Jarrod Kimber's Blog, page 24
June 21, 2014
Plunkett: not the orgasm Cook thought he was getting
Alastair Cook spent most of the time in the second Ashes watching Michael Clarke’s never ending orgasm of delight. And at the end, as you might do in a rom-com set in Katz’s Deli, he asked for what Clarke was having. He wanted a Mitchell Johnson.
Sport teams have quite a clear history in being beaten by a style or tactic, and then trying to replicate it themselves. It is how sport works. It is how music works. It is how movies works. It is how life works. This idea works. Let’s do this idea.
So there was no real surprise that England would pick the closest thing to Mitchell Johnson they could find. Liam Plunkett. That is what we were told before Lord’s. He was fast, he had been trained in the secret ways of Australian fast bowlers by Jason Gillespie. Andrew Gale had even used him like Johnson. And when he hit the pitch it was usually very short, with a field set for carnage.
But it did not really work. The pitch did not suit it. And Liam Plunkett also did not suit it.
His two wickets were when he bowled full. When he just continued punching the middle of the pitch he just bloodied his knuckles for no good reason. His pitch maps looked like he was trying to paint a stripe across the middle of the wicket. It was fast and accurate, but it was largely fruitless. They had picked a fast bowler, but by insisting he bowled huge long spells of short bowling they had turned him into a confused shire horse.
Three overs from the end of the Lord’s Test, with Sri Lanka eight down, Plunkett was bowled ahead of Stuart Broad. When the ball was given back to Broad for the last over, it was because Plunkett had not looked like taking a wicket, and could not be trusted by Cook to deliver.
Today he could not stop delivering. His full swinging ball to Dimuth Karunaratne would have made the England coaching staff fill notebooks with joy. He was fast and full again to Mahela Jayawardene. Then followed it up with the short ball that Lahiru Thirimanne seemed shocked to see. And then followed it up with some good old fashioned bombing of the tail.
But there was also a full ball to Kumar Sangakkara that was probably caught behind, and no one appealed, reviewed or even really seemed to notice from England. A short-of-a-length ball that took off from the pitch, took the edge and then wedged itself into Prior’s ribcage. And the short ball that Jayawardene hooked to a shocked leg slip.
By bowling his short ball less, Plunkett got more out of it. This pitch is not the WACA, or even Old Trafford, but Plunkett looked far quicker and scarier than the others, no matter his length. In using the short ball as an exclamation mark, instead of a comma, he made more of an impact. Plunkett outbowled them.
Plunkett has spent this time in the wilderness well. He has used it to become a beast of a man; he looks more light heavyweight than fast bowler. If the team bus ever breaks down, they would be fine getting Plunkett to drag it around town. This is essentially the same action he had when he was a whispy kid with a Test bowling average of 40 and hope in his heart. He has made it higher and stronger. On his own. Away from David Saker and the England machine.
Other than Plunkett’s determination and hard work, it is the county system that England has often ignored of recent times that virtually put Plunkett back together again. Yorkshire, Gale and Gillespie found a fast bowler in 2012 that was not being used by his county and within a few months at their club they had him playing England Lions, and by the first Test of the following summer he was in the team.
Yorkshire might just have given England an old player their new era needs.
June 20, 2014
June 17, 2014
When a competition winner saved a Test for his country – Pradeep’s last hour
There are nine fielders out on the ground but they are casting 36 shadows. For a side trying to bat out 90 overs away from home, which they rarely do, the lights taking effect mean they are playing against past ghosts, current shadows and an England team that’s making the ball swing. It seems like there isn’t a single gap on the infield that doesn’t have a fielder covering it. The leg side has more bodies than blades of grass. All hands on knees, waiting for a mistake.
There is one hour, 15 overs and four wickets left to fall before Nuwan Pradeep has to bat.
Sri Lanka spend the start of the last hour against Liam Plunkett, safe in their mind that their captain looks made of granite and their keeper is still there. The ball is reversing, the odd one keeping low, it is dark and England believe they can do it. Every shot now seems near a fielder. Prasanna Jayawardene is leg glancing too close to leg slip. Jordan hits him on the arm guard as well. Then he almost gloves another, and then back to leg slip.
At the other end, Angelo Mathews is enjoying a bit of respite against Joe Root. In years to come, not even Root will believe he bowled an over in this hour.
Meanwhile, at the real end, Jayawardene misses a full and straight ball that must have been near invisible, as it seems Billy Bowden also missed it. It takes all of one replay to convince every single living entity that it’s plumb.
It is now three wickets until England get to Nuwan Pradeep. The man who had never played with a leather cricket ball until he was in his 20s.
Nuwan Kulasekara is in. Remember that Champions Trophy match where he came in and smashed England everywhere like Sobers was operating his body? Well, if you saw him come out here, you would not have know it was the same guy. He has two modes: superfly-pimp-daddy smasher; and nervous tailender-in-the-way. He picked the wrong mode.
Anderson is bowling balls that seem to be swinging left, right, up, down and through parallel dimensions. Mathews comes down and suggest his man gets off strike. Kulasekara does but, in the next over, he seems to play the ball almost a full second late, down a line that never existed and his back foot kicks around randomly at the end for no good reason. He looks back at the pitch before he walks off, no one will ever know why. Stuart Broad is clearly not fit now but he takes Kulasekara’s wicket at the end his captain sent him too.
Nuwan Pradeep now has two wickets between him and his destiny. One that started when he won a reality TV contest for bowling with a tennis ball faster than anyone else. When Chaminda Vaas took over the bowling group, he introduced Pradeep to chicken and beef to try get some body on the bowler.
Rangana Herath has spent the whole match doing the breast-stroke through treacle, such is his pace, but is now trying to get off strike when Usain Bolt wouldn’t try to run.
Mathews flicks a ball off his hip where there is no one out, he walks down the wicket. Herath, now full of energy and speed, jogs past him but the ball goes all the way to the boundary before stopping just short, Mathews is mid-pitch waiting to see which end he should head too. It’s that time when ends completely take over from runs.
Mathews has clearly decided on Anderson’s end and doesn’t take an obvious single off the fourth ball. Root wanders in to chat to Mathews. Root tries his best to annoy, distract or unsettle, Mathews. Root wanders back out not having caught Mathews’ attention. Seconds later Alastair Cook is clutching at one around his groin and Mathews is gone. Sri Lanka have lost their most composed player in a crisis. The man who has saved them so many times before. The closest thing Sri Lanka has to a superhero is walking off the ground.
If you replaced Nuwan Pradeep with a puppy in the field, it wouldn’t cause much more damage. While he is naturally athletic, quick and looks like he belongs, he seems to read the ball like its Baudelaire in translation. This was at its absolute worst when he seemed to misjudge a hook shot so badly it bounced almost 15 metres in from the boundary, but still behind him. There is now only one wicket between him and the middle.
Herath is now the senior batsman, a fact of pure fear for any Sri Lankan still hoping for a draw. Herath’s batting is often quality entertainment, but not always quality. He took the Murali mantle seriously and also thought that swinging his bat wildly was the way to go. That’s not really possible when Plunkett is trying to remove your throat and a ball flies at Herath and he does all he can do by missing it. The ball was like the spook in the horror film that turns out to be the cat.
Eventually Herath pushes one away from the fielders, Shaminda Eranga starts to set off but it’s clear no real plan about running, or even which batsman will face which bowler, has been made. Herath just stands there, doesn’t even seem to call. Root is in at silly point; it’s always good to have someone like Root at silly point, not for the catch, but for the endless chat. Herath only gets a rest when the field and plans change.
His batting partner at the other end is no better. Eranga has a first-class hundred at the SSC, but doesn’t everyone? Straight balls are defended with the sort of angled face that results in genius short-leg catches from straight balls. A nation tells him to play straight. But somehow he gets it past Sam Robson, the man crouched under the helmet.
There are six balls left. They have made a mess of the last hour but they have two wickets left. Or one, if you don’t count Pradeep.
Broad is brought back, he looks injured but it’s only one over, and no one else can real bowl. The fielders line up behind Herath, or near enough to smell his fear. Broad goes wide around the wicket and fires it in short at Herath, he jumps out of the way but the ball takes his glove, he walks while England appeal. No one checks Broad on what looked very close to a back-foot no ball (it’s not). No one also notices, Herath included, that his glove was off his bat. That is until the many, many replays come up on the screen. He walked for a not out.
Now out comes a man with a two-and-half line Wikipedia entry, uncoached action, often-untucked shirt, a homemade haircut reminiscent of a member of the band Poison and a Test bowling average of 72.83. On the scoreboard they call him Fernando, everywhere else he’s called Pradeep. He seems to have walked into this situation by accident. They don’t even know his name and he’s walking out to save his country against the oldest enemy.
Pradeep is marinated by Broad first ball with a bouncer that is only there to get him where he needs him. Pradeep is little more than a piece of meat in front of the stumps. Four balls left.
Next delivery is short of a length, quick and moves away, Pradeep should be given a medal for even getting that close. Three balls left.
He middles the next one, as much as he could ever middle a ball. Suddenly he’s a batsman.
But the next one is too fast, too straight and it’s not for the likes of him. He’s instantly given out, but he reviews it before Paul Reiffel has fully given it. So does the Eranga at the non-striker’s, and perhaps every single Sri Lankan alive. England are celebrating at deep point, TMS have already tweeted the victory. But somehow Reiffel missed the huge chunk of wood hitting the ball. Nuwan Pradeep has one ball to face.
In the first innings, Pradeep faced a short ball that he clearly didn’t see. His face started to turn and his bat wafted in general self-defence, the ball smashed into his shoulder, this twisted and crashed his whole body that was now falling uncontrollably and ended with him smashing the stumps with his bat. It was embarrassing, viral and he would never ever live it down.
One more ball.
Nuwan Pradeep, or Fernando, the competition winner, leans forward with absolutely no certainty at all. It’s quick and straight from Broad. The ball takes the edge, and goes straight for second slip, Chris Jordan, England’s best slipper. It’s quick and low, like a plane flying under radar, and Jordan picks it up as clean as you can in the slips.
On the half volley.
Eranga clutches at the air, Pradeep, still in the pose of the shot, looks around confused. He’s not even sure if it has been caught. England are silent. He has done it. He saved them by inches. He survived the five toughest balls of his life.
June 16, 2014
June 15, 2014
cricket’s greatest bromance – kumar and mahela
A man turns to his mates, clenching his fists and showing his guns in the successful warrior pose. His mate runs up and jumps on him, half hugging, half choking as he climbs up his back. Then the successful warrior walks towards his group of friends to acknowledge their existence. His mate stands behind him behaving erratically and smiling uncontrollably.
Kumar Sangakkara has made a Test century. Mahela Jayawardene is happy for him.
—
The ball is full and perhaps hinting at moving away. Jayawardene lazily moves into position and wafts at the ball. It is almost the perfect get out shot, except he is so inept he misses the ball. His foot isn’t planted until Matt Prior is about to collect the ball. For a second, Jayawardene loses his grace, the way he makes the ball look slower than it actually is, and goes into dreamland looking for the easy drive. Mahela looks up at Kumar and laughs, Kumar smiles back.
—
On the balcony at Sugar bar in Colombo, nursing an arrack and coke with a friend, we realised that behind us were Mahela Jayawardene and Kumar Sangakkara. My friend knew them, and whispered to me, “Mahela will come over, and be excited to see me here. Kumar will wave from a distance. You have to earn it a bit more with him.”
Two minutes later Mahela came over and was excited to see his friend. Twenty minutes later, Kumar waved through the crowd.
—
The field is set for a leg-theory examination of Jayawardene. He pulls the first one away without much thought for the field at all. It’s easy and natural, like he’s playing against a kid, not a fired up new era English bowler trying to prove himself. He looks right at home.
Sangakkara faces the same short-bowling leg set-up. A short ball is fired in at him and takes him on the body as he tries to pull. He walks away and rubs himself. He looks angry rather than in pain. The next ball is just as fast, and just as well aimed, this time Sangakkara pulls it away off the middle of the bat between the two fielders set to stop it.
—
Sangakkara has been in the country for longer than his team. Playing in Durham, acclimatising, working on his game, doing what he has done since a child. Improving and working. He wasn’t the high school superstar Jayawardene was. Sangakkara is what he is as much because of how hard he works, how much he wants it as much as how well he times it. He probably dreams of throw downs and plans for planning.
His place in cricket history is pretty much assured, but England is somewhere that travelling cricketers want to really conquer. Lord’s even more so. And that is what this innings was about. Helping his team is a given, but helping his team at the place they call the “home of cricket”, that’s something else. Especially at a place he is largely revered for speaking at, after his MCC Spirit of Cricket lecture in 2011. Many people have been eloquent at Lord’s, fewer have added 147 in a Test and stencilled their way into history as well.
—
Sangakkara has placed the ball perfectly to short fine leg and wants three, he charges up and down the wicket. But Jayawardene turns down the third. Sangakkara holds his hands up and asks why? Mahela points to his knee. Kumar shakes his head in disappointment.
Take out the cricket and replace it with a common household chore and it’s almost every argument you see between couples the world over.
—
Mark Waugh was born playing an effortless flick to backward square leg. Steve Waugh had to wait until he could walk before he first dropped the ball on the leg side and stole a single. Their styles of play complemented each other perfectly. One was hard and smart, the other pretty and effortless. One statistically superior, the other naturally better.
Despite sharing a womb, house and many changerooms, you’d be hard pressed to say they are closer than Kumar and Mahela.
At a sponsor event, Sangakkara was asked to look like he was dressing Jayawardene, for the sort of standard embarrassing athlete photo opportunity. What was already awkward enough was made more so by the fact that people already question how close they are. If cricket had an erotic fiction genre, Kumar and Mahela would have many chapters together.
Sri Lanka is already awash with them as a pair. Want to be as happy as Kumar and Mahela are, drink a Coke and share in their good times. Want to look as smart as they do, get some Emerald suits and you too can look this sharp. Want a great-tasting crab meal, eat at the Mahela and Kumar’s restaurant, the Ministry of Crab, and wear the same bibs they wear.
—
After taking a break from playing drives so good they make you feel like you’ve just stroked an angora rabbit wearing a velvet glove, Jayawardene batted for lunch. England decided to try one more time at banging away with Plunkett around the wicket. This time Jayawardene was in lunch mode and he just didn’t look right. One sprung up at him, another jagged back, and just for a second he looked rattled. Like the game had been sped up to the pace everyone else had to play it at.
Sangakkara wandered down the wicket slowly, had a quick word, and wandered back. Jayawardene played the next two balls like they were throw downs in the nets. Sangakkara waited for him at the non-striker’s end, then they walked off together.
—
The cricket public perception of the two is often quite clear. Jayawardene is seen as the cherub-faced batting wizard, often smiling and happy to be doing what he does. Sangakkara is seen as a modern-day cricket intellectual of impeccable morals who will one day be the spirit of cricket’s professor emeritus.
It’s not really true; Jayawardene can get as angry as Ricky Ponting on a bad day. And it’s quick, Hulk quick, often reacting with anger before he has even fully grasped what has happened. The cherub face is replaced with this snarling beast. Yelling is done, handshakes are ignored, and he lets everyone in the area know exactly how he feels.
Sangakkara is so smart and eloquent that he has managed to cultivate a statesman role when, in truth, he is a hard-ass, son-of-a-bitch cricketer who would be just as likely to psychologically destroy you as talk about the great cultural mix in world cricket. Recently he tricked Ahmed Shehzad into thinking a throw was coming in so he could make Shehzad dive to save himself. In actual fact the throw was miles away. Shehzad hurt himself, Sangakkara laughed. His sledging of Shaun Pollock at the 2003 World Cup is still one of the greatest monologues recorded from a pitch. And perhaps even better than his spirit of cricket lecture.
The cherub-and-gentleman vibe is nowhere near accurate and actually sells them short of what they really are: fierce, determined, passionate cricketers who want to win.
—
The next over after Kumar’s hundred, Mahela brings up his fifty. They meet mid-pitch and give each other an emotional soul-brother handshake.
Mahela Jayawardene has made a Test half-century. Kumar Sangakkara is happy for him.
June 14, 2014
June 9, 2014
May 29, 2014
Sitting on @lalitkmodi’s couch and talking about fixing and cleanliness for #politeenquiries (Giles Clarke’s favourite podcast)
We did this a while back, but I’ve been watching my wife give birth and couldn’t embed it here.
Afterwards Lalit gave me a magazine that had a lovely spread about him.
