Jarrod Kimber's Blog, page 35

Hiding from KP

Right arm around the wicket. A little rough. A dry pitch. And three deliveries. That was all it took for Nathan Lyon to look more dangerous than Ashton Agar. It also resulted in Alastair Cook being very nearly taken at slip. And most importantly of all, it showed that Lyon could effortlessly move Sky’s rev counter into the red. For those of you who’ve never seen it that reveals he gives it a rip.

After the next 11.3 overs, Lyon was still wicketless, but wicketless for 23 runs. England had barely scored off him. But Lyon hadn’t yet bowled to Kevin Pietersen. Lyon, not being a left armer, is not the sort of spinner that is supposed to trip up Pietersen. Really, any spinner can trip him up but more often they end up as puddles of damp mass at the bowling crease.

There is no way Lyon wouldn’t have known what was coming. He probably owns a TV. Pietersen was giving signs of his mood as well. He’d danced down the wicket to Shane Watson – to Lyon he might want to camp mid-pitch. He also had that Pietersen stride of completely arrogant ownership of every blade of grass beneath him.

The first ball Lyon delivered showed how unworried he was to face him. It was outside off stump, and Pietersen just yawned it to mid-on for a single.

The next over Lyon started around the wicket. If it had any impact on Pietersen, it was that it inspired him to make a wild west charge of dominance followed by a mishit of petulance. It went close enough to mid-on for the bowler to share knowing looks with people, but that was all.

By the third, Pietersen was ready to dine on Lyon. When Pietersen charges down the wicket he wants to score; when he stands in the crease and swings he scores. It wasn’t timed, or in any way poetic, but it did fly away to the rope. But Lyon wasn’t ready to be taken down just yet, and the next ball stopped Pietersen in his tracks. Later on he refused to be fed a decent ball and ran at Lyon, getting to it on the full, before only hitting it to midwicket for no run. Then he took a pause.

It was for a bit of excess dirt somewhere in the middle of the pitch that no offspinner would ever hit. But it wasn’t for the dirt. Pietersen wanted Lyon to wait, because Pietersen wanted Lyon to wait. He couldn’t have made it more clear he was in charge of the situation if he had hired a skywriter to write “KP” above the ground.

The next over began with an optimistic lbw shout by Lyon. Pietersen looked annoyed by the question. His response was to come down the wicket and crunch a six over long-on. The next ball went over long-off, an even better shot. Lyon was still holding on though, his next ball floated up again. Pietersen was confused by this, expecting the quick, short reply and he almost dragged it back on to his stumps as every limb he has did something different.

It wasn’t a real victory, maybe not even a moral one, not even morale saving. But when you’ve been hit for two straight sixes, even a four seems like a moment of respite. Lyon survived the over.

Next over Pietersen played Lyon’s first ball to mid-on so easily that it seemed like he could have down it blindfolded after been spun around four times. It brought Ian Bell on strike, who helped himself to a beautiful six. Clarke had seen enough, it was Lyon’s last over of that spell.

Pietersen was 55 when Lyon was taken off. He would make 113. And would face another ten balls from Lyon in that time.

During the 65-80 over mark is when your spinner most pays his way by resting your seamers for the new ball. Lyon bowled one over.

The treatment of Lyon wasn’t brutal in a Xavier Doherty kind of way. But that was only because he wasn’t kept there for Pietersen to feast on. Pietersen would have kept whacking Lyon as long as Lyon was in front of him.

Lyon is clearly the better spinner than Agar right now. But Clarke was allowed to hide him today. As Pietersen has learned is his dealings with the media, no one can hide forever. Today it was just 19 balls of Pietersen being Pietersen that send Lyon away from the crease. At some stage in this series, if Lyon is to be Australia’s spinner, he won’t be able to hide behind a few good revs and his seamers.

Dear Kevin Pietersen

Dear David Warner

an imperfect perfect knock

There was not an eyelash out of place. His skin was flawless. The lighting was perfect. The bat was sponsorless. And Michael Clarke bathed in the adulation people save for prophets as he made 329 not out.

Each shot was assisted by balletic artistry. Each moment a perfect representation of how cricket should look. Interviews were given during the innings. He floated from end to end. India’s role was little more than that of the concerned extras. A million romance writers working for a million years couldn’t write a better moment of perfection.

So at Lord’s, when all Clarke could do was stand still and headbutt a ball from Stuart Broad, it was clear that this wasn’t the Clarke Australia wanted, needed or were promised. This was the bad Clarke. The human piñata. The invisible back complaint was stopping him saving his team.

At Old Trafford, the signs weren’t good. Clarke was seen walking gingerly around the nets in the days before the Test. It didn’t get better when he hit the middle.

While many were talking about the Usman Khawaja double dismissal, Clarke had snaked back up the order to No. 4. The position that had mocked him so far in his career. And when Jimmy Anderson went past him twice in the first over as he groped eagerly for the ball, it seemed the same would happen. Clarke looked so bad, that his only form of defence was spending some time in the middle of the pitch with Chris Rogers trying to ensure it was the last over of the session. He failed at that.

At his best, Clarke’s back foot doesn’t move. He doesn’t get back and across like other batsmen. It just stays there, giving him balance and grace. Except here, it was moving. And it was moving the wrong way. It was inching back like a tailender. Clarke wasn’t still and ready, he was moving and unsettled. It was a twitch.

Clarke does a lot of things; he can waft outside off, lose focus near breaks, and struggle to not go at a moving ball. But he isn’t a flincher. He’s not afraid of fast bowling. He doesn’t back away. This is a man who averages over 50 in Test cricket. He’s not a young boy finding his way. Yet, that is what he looked like. A player with talent who was worried that he would be hit.

When the ball was full, he didn’t suddenly come good either. Balls were left preciously close to the stumps, or they were left off the face of the bat. He used the inside edge. The ball missed the outside edge. It was by far and away the ugliest and worst Clarke has batted since he was sainted in Sydney. It was the anti-Sydney. Nothing was perfect. Nothing was working.

Now it could have been a form thing, just a bad day, or even just having too many things on his mind. It could have also been that damned back.

A back injury is not sexy. It’s not a gaping wound from your chin that the bandages can’t stop the blood seeping through. It has no scars, no great slow motion shots of bones breaking, and unless you’re watching someone closely, it can be hard to pick up at all. Clarke showed some signs of it. A stiff attempt to duck the short ball. Bad footwork to the seamers. And running between the wickets slightly under his best pace.

For the first 20 runs, whether Clarke’s back was the problem or not, there was a problem, and could have been forgiven to hire a team of lawyers to sue anyone who showed the footage for defamation.

Had England had a leg slip for Clarke, like they did at Lord’s, that would have been as far as he got. Instead Clarke changed. The short balls from the pacemen were pulled. He used his feet to Swann. Any loose ball was scored from. It was still not Clarke as perfect pictorial elegance, but it was a free scoring Clarke. His journey from 20 to 50 was off as many balls. He was in.

Clarke may average 42.76 away from home, but since his beatification; he’s not travelled much. And since his beatification dismissing a set Clarke is not an easy thing. In some cases, it just doesn’t happen. The only way to stop him is by putting a microphone in his face at the end of a session. Clarke was not batting like he was invincible, but like he’d been lucky to make it that far, and he wanted to not just survive, but try and damage England. He played the uppercut over the slips cordon. Hit Tim Bresnan over mid-off. And Slashed at wide ones when he felt like it.

His team lost the plot and their coach in the Champions Trophy. They lost the first Test by a whisker. They lost the second by a megalodon. By just suggesting they could win a series Clarke could make a whole room laugh. Not capitalising on a good start today would have been handing the Ashes over in a far more friendly way than any sponsor could on a podium.

Rogers was in top form and more aggressive than usual as he punished England’s constant overpitching. Steve Smith had more luck than Lyle Lovett. They both helped, but it was their captain who made this an Australian day.

Clarke doesn’t look like a fighter, and he often doesn’t bat like one. The pretty guys often have the hardest time convincing us that they are really trying. Clarke might have scratched, scraped and scragged early, but he still hit the ball through cover like it was intended to be. When he used his feet, the ESPNcricinfo commentary referred to it as “feet shimmering over the surface”. If Steve Waugh had made it in his more military style, people would have rushed to call it a fighting captain’s knock that took a man filled with intestinal fortitude who left his blood sweat and tears out on the ground as he dragged his side to safety. They may not have even mentioned shimmering feet.

Aesthetically, this was not perfection. But for Australia, this was a perfect imperfect innings. They have never needed Clarke’s runs more than they did today. And he made them by any means necessary. Not on a pedestal, but down in the mud.

cricket sadist hour: Australia’s beer smoking ways with George Dobell

Dreaming and Planning Ashes victories

Any fan of science fiction will know that no matter how good and impenetrable the machines, robots or alien overlords, eventually the humans will find the weakness. Neo sees the matrix in code. Jeff Trent destroys Eros’ spaceship with a fight in Plan 9 from Outer Space. In Mars Attacks, Richie Norris blows up alien heads with Slim Whitman’s “Indian love call”. And God gives us the common cold in The War of the Worlds to poison the aliens.

It is a familiar narrative about no matter how stupid, fat, lazy and useless we are, as long as we retain our human endeavour, band together and keep on fighting, we’ll find a way.

Sport often gives the same sort of narrative.

No matter how perfect and robotic a team can be, flair and creativity will win. Detroit Pistons played hard, defensive, rough basketball, and won two straight NBA championships. Then Michael Jordan came in and defeated them with his floating-on-air, never-seen-before brilliance. But it took years before the Bulls were any good, and only after Phil Jackson teamed Michael Jordan with Scottie Pippen and a triangle offense.

Michael Jordan wasn’t Luke Skywalker, he didn’t use the force, or even have a background killing womp rats back home. The Bulls created a side, found an offensive plan, built some defence and used that to beat one of the toughest teams in basketball history.

It wasn’t the emergence of a special sporting disciple; it was a team working as one.

***

England’s batting plan is pretty simple. It’s not all that different to parts of Moneyball, or even rope-a-dope. They went to make the opposition tired. They want the opposition’s new ball bowlers to go into fourth and fifth spells. If that means that their batsmen play fewer shots than other top-orders around the world, that is ok. That is right. They will dull you, and then let their middle-order feed on the carcass.

Their bowling plans are more varied. They are not just a top-of-off-stump side. They have individual plans for each batsman. With Michael Clarke they want to be very full. With Shane Watson they are aiming at his front pad. With Chris Rogers they started trying to get him caught in the cordon, and ended with a slower ball at the stumps.

But when Ashton Agar came out to bat, England had few, if any, plans. He was a 19-year-old No. 11. They would have known that he could bat a bit. But they wouldn’t have had hours of footage on him. They wouldn’t have studied much analytical data. They wouldn’t have even been able to talk to many players they trusted about how to bowl to him.

They started bowling to him like a young tailender. Then they bowled to him like a tailender who could bat a bit. Then they tried to bounce him. Then they lost their plot.

And it was only just before he got out that they cottoned on to the fact he would often play shots based on field movements. That you could play with his mind a bit by moving a fielder, telling him about it, and then he would often think about it as he faced the next ball.

By then, with a bit of luck from grainy crease footage, he had scored 98 and made England look like they didn’t have a single thought between them that hadn’t be pre-programmed earlier.

Agar might make runs again, but England know about him now. They will have plans. They will have data. If they’re beaten by him again, it’s because he’s special, and not because he’s unknown.

***

Phillip Hughes was given caught behind off Tim Bresnan, England v Australia, 2nd Investec Ashes Test, Lord’s, 2nd day, July 19, 2013

In the 2010-11 Ashes, England started off by using DRS like it was something to get rid of. They showed almost no knowledge of the system, how it can be best used to gain maximum effect and seemed confused as how to tame it. Australia used it randomly.

By the end of that series, England had worked it out. They’d improved. Australia had not.

In the Lord’s Test, a flash behind from England was appealed like they knew they had taken the wicket. It was the sort of appeal that you can’t back down from. They simply had to review it because of how certain they were.

But instead of rushing to a review, they talked about it. Everyone from first slip to the bowler seemed very positive that this was worth reviewing. Everyone, except Matt Prior, who had not appealed as much as everyone else. They talked about it, took emotion out of it, and Prior convinced them not to review. It was not out.

According to Brad Haddin, Australia go on feel for DRS. Just as they did at the start of the Ashes series three years ago.

***

When Alastair Cook first fielded in the slips, it seemed like it was a recurring in-joke perpetrated by the England management. Obviously, Andy Flower has never joked, so what they were really doing was trying to force Cook into becoming a slip fielder. It was, for a couple of years, like trying to force an entire rhinoceros into a Happy Meal container.

Cook’s main job seemed to be stopping the ball from going to the rope. His hands refused to be soft. His reactions were always late. He looked anxious and ill at ease. But he was eager, and he refused to allow himself to be rubbish. Many times he would be out on the ground doing drills on his own. He almost forced himself through hard work and will to be a good slipper.

Australia’s keeper and slip cordon is experienced, three men in their 30s. Haddin was brought back mostly for leadership, although there is no doubt he is also a better keeper than Matthew Wade. Clarke is an exceptional slip fielder. And Watson doesn’t miss many catches that come at him. In this series the ball has sailed through them. Not through their hands, but through the gaps between them.

Root was one of those missed. He was on 8 at the time. He was still there at stumps the following day.

Cook took three catches on the final morning in Trent Bridge while dropping one, almost completely reversing how his slip catching used to be. And he won a Test by doing it.

***

Part of Darren Lehmann’s strategy to improve Australia is to get the legends back on board. Before this Test, Glenn McGrath, Adam Gilchrist and Shane Warne were hanging out with the boys, with Lehmann hoping their genius would rub off on his new team. Almost every time the West Indies struggle, a similar thing is mentioned. As if all Runako Morton or Daren Ganga ever needed was to share a rum with Viv Richards.

Australia do it often. They tend to feel more comfortable with famous friendly faces.

England don’t seem to care as much about their legends. Their coach is a Zimbabwean. Their bowling attack is coached by a Shield cricket journeyman. Their spin by a Pakistani leggie. And their fielding coach is Richard Halsall, someone who could be sitting beside you while you’re reading this piece and you’d never recognise him. Only in Graham Gooch, the batting coach, do they have a former England player in their set up.

Over the last couple of years Australia have employed Craig McDermott (former bowling coach) and Justin Langer (former batting and then assistant coach). It didn’t help. Their current spin bowling coach and fielding coach is a former Australia keeper, Steve Rixon.

When your default position is picking former players of your own team, you’re chasing a dream, an old feeling, a familiarity that you think will breed success. But that can’t change the instant reality. Neither could bringing Lehmann in. The English coaches have spent months preparing for this. Lehmann hasn’t. And special guest stars won’t change that.

In Clarke and Cook, you have two players who were both obvious choices as captain when their predecessors stood down.

When Andrew Strauss retired, despite it being improbable that anyone other than Alastair Cook would get the top job, Stuart Broad, Ian Bell and Eoin Morgan were also interviewed.

Now this might have been a proper interview where the players brought in PowerPoint displays and had pie charts. Or it could have been just a casual sit down and talk. The ECB didn’t say. But we know it made 100% sure before hiring Cook that they weren’t sitting on some unknown captaincy gold that could have been better.

Ricky Ponting stepped down one night and the next day, without even applying for the job, Clarke was told he was captain of Australia. This is the second most important job in the country according to some, and yet he didn’t need to talk, prove his worth, or even say he wanted it. It was just his.

***

For several years now, the Australia batting line up has had dramatic series-losing collapses. They’ve failed to score 100 a few times. They’ve failed to score an adequate amount more than a few times. They seem prone to go out to any ball that deviates off the straight, whether from spin or swing. This has been happening with three coaches, two captains, two chairmen of selectors, one high performance manager and one CEO.

In three 2013 Ashes innings they have had three collapses. All of them have meant giving up good positions – two were saved by great tail-end performances, one was not. In all their inconsistency over the last few years, their batting collapses have remained the constant.

England went to the UAE to play Pakistan as the No. 1 side. They struggled on the slow, low wickets. They tried to sweep. Their plan to dull the new ball and tire out the seam bowlers meant little on those pitches and they lost the series. In Sri Lanka, they lost the first Test: Rangana Herath and bad shots were the reason. But they won the next Test. And then they went to India and they beat India. In three series, they found a problem, they worked on a problem, they overcame a problem.

Three years ago, against Pakistan at Headingley, Australia were bowled out for 88 with a team that had Clarke, Watson and Steven Smith in it.

***

England do personality tests. They judge their players at all times. But when they select them, they don’t bother with surprises. Sure, they might pick one bowler over another in a manner that might confuse you. But they don’t pick two players from outside their squad. They don’t drop a consistent performer who has taken nine wickets in his last Test because they want to throw a teenager in.

It’s consistent, boring, English. When they selected Nick Compton it was against the grain. He was from outside the England set-up but they felt he had earned his chance. Then, after seeing a bit of him, they decided that although he was the sort of dour stayer they wanted, he was perhaps too dour, and not the perfect fit for their team. He failed the final part of their personality test. His county runs might never get him back.

Australia have now recalled Phillip Hughes three times. He has been dropped twice because of two separate technical problems the selectors believed he had. Steven Smith is on his second real chance, but his third if you count the fact that when he was first picked, it was as a bowler. Ashton Agar was picked on a hope and prayer. It worked once. It has not worked in his any of his bowling spells, or his three hits since.

It was Joe Root who replaced Nick Compton. England believe they know every single detail about Root from pretty much the second he was born. It was Root who repelled Australia’s last chance not to be embarrassed at Lord’s.

***

The appointment of Lehmann was seen as a masterstroke by ex-cricketers, cricket fans and the media.

Lehmann understands the ways of Australian cricket. He can bring people together. He has cricket in his blood. He will be bold. He will be different. He will make a difference.

There is no doubt this is a happier team than the one he took over, but what of the rest.

England are an experienced team with world-class players, a coach who took over as an interim and had his team bowled out for 51 but who two years later had them No. 1, and a support structure that does everything in its power to manage (and occasionally micro-manage) them to success.

Australia shocked England with random selection, persistent bowlers and team unity at Trent Bridge.

At Lord’s, they had no more mystery, England tired out their bowlers and their team unity couldn’t overcome their flaws.

They are relying on a sporting miracle to win from here.

At their worst, England can be pragmatic robots. But they have found a way to win. It isn’t pretty but they know it works, especially against inferior opposition, and they refuse to try something different unless they run into something truly special.

For Australia to win a Test, they need a carnivorous seven-wicket haul from Ryan Harris or a double-hundred from Clarke. They need Agar to discover he is Jim Laker. Or Shane Watson to dominate like he does in the IPL.

England just need to keep checking their boxes, playing as a unit, taking their chances, analysing their footage and staying focused.

“The coaches will not allow continuous errors. Their vigilance is necessary for perpetual success.”

One is a plan. The other is a dream.

***

In V for Vendetta, Detective Finch is asked a question about how the inspired masses will go against the angry military force of the government. Finch says, “What usually happens when people without guns stand up to people with guns?” In the film, V saves the day, and the masses take back their country.

Right now, Australia are a team without a hero.

***

I should go out for a beer with the boys. But I really just want to sit in my room and do nothing. This is important, Boof is trying to bond us. I don’t want Boof to think I’m not one. I’m just so tired.

“You comin’ out tonight, mate.”

“Yeah, I s’pose.”

“What, have you got better things to do?”

“No, course not, I’ll be down in five.”

Australia: An almost value for money team

“Fans pay good money to come watch our athletes perform and I’d like to think they got their money’s worth over the five days of the first Test.” Darren Lehmann.

For AUS$7,959 you can follow the Australian team to watch the fourth and fifth Tests with the Cricket Australia Travel Office. Airfares not included. That isn’t just cricket, you also get a trip to Scotland, full English Breakfast every morning and “a private session with Australian coach – Mickey Arthur”.

“Imagine sitting with the coach in an exclusive group during an Ashes Series and discussing team tactics, the wicket, what’s likely to unfold, and more. On CATO Exclusive Fully Escorted Tours you will meet with Mickey Arthur the day before or during a Test to analyse the match and perhaps make a recommendation or two.” That is straight from the online brochure. It has not been updated. Nothing has changed. Much like the change of coaches, at least in the short term.

Now imagine you are the Australian fan back at home. You have paid close to 10,000 bucks, you are yet to get on a plane or meet a CATO tour escort. And your team is already 2-0 down. That must hurt. Of course, some of those same people are here right now. Just sitting there, drunk on pain, trying to understand what is happening. Their faces are grey, the warm beer is not cheering them up and they’re wondering why they spent enough to buy them a boat, or 10 items of Channel Nine’s merchandise.

Instead they got no Mickey Arthur, and for large parts, no Australia. Today must inspire some of them to ask about the possibility of refunds.

While Cricket Australia were still investigating who the honest person was who used their Twitter account yesterday, Mickey Arthur was releasing more statements that made them look silly. David Warner’s brother’s tweet made the news, and so did the term “escape-goat”.

On the field, while marketing men in met in Richmond to discuss the best way to use him, Ashton Agar limped into the crease around the wicket, into the footmarks, hoping Matt Prior wouldn’t hit him onto the Nursery Ground. Instead a mistimed shot came back to him at the sort of speed you should never drop car keys, beers or cricket balls. Our Ashton never saw it. It just smashed into him. Well, bumped into him. Then the rest of the players went out to the boundary at one. Like it was a walk off. And to follow up that drop, Agar fired in a quick one down the leg side for four byes.

England declared, but only after Joe Root had played a scoop on 180.

Then something happened that quite often happens. In fact, it happens at the second highest percentage of any cricketer who has played 50 innings or more. Shane Watson was out lbw. A split-screen later on showed almost no difference at all from the first innings. Well he didn’t review it. Which was for the best really.

Chris Rogers was confused by some good spin bowling from Graeme Swann. Or, if you want to be blunt and accurate, left a straight one. Phil Hughes had a ball straighten on him, was given out, and then referred. It is now quite clear that no one in the Australian team knows that to get a ball overruled for an lbw, you need the ball to be missing the stumps completely. Just being upset you have missed a ball and have been given out is not enough reason to wake the third umpire.

Then Usman Khawaja and Michael Clarke put on a partnership. It should have been respite, but instead it included Clarke being beaten up by short balls. The Mechaclarke of Australia had been replaced by the Tin Man of England. The only way Khawaja could help get one back was to run through Swann.

That push in the back took Swann from the field. Which seemed like a good thing. Until Joe Root bowled a dog ordinary ball down the leg side that Clarke deflected straight into leg slip’s hands. Then Root took the edge of Khawaja and his push in the back cost Australia their best partnership of the Ashes from two players who are paid to bat.

Steve Smith was caught behind off Tim Bresnan. He referred it before the finger was all the way in the air. Then Hot Spot made him look a bit silly. Gideon Haigh pondered if the thicker edges on bats made it harder for batsmen to tell if there were nicks. It might be the “if a tree falls in the forest” of our cricket times.

When Our Ashton flashed at one outside off, England went up. Erasmus did not. So they reviewed it. Tony Hill saw no Hot Spot but saw a deflection and heard a noise. The deflection seemed non-existent, the noise slightly late. For what it’s worth, Aaron Wilson, on twitter, suggested that the noise was Agar’s bat hitting a piece of grass. It was that kind of day.

Brad Haddin left a ball from Swann that pitched on middle stump from around the wicket. It was as if he forgot Swann was an offspinner. Had Australia had a review by then (now there is a fairytale) they might have reviewed it, but they probably wouldn’t have. It turned out that it was missing the leg stump.

And then you get to the end of the day, and the kind of spirit, determination and technical prowess you expect from your top order is shown by three tailenders who are fighting to make the match go into a fifth day so they could still lose by over 300 runs. This is the high point for these fans who have shelled out boat money to get here. Jimmy Pattinson chipping straight balls into the legside, Peter Siddle pushing into the offside and Ryan Harris edging between slip and keeper.

On Twitter, Cricket Australia could manage only: “Great fight by Harris and Pattinson, almost pushing the match into the final day. Players shake hands.”

That tweet said less than the look on Pattinson’s face when he was out, lbw to Swann. You would assume his wicket meant Australia had lost by a run, not 347. Pattinson was essentially a man who ran into a burning house and was frustrated he couldn’t save the pot plant. Or maybe he just wanted to take the game into the fifth day to give those travelling sad broken fans their “money’s worth”.

That is where Australia have landed; trying to make sure they only lose in five days, and not four. Scrounging around the bottom of cricket’s bin looking for an unsullied chicken wing. That rogue Cricket Australia tweet got it right when it used the hashtag #bull****. When Darren Lehmann fronts up to the Cricket Australia Travel Office for his next private session, those Aussies fans might “make a recommendation or two” or even suggested Australia’s performance “sucked ass”.

Reviewing Watson

Shane Watson’s ESPNcricinfo profile is smiling at me. It shouldn’t be. It should be looking sheepish. It should be apologising. It should be trying to show me that he’s changed, that he’s learnt and that in the future things will get better.

I don’t know how you convey that in a picture, but Shane Watson needs to learn it. But Shane Watson doesn’t learn, does he.

If he was a learner, he might not put his front foot in the exact same place every single delivery. If he was a learner, he might not continually fail to turn starts into bigger scores. If he was a learner, he would not decide to review decisions based on no actual evidence.

There is no current player in world cricket who should understand the Laws of lbw more than Shane Watson. Shane Watson is a walking lbw against seam bowling. That massive trunk he calls a leg slams down in front of off stump and dares bowlers to hit it. And they do. Even in a game where he goes out in another way, or dominates the attack, they hit his pad repeatedly.

He should know the Laws inside and out. He should, just by feel of where the ball hits him, now know whether he is out or not. I mean his leg never moves, so he’s more reliable than the blue stripe on the pitch or any weapon technology that a TV company can pay for. He is the constant.

And yet, he never seems to believe it is even possible for him to be out lbw. This was his sixth review of such a dismissal. That is six times Shane Watson has believed he will overturn the umpire’s decision on a form of dismissal that he is out to almost 30% of the time. Does he think his pad is being picked on, or does he really just not understand the Laws of the game?

Or is it the playing conditions of the game?

Thanks to Charlotte Edwards, even the Queen now understands DRS. Yet it seems that to Shane Watson it is a mystery. To get a decision overturned on an lbw, the ball needs to be missing the stumps completely, hitting 100% outside the line of off stump or to have pitched outside leg stump.

Being that Watson’s kind of lbws never really include the leg side, he has picked the two 100% rules of the DRS to overcome. That is stupid. And to do it more than once, twice or even thrice, is unprofessional and egotistical. We’ve all seen the Hawk Eye, it’s like that digital ball always nicks the stumps, no matter what the situation. So taking that on seems joyless.

And as for being outside the line of off stump, Watson should know that the chances are if you put your foot in the same place every single time, your leg isn’t about to be outside off stump that one time. Watson could even just look at the hole on the pitch he has made from the repetitive footprints to double check.

Now even if, as Darren Lehmann has said, that Chris Rogers told Watson to review it – that may have happened, even if it didn’t look like it when watching the incident happen – none of this changes the fact that Watson clearly wanted to review it, he’s a senior player who was hit dead in front, it is his responsibility to the team to choose the best option.

If you’ve never seen a batsman use a review based purely on his own ego, you’ve not watched modern cricket. But to do it so often and recklessly with so little chance of redemption in a team with more managers and staff than a Tina Turner gig is nowhere near good enough. Australia should be better, Shane Watson should be better.

When you have a weak batting side, you need to use your reviews smartly. Overturning lbws that you haven’t smashed onto your pads is not smart. The follow on effect from a shockingly idiotic review is that the next person doesn’t want to use the review for fear of using both of them. So Chris Rogers, who could have gone about his quiet quirky accumulation on his home pitch, was instead sent off the field confused having missed one of the worst balls to get a wicket in Test cricket history.

All the reviews were gone by the time Michael Clarke came in.

This pitiful batting performance reminds us again just how ordinary Australia’s batting line-up is. It doesn’t need a batsman using a review based on the fact that he simply cannot believe he might be out lbw.

That was the review of a petulant child not a 32-year-old veteran of world cricket.

Some ex players leapt to his defence when Pat Howard said: “I know Shane reasonably well – I think he acts in the best interests of the team – sometimes.” Those same players would find it hard to defend Watson on grounds he was acting in the best interests of the team. He was hit plumb in front of the stumps. Rogers seemed to tell him not to refer it. The English players openly laughed at him as he referred it. Yet, Watson still did.

This is a man who has dominated world tournaments. Who can bowl immaculate dry spells. Who has a safe pair of hands. Who can change the shape of a match in so many ways.

But Shane Watson is a Test opener with an average of 35. He regularly gets out in the same way. He has tried to retire from bowling a few times. He was suspended while vice-captain. He has issues with his captain. He bowled in the IPL after stating he wouldn’t bowl in Tests. And he uses reviews in a way that does not help his side.

It’s hard to be on his side.

Shane Watson may have the natural skills and confidence to win Australia Test matches, but he has the behaviour and results of a man who virtually never has.

Since I first heard his name, I’ve wanted to believe in Shane Watson. But in Test cricket he’s a myth. And he can review my findings if he wants, but right at this moment, I’m pretty sure the evidence backs me up.

Ian Bell’s wonder years

Had Mark Waugh beheaded an alien invader with a spork while bombs fell around him, he would have done it gracefully. That was just how he was.

It also meant that had Mark Waugh failed to tame a wayward schnauzer that was running around his bathroom, he would have been called soft. That was just how it works.

Ian Bell is not as effortlessly graceful as Waugh or Gower. And unlike Gower and Waugh he doesn’t seem to enjoy it as much. But in modern cricket, there are few who can make every ball seem like it’s been bowled in slow motion like Bell. Technically, he is a textbook. A pretty illustrated textbook. If you are a batting purist, watching him reach forward and defend a ball is on its own: a moment of beauty and perfection.

And if you like that, you’ll need a cold shower and a lie down after he plays a cover drive.

For the longest time that was all you got, aesthetic perfection, as if all his innings were like a shuttlecock falling serenely to ground, before a racquet comes in and smashes the hell out of it.

You’ll no doubt have your favourite Ian Bell “I can’t believe he got out” moment. It might be a collection of horror drives to short cover. Maybe it was a breezy chip on the legside. Or anytime he’s got confused playing spin in the sub-continent. For me, and I doubt I’m alone, it is the Paul Harris wicket.

Aesthetically they are worlds apart. Ian Bell is stylish and correct. Paul Harris is technically horrible and about as aesthetically unpleasing as any spinner ever. On pure cricket talent, Ian Bell has paddling pools of it, Paul Harris has a thimble’s worth. But when Paul Harris came around the wicket, bowled from wide on the crease, and put even less spin on the ball than usual, Ian Bell just left it. He left it gracefully, technically correct and confidently watched it all closely.

He watched the bell so closely, he saw it not just clip the outside of off stump; he saw it hit the inside of off and a bit of middle.

If that one dismissal wasn’t a lesson to Ian Bell then he just wasn’t taking cricket seriously enough.

Of course, since then, Ian Bell has had more coming of age moments than Kevin Arnold had in The Wonder Years. The English cricket writers have narrated every single lesson that he has learnt, and Ian Bell has aged just as slowly as Kevin did.

Coming into the Ashes he was in a form slide. India was unkind to him. The Kiwis were not that fruitful. He could have been under pressure to maintain his spot had his Ashes mirrored his recent form. No one talked Bell up before this series. He was just the third or fourth name you mentioned when talking about the ‘batting unit’.

According to him, he is now better at grinding out innings than ever before. But he’s not suddenly turned into Paul Collingwood; he’s just using his normal skills and technique to essentially keep England in this series.

Today’s innings was magnificent. It was heroic. It was Ian Bell at his best. Chanceless. Pretty. And without any fuss or smiles.

Bell doesn’t get involved in sledging. His sex life doesn’t make the papers. He’s not in court on charges ever. He does not abuse his teammates. He seems unlikely to make himself into a Reality TV regular. He’s not got a drug addiction. He’s never claimed to suffer from depression. He just bats. And bats well.

Alastair Cook is posh and doesn’t sweat. KP is ego and genius. Graeme Swann is a failed rockstar and a confident spinner.

Ian Bell has played more Ashes Tests than all of them. And yet, all that comes to mind about him is that he bats pretty and he sometimes goes out softly. A PR firm would have a tough job selling him on anything else.

While they were making bronze statues of Jimmy Anderson outside Trent Bridge, there was little reference to the short ginger batsman who is apparently too soft to score runs when they matter but who gave Jimmy the lead he needed to get England over the line. England would not be 1-0 without Ian Bell. They would not be 289 for 7 today if not for Ian Bell.

This series Jonathan Trott has been careless. Alastair Cook has looked distracted. And KP has yet to find full form. England needed someone to step up.

For the second straight innings, it was Ian Bell. He did it in the exact same way he left that ball that bowled him by Paul Harris, with grace, confidence and technically perfect.

It’s just that now there is something behind the façade where Ian Bell has improved. It’s the grinding we don’t notice in between the pretty drives. Something has changed in him. He’s got it.

Even when he was out of form, against New Zealand, he still fought to save a Test. Sure, he’ll continue to go out in ways that we see as lazy, silly or cheap, because when he is in form like this, it’s impossible to understand how he could ever be dismissed.

If you’ve ever seen an Ian Bell hundred in person, you’re a lucky human being.

If you’re England in this Ashes, you’re a lucky team.

Cricket Sadist Hour’s Starc Luxury with special guest star Mark Butcher

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Is Watson the shit KP?

What would happen if Jimmy was to McGrath himself?

Differing opinions over the greatest 37 ever made.