It is all so easy when you are an armchair pundit, and we bloggers are no different. With politics or economics, so with sport. Mike Atherton, the former captain of England’s cricket team and a man notable for his dogged, never-say-die style of batting, is unimpressed by the England’s cricket selectors’ choice of skipper, who was born in South Africa, could not get a regular place in that country’s team, and by some means, is now the captain of England. One might say that as the final Test in the series at the Oval in London unfolds, that “Our South Africans are better than theirs”.
It may all, as Atherton says in Eyeorish fashion, end in tears. But by God, what a start. I went to the match’s opening day yesterday with an old South African friend of mine, by the name of Martin. We watched in amazement as the England bowling attack exploited a benign surface and moist air to trick the South African batting with a wonderful spell of bowling that removed six batsmen in short order after the top-order batsmen, notably the captain, looked ominously comfortable. Their comfort proved short-lived. As a result of this marvellous bowling, involving an attacking fielding lineup with so many slip fielders that it looked like the West Indies in the old days, South Africa failed to make it past 200 runs in their first innings. Now England have to beat that target by a good margin if they are to win this match and salvage some honour from this series.
Ironically, the man whom Atherton prefers for the captaincy – Andrew Strauss – had another poor day at the crease yesterday, bowled out after a few deliveries. Ah, the joys of punditry, eh Michael?
I am slightly surprised that when Pietersen and Smith came out to the middle for the toss, their two giant egos didn’t collapse together into a singularity and form a black hole. Otherwise, it looked quite a good day’s cricket.
The ball with which Harmison bowled Amla was the highlight for me, the ball after he got Smith, somewhat luckily I thought. (Earlier short balls to Smith had been easily hit for fours.) Nothing like a bit of adrenalin. Those two wickets changed the entire game.
Here’s hoping Harmison gets into similar moods next year. With Flintoff back and bowling well, and Simon Jones also taking wickets, and Anderson starting to look good (3 good wickets yesterday), England suddenly look like they just might make some kind of fight of it against the Ozzes. A year ago, you’d have said: forget it.
I’m listening to the cricket commentary, Aggers and Tufnell. And for some daft reason they were discussing The Merchant of Venice by Shakespeare, and something said in that by (according to Frindall) Portia.
Tufnell: “Lovely set of wheels.”
Kevin Pietersen has just got a century. Having been dropped twice.
Although, the general feeling is that the South Africans are suffering from all the celebrating they’ve recently been doing. Plus, it isn’t swinging around today like it did yesterday.
Oh! Pietersen out for 100. How about that?
The next bit will be interesting. Flintoff is in now, and if he could get a bit of good batting done in a test match, that would add another important little something to the mix.
This reminds me of Kevin Keegan’s epic commentary on the ’98 World Cup England Romania match. Remember he said, “If anyone is going to score now, it’s England”.
Within the minute Dan Petrescu (not English) had stuck one in the back of the net.
Mike Atherton had every opportunity to achieve something noteworthy as England captain, and he utterly failed to do so.
As for his dogged, never-say-die style of batting, I don’t recall this having much of an effect on an Ashes series, unlike the performance of, say, Kevin Pieterson.
Hey, England’s been poaching from that particular errrr colony for years. Basil D’Oliveira? Tony Grieg?
I like watching Pietersen bat, although I cringe at his celebrations, which are gay in the extreme with all that dancing and waving of his arms.
Real men, on reaching their century, acknowledge the crowd’s cheering by removing the helmet (or cap), raising the bat (once), and then set about making the next century.
That’s how Graeme Pollock used to do it, and Pietersen isn’t fit to carry Pollock’s bat to the dressing room.
Kim, I don’t care a damn how he celebrates. The fact that he is celebrating at all is a good thing, as far as I am concerned. I rather like to see sportsmen showing some pleasure in what they do. So many of them look such miserable bastards.