It's not Cricket

 

I once heard an American question how a game of test cricket could last five days and not necessarily produce a winner.

Of course, the nuances of cricket are incomprehensible to someone not steeped in the game, but the question is rich coming from America, the country that inflicted on the world the most complex and unfathomable of all games—American Football.

The American has a point, however. There are many aspects of cricket lore that defy explanation and whose origins we lost to antiquity. Take player positions on the field, for example. What sense can we make of silly mid-on and silly point, slips, gully, backward short leg, square leg and, surely the loneliest position on the field, third man?

What appears to be even more incomprehensive to Americans is the phraseology used to describe the juxtaposition and status of the two teams playing the game. 
To simplify that aspect of the game, someone went onto the World of Cricket Forum and came up with:

 

The Rules of Cricket:
You have two sides, one out in the field and one in. 

Each man that's in the side that's in goes out, and when he's out he comes in and the next man goes in until he's out. 

When they are all out, the side that's out comes in and the side that’s been in goes out and tries to get those coming in, out. Sometimes you get men still in and not out.
When a man goes out to go in, the men who are out try to get him out, and when he is out he goes in and the next man in goes out and goes in. 

There are two men called umpires who stay all out all the time and they decide when the men who are in are out. 

When both sides have been in and all the men have been out, and both sides have been out twice after all the men have been in, including those who are not out, that is the end of the game! 

 

There is a juxtaposition here with our prime minister that is not immediately apparent. Let’s unlock that:

We have a prime minister who is in, but an increasing number wants out.

We have a prime minister who, when she got in, most people voted to keep out.

We have a prime minister who is in, but many consider out of her mind when it comes running the country.

We have a prime minister who was in Auckland this week, but not out and about.

We have a prime minister who is in with the media, but out of touch with everybody else.

 

What Ardern is doing to this country is not cricket, but it is just as confusing. Let’s call “over.”

Pitch Fever

It is easy to define the word great. Somewhat harder for greater and greatest; they require a point of comparison, and ‘greatest” in particular is subject to so many variable and subjective views that it is usually impossible and often irresponsible to term anything the greatest.
So, will victory against Australia in Sunday’s ICC World Cup be New Zealand’s greatest cricketing achievement, or even New Zealand’s best sporting achievement? Some will argue that we are already there, simply by succeeding through to the semis for the first time;  a finals win against the Aussies just extends that.
I don’t know.
What I do know is that it has galvanised the nation and we are almost united as a country behind our team. Yes, there are those who say, correctly, that it is only a game and there are more important things in the  world (the Northland by-election, anyone?)
But at this time, and particularly since last Tuesday’s semifinal win, they have been rather muted, stripped of their usual weapons: “it’s elitist” (America’s Cup) or “thuggery” (rugby and rugby league). Left, like the rest of us, with the simple fact that the Black Caps exemplify almost everything that is inherently good about this country—including and perhaps foremost the great spirit in which “we” have played the game—Grant Elliott and Dale Steyn an enduring memory.
Which brings us to the Australians.
You knew we would go there.
 I watched last night’s semi between Australia and India. I expected the worst in regard to on-field behaviour. These two teams have been never afraid to have a go at each other, often resulting in near physical confrontation and massive fines. Before this match an unnamed Australian player or official stated that the team was “pledged to sledge.”
So, it was going to be all on.
What happened?
What happened, I think, was in part Phillip Hughes.
The tragic death of Phillip Hughes, felled by a bouncer at this very ground, the Sydney Cricket Ground, last year, drew the cricketing world together like never before. The outreach of support for the Hughes family and for the Australian cricket team was unprecedented in the sport
I think it caught Michael Clarke and his team by surprise and they have not and will never forget it.
Yes, they will continue to sledge. Yes, they will continue to be aggressive. That is who they are. That is what they are.
But there has been a subtle change. For the better. Perhaps, think first, sledge second. And that, surely, is a legacy of Phillip Hughes.
There was another last night.
Last night in the dying stage of the game Indian tailender Umesh Yadav was hit—hard—by a blistering bouncer from Aussie quick Mitchell Starc. Yadav staggered for a moment and there was a sudden silence—terrible silence—that swept over the ground. Remember, it is the same ground that… .
Michael Clarke was the first to react, the first to Yadav’s side, the second was bowler Starc, six or seven other Aussie players soon followed.
None left his side until the Indian physio reached them.
That will be one of the enduring image of the tournament for me: a solitary Indian batsman surrounded by Australians, not sledging, not being separated by umpires—just sincere concern for a fellow cricketer.
Something happened here.
Something special.

It's Just Not Cricket

Did you see it? A surprisingly large number of sports commentators apparently didn’t. Or perhaps they did see it, but won’t admit to seeing it, so that they don’t have to talk about it.
I am talking about the ICC Cricket World Cup Opening Ceremony miss-performed in Christchurch last night. In my view, and in retrospect God knows why I viewed it, it was New Zealand’s most cringe-inducing television travesty since Ernie Leonard’s and Glyn Tucker’s Club Show in 1979.  The two-hour plus show was amateurish, patronising, ill conceived and, largely, irrelevant. Okay, so why does this upset me? Does it matter that I am upset. Probably not. Except that if it was, as hyped, seen by one billion viewers world-wide (which I seriously doubt) it was unacceptable as a representation of this country. And, long after I thought we as a people had got long beyond this, we were dumbed-down, patronised and presented with an immaturity not seen on television since the hideous days of the 80s. Some specific points:
·      The pre-show opened with a Sri Lankan dance troupe, hardly representative of this country and about as visually striking as Gerry Brownlie performing the Time Warp.
·      The next “act” was a Bollywood dance troupe featuring front and centre an overweight New Zealand blonde woman whose midriff was the only thing wobbling in time with the music.
·      We were then treated to some nondescript female singer, and a song that’s sole raison d'être appeared to be that it was written in Christchurch and sung originally by Christine Aquilera. Who cares?
·      All of the presenters read off hand-held cue cards. Very head-boy’s speech from our secondary school days of the 80s. Couldn’t they have learnt their lines, or at least been cued through their earpieces. Where was the technology?
·      Jeremy Wells? Really?
·      The interminable references to the Christchurch earthquakes. Can we have nothing in Christchurch these days that does not mention them? Sorry, but—please—let’s move on and stop patronising that city.
·      Tall towers like some medieval siege machines, each representing one of the New Zealand playing venues and each having a New Zealand sporting “celebrity” on top of it. The Hawkes Bay celebrity: “Not a lot of people know that Napier has the National Aquarium where you can see lots of fish” and Canterbury cricket legend Chris Harris on top of the Eden Park tower? WTF?
·      Bringing out our Prime Minister as the extra man to play backyard cricket. He looked uncomfortable. We were uncomfortable. And this from a country that has a seat on the Security Council. Seriously?
·      Sir Richard Hadlee trying to look good-humoured and fun-filled, rather than the grumpy old curmudgeon he really is.
·      The Richie McCaw, Stephen Fleming high five fail. All over the news this morning.
I could go on. But won’t. Let’s just get on with the cricket.
And let’s leave it with a positive. Two positives. Just to prove that I am not too a grumpy old curmudgeon. Sole Mio was great (predictably) and Australia’s ceremony was worse. Way worse.

Whetu Solves the World's Problems

I hope I am not courting fate when I proffer the hope that New Zealand is in for a happier year in 2012 than it experienced for much of 2010 and 2011. Touch wood that the only residual dark cloud is nothing new and indeed is so prevalent and perpetual to be almost non-existent: the performance of the NZ national cricket team. It won’t get any easier for them, coming off an Australian tour and then having the South Africans here.
But elsewhere I detect that despite electing a government the majority of us wanted and winning a world cup that we needed—and note there the relative priorities—its still been a hard year. I think the government should make it mandatory that we all take a two-week break after Christmas to recoup and recover and marshal our ravished recourses.
The country can run itself for a while can’t it? Alternatively we could just give it to the Maori Party to run for a couple of weeks—by the time they had finished with the consultative hui etc nothing will have happened, a fortnight will have gone by, and the power base will have been restored. Or maybe we should just let Phil Goff have a go for a couple of weeks—bit like giving the retiring front row prop a kick at goal when the game is already won (or lost)—fun, a nice gesture but ultimately meaningless. Hone would be good except that he would probably be on the first plane to Paris for a fortnight. Then there is Winston—ah, Winston—what would Winston do if given power for a couple of weeks? Well, you couldn’t of course. He would never take it. Two weeks? Two terms more like it, that would be his negotiating position, and then he would be so contrary he would also demand the post of Leader of the Opposition, in opposition to himself.
So, if we did have an enforced break as a nation who should we put in charge? My mate Whetu says it should be him. He says he has the perfect panacea for our ills. He says he wouldn’t need to be prime minister for a fortnight. He would just take us all down to the pub on the first day, Treasury would shout a few Lion Reds, we would collectively solve all the world’s problems in one afternoon and then his government would send us all on hols for a couple of weeks—at their cost. Which is kinda where we started, eh? Go Whetu!

A Game of Three Halves

Tonight New Zealand plays Australia in the ANZAC Day rugby league test. Most Kiwis hope for the best and expect the worst. The New Zealand team appears to be too young, too inexperienced and too light to compete with a star-studded Aussie side hunting for State of Origin places. But it should be a good game and I shall be watching. Pity it’s not actually on ANZAC Day though. It used to be and that showed a great deal of sensitivity by Australasian rugby league as well being a good marketing ploy of course—neither of which could be comprehended by the omnipresent but moribund rugby code. But here is a thought: why not play all three major codes—rugby league, rugby and cricket—on the same day, ANZAC Day? You could play a league test in Sydney at 2.00, rugby in Melbourne at 4.00 and a 20/20 cricket match in Brisbane at 7.00. Indeed, with all the facilities Australian have you could play all three games in the same city with the same set of spectators travelling to each venue and the Australian television networks competing for rights.
Of course we would probably still lose all three matches to the Aussies. And I now come to my point--to my way of thinking it is not the games, nor even the losing—it is the captains’ post match speeches that most differentiates the codes. Based on speeches of old here’s how I see them going:
Benjie Marshall (Rugby League)
Well, mate the boys are pretty battered and bruised. I thought we were right in it for the first half mate, but you can’t afford to give the Aussies any space out wide and if you do mate you can expect Lockyer and the boys to take it to yer. League’s a game of possession mate and we just didn’t get up for it today mate.
Richie McCaw (Rugby)
Fairly shattered, to be honest. I thought if we could control it there in the tight we would be in there with a chance. But all credit to the Australians they dug deep and at the end of the day were a better side on the day.
Daniel Vettori (Cricket)
Disappointed to be honest. Our top order didn’t do enough and that put pressure on our lower order. We’ll put that game behind us. Regroup and look to next year. No, I don’t see any selection changes—I’ll probably still trot out the same clichés I do every speech.

----------------
Now playing: Andrew Lloyd Webber - Don't Cry for Me Argentina
via FoxyTunes