Ashes Poetry

It is one of those days: from the top of a 13 bus observe the increasing pavement rain dapples down the Finchley Road. Nearly didn’t get this far as a silver Honda Jazz driven by a bitch of a silver-haired hag tried to total me crossing the road just because she wanted to turn right without waiting. FR05TWAT you need to grow up, get some manners before no-one bothers to come and wipe your arse in some old folks’ home, while you spend the rest of your misbegotten days rushing towards your own death, not mine.

Talking of old folks, I’d reckon the average age of the crowd is higher than any batting average on either side bar Ponting, and it could be nudging Punter’s. It’s a bit sad and a cause of concern: the one thing I’ve not seen, and evident at Cardiff (and Edgbaston in the warm-up game) are kids with bats and balls, finding spots to play during intervals and were the weather to pause the main action. Okay, there’s the kwik cricket at lunch, but it seems awry that kids aren’t here to watch, learn and emulate. I’m in the Compton stand, and I’m pretty certain Dennis first learnt to be great by coming to watch as a short-trousered lad. Mind you, my seat, arguably one of the worse in the ground – cow-corner or third-man to a right-hander – is £95 sobs. Hard for a family to find this sort of dosh. Is this why the two big county ground-earners, Middlesex and Surrey, have consistently punched below weight in the county game. Are their youngsters coming through? Who was the last Surrey or Middlesex man to debut for England – Strauss, I reckon, brought up in South Africa, learnt his cricket in Australia, Radley Public School and Durham University.

You can’t fault the stewarding, though, you almost can’t move for them. Easily recognisable with their distinctive stripey red and yellow ties, for some unknown reason they seem to congregate around the pavilion, another of life’s little mysteries, but rest assured your ace cub reporter will sleuth the truth of the matter before long.

Sun’s out and Richie Benaud’s to ring the five minute bell. If this is the home of cricket, then passim Arlott, Richie is the voice of cricket. People forget how good a leg-spinner and captain he was – perhaps the best in Ashes series since he kept besting a technically superior England side. Shrewd should be his middle name. And he gives it a more dulcet clang than Boycs yesterday. I’m minded of Miles Davis’ great reworking of “If I were a bell” (Were I to believe in reincarnation, I’d return as a harmon  mute in his trumpet.)

Five Minute Bell

Play starts too soon,
too soon play starts.

Check pads, bat, box ‘n’ gloves
are where you last left them,
stretch legs, arms, tendons
and tie up laces again.
Re-adjust eyes to the light,
roll-up sleeves not too tight,
hitch up your whites
but try to forget
how play ended last night
for today’s the deepest of breaths
that flutter by -
- nervily.

after original ‘If I were a bell’ Frank Loesser, Guys & Dolls, jazz version Miles Davis

England continue to bat poorly, Strauss out second ball not playing a stroke, and the rest go for too few before Anderson and Onions put on nearly fifty for the last wicket. Still, out of 425 England openers made 256, the rest of the disorder 244. The ball’s swinging a little, but you expect class players to cope, straight bat next to pad, soft hands, elbow over ball. Hilfenhaus is the pick of the Aussie bowlers, and seems a good bloke. With his beard, stocky build and rustic gait, you can see him as one of the extras, member of the Amish community in the film Witness:-

Hilfenhaus

Brother Ben,
Life brings its own frustrations.
Eyes beseech the heavens
Leaves all in place as before.
Thy task is to dismiss by thine own labours
Without pleas to those with especial powers
To do thy humble work towards dismissal.
Here endeth the elders’ epistle:
Success shall come,
You leave no margin for error,
They shall succumb,
Thy will be done. ‘Tis enough,
Virtue is its own reward on this earth.

Second Test, Day 2, Lord’s England 1st innings 425 all out. Hilfenhaus 4-103

Australia reply before lunch. Two maidens, four, Hughes caught edging a hook. Enter El Punter. Hard tight cricket perhaps to determine coruse of  match, series and Ashes. Unlike CardiffAnderson and Flintoff finding swing to match Hilfenhaus. Ponting referred upstairs, given out caught when he was more likely lbw, walks slowly off. I’m reminded of a Jim Reeves number. “Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone, let’s pretend we’re together and not alone. Tell the bartender to turn the jukebox way down low, and your friend who’s there with you, he’ll have to go.” It’s Jim Reeves’ measured tones that run like honeyed balm over the strained vocal chords of the Aussie’s skipper’s squeaky querulous voice. The third umpire raises his invisible finger ‘Tell their captain, he’ll just have to go.’ Ricky had to go. Flintoff puts Katich through the off-stump wringer, bat left out to dry.  Hussey finding it hard to get forward. At lunch the Queen (HRH, not the 1980s rock band) meets teams, does she like cricket, will Ricky like talking to her after his dismissal? “Tell us, Mr Ponting, we would like to know, might only rain save Australia now?” The tribulations of test match captaincy: the Band of the Household Cavalry staying on the pitch far longer than the Green Baggies’ number three.

Overcast seamers’ conditions after lunch, a hunch Onions will do well. He doesn’t do badly. It’s Jimmy Anderson who cleans up between showers. The Aussies bat like dorks. Six out on the hook or pull, a crazy shot to force in these swinging seamy conditions. They must have reckoned they were still at Cardiff. England bowled and fielded well, not a chance dropped, and Broad’s salmon leap to swallow Katich was a work of wonder. Best ball was the quick one with a frac of inswing from Flintoff which Mr Cricket Hussey left alone to see his off-bail vanish. 95mph. Seriously quick. Freddie’s an effort bowler. He’ll strive to redeem the 5-0 strinewash in 2006-7 just as Ponting the loss of the Ashes in 2005. Great day’s cricket unless you’re Australian. Shame there were far too few small boys – and girls – there to watch.

Tweet by tweet commentary:-

364-7 Lord High Protector of England Strauss bowled second ball without playing a stroke. No need for Hilfenhaus to beseech the heavens
370-8 Swan edges Siddle to slip, Ponting doesn’t miss them nor likely Horitz in field. Enter Cardiff duckless duckling Jimmy to be a swan
378-9 Broad inside edges for four then onto stumps. Slack technique aided and abetted by Hilfenhaus swing. England quicks note with interest
393-9 Pantomime Villain Sid Vicious Siddle hits raw Onions. Last wicket pepper off-side of square to veer ECB FTSE index above the 400 mark.
419-9 late rally on stock market as last wicket adds forty and counting. Moneybags Ponting frets his financial minions to close out the deal.
425 all out. Johnson round wicket Anderson snicks obligingly England openers made 256, the rest of the disorder 244 Australia reply to a hush …

1-4 Hughes on hook edges Anderson. Flintoff emasculating Katich. Tight cricket to determine course of game. Ground packed hushed as a church
2-10 Ponting edges Anderson, caught Stauss, referred upstairs, an age of waits until qua Jim Reeves “Tell your captain, he’ll have to go.”
2-23 Flintoff testing Aussies to the extreme towards the vanishing point of searing edge. Heat in middle to hold back coldness of dismissal.
2-100 Inbetween showers and tea under a bright bright sun, Katich and Hussey rock solid left-hand bats show all Lord’s exactly how it’s done
3-103 Katich hooks Broad dives in the deep to take the catch, Onions springs with delight. Hussey unfussily accumulates at a profitable rate
111-4 Mr Cricket shoulders arms to 95mph to lose his wicket Suoer Centaur Fred roars towards the Ashes again
111-5 Anderson comes on to snuff out Clarke. Dark clouds gather over Australia, pom event-horizon indicate all too rare Lord’s failure.
139-6 North loses bearings and off-stump trying to pull the duckless Anderson for an half-hour duck. Jimmy, Jimmy Jimmy comes of age.
147-7 Johnson skies Broad, another caught in the deep, Ponting looks to the heavens. Floodlights on, Southern Cross dimmed 74 years awaiting
152-8 Happy Hookers go for blond Broad – Haddin the third Will England enforce the follow-on to break 74 year winless Ashes streak at Lords?
156-8 Bad light stops play, naughty-boy nets for Aussies in the morning?