Ashes Poetry

All London seems sleepy, it’s Sunday and no one’s rushing to work between school-runs and night-outs. I’m excited, nervous, for the first time in almost forty years of going test matches I could see England beat Australia. Didn’t do it at Old Trafford 2005 where in the midst of the Barmy Army all were standing, cheering England on. Ponting played almost the entire day through, where at its end Lee and McGrath did a prototype Anderson and Panesar to deny Albion the spoils, and my virgin victory. I’m excited, like going out on a date.

Victory was still possible at the start of the fourth day at Adelaide, so I’m not going to get too cocky since the victory went to Australia, following in their final innings the worst display of any England team anywhere ever. In Adelaide this evening they’re mourning the death of the eight Australian to die in Afghanistan, the state-owned electric company are denying cover-ups, and the police are coming down hard on hoons who drive way too fast in the ‘burbs. The Aussie Rules footie team, Port Adelaide, still has hopes to make the play-off finals. Malcolm Conn, Adelaide Now cricket correspondent is sharpening knives “Ponting should’ve known better.” Adelaide is a beautiful cricket ground, matched by a beautiful city. By the time the five minute bell rings at Lord’s this Sunday, people in Colonel Light’s vision will be thinking about going to bed, lonely insomniac sporting tragics perhaps turning to the golf where Aussie Matt Goggin’s in the mix for the Open rather than the action at Lord’s. I can’t wait.

I tell a lie. Yesterday there were kids at the ground. About a dozen seats down from me in the upper tier of the Edrich stand after lunch a young boy gripped and polished his brand new MCC ball as though he was opening the England attack from the Nursery End. Never mind the ball was doubtless made on the  Indian sub-continent, probably by a boy or girl about as young and quite possibly for the sweatiest of sweat shop wages.

“Only connect” wrote E M Forster in Howard’s End, a novel about class as much as love, but I very much doubt if anyone else made this connection, nor want it made, because it frets at the image of Lord’s village greens, teas and warm beer, a picture of the summer game. I queue for my pre-play limber-up net regulation large latte in the Nursery Food village. It doesn’t take too long and the staff work really hard, not least because people forget what they’ve ordered. No one in the queue talks to each other, none of them of their own free will dare move outside the territory bound by a canvas cordon, despite the fact their squashed together, making a nuisance for themselves and everyone else, and there is acres of room beyond the boundary they’ve imposed on themselves. I wait outside them, and they look at me as though I’m an interloper. This is the boundary they want to impose upon all others. None of them say a word of thanks to those, all young, ethnic and working class, who serve, in their case, coffee. These same men who complain of the lack of manners in the youth of today. I feel ashamed and angry to be English. As D H Lawrence wrote “How beastly the bourgeouis is, particularly the male of the species.” Or as Barry Humphries’ Bazza MacKenzie put it, “I wouldn’t piss in their ears even if their brains were on fire.” Fat chance of that, they’re hardly ever used. Fuck ‘em.

On the pitch Cooke practices run-outs and catching, something Sam Loxton, the opener of ‘48 Invincibles, never did as a matter of course. Boycott marches to the wicket, smart in his dun-brown suit and fawn hat, doubtless cheesed underneath it as the hover-cover beats him to it, the threat of rain impending Sir Geoffrey’s pitch inspection. The weather and ground authorities should know better. Brett Lee walks past looking fit and cheerful in shorts, good-on-yer, Binger. The suited and gelled-up Warnie joins his suited and gelled-up first skipper AB to tell viewers in the Australian evening the latest. It starts to rain, heavily. Is there no end to the legendary leggie’s magick? Kick-off delayed till 11.15. On the replay screen I travel back in time to watch Horitz nab Strauss with a big loopy off-spinner, perfectly flighted and pitched to pick off the outside edge. Who said he couldn’t bowl, Sir Geoffrey? Panesar, please note. And Swan you should do least as well, as Strauss declares, much to my brother Paul’s surprise, reckoning he’d bat till Monday lunchtime, at least. Play!

 Lunch. An MCC member with immaculate tie and frayed collar shirt tells me he’s sure there’s yellow and red couture for female members before saying me his father saw the last English victory vs Australia at Lord’s in 1934, when Hedley Verity took 14 wickets. Nine years later he died at Monte Casino. Rain stutters from the sky as the five minute bell rings, sun tries to break through along with England. At first all goes to plan 5 down for about one-zip, then just for those who stayed up into the small hours back in Australia, Michael Clarke and Brad Haddin get together….

Albion Underground

Albion Underground regrets to announce significant delays to the arrival of the next wicket on the Victory Line.

This is due to engineering works not following on and proceeding as expected, although we are doing as much as we can to rectify the situation by deployment of a new ball.

However Albion Underground would like to make it clear to all fare-paying passengers waiting for the next wicket, that it does not take any responsibility for the work of its principal sub-contractors Clarke Haddin (Green Baggy PLC) who have not performed as expected. They have refused to roll over and die in the face of a mammoth task at well-nigh impossible odds, and instead played out of their skins to place Albion Underground in a situation where we may have to close down the Victory Line completely, or only accept passengers travelling from the Antipodes.

Albion Underground wishes to apologise unreservedly for any inconvenience or heartbreak this may cause. Rest assured Albion Underground are doing their utmost to resume normal services as soon as possible, and would like to express our wholehearted gratitude for your forebearance and patience, especially those who have been waiting up to seventy-five years for the next Ashes victory on the Lord’s branch-line platforms.

In the meantime may we respectfully request that any passengers travelling today on the Albion Underground not to leave their hopes unattended since they are liable to disappear without trace.

Australia 5-313;  M J Clarke 125* B J Haddin 80* England five more wickets, Australia 209 more runs to win. 

tweet by tweet commentary

0-8 Lord High Protector of the Common Wealth declares on 500+ foot high ground. No two gulllies for Hughes, de rigour for latter-day Walters
1-17 Super Centaur 91 mph Katich slashes KP catches No short-leg to the Tasman Dancer Mr Brearley to have words with junior boys after class
1-34 Hughes edges to slip Flintoff left hand’s fingertips. Impossible catch not made. Under sunhat looks a Lucy Mabel Attwell cherubic boy.
2-34 Hughes edge Super Centaur Lucy Mabel Attwell Cherub; LHP of Commonwealth catch referred upstairs, ground disappearing under Aussie feet
2-44 Onions first change ahead of Broad, Harmison 6 for not many yesterday, Super Centaur pavilions for more oats and fettling Broad bounces
2-76 lunch Five oceanic sessions 2 bridge for antipodean safety, eight brief wickets 2 sink Albion’s avowal Kwik-cricket leads 2 right stuff
3-78 Ponting inside edge twice, second time onto stumps No dispute, no referral, no match saving innings; captain last to leave sinking ship
3-106 Clarke drives 4 4s off 4-ball Anderson, a flurry to skip past worthy Mister Hussey becalmed on twenty. Swan comes on, to harness turn.
4-120 Hussey drives at Swan, slip Collingwood(!) catches edge through Prior’s gloves Suoer Centaur to thunderbolt havoc admidst dogs of war.
5-148 North goes west, done by Swanny’s arm ball. Stump-cam knocked to the heavens, surely single thing left to save flailing Australia now.
5-162 Clarke fifty. Won Aussies last test at Lord’s second knock, can he save them this? Swan guile, Flintoff chin music leads a merry tune.
5-172 Fifty partnership, two right-handers, two good timers,fields up, they’re sure to score runs without having to run In the long run? Tea
5-231 Century Partnership. London Underground apologises for the delayed victory. Normal service should resume with the new ball shortly.
5-252 Haddin’s fifty, Clarke’s century. Never mind kissing the gold of the green baggy, all Australia will love you to bits to pull this off
5-313 Bad light stopped play, England perhaps more happy to go off, since the new ball close to being seen off