New Zealand v India, second Test, Basin Reserve, 14 – 18 February 2014, third day: McCullum’s great innings

http://www.espncricinfo.com/new-zealand-v-india-2014/engine/match/667653.html

Day three

Four o’clock. That was when I told my Khandallah correspondent to expect my return to My Life in Cricket Scorecards Towers, having watched New Zealand lose the test match. Many would have thought that a conservative estimate; after all, taxonomists mostly classify New Zealand’s batting under “invertebrate”.

That is what is so wonderful about test cricket. Nobody had a clue that we would see the start of New Zealand’s finest test match innings, or that it would lead a rearguard action that would draw the match and win the series. Four million looking a billion in the face and not blinking. What is more, our appreciation of what we had seen had not advanced much by the time we left the ground at 6.30. Test match cricket possesses a paradox that few if any other sports do: that you may not understand what you have seen until several days later.

There was little in the first half of the day to suggest that anything other than the tiresomely predictable was on. At afternoon drinks New Zealand were 121 for five, 125 short of making India bat again and a four pm homecoming still on the cards.

With Ross Taylor absent for the birth of his second child, a disproportionate amount of New Zealand’s hopes went out of the window in the second over of the day when Kane Williamson was caught behind off Zaheer Khan. This brought together two young left-handers—Rutherford and Latham—who, if every gram of their promise is turned into performance, will spend many hours together at the crease in the decade to come.

Not today, however. Rutherford had reached 35 when he mimicked Williamson’s mode of dismissal. This was a better ball though, swinging away late down the line of off stump.

Let it be recorded that Brendon McCullum came in at this point, with his side 52 for three. A pensive period of play followed, until half an hour or so before lunch something happened that did not seem to matter much at the time. McCullum completely mistimed a drive to a full-length ball from Mohammed Shami. Virat Kohli, at a very straight silly mid-on, spilled a reasonably simple chance. See my remarks about not understanding what you have seen, above. In that moment the match and the series slipped away from India.

Tom Latham became Dhoni’s third victim of the session from the first ball of the last over before lunch. It was a nothing shot, pushing outside off at a ball that could easily have been left alone. Corey Anderson lasted only six balls before giving Jadeja a return catch off the leading edge. BJ Watling now joined McCullum.

Play until tea was a throwback to an earlier time, exactly two an over from 26 overs. Again, it did not seem as gripping as it actually was, as the idea that New Zealand could hang on for long enough to save the game seemed the sort of proposition that might eminate only from an email of Nigerian origin. And McCullum was dropped again, a harder chance than the previous one. Ishant Sharma could not quite hold on to a return catch as he followed through, one of those chances that comes down entirely to instinct.

Up to this point McCullum had batted against type, focusing purely on defence. It was Ken Dodd playing Hamlet. Perhaps he decided to add a shot of caffeine to his play to make him more alert, or maybe the Indian attack became stale. Whatever the reason, it was the authentic McCullum who resumed after tea, no chance to score spurned. He went from 50 to 100 at a run a ball, reaching three figures by putting Sharma into the crowd at long on. Like the rest of us, India had no appreciation of what was going on and were mentally heading for the airport doing nothing more than waiting for the batsmen to make mistakes.

Praise for BJ Watling should be fulsome too. At the end of the day he had 52 from 202 balls. More and more it seems that Watling has the temperament of a test player. New Zealand took the lead shortly before the end of the day, and we left the ground heartened by a performance that had heart and character. But we also knew that New Zealand would have to bat for another day to put the game beyond India, whose strokeplayers could rattle up 250-plus on a pitch that had not given up a wicket in almost two sessions. We had seen the Holy Grail but mistaken it for a shiny egg cup.

Days four and five

I was not at the Basin for the final two days but, in common with much of the population of New Zealand it seems, followed the game at a distance and watched the recordings later. Brendon McCullum batted throughout the fourth day and reached his triple century early on the fifth morning, watched by a crowd which contained the largest proportion of spectators dressed in suits and ties seen in New Zealand since the thirties. All over Wellington men of a certain age were seen hurrying to an urgent 11 am meeting at an undisclosed location.

McCullum was supported royally by Watling, who reached 124 from 367 balls, and Jimmy Neesham, who took a debut century off a tired attack from 123 balls. When I first saw Neesham I wrote how comfortable he looked at provincial level, and have the same opinion a grade higher. This is not say that he is the finished article, not by a long chalk, but there is enough emerging talent in New Zealand cricket for us to approach the future with our usual apprehension diluted somewhat.

So how good was McCullum’s innings? I have given it more than three months, in attempt to achieve perspective, only to find that there isn’t any. It was the finest innings ever played by a New Zealander in a test match, and not just because it was the biggest and the longest. Had McCullum been out at any point before he passed 250—about an hour before the end of the fourth day—New Zealand would almost certainly have lost.

Search the records and it is difficult to find an innings quite like it, one of such sustained defiance in the face of defeat. Hanif Mohammad’s 337 against the West Indies in 1958 is the only comparable triple century (and the only higher score in a team’s second innings). The danger of defeat was present almost throughout then too, but it was dour defence all the way, unleavened by McCullum’s willingness to take them on. Pakistan progressed at only a fraction over two an over. Had McCullum been as stately, New Zealand would have lost.

Martin Crowe’s 299 against Sri Lanka at the Basin in 1991 (still unwise to say “hey Marty, one short eh?” by the way) was also in pursuit of a large deficit, but he came in at 148 for two and the danger of defeat passed sooner.

VVS Laxman’s 281 in the greatest of all Tests, at Kolkota in 2001 also saw the prospect of losing the game recede at an earlier point. There are many other examples of fine, courageous long innings that saved teams from defeat, but none with the odds against success stacked so highly for so long. One of test cricket’s greatest innings, beyond question.

It was the highest innings of which I have seen part, eclipsing the fruitlessly tedious 275 to which Darryl Cullinan subjected us at Eden Park in 1999 despite Amnesty International’s intervention. It was a privilege to be there. If only we Sunday spectators could have appreciated quite what it was we were watching.

A note for my fellow pedants

Ever since I started writing Scorecards I have agonised about the use of the upper case for “test” as in match. When I worked for CricInfo its style guide (a thin publication) insisted that the word should always begin with a “T”. It has never made any sense to me to have an upper-case adjective followed by a lower-case noun. So with a shout of “Eureka!” I have decided that from now on in these columns it will be “test’ as an adjective and “Test” as a noun.

Now, should “Eureka!” begin with the upper case?...

New Zealand v India, 2nd Test, Basin Reserve, 14 – 18 February 2014: second day

A period of reflection is sometimes appropriate; such is my explanation for the three-month gestation of this report on what became one of the great New Zealand Tests. It still beats Wisden by eleven months. I was there from tea on the first day to the close on the third.

http://www.espncricinfo.com/new-zealand-v-india-2014/engine/match/667653.html

The marketing people get brainier by the day. New Zealand Cricket’s latest wheeze to get people through the gates is to stage an extract from Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at the start of each international match. Guildenstern—a sensitive performance by Brendon McCullum—tosses a coin. Rosencrantz—MS Dhoni’s interpretation was as moving as any by an Indian captain in a leading role since the Nawab of Pataudi junior’s groundbreaking Hedda Gabler at Headingley in ‘67—calls heads and wins.

That is the most reasonable explanation for law-of-probability-defying run of seven tosses in a row won by the Indian skipper. And a lot of good it has done him. Four defeats and a tie in the ODIs were followed by a 40-run loss in the first Test at Eden Park.

Our inbred pessimism led home supporters to expect payback and it was no surprise to arrive at the Basin at tea on the first afternoon to find New Zealand all out for 192, Ishant Sharma six for 51.

Murali Vijay was out to the last ball of the second over of the reply, unable to get the gloves out of the way of a Southee delivery that came in with extra bounce. The odd play and miss aside, the batsmen looked comfortable and it was a bit of a surprise when Pujara fell leg before to a Boult inswinger just before the end. As often happens when the side bowling second is defending a small total, the New Zealand bowlers were bit anxious and too keen to make things happen rather than concentrating on the basics.

Nightwatchman Ishant Sharma provided the early entertainment on Saturday with shots of pure cock-eyed optimism. The fifty partnership came from 73 deliveries. Southee continues to chip batsmen with the vocabulary of a bowler ten kph faster than he actually is; Sharma will have made a note of Southee’s view of his bouncer-avoiding technique, which finished with the batsman flat on his back in the crease. Sharma was caught behind off Boult trying to repeat a cover drive for four.

At the other end, opener Shikhar Dhawan was showing why the Australian writer Chloe Saltau had recently picked him in her World XI. He cuts like a Savile Row tailor. However, it was still perplexing a couple of months later to open Wisden to find that Dhawan was one of the Almanack’s five Cricketers of the Year. The choice of the five is made on their performance in the previous English season, so how did Dhawan win in a year in which Australia and New Zealand toured? I had forgotten all about the Champions Trophy, which is easy to do. He had wowed Wisden editor Lawrence Booth with a couple of dashing centuries in the group stage, but it is still cricket’s least-merited accolade since Paul Collingwood’s seven-run MBE in 2005. The other four Cricketers of the Year were Ryan Harris, Chris Rogers, Joe Root, and Charlotte Edwards. It is a measure of how the three-nil result in the 2013 Ashes failed to reflect the narrow gap in talent between the two sides that two Australians and only one Englishman are named (though the fact that no one can be a Cricketer of the Year more than once may have influenced this too). It used to be the case that one of the five would be a county stalwart. I commend Darren Stevens to you, young Booth.

Here, Dhawan was out two short of a century, edging a Southee outswinger to Watling. Rohit Sharma soon followed for a duck to become Jimmy Neesham’s first Test wicket off as poor a ball as the debutant will ever take one with, a wide half volley that Sharma dragged on. At 165 for five a degree of parity had been restored, but India’s new hero, Virat Kohli, was in.

Kohli was fluent until succoured by a McCullum ruse. Neil Wagner maintained a line a couple of feet wide of off stump with two short extra covers. For some time Kohli resisted, but the apple was too big and juicy and the first time he tried to take a bite Rutherford, the straighter of the two fielders in the trap, took the catch.

MS Dhoni joined Ajinkya Rahane at the crease with both preferring to accrue through boundaries. At mid-afternoon drinks 28 of Rahane’s 38 had come that way, and Dhoni had hit the first four balls of the preceding over for four. A sensible bowler would have stayed quiet and tried to blend in with the surroundings, but Wagner continued to chip the Indian captain, and made himself look mightily stupid by doing so.

The advent of the new ball after tea merely accelerated the scoring rate. New Zealand’s only idea seemed to be to feed Dhoni’s ramp shot in the hope that he might feather one. So it was a surprise when Dhoni fell to a short ball from Boult that he could easily have left alone. This brought in Ravindra Jadeja, a Test No 9 with three first-class triple centuries to his name.

Jadeja showed no inclination to dig in or run singles and greeted Wagner’s return to the attack by sending the first two deliveries to the boundary, the second impishly between slip and gully. He was caught at second slip off the following ball, all but two of his 26 coming from boundaries.

Rahane was now ten short of his maiden Test century and will not have been reassured by the entrance at No 10 of Zaheer Khan, a batsman unable to pass a swash without attempting to buckle it. Predictably enough he attempted to send the second ball he received down the Mt Victoria Tunnel. Rahane met the situation calmly, upping the tempo without risk and two overs later pulled Anderson to the mid-wicket boundary to join the centurions. With a hooked six he brought up Wagner’s century a little later, from a mere 22 overs.

Earlier that over Wagner thought that he had bowled Zaheer, only for a replay to show that he had no-balled by cutting the return crease with his left foot (he was bowling round the wicket). My seat high in the Vance Stand looked right down the line of the violated crease and I am sure that he was bowling one or two no balls an over in this manner, so had no sympathy for him. Did Wagner shut up? He did not.

It took a piece of fielding as classy as the innings itself to dismiss Rahane. Boult sprinted in from the cover boundary and dived full length, scooping the ball one-handed an inch from the turf. It contends with Boult’s own flying leap to dismiss Denesh Ramdin at the Basin late last year as catch of the season.

Another flurry of eyes-shut slogging from Zaheer took India to a final score of 438, a lead of 236 with more than three days still to go. As Fulton and Rutherford came to the crease it was the nature of the defeat that was being debated; would India have to bat again?; would play go beyond the third day? The fact of defeat was no more worthy of debate than the setting of the sun.

Peter Fulton lasted only into the second over when he padded up to a Zaheer Khan inswinger. The raised finger of umpire Steve Davis cued a lot of rot from the radio commentary box, where it was agreed that the decision was a travesty. Firstly, had the decision review system been in operation it would have supported the decision by showing the ball clipping the off stump. Secondly, any opening batsman padding up to a swing bowler of Zaheer’s pedigree is asking for all the trouble that comes to him. It was further evidence that, for all the heroism of Eden Park last year, Peter Fulton does not have what it takes as a Test opener.

Rutherford and Williamson shepherded New Zealand to the close, but the football fans present consoled themselves with the thought that on the morrow they would be able to watch the rest of the Test and be in their seats at the Cake Tin as the Pheonix kicked off at 5 pm. If you had told us that the game was almost 72 hours away from a finish we would have called an ambulance for you, and probably the police as well.

To be continued.

John Arlott

John Arlott would have been a hundred had he been alive on 25 February 2014. He is an odd choice for a hero, but that’s what he was to me. When Arlott retired from commentary the Glamorgan player and TV commentator Peter Walker said that listening to Arlott talking about cricket had given him more pleasure than watching any individual player. Better than watching Underwood bowl, Knott keep wicket or Viv Richards bat? Quite possibly.

John Arlott was the best sports commentator there has been. He worked mainly on radio, but it was on television that I first heard the rough, rumbling Hampshire voice, in the summer of ’66 during the Test series against the West Indies (for a couple of years Arlott alternated with Brian Johnston between the TV and radio commentary boxes). He continued to provide TV commentary on Sunday afternoons throughout the seventies. The conventional view is that he was not as good on television, but I disagree. He never said a thing that the viewers could see for themselves, so when he spoke it always added something new. Often, this was more interesting and entertaining than the predictable Sunday League game that was his subject. One particularly dull Sunday his attention was taken by the noise made in the delivery stride by AA Jones of Middlesex. “Let’s listen…grraghh!...that was me”. He made the mundane special.

Here’s Arlott commentating solo (as he always did on Sunday afternoons) on a match between Somerset and the International Cavaliers at what appears to be an Arctic Taunton in May 1966:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0N77TIGZqzc

For several years he delivered wonderful monologues about old cricketers straight to camera, AJP Taylor style, for our education during the tea interval. In would be great if someone found these somewhere and put them on You Tube, though as they pre-date VCRs it’s probably unlikely. Also regrettably absent are Arlott’s conversations with Mike Brearley from the mid-eighties and his full-hour appearance on Parkinson early in 1981.

What is on You Tube is the whole of a four-part album released by the BBC 25 years or so ago featuring a selection from Arlott’s radio commentary, or what remains available from it—most recordings from the late fifties to early seventies were taped over. Here is a link to the fourth part, which takes examples from the final half-dozen years of Arlott’s career:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjAKskCyiqo&list=UUUCkmmEE2L_4Ll9YRfZsgcw&feature=c4-overview

All the qualities that made John Arlott such a wonderful commentator are demonstrated here. The extract from a single 20-minute spell of commentary from the 1975 World Cup final contains more high-carat phrases than most callers could manage in several seasons.

In many of these extracts Arlott is uninterrupted by the summariser. These days it is the norm for the comments man to chip in between almost every delivery. It is a conversation as much as a commentary, which is not necessarily a bad thing at all, but would constrain a modern-day Arlott or Alan Gibson from giving us the full benefit of their descriptive powers. Perhaps the ball-by-ball commentator could be allowed once a session to mute all microphones except his own for an over.

One of the extracts is from the third day of the Centenary Test at Lord’s in 1980, for much of which there was bright sunshine and no play. Arlott’s measured indignation was heard by many spectators and validated their frustration. John Arlott had effectively given them permission to set aside their English inhibitions and jostling on the pavilion steps ensued. By the way, I was lucky that day to have made a last-minute decision not to go to Lord’s and went instead on Monday when an extra hour was added.

There was another occasion when Arlott spent 20 minutes or so describing the covers being removed after rain, a perfect an exposition of the way in which radio, in the hands of an artist, frees the listener from the constraints that vision imposes.

Arlott’s departure from the test match microphone is featured; but that was not his last commentary. That came the following Saturday at the Gillette Cup final. I was in the crowd, earpiece in place, as Arlott described Middlesex’s bald South African fast bowler Vincent van der Bijl coming into bowl “like a young Long Longford, only not as benevolent”. As he promised, he went out before there was any sign of the light dimming.

It has amused me when people have complained about non-cricket specialists like Mark Pougatch and Jon Champion being given a go on Test Match Special. Both Arlott and Johnston—TMS’s most famous voices—were general broadcasters before they were cricket commentators. Arlott was a poetry producer, Johnston was the cheeky chappie of Saturday night radio, performing pranks and stunts for audiences measured in millions. In today’s terms it would be like making Roger McGough and Ant (or Dec) part of the team. It was precisely because cricket was not his lifetime’s work that Arlott could put the game into proper perspective.

There are many accounts of Arlott’s lives outside cricket, as a clerk in a mental asylum, a policeman in wartime Southampton, poet, wine writer, football reporter, Liberal candidate, Any Questions? panellist and much else. David Rayvern Allen’s biography is the best source, though plenty is available on the internet, such as this piece by Frank Keating: www.theguardian.com/sport/blog/2011/dec/13/john-arlott-cricket-frank-keating

Sadness coloured him too. He lost his eldest son Jimmy in a car crash in the early hours of New Year’s Day 1966 (Arlott was always keen that people should know that excess alcohol was not involved; the boy fell asleep at the wheel). Valerie, his second wife, died suddenly ten years later. A hint of melancholy is discernable in much of his his later work.

For some time Arlott served as President of the Professional Cricketers’ Association. It is a measure of the man that he was trusted with this position when he was not a player and was politically well to the left of the average county cricketer of his time, particularly over South Africa, which was where politics and cricket most often met. Famously, when he covered the 1948/9 MCC tour of South Africa for the BBC, on the immigration form he identified his race as “human”. As I have written in another post, without Arlott Basil D’Oliveira would have been just another cricketer lost to apartheid: http://mylifeincricketscorecards.blogspot.co.nz/2013/06/basil-doliveira-by-peter-oborne.html.

The West Indian commentator Reds Perreira was interviewed recently in The Nightwatchman. He says that his inspiration was John Arlott, and I have heard Tony Cozier say that if kids on a Caribbean beach wanted to imitate a commentator, nine times out of ten it would be Arlott, just as it was for those waiting for the school bus on the north Kent coast. For them, like me, John Arlott made cricket funny, human, compassionate and poetic. All of us are grateful to him for that.

The Appeal of the Championship by John Barclay

The Appeal of the Championship is an account of Sussex’s attempt to win the County Championship of 1981, written by their captain, John Barclay. It is quite the most enjoyable cricket book that I have read for some time, probably since Of Didcot and the Demon, the collected writings of Alan Gibson. I picked it up at the second-hand bookstall at the Basin Reserve during the recent Test against India.

The Appeal of the Championship was first written twenty years after the event as a series for The Times, and collected between hard covers in 2002. It betrays its newspaper origins in the brevity of many of its paragraphs, which might have been consolidated for its publication in book form. And that footling observation is the only negative remark I have to offer. Everything else about it is unabated delight.

Barclay—known in the game as “Trout” from his unusual third Christian name, Troutbeck— was an off-spinning allrounder and opening batsman who scored nine first-class centuries, but who finished his career with a modest batting average of 25 and a bowling average of 30. 1981 was his first season as Sussex captain. The player most similar to Barclay was Vic Marks, and Barclay shares Marks’ droll, understated but perceptive style of writing. His favourite target is himself, particularly his account of his first six in twelve years of Championship cricket, and description of how, at the culmination of an increasingly desperate motivational speech as captain of a TCCB XI, he made to leave the dressing room and walked into an airing cupboard.

The stars of Barclay’s Sussex were opening bowlers Imran Khan and Garth le Roux, who took almost 150 wickets between them. More surprisingly, the Pakistani proto-politician and the white South African also formed a close friendship, travelling and rooming together, which would then have been illegal in le Roux’s homeland.

There were plenty of overseas quicks around, and it is significant that the Championship came down to the two sides with a pair of them, the other being Nottinghamshire with Hadlee and Rice. There was much moaning then about the number of overseas players in the county game; most counties had at least two (except, of course, Boycott’s Yorkshire, where they did not want outsiders to distract them from the business of fighting among themselves). I always thought that the complainers were wrong and that it was to the great benefit of young English players to be playing with and against the world’s best. With seventeen counties homegrown talent would always have its chance. It worked the other way too. Glenn Turner and Richard Hadlee are just two of many who say that they became much better players for their time in England.

Besides Imran and le Roux, Barclay had plenty of less renowned talent available. Of the rest, the best-known today would be the keeper, Ian Gould, now one of the world’s leading umpires. Paul Parker was the batsman of the year and became the only Sussex man to play for England that summer. I was at the Oval to see him make a duck in the first innings. Parker became a victim of the abhorrent practice—as near to bear baiting as cricket can get—of deciding selection for the winter tour purely on the basis of the artificial circumstances of a Test debut. I would say thank heavens that we live in more civilised times, except that this Inquisitional practice returned for Simon Kerrigan and Chris Woakes last year.

There was Gehan Mendis, worse players than whom were picked for England in that period. Ian Greig was to play for England the following year and there was Geoff Arnold the cantankerous but wise former England bowler. Also a clutch of worthy county players, Waller, Phillipson and Colin Wells among them.

I crossed paths with Barclay and his team only once that summer. It was at Eastbourne for the first day of fixture against Kent in early August, my only visit to the Saffrons. Apparently 25,000 people watched cricket there that week, and even then it was said that nobody watched county cricket. Sussex spent much of the day compiling 310 before declaring. Barclay describes how Paul Parker came to be run out without facing.

I played a ball to Chris Cowdrey at mid-wicket and, in my enthusiasm, became confused and said “yes” instead of “no”.

The rest can be inferred. Barclay was himself run out, for 79. Curiously, my main memory of that day is of Graham Dilley struggling terribly. He had a dreadful time that year as his action, never a thing of flowing beauty, had become a river of tears. It was the last time he played that season.

Barclay had persuaded the groundsman to prepare a pitch of St Patrick’s Day green, not so much to help Imran and le Roux as to negate the threat of Derek Underwood, who had been skittling Sussex out for almost two decades, and they were sick of it.

 On every page there are reminders that this was another time. For a start, the Championship comprised three-day games only. One would finish, there would be an evening drive across the country and another would start at 11 the next day. With pitches covered like Victorian debutantes at the first hint of rain, this meant that there was a lot of what Barclay calls match-fixing. This practice was not for profit, but the only way on some pitches of fitting four innings into the time available and producing a win for one side or the other on the last afternoon. Captains would agree on a fourth-innings target that would give both teams a chance and manipulate the bowling so as to bring it about. In 1981 they would at least wait to see how things were until the third day before opening negotiations. As the eighties wore on one sometimes gained the impression that everything before lunch on day three was a charade until the pursuit of a figure that both captains had in mind when they tossed could begin. It was why four-day cricket was an essential innovation and a reminder that not everything was better as it was.

Another thing is that Sussex coach Stuart Storey is mentioned only occasionally. No other support personnel are referred to for the good reason that, apart from a scorer and possibly a physio, they were non-existent.  Barclay, the captain, was in charge.

There are wonderful descriptions of the famous and not as famous. We learn that the bowler Imran feared most was Surrey’s amiable off spinner Pat Pocock. There is an account of Ian Botham giving chase to a spectator who had foolishly shouted “you’re rubbish Botham” just loud enough for the great man to hear. This was after Botham had lost the captaincy, but before the heroics of Headingley, so there was frustration to be rid of. The following year Barclay edged to Botham at second slip, an easy catch but for the fact that Botham’s concentration, always a hard dog to keep on the porch during county games, had left the ground. He made no movement to prevent the ball striking him in what EW Swanton used to describe as “the breadbasket, or perhaps a little below”.

He describes Derbyshire’s Alan Hill as having

the gnarled and weather-beaten face of a man burdened by the worries and uncertainties of batting for a living…whose style gave great comfort for, in him, I had at last found a batsman who scored slower than me.

Sussex came across Imran’s countryman, umpire Shakoor Rana on several occasions. He became famous six years later when he and Mike Gatting had a pointing and name-calling contest that interrupted  a Test in Faisalabad. Shakoor, on a placement on the first-class umpires list for the season, was particularly taken with Geoff Arnold and always complimented him in the same way: “well bowled Mr Snow”.

Of course, the backdrop to cricket in 1981 was the astonishing Ashes series, the best until 2005. At times, Barclay becomes Guildenstern, describing the more important action going on offstage. At a Sunday League game at Grace Road, the crowd was more interested in Botham’s astonishing five-for-one spell that grabbed the Test away from Australia. The players followed what was going on through the roars of the crowd as each wicket fell. The same thing was happening at Canterbury, where my radio was turned up loud with no complaint. Barclay makes clear his admiration of Mike Brearley’s captaincy.

Sussex did not win the Championship in 1981. They lost by two points by Nottinghamshire. The centrepiece of the book is the match between the two at Trent Bridge in August. The tension builds over three days in Barclay’s account until Nottinghamshire are nine down with 27 needed, Hemmings (a capable batsman) and Bore (not so) are at the crease. Bore goes back and across and Imran thunders a ball into his back pad. It looks as out as can be. Raucous appeal. Pause. All eyes on the umpire, Peter “Shaking” (a name the Sussex team had given him after an earlier encounter) Stevens. Not out. One moment never decides a season, but even at this distance you hear the hiss as the air goes out of Sussex.

Sussex did win the Championship eventually, in 2003, and again in 2006 and 2007. I hope that they did it with the same generosity of spirit and sense of fun that took Barclay and his men so close, and that comes off every page of his book, which is full of all that was and is good and fun about county cricket.

The book was published by that saint among men Stephen Chalke, who was also responsible for Of Didcot and the Demon as well as much else that has been good in cricket publishing since the turn of the century through his Bath-based Fairfield Books (http://www.fairfieldbooks.org.uk/index.html), including two later books by John Barclay that I am looking forward to getting my hands on.

 

Wellington v Central Districts, 50 overs, Basin Reserve, 23 March 2014

http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Scorecards/576/576383.html

This was not a gripping game of cricket. From early on it was apparent that Central would not make a score that even Wellington’s notoriously unreliable win-detection radar could fail to trace. But it was a perfect day at the Basin, on the cusp of summer and autumn, rather like it had been half a world away at St Lawrence six months ago, so pulse-quickening cricket was not essential for the day to be thoroughly pleasurable.

Central’s innings began and ended badly. Ben Smith was first to go, leg before to Brent Arnel in the third over to one that nipped back. It looked a little high. Jamie How was caught at first slip by Franklin off Gillespie for six, and Carl Cachopa was caught behind by Papps off Arnel for a duck: 28 for three after nine overs.

Was this Gillette Cup Final syndrome at work? English cricket’s knockout competition used to culminate in a final at Lord’s on the first Saturday in September. It was a 60-over competition, so had to be under way by 10.30 in the morning to allow a finish in daylight. With early-autumn dew still around during the opening overs, the team winning the toss would put the opposition in with the expectation that simple seam-up bowling would see off the top order. This did not happen every year, but did so often enough that knowledgeable spectators would ensure that they were in their seats half an hour before the start on the basis that the toss might be the biggest influence on the outcome.

A fifty partnership for the fourth wicket between David Meiring and Corrie van Wyk cheered Central up. I had not come across Meiring before. He was born in Worcester, but has a sound New Zealand cricketing heritage; his grandfather is Tom Pritchard, the fast bowler who played the majority of his cricket in the County Championship for Warwickshire (and a few games for Kent in 1956).

Meiring drove a half volley to cover to be caught by Grant Elliott on 35, just when he looked set for a big innings. He was replaced by Dane Cleaver, who is also well connected; he is Kane Williamson’s cousin (does the whole family have rhyming first names?). Cleaver went wandering across his crease and was leg before to Woodcock. This left Central at 91 for five, facing the familiar quandary of having to speed up without losing wickets.

Van Wyk and Central skipper Kieran Noema-Barnett proceeded to do precisely that. At the start of their partnership it seemed that Central would struggle to reach 200. When the hundred partnership came up just under 20 overs later, 250 was in prospect.

However, van Wyk was out without addition to the partnership for 70, caught by substitute Jeetan Patel from a mistimed chip on the onside off Elliott, and a collapse of Reichsmark proportions ensued. The last five wickets went for just nine runs. The innings ended with a spectacular piece of fielding. Last man Panda (that’s what Cricket Archive calls him) Mathieson sent the ball high into the air off the top edge. Racing in from fine leg, Stephen Murdoch had to cover the 30 metres or so from his starting position to where ball would return to earth while persuading two of his colleagues, converging on the same location, to leave it for him to deal with. He pulled it off with wonderful one-handed catch after a full-length dive.

With four for 26 Arnel was the pick of the bowlers, but all performed respectably or better. Elliott’s crafty trundling produced one for 25. Even so, it was sad to see Jeetan Patel reduced to carrying the drinks. He is heading back to Warwickshire shortly and may feel that he is better valued in Birmingham than in New Zealand.

Michael Pollard was out in the first over of the reply, cutting Seth Rance to Mathieson at third man, but that was as high as Central’s hopes got. Michael Papps saw the innings through, finishing with 83 not out. He put on 87 for the second wicket with Murdoch and 93 for the third with Tom Blundell. I have written in the past that 34-year-old Papps is occupying a place that might be better given to a younger player. His form has been so good over the past two years that now I’m not so sure. New Zealand’s search for an effective opening partnership remains unsuccessful, and letting Papps have a go as an interim measure for a year or so is a more sensible proposal than some on offer.

Though the outcome was never in doubt, there was interest in whether Wellington could reach their target of 201 within 40 overs, thus gaining a potentially valuable bonus point. The top four go through to the knockout stage, the byzantine nature of which means that there is considerable advantage to being placed as high as possible on the qualifying table.

Good slow bowling by Tarun Nethula and Marty Kain slowed the pace through the middle of the innings, but little attempt was made to attack them. Kain, in particular, was allowed to settle into a containing rhythm. Noema-Barnett rightly retained an attacking field, so if the batsmen wanted to force things they would have to take risks to do so.

Sixteen were needed from the 40^th over to secure the bonus point. Blundell was bowled middle stump from the first ball as he attempted a desperate dilscoop. This brought in James Franklin who took twos off his first three deliveries before settling the matter with two sixes from the final two balls.

In the final round of games Wellington yet again contrived to lose when it appeared less trouble to win, thus conceding home advantage in the minor semi-final to Auckland, so this was the last game at the Basin this season, and the least spectacular day of those that I have seen, though that is more a measure of the luck I have had with of the rest of the cricket that I have watched there since October. As cricket watchers say to each other on these occasions, winter well.

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.