sounds like a revolutionary new drug or maybe a radical approach to power generation. Actually it’s neither of these, it’s the fanfare for the arrival of the new England football shirt by Umbro. I kid you not. This exercise in squeezing more money out of cash-strapped fans is hailed in the style of some epoch-making instrument.
Beyond the attention grabbing, fallacious headline there is even more guff about “bringing together an innovative design philosophy with classic English tailoring.” Woe betide any player who allows any sweat to drip on this precious item, or heaven forfend if there is a trickle of saliva allowed to besmirch the classic English tailoring.
As a recipient of the email you are also invited into the lair of watching the shirt being designed with the players’ involvement included every step of the way. One can imagine Ashley Cole offering advice on the piping or Crouchy making sure the garment has sufficient elasticity.
Once you are lured into the clips showing how the new crest shows “substance and integrity” you know you have reached the final destination. Guided by the Senior Designer who rejoices in the wonderfully tailored name of Aitor Throup, we understand how the kit moulds to each curve of Rooney’s torso.
The big question which hangs over me after witnessing what goes on behind the scenes is whether the tradition of swapping shirts at the end of internationals may now be dead as surely no player will let go of his own individually tailored shirt. The title of this Mumbo Jumbo courtesy of Umbro is “Pride in the process”, but there is a more colloquial alternative “Bullshit in a Shirt”.
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