There were three games of cricket played on Karori Park
last Saturday morning. Two, both between teams of eleven year olds, were
attended by enthusiastic crowds of twenty or so. Half-an-hour into play your
correspondent constituted a third of the crowd at the other match, a game of
first-class cricket between the historic provinces of Wellington and
Canterbury, a fixture contested regularly for 140 years or so, now ignored in
the corner of a public park.
For unknown reasons the Basin Reserve was unavailable, so
to Wellington’s western suburbs we came. In the afternoon a match was played on
the adjoining block between two men’s teams, the boundaries within five metres
or so of overlapping. This was not the only new experience to add to my
lifetime of cricket watching; the bails were dispensed with for the first half
of the second day, which did nothing to disperse the aura of rusticity that
enveloped the game. It was certainly blustery, but no more so than on any
number of days during the average summer in Wellington. Let us hope that the
Wellington Cricket Association found two sets of lignite bails in its Christmas
stocking.
For all this, I enjoyed my two days at Karori Park hugely
and came to the view that it is a better venue for Plunket Shield cricket than
the Basin. It is attractive, with hills on two sides of the park, big ones to
the west. I was put in mind of the Pen-y-Pound ground in Abergavenny, which is
overlooked by Sugar Loaf Mountain (which is merely a big hill—the Welsh are a
small race, unduly impressed by elevation). There is a good café with top-class coffee on
the boundary’s edge and, on Sunday at least, the cricket was the centre of
attention, not a brief diversion for pedestrians and cyclists passing through.
And there is excellent trudging, the best I have
encountered at a cricket ground. It is to trudging around cricket grounds that
my Blean correspondent and myself attribute our fine athletic figures. There is
a 1 km path around the edge of the park and another track leading off it that
takes you up onto the hill to the north of the ground with the oval still in
view.
Canterbury’s Tom Latham had batted through the first day
to be 137 not out when I turned up for the start of the second day. He was still
there on 241 when Canterbury declared at 471 for eight. This was the
second-highest individual score I have ever seen, and a deal more entertaining
than the agonisingly dull 275 that Daryll Cullinan subjected us to on Eden Park’s
glued pitch in 1999.
Latham’s innings was most impressive, particularly for
one who came to attention as a short-form dasher. He was disciplined and
displayed excellent shot selection. He gave just one chance on the second day,
pulling hard to square leg off McKay. With nether Hamish Rutherford nor
(especially) Peter Fulton making the Test opening positions their own, Latham
must be close to preferment; the next cab off the rank certainly.
Wellington had to make 222 to avoid the follow-on. They
raced away with 35 from the first seven overs, when it started to go awfully
wrong. Stephen Murdoch was first to go, caught at second slip by Brownlie off
Hamish Bennett. Grant Elliott followed in the same over, lbw not getting
forward. Papps was caught behind off Logan van Beek in the next over. Pollard
was bowled offering no shot to van Beek and when Woodcock went the same way as
Murdoch, Wellington had lost five for 19 in six overs.
Luke Ronchi counter-attacked to the tune of 20 in 19
balls, an approach that was too risky in the circumstances. Ronchi has not made
much of an impact in the New Zealand ODI team; BJ Watling would seem a more
dependable option. Here, he was out with 138 still needed to avoid the
follow-on and only four wickets left.
Marshalled by James Franklin, the tail became the Maquis to
the top order’s retreating French army. Jeetan Patel made 40 in 102 minutes
before being caught at backward point by Latham off Ellis from the last ball of
the second day.
Andy McKay occupied the first half-hour of day three
before giving way to Mark Gillespie, who batted with his normal pugnacious
aggression but for rather longer than usual, reaching 78 from 77 balls. He fell
21 short of the follow-on target, leaving Brent Arnel to support Franklin.
This was the most gripping cricket of the two days I
watched. If Wellington could scramble past the target their chances of saving
the game would be greatly enhanced, with a slim chance of being offered a
target on the last afternoon. But my, it was perplexing. One might think that
with one wicket left to take, all out attack at both ends would be the ticket.
This is not the modern way. Fielders—eight at one point— retreated en masse to the
boundary when Franklin was on strike. As curiously, Franklin turned down the
singles on offer even though Arnel showed himself capable of obdurate defence.
The standoff continued for some time before Franklin settled matters with a
couple of big strikes, one of which rattled the roof of one of the neighbouring
houses. Franklin also brought up his century, a clever, careful innings that
showed how much he has come on as a batsman.
That pretty well finished the match as a contest.
Canterbury batted for almost three sessions without ever quite reaching the
heady heights of three an over. The target of 395 in around 50 overs was no
more than notional, and Murdoch’s 122-ball 17 (which I am relieved not to have
seen) may have been way of protest. If so, it was misplaced. No team has a
right to have a gettable target set in the fourth innings. The only way of
ensuring that is to take 20 wickets.
So why did Canterbury not make a contest of it? A look at
the Plunket Shield table provides the answer. Canterbury lead Wellington by 12 points,
the very number available for a win. Why risk that lead against team that has
demonstrated proficiency in chasing large targets this season? Against Central
Districts 310 was achieved with time to spare, while in the earlier fixture
against Canterbury they fell short of a target of 470 by only 11.
Also, the pitch remained as flat as Holland. The
propensity for outgrounds to offer randomness as the game goes on has largely
disappeared, which is a shame as entertaining cricket was often the
consequence. As well as making the pitch worse, those in charge of Karori Park
should improve the outfield which was funereally slow. This apart, watching
first-class cricket there was thoroughly pleasant and I look forward to
returning when Wellington play Northern Districts in February.
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