Wellington v Otago, 50 overs, Basin Reserve, 9 March 2014

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/576/576370.html

I have drawn attention before to the talent of the Wellington cricket team for picking defeat from the pocket of victory. Today at the Basin they abandoned petty crime and entered the world of the big heist. Defeat was locked securely in a strong room located in a deep cave, protected by armed guards and with a security system designed by NASA. Yet Wellington had a plan to spring it that came within a whisker of working.

When Brad Scott was ninth out, Otago needed 37 from 14 balls, and only a single was added in the rest of that over.  Mark Gillespie bowled the penultimate over from the northern end. Some of us have not forgotten—will never forget—the day five years ago when Northern Districts, also with nine down, needed ten from the last two balls of the game. Gillespie, again from the northern end, contrived to bowl two legside long hops that needed minimal assistance from Peter McGlashan to find their way over the wall by the Reid Gates to take the game.

Now it was full tosses that Gillespie served up as the dish of the day. Two in the over were just right for the left-handed Sam Wells to deposit on the bank on the Victoria Tunnel side of the ground. Six further runs were gleaned from the rest of the over.  

But eighteen from the over would have to be repeated for Otago to take the game, which was reassuring; how often has that happened? Even so, the pessimism that Wellington folk carry in their pockets to most of the capital’s sporting events was heard murmuring as Andy McKay prepared to bowl the final over.

Nick Beard took a single from the first ball. Wells got two from the next ball, followed by an air shot to the third. With fifteen needed from three balls, some people—almost certainly newcomers to the capital—were heard to pass comment along the lines of “it’s all over” and “they can’t throw it away from here”. The rest of us were not even slightly surprised when Wells took a stride down the pitch to hit the fourth ball of the over for six over long off, nor when the fifth ball went the same way. This brought up a 28-ball half century for Wells.

So three were needed from the final ball. After resolutions had been passed and the minutes taken at the conference convened to set the field that is compulsory on these occasions, McKay bowled the final ball. Again Wells strode forward and sent the ball high in the air toward the Adelaide Road. It seemed for a moment that he had hit it with sufficient timing to send it all the way, but it began to descend too early, towards Grant Elliott at long off. Had he dropped it, they would have run two and tied the game, but Elliott has steady nerves and held on safely.

Wellington had made 308 batting first, always an impressive score in a 50-over game, but not exceptional on a pitch that appeared perfectly paced for easy timing of bat on ball. The foundation of the innings was a first-wicket partnership of 144 between Stephen Murdoch and Michael Papps. Murdoch dominated the partnership and was first out for 89. I have not seen him bat as fluently before. Papps played an uncharacteristically measured innings before falling caught behind off the bowling of off spinner Mark Craig two short of his century.

The highlight of the rest of the innings was a 31-ball 47 by keeper Tom Blundell, who was quick to take advantage of the current fad in one-day field setting, which is to use all available boundary fielders on the onside, with all the fielders inside the ring on the off. Moreover, two of those fielders should be behind square and standing close enough to each other to dance between deliveries. No doubt this is a rational solution to the increased restrictions on boundary fielders in the final ten overs, but it means that bowlers have to have the accuracy of a tailor threading a needle. Blundell exposed the risk inherent in this approach by stepping back to crash three boundaries through the offside in the same over.

Scott was Otago’s best bowler, so why he only bowled nine overs is a mystery. Swapping the bowling around like kids do conkers is all very well, but sometimes the wood becomes invisible behind all the trees.

A target of 309 needs a good start, and that is what Otago got, barring the early loss of Hamish Rutherford.  Aaron Redmond and Michael Bracewell put on 155 for the second wicket, déjà vu for those of us who were at the Basin in October when the same pair put on 271. Redmond was the more aggressive today, twice introducing a cricket ball into the traffic outside the Stewie Dempster Gates.

When Bracewell was out, caught at mid on off a mistimed pull, Otago needed 141 from 20 overs, very achievable on a benevolent pitch. Redmond and ten Doeschate chugged pleasantly along until the 37^th over when the match turned on a moment. Ten Doeschate turned a ball straight to Grant Elliott at backward point. Elliott is a highly competent fielder and that knowledge should have been sufficient to ensure that we moved to the next delivery without further incident. Once Elliott had spotted that Redmond was hurtling from the non-striker’s end as if the umpire had applied a cattle prod, it was a simple matter for him to return the ball to Blundell, who completed the formalities.

Redmond was on 98 at the time, which might explain it. In October he had become transfixed for some time in the nineties, so maybe the proximity of a century scrambled his head. The significance of the moment became clear next ball, when Jesse Ryder swiped at a ball outside off stump and was judged by the umpire to have been caught behind. Ryder said nothing, but could not have made his disagreement with the decision clearer had he toured the ground expressing it through a megaphone.

From that moment, the Otago innings resembled a man sliding down a cliff, the scouring of his fingernails on its face a record of his futile attempts to slow his fall. Yet, at the same time Wellington were frantically tunnelling through to save them, and broke through only a second too late.

 

New Zealand v West Indies, T20, The Cake Tin, Wellington, 15 January 2014

http://www.espncricinfo.com/new-zealand-v-west-indies-2013-14/engine/match/661697.html

There is a gap in these columns where the report on the final two days of the second Test between New Zealand and the West Indies should be. A pleasant weekend at the Basin was cancelled because the West Indies had folded like the Himalayas in the Late Cretaceous Period halfway through the third afternoon.

To see a team struggling so in the colours worn by Sobers, Lloyd, Richards, Marshall and so many other great players is unbearably sad for someone whose interest in cricket was sparked by the joy and skill of the great West Indian teams of the sixties and seventies.

New Zealand won the Test series two-nil. It would have been three had somebody in the home camp had the sense to keep an eye on the rain radar in Dunedin and given the batsmen the hurry up in their pursuit of a modest target of 112. The ODI series was shared 2-2 (just enough to keep New Zealand ahead of Bangladesh in the rankings) and New Zealand won the first T20 game by 81 runs.

The West Indies won the toss and chose to bat on an evening when the absence of cloud persuaded spectators unfamiliar with the Cake Tin’s penguin-friendly micro-climate to leave their jerseys and jackets at home, a mistake most make only once.

A feature of international one-day and T20 cricket in New Zealand this summer has been the NZ$100,000 on offer at each match for spectator catches. There are strict conditions: catches have to be one-handed and the catcher has to be wearing the sponsor’s gaudy tee shirt ($25 a throw) and lanyard. As a purist I might be expected to be sniffy about this, but it’s great fun. It also makes people watch the cricket more; the Mexican wave did not start until the game was almost over. Only one prize was claimed in the five games against the West Indies. The sponsors have banked on greed-inspired confusion to reduce the chances of their having to cough up; with 100,000 grand at stake, cries of “yours” are rare. At the Cake Tin today a catch was taken, by a man holding chips in his other hand, but he was not wearing the shirt. The best chance was foiled by another spectator hurling themselves in front of the guy poised to take the catch. Entertaining as it is, I predict that there will be trouble before long. Either someone will hurl themselves over the edge of a stand or they will biff someone else who gets in the way.

My Khandallah correspondent was keen that I should invest in a shirt and had an alarmingly high expectation that I would return to My Life in Cricket Scorecards Towers pockets stuffed with cash. I explained that the nearest I have come to taking a crowd catch in almost half a century of spectating was at Mote Park in the eighties when a six was heading straight for me in my boundary deckchair, in which I became unfortunately entangled as I rose to take the catch. Only by dropping to the ground at the last moment did I avoid a serious head injury. I did not buy a shirt today.

Lendl Simmons got the West Indies away to a decent start with 29, 26 of which came from boundaries. The best batting of the innings came at the end from Dinesh Ramdin who bustled along intelligently to an unbeaten 55 from 31 balls, taking his side to 159, about par it was generally thought. Nathan McCullum was outstanding, conceding just 17 from his four overs. The pace of Adam Milne—150 kph or thereabouts—was also effective, and most encouraging for those of us who hanker for the days when Shane Bond put the wind up batsmen across the globe. Milne has been injured subsequently, of course.

At 79 for five it looked as if New Zealand were missing the boat, but a partnership of 68 in seven overs between Taylor and Ronchi took them to the brink of victory. This was the new Ross Taylor with added contemplation, and he has gone cold turkey on the slog sweep. The big hitting was left to Luke Ronchi, who not only hits, but hits straight. Readers should wipe from their memories my recent call for him to be replaced by BJ Watling.

The fielding was the difference in the end. New Zealand’s performance was almost flawless and at times—Corey Anderson’s contortions to knock back a ball that was in the air at least a foot over the boundary—astonishing. The West Indies missed four chances, none easy, but any which might have changed the result.

It was a good game of cricket, within the constraints of T20 at least. There were ebbs and flows and the result was in doubt almost throughout. It will be back to the Cake Tin in a couple of weeks for an ODI against India.

 

The Case for a Specialist Captain

It has to be acknowledged that My Life in Cricket Scorecards is not renowned for its topicality. Match reports appear weeks after the matches they describe have been played. Events of significance pass by without comment or acknowledgement. My considered views on the great issues of the time—Packer, Bodyline, whether Dr Grace is a true amateur—remain in formulation. I’ll get back to you any year soon.

But I have an idea. It is about the England captaincy. The ECB has let it be known that Alastair Cook will remain as England captain despite England’s five-nil loss in the Ashes. The patient is well, the post mortem superfluous. At the SCG over the past few days Cook has appeared hollowed out, bewildered by the situation, one of Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author.

I was put in mind of David Gower in 1989, a similar series which began with England as favourites and ended in a drubbing. By midway through the fifth Test, at Trent Bridge, England found themselves three-nil down and following on 347 behind. Captain Gower suddenly seized the moment and promoted himself to open, brushing aside young Martyn Moxon who had come all the way from Leeds for that very purpose. Gower was bowled by Geoff Lawson for five.

The same degree of desperation to do something, anything, however ill-advised, was evident in Cook’s batting at Sydney. In the first innings he padded up to be lbw and in the second flailed away uncharacteristically and briefly. It is fortunate that England’s next Test is not until mid June, against Sri Lanka. This gives Cook (who should be excused the pointless ODI/T20 visit to the Caribbean next month, and who is not involved in the T20 World Cup) time to recover his equilibrium and enthusiasm (Gower was omitted completely from West Indies tour that followed the ’89 debacle).

But what if he doesn’t? If the burden of the captaincy neutralises Cook as a batsman? If he is not actually a decent captain? Nobody is suggesting that the defeat was down to tactical errors in the field, though a number of commentators have questioned his understanding of the needs of his bowlers in terms of the fields he sets them. There is no question that the tempo of England’s cricket has slowed since he took over. In their now vulnerable position England need a captain who will make the best of the resources available, nuture the fresh talent and inspire the troops. It is not clear that Cook is this man.

Of course Cook, along with almost every other international captain these days, has the disadvantage of not having had the opportunity to learn to be a captain before assuming the role. Until twenty years ago it was unusual for the England captain not to be (or have been) a county captain. Mike Atherton was the first modern exception to this rule. Since the expansion of England’s international programme in 2000 international players have had little opportunity (though that may not be the word they would use) to play county cricket, so the captain will almost inevitably lack experience in the role.

This disadvantages the incumbent, but also means that there are no proven captains in the team ready to take over. Part of the reason for sticking with Cook appears to be the lack of an appropriate successor.

Stuart Broad seems to be the most popular alternative. That would involve overcoming the widely held prejudice against fast bowlers being captains, one that I have to say I share (two words: Bob Willis). Broad does seem too volatile to be captain. For a start, the DRS referrals would be used up in the first 20 minutes of every innings.

Ian Bell, for reasons unexplained, is not seen as captaincy material. Michael Vaughan has called for Kevin Pietersen to be made vice-captain: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/cricket/international/theashes/10550821/Ashes-2013-14-Kevin-Pietersen-must-be-made-England-vice-captain-to-confront-yes-men.html. It is a surprisingly persuasive piece, but it would be like recalling Trotsky from Mexico. Andy Flower would almost certainly prefer the deft application of an ice pick. Prior and Trott are both out of consideration, so Cook it is. Unless…

Ask “who are the best England captains over the past fifty years?” and a debate about the respective merits of Mike Brearley and Raymond Illingworth should ensue. Both were specialist captains who would not have played nearly as many Tests as they did had they not been captain. Tony Lewis, Keith Fletcher, Mike Denness and, ludicrously, Chris Cowdrey were other, less successful, specialist captains of England.

The option of picking a captain from outside the squad, or the central contract system should at least be considered. Who would the contenders be? People who follow the county game more closely than I am able to these days will have their own ideas, but a look through the list of current county captains throws up three contenders.

Paul Collingwood led Durham to the County Championship last year. He has a distinguished international record and has learned more about captaincy since being unimpressive in the role in ODIs a few years ago (though he did lead the winning T20 England side in 2010). Collingwood would not have credibility with the players from the start, unlike other candidates who would have to earn it. His batting has deteriorated; he averaged under 30 for Durham in 2013. But he would still be one of the best fielders and could still produce nuggets of innings from No 7.

Rob Key resumes the Kent captaincy in 2014 after a season’s sabbatical. He has the reputation as one of the county game’s best skippers, is well-liked and is the same cosy shape as Darren Lehmann, the coach who has put the fun back into the Australians. Key is still batting well and could contribute usefully at No 6.

James Foster remains one of the finest wicketkeepers around and averaged in the mid-30s last season. He would fill a Prior-shaped hole in the team (by the way, why is it widely assumed that Prior should return after two shocking series; it’s very odd?). Foster has captained Essex for four years and deserves to have more caps to his name, though I would like to know more about how good a leader people think he is.

If they stick with Cook, another option is to ask Essex to permit him to be captain in the Championship for the five or six games that the England players could play before the international season begins, thanks to the absurdly early start to the domestic season.

A rushed decision into reappointment would be foolish; there is a rare gap of five months in England’s Test schedule providing the opportunity for considered decisions about captain and coach.

Wellington v Central Districts, Plunket Shield, Basin Reserve, 7 – 10 November 2013

The holidays are here at last, providing the opportunity to catch up with unfinished business. Here’s an account of the final two days of a Plunket Shield game earlier this season.

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/576/576393.html

The southerly was back at the Basin like a secret policeman enforcing a ban on summer, and kept me away until lunch on Saturday, the third day. In my absence the Wellington batting had collapsed from 149 for two overnight to 217 for eight, 72 behind Central Districts’ 289.

But a fightback was underway, and I took my seat just after the ninth-wicket partnership of Jeetan Patel and Andy McKay passed 50. Patel hit ten fours in his 76-ball 62; he is back to his best batting form this season, aggressive but rationally so. McKay has always looked better than his perennial last-man status would suggest. Even so, 35 against his name on the scoreboard can turn a tailender’s head and have him believing in false deities like the God of Knowing Where Your Off Stump Is. So it was with McKay, who made the usual sign of veneration—lifting his bat high above his head—and had his off stump removed by Doug Bracewell. Even so, the ninth-wicket partnership of 76 gave Wellington a two-run first-innings lead.

It is unusual these days for neither side to pass 300 in the first innings at the run-happy Basin, so I was keen to work out why. By the end of the afternoon I was none the wiser but able to state with some certainty what the reason was not. Wellington’s strategy at the start of Central Districts’ second innings consisted completely of short-pitched bowling, unusually with both the boundary fielders behind square on the legside fine of 45 degrees. This was spectacularly unsuccessful. After 15 overs Central Districts were 68 without loss, and the men in the deep might as well have kept their hands in their pockets so undeployed were they.

When Brent Arnel pitched the ball up he was immediately rewarded by trapping Jamie How leg before. Thereafter, Wellington concentrated on containment and waited for the declaration. Ben Smith scored a competent maiden hundred, Arnel took four wickets and Patel was the pick of the bowlers, conceding just 51 from 28 overs.

The declaration came at lunch on Sunday and, left Wellington 310 to win in a minimum of 64 overs, which seemed just on the generous side of about right. It would have been less munificent had Jesse Ryder still been a Wellington player. Josh Brodie was run out after a mix up and Michael Papps was bowled by Bracewell, but the afternoon was one that will make members of the Central Districts team wake screaming in the night years hence.

It was as inept a defence of a target in a run chase as I have seen in many a day. For a start Doug Bracewell, leader of the Central Districts attack, was terrible. Some have expressed surprise that Bracewell is not in the international team at the moment; they wouldn’t if they had seen him bowl that day. His line and length were all over the place, and he gave the batsmen far too many safe scoring opportunities. And dear God, the no-balls. Ten of them in 17 overs.

Tarun Nethula was even worse in this respect, bowling eight no-balls in 11 overs, from which he conceded 74 runs. And he’s a leg spinner! Murdoch was bowled by one of the illegal deliveries. Given that Wellington reached their target with just three overs to spare, the no-balls alone were decisive. That very morning I had heard Craig Cumming, a sound judge, touting Nethula for selection for the Test team. Again, nobody at the Basin for the fourth day would have selected him for anything.

The captaincy of Kieran Noema-Barnett was also odd. Early in the innings pacey Andrew Mathieson had caused some problems for the Wellington batsmen and had forced Stephen Murdoch to retire hurt on 30 with an egg-sized swelling below his eye. Yet Mathieson was kept out of the attack as Pollard, Franklin and Woodcock scored at liberty off Bracewell and Nethula. When a change was made it was Weston-super-Mare’s finest, Peter Trego, who was brought on to bowl a few overs of assorted nonsense, mostly down the legside, that did nothing to staunch the flow.

When Mathieson finally returned—into the wind, mark you— he removed both Franklin and Colson, but it was just too late to make a difference. Also, despite an economical early spell, left-arm medium-fast bowler Ben Wheeler was left in the outfield for most Wellington innings, being brought back with only 15 needed.

Noema-Barnett’s handling of his attack was unimaginative and inflexible. His field placing was no better. With fewer than 30 needed there were no close catchers for Woodcock even though by that stage there was no question of Central Districts being able to restrict Wellington in the time remaining. Jeetan Patel was aggressive and, despite numerous edges and lbw appeals, along with Woodcock he took Wellington home.

Wellington v Canterbury, Plunket Shield, Karori Park, 20 – 23 December 2013

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/576/576404.html

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.

Kent v Lancashire, County Championship, St Lawrence Ground, 4th day, 27 September 2013

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/472/472601.html

The day began with a pork pie avalanche and ended as one of the finest I have been privileged to witness in almost half a century of watching cricket at the St Lawrence Ground.

Beginning with the calamity amidst the cold meats. In the continued, lamentable, absence of Scotch eggs, I scoured Sainsbury’s shelves in search of an acceptable substitute. Identifying pork pies as fit for purpose, I took a packet of two from the top of the pile. No sooner was it in my hand than the one below, imperceptibly at first, began to slip towards the front of the shelf. This triggered movement in the pies on either side and beneath, and so on. I suspect the Sainsbury’s staff of having greased the packaging for their own diversion. In no time at all pork pies were cascading onto the speciality sausages below. It seemed that nothing could prevent the spread of the conflagration to the individual quiches. A vision of myself being dug out of a mountain of delicatessen products spurred me into action and by forming a barrier with an arm and both hands equilibrium was restored. At this point, as they used to say in the News of the World, I made my excuses and left.

That aside, the day was joyous. I moved upstairs in the Underwood and Knott Stand and discovered that padded seating had been installed, presumably using recycled padding that previously lined the walls of the committee room to ensure that EW Swanton did not harm himself while raging at a player not having his shirt tucked in, or something equally grievous. They were the most comfortable seats I have ever sat in at a cricket match.

At the start of the day Kent required 386 more with nine wickets remaining—actually eight, as Rob Key’s broken thumb meant that he was not at the ground. This against the runaway Division 2 champions. The hopelessness of the situation meant that those of us there before the start of play felt it necessary to excuse our presence to each other. “It is a nice day…we’re on our way somewhere…last day of the season…I live in New Zealand.” There was no need really. The joy of watching cricket on a perfect day was enough and nobody ever knows what winter will bring.

The wickets were expected to fall as swiftly as the pork pies. Brendan Nash was out in the second over, pushing forward at Jarvis to be caught behind. The top deck of the Underwood-Knott adjoins the home rooms, so I can report that, despite his West Indian status, Nash’s deployment of language remains that of his native Australia.

Ben Harmison made seven before playing back to a ball from Smith that kept low, to be trapped leg before. Sixty for three (four really) and plans were being made among the faithful to fill the afternoon.

At the other end Sam Northeast played fluently, and it was good to hear that he is staying with the county. It was a surprise when he was leg before to Luke Procter for 70, the batsman’s reaction communicating a belief that he had hit it. At this point 276 were needed with five fit wickets to fall. A mid-afternoon Lancashire victory seemed no less inevitable than it had at the start of play.

Sam Billings came out to join Darren Stevens, who had made more than Northeast in their 82-run partnership. I had been impressed with Stevens’ intelligent aggression a couple of weeks before, as he saved the game against Essex (http://mylifeincricketscorecards.blogspot.co.nz/2013/10/kent-v-essex-st-lawrence-ground.html). Now he bustled once more. There was a cloud over Stevens this blue-sky day; he is being investigated over shenanigans in that mighty contest the Bangladesh T20. Not, let’s be clear, for match-fixing or accepting a brown paper bag with that intent, but for failing to report a shady approach. The worst case outcome would make this day in the sun his last, but then he’s the sort of player who always plays that way anyway.

Billings supported Stevens well through a partnership of 71 in 17 overs until he chased a wide one from Smith to be caught behind by Davies. His self-recriminatory rant continued well after he returned to the rooms.  205 to win with only three fit men to follow the next man, 20-year-old Adam Ball.

Stevens reached his century by tapping a full toss precariously close to mid on, the only false shot of his innings. It came from 111 balls and was a masterclass in matching the right shot to the right ball.
It is hard to identify the moment when the flame of hope began to flicker. Perhaps when the score passed 300 with no further loss. Stevens slowed down a little in this phase; moving from 100 to 150 took 71 balls with only two fours. Ball moved along at a similar pace, making his first half-century in first-class cricket. The county has abundant young talent, if only it can protect it from bigger clubs with deeper pockets.

By now it was clear that a draw had become the least likely result. If Kent were not bowled out, they would win. On the upper deck we began to shuffle to towards the edge of our padded seats. Then, a slight commotion in the rooms. Rob Key had arrived, ready to bat if needed.

We should also be clear that Lancashire were, as the young people say, up for it. Had their fate depended on the result, it is probable that the young slow left-armer Parry would not have been kept on for so long, but any doubters should have noted an edginess among the fielders and how the quicks steamed in with the new ball. Besides, Lancashire would be unbeaten for the season if they stayed ahead here.

Ball was out leg before to Tom Smith for 69 with 57 still needed. Tredwell was next in on what turned out to be his last appearance as Kent captain. Stevens had gone up a gear, striking Smith for six over long on just as I was explaining to my Blean correspondent that they needed to be circumspect against the new ball. Stevens was working on the basis that the fewer balls Lancashire had left to bowl, the less chance there was of the bloke at the other end getting out. He got singles at will and unfailingly hit anything remotely loose to the boundary.

The eighth over with the new ball, bowled by Oliver Newby, was the most gripping of the day. Tredwell was caught by Smith from the second ball, and Mark Davies was leg before from the fifth. With 27 still needed, Rob Key walked to the middle, broken thumb protected as best it could be. Here was drama on a Shakesperian scale.  Every time the ball made contact with any part of the bat that was not the absolute middle Key recoiled in pain.

Stevens moved into finishing mode. Key made three from the 11 balls he faced; Stevens got the rest from just 12 balls. He ramped Jarvis for six, unconventional, but still the right shot for that ball, and reached his double century just before the end, finishing with 205 from 218 balls including 21 fours and three sixes. Only once, against Worcestershire in 2004, have Kent scored more in the fourth innings to win a match.

 

It was a marvellous innings. The best I have ever seen for Kent? Better than the 151 not out scored by 42-year-old Colin Cowdrey to take Kent to their first victory against the Australians in 76 years in 1975? They are questions worth asking, and perhaps considering in another post sometime.  What’s more, it was the second time this year that Stevens had taken Kent to a victory in the face of the laws of probability. In June he made a 44-ball century (equalling Mark Ealham at Maidstone against Derbyshire in ‘95) in a successful 337-run chase against Sussex. A Kent hero.

 

As we left the ground we all congratulated ourselves on our sound judgement in choosing to spend a day in the sun at the cricket. You grow older, but the depth of satisfaction felt after a fine day’s play becomes no more shallow with age, especially here at the St Lawrence where it has been felt most often.

A perfect day.

 

 

 

Kent v Lancashire, County Championship, St Lawrence Ground, 3rd day, 26 September 2013

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/472/472601.html

First, a staffing matter. I am pleased to announce that my (former) Waikato correspondent has accepted reassignment as my Khandallah correspondent and will henceforth be based at My Life in Cricket Scorecards Towers. In these constrained times we must harbour our resources prudently.

She left to return to New Zealand to take up her new duties on the second day of this game, which entailed a trip round the M25 in the morning rush hour, the motoring equivalent of watching Derek Shackleton bowling to PJK Gibbs all day. So it was not until the third day that I took my place in the stand for the rare treat of Championship cricket at St Lawrence.

It was the first time that I had watched cricket this late in September. In my cricketing adolescence the season always ended sharply in the first week of September as if fun was rationed. But here, in autumn’s vanguard, it was perfect, the sun warm and constant, and no more than a hint of seasonal rust about the foliage. None of the threat to life that the extension of the beginning of the season to Arctic early April brings with it. If I were in charge there would be two things done on the first day, the first being an absolute ban on cricket in England before the last weekend in April (the second we’ll come to).

The match had nothing on it. Lancashire were already champions of Division 2, Kent long out of the running to join them back in the top league. Yet the match was played keenly and never descended to the depths that some end-of-season games that my Blean correspondent (who was there to enjoy the fun today) and I have dutifully sat through.

In 1976, for example, John Snow gave a display of boundary fielding as unenthusiastic as a sulky teenager at a great aunt’s birthday party. My Blean correspondent and I are uncertain whether the great fast bowler actually kicked one back to the keeper but it would have been completely within the spirit of his performance had he done so. Another time, Chris Cowdrey devoted part of the first day to improving Kent’s over rate by bowling himself and others off two or three paces.

No, this was proper cricket, with meaning.

Kent 2013. More hangers on than in days gone by. Coach Jimmy Adams is back row left. He made a brief appearance as a substitute fielder

The day began with Lancashire 75 without loss in their second innings, a lead of 99. According to all reports Lancashire’s first innings lead was down to the slippery fingers of the Kent fielders. The affliction continued now as opener Luis Reece was dropped by Rob Key, diving at second slip. Key broke his thumb and ended his participation in the game (or so we thought at the time).

Reece did not stay long. He gave Tredwell the charge in the Kent skipper’s first over and was stumped with time to spare by Sam Billings. Billings replaced Geraint Jones for the final two Championship games bringing to an end Jones’ run of 115 consecutive Championship games. Whether it means that the (mostly) distinguished line Kent keepers now moves to the next generation is not yet clear. Billings was generally sound, but mangled a straightforward stumping chance, and it is what they miss that keepers are judged by. 

Reece’s departure brought in Ashwell Prince to join Paul Horton. They treated us to some fine batting, putting on 167 for the second wicket, 42 short of the Lancashire record against Kent, set by Harry Makepeace and Johnny Tyldesley at St Lawrence as the young men of Europe signed up for death in August 1914. Both Horton and Prince scored hundreds, in Prince’s case his second of the match, the first time this had been achieved for Lancashire for 15 years and only the sixteenth time in the county’s history. Horton’s innings was a model of proficiency and consistent tempo, which is not to say that it unattractive. Prince’s was a cut above. His timing and ease of shot meant that he scored at a good rate without ever seeming to hurry.

The latter overs of the Lancashire innings were brightened by some spirited tonking by Andrea Agathangelou with a half century off 35 balls including two sixes. At this stage it was just a question of how much Horton would choose to leave Kent to chase. He settled on 418 and left Kent 40 minutes and the whole of the last day to get them.

We sat in the old stand, next to the dressing rooms

What of the Kent bowling? Mark Davies was ordinary and the young left-armer Adam Ball erratic. Nineteen-year-old Matt Hunn was making his first-class debut. He’s tall and has the potential to be quick and awkward, but my he’s thin. The physios will be busy there, mark my words. Today, as on so many days, the attck was carried by Tredwell and Stevens, who bowled well over half the overs between them.

Stevens is Kent’s go-to guy for everything except wicketkeeping and supervising the car park. He finished the season as leading run scorer and was only one behind Charlie Shreck as wicket-taker. With an open-chested action and rolling approach to the crease he put me in mind of John Shepherd, but without Shep’s ability to fire a quicker short ball in to keep the batsman honest (Shepherd has just turned 70 by the way).

Tredwell bowled well, 40 overs at under three an over, mostly against batsmen with their eye in. Not long ago he seemed likely to be picked for the Australia tour, but a mauling in the ODIs put paid to that, though I can’t see why it should.

At least Tredwell got a game. The saddest sight at the St Lawrence on these two days was that of Simon Kerrigan carrying out twelfth man duties for Lancashire.  A little over a month before he had made his Test debut at The Oval, a decent performance there a quick path to fame and fortune, or at least a cushy winter carrying the drinks around Australia. Instead Shane Watson attacked him and his bowling repertoire was reduced to full tosses and long hops. His confidence was so damaged that he lost his county place as well.

Kerrigan on lonely twelfth man duty

In the absence of Key, Daniel Bell-Drummond opened with Sam Northeast, but fell lbw to Newby from the last ball of the day. Kent are giving young talent its chance; perhaps the finances mean there’s no option, but it is a good thing as long as they can save up enough to keep the best ones when the richer counties come in for them. Kent were 32 for one at the close.

Delightful as the day was, I never quite got over the disappointment with which it began. I have been much taken with there now being a small Sainsbury’s supermarket on the ground. In fact, it rests partly on the space on which Cyril Garnham’s scorecard hut used to be found, just behind the white scoreboard. (Scorecards now, by the way, cost a pound. I remember when you couldn’t lift all the scorecards you could buy for a pound). There was a pleasingly large supermarket at Folkestone right beside the ground, and there’s a whole shopping centre across the road from Seddon Park in Hamilton. 

So with a spring in my step not dissimilar to that of a five-year-old entering Santa’s grotto, in I went, seeking to recreate the extensive supply of provisions that kept a hungry young cricket watcher nourished in the seventies, but without the need to lug it all up the Old Dover Road. There were Jaffa Cakes, Club biscuits, sausage rolls and even prawn cocktail flavoured crisps.

But no Scotch eggs.

So that’s the second thing. Any food store within 500 metres of a first-class cricket venue must, on any scheduled playing day, ensure that Scotch eggs are available for sale up to the advertised end of play on pain of immediate closure.

 

Wellington v Otago, Plunket Shield, Basin Reserve, 1st day, 27 October 2013

http://www.espncricinfo.com/ci/engine/current/match/665525.html

An achievement in cricket watching: being present at the last day of the English season, and at the first of the New Zealand season a month later. Superficially, the scenes were similar; sun beaming from a blue sky. But for the stillness of the St Lawrence there was a nail-your-granny-down northerly at the Basin. I have never changed seats so often during one day’s play, as I attempted to keep out of the wind and in the sun.

It was good to have the opportunity to watch at this time of year. For several seasons almost all pre-Christmas domestic first-class play in New Zealand has been scheduled within the working week, but a change of plan has given those of us who toil at the coalface of the economy the opportunity to watch some cricket. For once, the term “crowd” could be deployed with only a suggestion of irony or hyperbole, there being a couple of hundred present to enjoy the afternoon. The second day is a public holiday (the start of the season should always be celebrated thus).

Jesse Ryder returned to cricket today, something it was feared he might not do in the dark hours that followed the assault he suffered in Christchurch at the end of last season. It is the walls of the visitors dressing room off which he will bounce his bat if things do not go well; he has moved south in search of the peace of mind that will enable him to reclaim his rightful place in the national team.

Brent Arnel has come to the capital from Northern Districts. He joins Mark Gillespie (with whom he was joint leading wicket taker in the Plunket Shield last season) and Andy McKay in what is, on paper at least, as threatening a fast-medium attack as there is in the competition. I trust that Arnel had worked out that as the established leader of the attack it is Gillespie who has the choice of ends, leaving him and McKay to labour into the wind. Within the first half-hour Arnel had been hit for the first six of the season, a top-edged hook by Neil Broom that cleared the JR Reid Gates. You may infer that Otago won the toss and elected to bat, finishing the day on 358 for three.

The score gives a misleading impression of the course of the day. With sharper fielding—a couple of chances went down during the morning—and more luck with the considerable number of edges that fell just short or wide of fielders, Wellington might have had five or six out by lunch. There was more pace in the pitch than is often the case at the Basin, and for the first half of the day at least, it was not the paradise for batsmen and penitentiary for bowlers that the final score suggests.

Arnel finished the day wicketless, but was the pick of the attack. It was McKay—now with the wind—who took the first wicket, trapping Broom, who was well forward, lbw for 32. That was the last success for Wellington until well into the final session as Michael Bracewell joined Aaron Redmond for a partnership of 217, Redmond scoring a career-best 154, Bracewell 107.

Redmond was leading scorer in the Plunkett Shield last season, so with neither Hamish Rutherford nor Peter Fulton consistent as openers, it might be thought that an opening day 150 would have Redmond touted for an opening slot against the West Indies, who are here for three Tests before Christmas. Curiously, his innings here did nothing to advance his claims. There were many fine shots, particularly through the offside, and three sixes. But it was chancy and edgy. As well as getting all the luck that was going before lunch, he was dropped by keeper Ronchi shortly thereafter. The catch would have been comfortable for the only slip had he been positioned at first rather than fadishly at second.  He was also struck be a bad case of the nervous nineties, becoming almost shotless for half an hour before passing the mark. This raises temperament questions.  Redmond was finally dismissed caught behind down the legside off McKay late in the day, his departure from the crease sufficiently delayed to record disagreement with the decision. His final half century was the least spectacular, but most solid of the three.

At 34, Redmond may have had his international day, but the quality of his partner’s innings suggested that the national team could feature a brace of Bracewells sooner rather than later. Michael Bracewell reached his century just after the double-century partnership came up, and included 16 fours. His only six followed, a sweep off Patel over deep (in fact, not so deep, with the pitch being well over to the Museum side) square leg that almost took out an oblivious pedestrian twice, once on its way over the walkway that separates the seats from the field and once as it rebounded off the concrete. I am in favour of this; it will make people pay attention as they saunter through.

Bracewell was out in the same over, overbalancing and bowled around his legs trying to repeat the shot. Patel was too wily.

Which brings us to the Jeetan Patel question: what was he doing here? Or, by way of elucidation, why was he not with the Test team in Bangladesh? Spin resources are thin, with Vettori injured, Bruce Martin not looking quite the part and Ish Sodhi still young. Patel has not featured since the tour of South Africa in the New Year. Yet in the interim he had his second consecutive full county season with Warwickshire, taking 59 wickets to finish as the leading spinner in the top division of the County Championship, a higher level of domestic cricket than the dear old Shield. He bowled well here, finishing with 4 for 124 at a smidgen over three an over without encouragement from the pitch, and would be in my team against the West Indies in December.

Even though there had been two centuries, the event of the day for most spectators was the entry of Ryder in the last hour. After minimal reconnaissance he went on the attack, stroking successive fours through the covers off Woodcock, one off the back foot, one off the front. He gave a chance on 12, top edging a pull high enough for him to take several steps towards the rooms before Woodcock spilled it at square leg. It looked a bad miss, but there is no such thing for a steepler when the wind is up at the Basin. Ryder finished on 48 not out.

Postscript: day two

The northerly at the Basin is conciliatory. An accommodation can be reached to allow you and it to occupy the same space. Not so the southerly, the Arthur Scargill of winds. It was picketing in force on day two, so I only stayed until lunchtime, before retreating to My Life in Cricket Scorecards Towers in balmy Khandallah, where the wind won’t risk the wrath of the Residents’ Association. My Blean correspondent will tell you how indomitable I once was in the face of the elements at early season cricket; but no more.

But I saw Jesse Ryder reach his century, which is what I had hoped for. He was not at his best; his timing was erratic as well it might be after the break he has had. Ryder at 80 percent is still better than almost anything else around. Andy McKay thought it a wheeze to bounce him with two back on the onside boundary. The second four of the over passed the finer man only four metres from his post and he stood not a shred of a chance of getting to it.

He fell for 117 and left the field to a warm reception, gracefully acknowledged.  I would have Jesse Ryder back in international cricket as soon as he wants to be.

The pitch’s early life was misleading advertising. It flattened out and the match subsided into dull drawdom. Let us hope for more spice later in the season.                                                                    

Kent v Essex, St Lawrence Ground, Canterbury, 4th day, 14 September 2013

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/472/472584.html

I am back in the old country for the end of the season, a little earlier than planned following the peaceful death of my father, who saw Bradman play before the Second World War. In the circumstances I was not able to make it to the first three days of this Championship game, which were severely disrupted by the rain, though not enough to keep Kent away from the precipice of defeat, 65 short of an innings defeat with four down.

A Saturday drive around rural east Kent—which looked quite enchanting, so green—inevitably led us to the St Lawrence to give my Waikato Correspondent her first sight of the great ground where I spent so many happy salad days. There had been a lot of rain, so I expected the game to have been called off, or if there had been play, for Kent to have capitulated. The ground was almost deserted as we drove in, but the umpires were inspecting and play would begin at 3.30.

There was plenty on it; Essex needed to win to stay in the promotion race. My Life in Cricket Scorecards was well represented; my Blean correspondent arrived as play began, thus allowing my Waikato correspondent a taste of the badinage that has been emptying the seats around us since the early seventies.

We were in the Underwood and Knott Stand; new name, familiar location. I have watched more cricket from this place than any other; not for some years now, but formative experiences permeate your DNA. So when Reece Topley hit Sam Northeast’s pads I gave it out ahead of the umpire. I got all subsequent decisions right too. The angle of viewing—over widish long on—precludes informed judgement based on the visual evidence available, so it must be the accumulated knowledge derived from hundreds of hours of sitting here and seeing what is out and what is not. Still got it.

Incidentally, Reece Topley is the nephew of Peter Topley, one of Kent’s least distinguished players of the past half century.

Pig farmer Geraint Jones hit three boundaries before going the same way as Northeast, so it was up to Darren Stevens to save Kent’s bacon. The following hour explained why Stevens is so popular with the Kent faithful. He attacked whenever there was the slightest opportunity, which was important as it put Kent ahead with little time available for Essex to bat again. His half century took 67 deliveries. When Stevens holed out, caught by former Wellington player Owais Shah, the job was done.

The bowler was none other than Monty Panesar, the most unlikely pantomime villain English cricket history, Julie Andrews cast as Cruella de Vil. My Waikato correspondent identified Panesar having last seen him in the Dunedin Test in March. I had not been aware that he was on loan to Essex.

So a satisfying glimpse of Championship cricket at St Lawrence, the first I have had since leaving for New Zealand in 1997. I have seen one-day and university matches here, and a Championship game at the Mote in Maidstone since, but nothing in my favourite competition. It was good to see a real contest and to find that Kent cricket is still a vertebrate creature.

Random thoughts on the Ashes: Chester-le-Street

http://www.espncricinfo.com/the-ashes-2013/engine/current/match/566935.html

In England I was renowned as a reluctant venturer north. A Lancastrian colleague years ago was irritated when I told her that I had a job interview “up north”, only to reveal that it was in Stroud, only twenty miles or so from Bristol (cricket relevance: the interview was at Jack Russell’s old school, but I did not get the job).

I have certainly never got as far up the country as Chester-le-Street, headquarters of Durham CCC and venue for the fourth Test. Fewer than 20,000 live in the town itself, which must make it the smallest place ever to have staged a Test match, though Google Earth confirms that Chester-le-Street is really an outpost of the Tyneside-Wearside conurbation. 

Durham only became a first-class county in 1992. For over a hundred years before then the north-east’s many talented cricketers had to travel south to play first-class cricket, and the nearest county, Yorkshire, would not have them because of its ridiculous rule about having to be born within the Ridings. Northamptonshire benefitted most from this situation. Geoff Cook and Peter Willey both had lengthy careers at Wantage Road, and played for England, in Willey’s case, not as often as he should have done. They had both followed Colin Milburn south.

Milburn was a cricketer out of time in the 1960s. We have been reminded at times during the current series of the funereal tempo at which cricket, in England at least, was conducted then. Milburn ignored the orthodoxy of the coaching book and counter attacked. David Warner would be his modern equivalent, in his approach to batting, at least. As a person, Milburn was altogether more jocular and friendly, which was his downfall.

Milburn was first picked for England in the 1966 series against the West Indies. Run out for a duck in the first innings, he made 94 from 136 balls in the second, following with a century at a similar pace at Lord’s in the second Test. This against Hall, Griffith, Sobers and Gibbs, the finest attack of the day. Supersonic batting in the subsonic age. Milburn opened with Boycott in two Tests that summer, a duet between Kiri te Kanawa and Janis Joplin.

Today, scoring like that in his first two Tests would have established Milburn in the England side for a couple of years. Not then. He never became a regular. Two appearances in 1967, two more in 1968, then a late call up from a successful season for Western Australia to join MCC in Pakistan. On arrival he asked who was injured. “No-one”, they said, “we just needed cheering up”. He scored a hundred in his only overseas Test, in Karachi, nevertheless.

He was only 27, and might yet have become one of England’s most renowned. But two months later he lost an eye in a car accident and that was that. He did a bit of commentary on radio and TV, but hit the drink hard. I did a bit of work for the phone commentary service Cricketcall in the late 1980s. Milburn worked for them too, and it was reported that he would turn up having apparently slept in his car all night. He was 48 when he died in 1990, one of Durham and England’s lost treasures.

I was at Sophia Gardens, Cardiff when Durham won their first Championship game, an innings victory over Glamorgan: http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/55/55768.html

In that first season the Durham team consisted largely of old lags enjoying a season or two’s superannuation, the average age that of a bowls club rather than a county cricket team. David Graveney was captain, supported by Paul Parker, Wayne Larkins, Simon Hughes, Gloucestershire’s Phil Bainbridge and, above all, Ian Botham, who was to describe joining Durham as the biggest mistake of his career. Dean Jones was the overseas player. On that day in Wales though, it was one of Durham’s own, medium-fast left-armer Simon Brown, who got it done with five for 66.

They finished bottom that year, but with a focus on developing local talent, intelligent leadership both on and off the field and wise choices of overseas talent (Dale Benkenstein and Ottis Gibson among others) Durham have prospered to the extent of becoming county champions in 2008 and 2009 and one-day champions in 2007, having an attractive international ground and developing key talent (Harmison, Collingwood) for the England team. If only Kent’s past two decades had been remotely as successful.

The increase in the number of international venues in England over the past decade has not been wise. Southampton is too close to London to be a worthwhile addition, while Cardiff’s elevation was down to political largesse and the ambition of a few individuals. It has also turned a pleasant and friendly county ground into a stadium too big for purpose on all but a day or two a year.

But the addition of the Riverside is welcome. It is the most attractive of the international grounds and provides Test and ODI cricket to a large population area with a strong cricket tradition—even though Durham is the newest of the first-class counties, high quality club cricket dates back to the mid-nineteenth century and leagues have thrived in the region almost as strongly as in Lancashire and Yorkshire. The sporting folk of Newcastle and Sunderland surely welcome a diversion from the perpetual misery of following their under-performing football teams.

Durham folk enjoyed a good game for their first Ashes Test. Nothing cheers up an English crowd like an Australian collapse when in sight of the finish line. This one—eight for 56—rivalled the likes of Melbourne 1998—eight for 59,—Edgbaston 1981—five for 16—and, of course, the gold standard of Headingley 1981—nine for 55. A shame that they will have to wait for three years before they see another Test on their lovely ground.

Random Thoughts on the Ashes: Old Trafford

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/438/438512.html

Cricket’s relationship with the weather has always been difficult, particularly in England and New Zealand. The rain is the game’s Calvinist uncle, sending us home just when it all looks like becoming too much fun. So it was in the third Test at Old Trafford, where we were deprived of a gripping final afternoon, with England struggling.

Here the rain ensured that England would retain the Ashes. I wrote after the Melbourne Test of the last Ashes series how the mere retention of the Ashes has become an overblown event, contrasting it with the 1972 series, when the three-day victory and retention of the urn by Ray Illingworth’s team meant that some members of the England team had an unexpected cross-country journey to appear for the counties in the Sunday League the following day:

http://mylifeincricketscorecards.blogspot.co.nz/2011/01/random-thoughts-on-ashes-melbourne.html

Celebrations at Old Trafford did appear a smidgeon more modest than they were at the MCG, and so they should, given that the rain intervened with England 37 for three with two sessions to survive.  Indeed, given the skin-of-the-teeth result in Nottingham, it is not too much of a stretch to say that with a tad more luck Australia could have led the series as they left Manchester.

England’s paper superiority has been nullified to a fair extent by the indifferent form of a number of key batsmen, particularly Cook and Trott; Pietersen and Root too, except for one dominating innings in each case. Prior is having a shocker, particularly with the gloves, which appear lead-lined. Who are the best keepers in England now?

It was good to see Michael Clarke’s class on display in Manchester. He would have been picked for any of the great Australian sides of the past twenty years and does better than Ricky Ponting would have with the talent available.

In days gone by, the rain would frustrate but also intrigue, for if play did resume it would be on an uncovered pitch, which as it dried would present batsmen with unbounded conundrums. Uncovered pitches were an effective way of keeping alive three-day games in wet weather, and players of that era will tell you that the experience was invaluable for the refinement of technique. The difference they made is indicated by comparing averages then and now. In 1966 (picking a year at random) only two batsmen[1]—Sobers and Graveney—averaged more than 50; in 2012, 11 did so. In ’66, 36 bowlers[2] averaged under 20; last season only 13 did so (of course, the overall improvement in pitches is also a factor here).

For the spectator the universal covering of pitches removed a dimension from the game, especially if your team had Derek Underwood in it. Some of the earliest colour television footage of cricket is of the last day of the 1968 Ashes. Famously, England needed five wickets to level the series when a lunchtime thunderstorm drenched the ground and appeared to have concluded proceedings. But with the help of volunteers from the crowd, and every spare garden fork and blanket in the Kennington area, the outfield dried sufficiently to allow for a maximum of 75 minutes’ play. John Inverarity and Barry Jarman remained resolute for 40 minutes, which was as long as the pitch took to start drying—a strip that remained wet was simply a pudding, it was the changing state that presented the batsmen with problems.

Basil D’Oliveira bowled Jarman whereupon Underwood began to make the ball fizz, as reported by Norman Preston in Wisden:

The Kent left-arm bowler found the drying pitch ideal for this purpose. He received just enough help to be well nigh unplayable. The ball almost stopped on pitching and lifted to the consternation of the helpless Australians.

The match was won with six minutes to spare.

As the years passed, pressure to cover up grew. First it was restricted to the hours of play; abandonment meant that the covers went on. Then in Tests it was done away with altogether, but not before Mike Denness had been undone by it at Edgbaston in 1975. Towards the end of the seventies county cricket followed. Apart from a half-hearted experiment in the early nineties, that was that.

Except once. At Canterbury in May 1984, Kent reached 179 for four on the first day when it began to rain. Play was impossible until late on the third afternoon. A deal was done. Kent declared, both teams forfeited an innings and Hampshire couldn’t believe their luck. 180 to win in more than two hours appeared a gift. True, water had seeped under the covers, but what was the harm? How quickly they forgot:

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/44/44710.html

Fifty-six all out in 27 overs, Underwood seven for 21. In his hands the ball was a dog doing tricks. I was one of the few spectators at the St Lawrence Ground that wet afternoon and witnessed the most unplayable over I have ever seen, with Chris Smith, Mark Nicholas and Trevor Jesty all edging balls that leapt at them like tiny commandoes.  

I have not seen the like since and almost certainly never will again. These days a game would probably be abandoned if the ball misbehaved so. But something is missing as a result, and, though it means agreeing with Geoffrey Boycott, I lament the day they started rolling the covers over the pitch when the rain began.

---

[1] Of those who batted ten times or more

[2] Of those who took at least ten wickets