Ashes Poetry

A strange day. Poetry frustrated by players. To do a poem a day you have two or three in mind as play continues. Strauss looked imperious till he wiftily went to play then not play a Hilfenhaus ‘no-ball’ (maybe leave that to the electronics, and in all ball games never change your mind half-way through the shot) The Ballad Of Sir Patrick Spens (http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/poetry/poems/the_ballad_of_sir_patrick_spens.html) came to mind – O whare wull Ai get a steely skipper to sail thi ship o’ mine) Then Bell rode his luck, I saw the Wedlake Bell sign opposite (law firm – http://www.wedlakebell.com) and thought ‘Wedlake Bell…We’d like Bell to make a ton…’ Siddled for seventy, played on, luck ran out but, Ian, a gap between bat and pad Blowers could drive a double decker going down the Harleyford Road through….

Then I was thinking of stand-bys walking to the ground – the Gasometers empty of hope – because hope is the last thing you want in sport, because hope is totally out of your control – you never hear any Australian player ever say ‘Hopefully, we’ll….’ or the John C Sebastian Loving Spoonful sixties anthem Summer In The City “Hot time, summer in the city, contest for Ashes gettin’ dirty an’ gritty.” Mark Butcher has a rock band…

I’m in the Peter May stand low down square on when…

“North to Trott, OUT, that is magnificent work from Katich! Truly incredible stuff at short leg! Trott uses his feet and clips to leg, Katich at short leg makes a sharp save and quickly gets a full-blooded throw at the stumps, Trott is still in the follow through and has to turn quickly, the direct hit has him well short”  http://www.cricinfo.com/engvaus2009/engine/current/match/345974.html

That’s the poem http://www.ashespoetry.net/2009/08/21/run-out/ (Also see http://www.ashespoetry.net/2009/07/09/katich/ for his ton at Cardiff)

We had the perfect position to watch. Although I don’t reckon there’s been a poem published about run-outs, and it’s the first of the series, I hardly think mine or anyone’s could do justice to Simon Kadich’s skill. Fielding at short-leg is suicide – you fear the batsman will knock your block off. You figure on catching or stopping the ball, and then shy for the run-out. Katich was shying for the stumps in his mind’s eye as the ball left the bat- stunning, like playing a squash-shot as the ball from your opponent’s racket is going towards the front wall – the Khans, Jonah Barrington, Geoff Hunt could do that, but with twenty thousand people watching? Truly great moments in sport lead you to jump to other sports. That run-out reminded me of Zizou Zindane’s outside the box volley to win the Champions League for Real – it was in the back of the net as the ball came over, no hit and hope, he pretty-well side-footed it in. Or McEnroe at the net, picking up half-volleys from his toes, placed to perfection, more or less every time. It’s not luck, not a fluke, it’s practice – the only people who wouldn’t have been surprised yesterday was Simon Kadich himself and his team-mates. ‘How good are these Australians?’ asks my poem. They know how good they are, and they want to get better.

Perhaps sitting next to the only two Aussies in the midst of the Barmy Army ‘You’re the convicts….’ led me to think of car-thieves, the 1974 Gone in Sixty Seconds film, remade with Nick Cage heading it up. To twock, a verb, used by cops and robbers alike – ‘taking without owner’s consent’ which is what happened to Trott. He must have felt someone had nicked his motor with him inside it.

In 2004 my daughter Laurel and I went to Old Trafford. She was twelve, her first Test. Brian Lara,Windies skipper and ?best bat in the world, took guard. ‘Watch Freddie,’ I said ‘He’ll try to move him across the crease to bowl him round the legs.’ Six balls later, Flintoff duly obliged. Admidst the cheers Laurel said ‘It’s worth coming just for that.’ Thank you, Fred, for helping to hook my daughter on cricket. It was worth coming yesterday just for Kadich’s run-out. As for the rest of the cricket, Mark Nicholas at the end of the C5 highlights reckoned even-stephens. No, Mark, 60-40 Australia minimum. Let’s see if Freddie can do Punter as he did Lara…

Tweet by Tweet Commentary

10 minutes 2 toss, Monty warms up catching practice with Trotty Are Blighty setting sail with two spinners aloft main sails? 0 longitude 2 c

Punter calls heads, comes down tails. Straussy bats, no Monty, Harmie for Onions, Oz as Leeds. Par for contest two wickets/sarnies by lunch.

10 minutes to the bell, overcast, could lead to swing. The King sits in Dunfermline Town drinking the blood wine, O wher, O where will I get

a steely skipper to sail this ship of mine? Mayor of London broadcasts his canned message to whip Oz. Bugger off, Boris, Welcome Antipodes

Five minute bell, Sean Ruane to fill gasometers with hot air, Trueman turns at his mark to get 300. Hawke ct Cowdrey, the spirit of cricket.

1-0 In midst of Barmy Army two pin-stripe gents in bowlers sit. A century ago all would be so fine and fancy dressed. Time to twitter back then.

7-0 Dead pitch, no bounce, no swing – yet – time to fill boots, I’m going to put my feet up and watch till lunch sails into view & hoves to.

12-1 Cook cooks his goose edging straight Siddle Back to Bish Tenison’s School Do not pass go Bell iffy Strauss imperious reaches fifty 96-1

50-2 “There’s only one Freddie Flintoff, Sure Men” helicopters overhead. Bleedin obvious fire ad agency Only one Billy Trumpeter nuff said

114-2 So certain Strauss goes withdraws to Hilfenhaus, Faintest edge, all gone, without redemption, stifled consumation, coitus interruptus.

131-2 Bell’s fifty, cut clapping, get cracking, build on your luck, at least a ton, a big ton before your game is done, son, and then some.

150-2 “There’s only one Freddie Flintoff, Sure Men” helicopters overhead. Bleedin obvious fire ad agency Only one Billy Trumpeter nuff said

162-2 Big green baggy shout, not out says ref Why is appealing so unappealing when yelled with so much feeling Neilometer shows some concern

172 – 2 North twirls on for Southern Cross, Neilometer worsening, Stuart Clark at long leg watches Barmy Army ‘every-where-we-go’ incredulously.

176-3 I bowl Collie drives edges gulley Hussey catches you’re XXXX Siddle. Trott trots to wicket to bear two bears ‘Only Fools and Horses.‘

180-3 tea Neilometer and JBull-Stick reading about same. Will have lucky Bakewell slice helping steward clear debris – 327-4 stumps still on

181-4 Wedlake Bell plays on when we’d like Bell to be a centurion – shoulitd’ve kept batpadtogether Neilometer rosy cneeked as vegemite song

189-4 Punter puts himself short mid-on to Trott, sure sign of reckoning a front -foot swiper. Sun shines down and all Oval is but a picture.

205-4 “He’s no need for a hair-dryer, He’s Matty Prior” Best Barmy Army anthem with harmonies to tune of the great Johnny Cash Ring of Fire.

218- 5 Jimmy and the Barmy Army barbershop choir do the Andy Williams Songbook before the convict colony medley. No end to their talents.

229-4 Barmy Army Choir sing Jerusalem with more feeling vim honesty & musical brio than Sean Ruane I join in – Aussies Aussies give us a song

229-5 Instead Johnson holds one back which scuppers Prior on the drive held by slip cordon ring of fire Enter Super Centaur Blighty expects.

247-6 Flintoff’ flails fails at whip-crack Johnson, out for seven.North turning it but slowly as Broad Trott face up-hill Ashes cul-de-sac

268-7 Watson, the Aussies fill-in Collingwood seamer, a no-go-to-man before Katich runs out Trott from short-leg brilliantly -today’s poem

277-7 Albion hopes rest on Broad and Swann as Leeds 2nd innings – to reverse-sweep Marx, history repeats itself 1st time farce, 2nd time tragedy

288-7 History repeats itself like Onions Don’t about it for too long Graeme, it might give someone the Trotts if tnew ball doesn’t next over

288-7 Hilfenhaus gets Deutschland Uber Allies from Jimmy Trumpet and Colonel Bogey – Hitler has only got one ball a new one is just on call.

290-7 Behind two procrastinating proctologists discuss falling between two stools. Schicklegruber’s new ball delay by need to up over-rate

303-7 “We are the Army, the Barmy Army, We are mental, and we are mad” 1 in 3 UK’ll have mental health difficulties as NHS goes down dunny.

307-8 Siddle siddles Swann on edge of length in corridor of uncertainty stretching right down The Old Kent Road to convict hulks at Tilbury.