Jarrod Kimber's Blog, page 59

sri lanka’s bad pitch

A cricket match starts at 5pm. Every one learns of this by word of mouth and the players are ready to play a match next to Galle fort. The game starts with XI players on each side, two umpires and a scorer. They use a tape ball, marking out the pitch by drawing lines and using someone’s sandals. If a ball is hit out of the ground, it’s replaced in less than two seconds. The umpire is strict with no balls and wides, maybe too strict. The batting team stands at point while the game goes on so that when a batsman is dismissed the next batsman will face within 30 seconds. It’s fast and hectic, there are no crowd sponsors nor media interest. It’s a high-quality amateur game played by cricket lovers.

I’ve only seen one of these games up close, but from this one game I’d say that the quality of cricket in Sri Lanka is high, and when people who love the game and have no agendas are running it, it can be administrated well.

Unfortunately at the top end of the game Sri Lankan cricket couldn’t be run much worse. Of late the Sri Lankan players have been thrown into two largely useless and forgettable tournaments, the tri-series in Australia and the Asia Cup. This is how they prepared for a Test series against the number one Test team. With no first-class warm ups and seemingly endless weeks of ODIs. But what is way worse is that they did some of this unpaid. It’s partly because of the US$20 million SLC lost (they also lost the disk auditing why they lost the $20 million) while hosting what the ICC describes as “the most successful world cup ever”. Or the fact the board is roughly $45 million in debt. It’s hard to see success when a small cricket board loses $20 million on what should have been a money-making event.

One way Sri Lanka Cricket went about making some cash was with sponsors, one of which is a health product that helps cure penile dysfunction in men. Did the SLC think it was a good idea to get their heroes to endorse it?

Another way the board thought it could make money was by starting its own Twenty20 Premier League. But even though the SLC has signed away the tournament for 25 years to Somerset Entertainment Ventures, which seems to be a shell company that deals with Hotmail accounts based in Singapore, the tournament remains an idea. Many blame the BCCI for withdrawing its players and making it less appealing for the TV markets. While that may be the case, the Twenty20 leagues in Australia, New Zealand, England, Bangladesh, West Indies and even Zimbabwe seem to work without Indian players. As it stands they are losing money by just not having it at all.

Luckily they can find other ways to make some money. During the Tests against England they tried to cover even more of their debt by upping the ticket price from 300 Sri Lankan rupees – which it was not six months ago – to LKR 5000. That was a staggering grab at cash.

In England the prices are consistently too high, and quite often rule out families at the cricket. But they didn’t go from five quid to 75 quid in six months. You can see why English fans who assumed they were getting their tickets at the old rates were complaining about the new prices. It was made worse by some fans being sent away before the ground was sold out. Most local fans at Galle were in a segregated standing zone having paid far less. Originally members of the Galle Cricket Club were even told they could not sit in their own stand to cater to the English fans.

Mind you, the organisation at the ground was so bad that many English and Sri Lankan fans just walked in. As long as you weren’t trying to see the first few overs of the day, you could easily find one gate that no one was attending to and just walk straight through. It doesn’t really matter how much you charge for tickets if you don’t check people for tickets as they enter. It also doesn’t say much for security.

Not that I saw that much security. Yes, there were armed men all around the ground but no one was checked for any kind of weapons on their way in. Had any fan, drunken idiot or fundamentalist nutbag wanted to go out to the middle he could have done so with ease. Fans even helped put the covers on at the end of the day’s play. And any ground with open gates is not exactly putting security at the forefront. Nothing happened, and from what I could tell nothing close to happening happened, but something only has to happen once for you to look bad forever.

Not that the SLC is terribly worried about how it looks. Nishantha Ranatunga is the secretary of the SLC. Nishantha Ranatunga is the CEO of Carlton Sports Network. This network sprung up overnight and won the right to show cricket in Sri Lanka while it was still bolting in satellites.

Of all the conflicts of interest in cricket none seems so blatantly obvious. In many parts of the world cricket and TV are just a bit too close. In Australia, Mark Taylor commentates and is also on the board for Cricket Australia. In India N Srinivasan runs the BCCI and owns shares in an IPL team. But compared to a CEO of the TV company with the rights being on the SLC, Taylor and Srinivasan seem like minor offenders. Ranatunga’s position brings up any number of issues, the first being quite obviously if this is a cricket board in financial crisis, and cricket makes so much of its income from TV, is the SLC getting the most out of its home TV deal?

Before this tour by England I’d only had one bad encounter with the SLC – when they decided not to have a press conference without telling any of the media. Considering press conferences mean more work for me, I wasn’t too sad to see one not exist. This time it all started so well. Brian Thomas, SLC’s media manager, went out of his way to help us with filming the Two Chucks show inside the ground after the day’s play. My press pass was the coolest one I’d received from any board. And on the last day at Galle we were invited into SLC president Upali Dharmadasa’s room because of our Sri Lankan ODI-coloured suits.

It was a fairly odd moment. Suddenly we were in the inner sanctum, having beers, chatting about the cricket and wearing these suits. During the chat we mentioned that we were making a film on the future of Test cricket called Death of a Gentleman, and we’d love to have the president interviewed for it. He was more than happy to oblige.

Earlier in the Test we’d even chatted to Kumar Sangakkara about appearing in the film. He’d said he love to, but that he would need permission from the SLC as they had banned him from speaking to the press. We were told that all the Sri Lankan players had been banned from talking to the press, except at press conferences. Sangakkara is probably the most eloquent and thoughtful current speaker in world cricket. As well as being a lawyer he’s also the only current player on the ICC Cricket Committee – why would he need to get permission to speak to the media?

A recent SLC press release states: “Kumar is a role model to be emulated by all young hopefuls.”

The SLC told us he was banned for speaking for his own good because, as it was put to us, “players at his stage of his career need to be protected from themselves”. And that it was “dangerous” for him to talk to us about anything controversial. Or, as we read it, it was dangerous for him to repeat what he had said at the Cowdrey lecture. Even with all this danger that he may actually admit there were problems with cricket in the country he had previously proudly captained, we were allowed to speak to him. Just not about administration or politics.

Strategically, we then made a mistake by interviewing Dharmadasa before we had a chance with Sangakkara. After not allowing us to film him at P Sara Oval because there wasn’t enough shade and the ground didn’t show Sri Lankan Cricket in the best possible light (rusted metal was a big concern), we were taken to his timber factory’s board room. We thought our interview, where we questioned him about the future of cricket in Sri Lanka, cricket administration and cricket politics, went quite well. Dharmadasa was polite, answered all our questions and even organised a car to take us back to the cricket.

Later that afternoon we were told that the Kumar Sangakkara interview had been cancelled. It felt like suspicious timing, so we asked Dharmadasa directly what the reason was for the cancellation. He told us honestly, and in a surprisingly friendly way, that it was cancelled because of our interview with him.

Our questions for him were less extreme than the many vitriolic editorials written in the Sri Lankan press, and weren’t anywhere as damaging as the Sri Lankan Sports Minister calling the SLC corrupt. Was it because it was going to be aired abroad?

Cricket in Sri Lanka is not in a great state. Bad management, an over-reliance on India and political interference are all major factors. Sri Lanka is a place that all cricket fans should try and travel to, as it’s a great place to watch cricket. When you have a situation where players are picked for political reasons, conflicts of interest are blatant, players aren’t paid, officials mute people and no one is checking tickets at the gate, it’s hard to be optimistic about the future of the game.

There are reasons why Sri Lanka may not be as important to the world of cricket as the bigger countries. But what it lacks in financial clout it more than makes up for in cricket innovation. It was Sri Lanka who changed one-day cricket by sending out batsmen without fear to get the game started. With Murali they have given Test cricket one of its most controversial and successful players. Aravinda De Silva was cricket’s first minnow hero. Arjuna Ranatunga was an ideal pantomime villain. Ajantha Mendis has changed finger spin forever. Lasith Malinga showed us a new way to bowl fast. And Tillakaratne Dilshan invented a shot you needed to be suicidal to try.

The tape ballgame by Galle Fort was seen by about 12 spectators. One player was a phenom. He bowled like Mitchell Johnson trying to imitate Lasith Malinga and cartwheeled the stumps of at least six batsmen. When he batted it was with a stance copied from Shivnarine Chanderpaul and he put two balls onto the road.

I didn’t need to see this tape ball match to know how special cricket in Sri Lanka could be. I just wish like that, all cricket was run because of the love of the sport and not as a political or financial tool by those who should know better.

what cricket boards spend their money on

Because of Doag I've been allowed into the buildings where the cricket thinking goes on.  This is what I remembered of each.

The ECB offices are like that of a high class paper manufacturer.  They have their awards scattered in a very tine reception area that was built to impress no one.  The reception is actually tiny, and if you are waiting at the desk with more than one person or a bag, it's actually hard for people to get around you.  Other than the fact the office is in Lord's, it doesn't really feel all that crickety.

It could be the headquarters of a company with an owner who likes cricket rather than a cricket headquarters.

Although no could be disappointed seeing their Jack Russell painting.

Cricket Australia's headquarters are instantly a bit more swish.  They've tried to put a touch of wow factor in there.  It's got a boutique ad agency feel to it.  The reception has enough room for an entire crowd of a shield match to hang out in.  It feels like it's been designed by the same person who designs the MCG members bar areas.  Smart, casual and just a bit sporty.

The headquarters aren't in the MCG, but just down the road far enough to lose any magic the ground holds.

It's all a bit too planned out for me.  A bit too much we like cricket, but we want to look good doing it.  Like someone who gets a tailor made Richie Benaud jacket to wear to games.

The BCCI have a decent sized stumpy the elephant in their reception at Wankhede stadium.  As shit as stumpy was, it's nice to see him on a reception desk.  The BCCI office is quite nice, it's like a industrilists office with photons on every wall.

Just that these photos are brilliant.  The Nawab with a sun hat on. Shastri with the world's angriest eyebrows.  Sachin with a photoshopped afro.

It's all there.  They even have a completely unnecessary 3d photo of the team winning the world cup, which is impossible to look at without getting a headache.

The conference room we went into was just covered at one end with photos of their captains.  It was much like that room where proud parents put up every school photo of their kids.  They'd run out of walls and just started putting players up in random spots, but no one was left out.

They even had time to put up a painting of Don Bradman and photos of Jardine and Grace.

I never saw the IPL level, where I am sure that they had stripper poles and dance tracks using commentators in a sexually suggestive way.  But I still really liked it.  It was impressive to look at, fairly new, not overly designed, but grand enough you still felt like you were in a place where people did real work.

Any place with that many cricket photos, including one that was quite clearly a tourist snap, is going to win the award for being my favourite cricket board building.

Australia was pretty but sort of lacking heart, England was gritty but utterly forgettable, but India had that cricket feeling combined with an office that looked like important people could meet you in it.

the last day

The last day of a Test Match is often like a town that has lost its main industry. The structure is still the same, but the town has that eerie walking-dead feel to it. There are many reasons why people don't come, but they're all nonsense. It's massively underpopulated, better seats are available, you don't have to line up for food as long, it's cheaper and you're guaranteed to see the end of the match. I've been lucky over the years, I've seen a Warne hat-trick, an incredible Kallis hundred, and Freddie Flintoff bowl Australia out in one match and throw them out in another.

The best part is often not even the cricket. The last day is your chance to see a carnival atmosphere at a Test match. Everyone from the players to the security guards are more relaxed. Things are being packed up, players mingle with fans and weirdness can happen.

On day five at Galle, I ended up being given a beer by the president of the SLC, was cheered on for my suits by the Sri Lankan support staff and walked past the trucks that were clearing out the toilets.

On day five at the P Sara, I listened to a conversation.

 

Now I'm well aware that this conversation may not have interested everyone, but when Suraj Randiv and Graeme Swann found each other out on the ground, I knew what they were talking about. You could tell by their hands that it was nerd spin talk.

To get close enough to hear I had to push through the crowd who were holding up English kit that had been thrown to them by the players, police officers who were standing there without really doing anything and the throng of people trying to take photos of Swann. I got as close to Randiv and Swann as the massive English security officer would let me. Then I had to block out the many fans who were planning to get something signed the minute the conversation ended.

The first bits I heard where Swann talking about wrist position. My persistence had paid off. For the next three minutes I was listening to a spin bowling masterclass. Randiv had clearly asked Swann about his action and whether he imparted too much over-spin on the ball. Swann explained his own action, and suggested that too much over-spin wasn't a problem for Randiv as he still ragged it.

Wrists, fingers, arm height and follow through were all discussed as Randiv, and I, listened intently. Randiv, Swanny's Padawan learner, and me, the lucky eavesdropper.

The conversation ended with Swanny being very complimentary to Randiv about his bowling. He never said 'attaboy', but it was one of those sorts of conversations. I assume it boosted Randiv; even I was ready to hit the nets and try a few offies to see if Swann's words could help me. And I'm a leggie.

The last day of a Test, whether it be the third, fourth or fifth day, can contain a nugget or two of magic, on or off the pitch, during or after the game.

Field of Monocotyledon dreams

Cricket is one of the few sports on earth that relies heavily on a non-humanoid living organism to shape the outcome of the game. The main playing area is actually alive. Every Test match is dictated to by a plant life form that bleeds. Cricket is part sci-fi and part gramnivore.

This is something that should never be forgotten, especially when you're in some drunken conversation where someone calls cricket boring. "Oh, is your favourite sporting endeavour played on a Monocotyledon surface that evolves independently as the game progresses?"

When the pitch is like this it makes captains use weird field placements. Using three slips and a gully as a form of attack is largely useless on pitches like this. Both captains have had to improvise. Ever since Andrew Strauss had two short midwickets I've been waiting for either captain to use three, or even four. The ultimate Graham Gooch field. It's not happened, but other odd fields have.

Sri Lanka had three slips and a gully at one stage, but they were spread out so far from each other they couldn't hold a polite conversation. It was about as close to regulation as they tried.

The most mental fielding position had to be the short silly backward point off the Sri Lanka spinners. It's the position you put the guy in the team everyone hates, and then just sit back and wait for the spinner to drop marginally short so the fielder could be pinned.

But in both Tests I've enjoyed Sri Lanka's 7-2 field for the spinners. Watching Trott refuse to take any risk other than a reverse sweep against Randiv at Galle was probably my highlight of that Test. It wasn't pretty, but it was hard, and both sides had to hold their nerves.

7-2 and 8-1 fields cop a bit of flack as a defensive tactic, and they can be. They are also what is best about Test Cricket. A captain who will improvise, a bowler who is bowling to an absurd plan and a batsmen who is trying not to do something stupid. It's proper sport. All of this while short leg, dual short midwickets and a leg slip wait for a mistake and three sweepers dance to the music of the band.

These kinds of fields force batsmen to improvise, take chances, be bold, or hold their breath until it's over.

KP decided to dust off the switch hit. This angered Dilshan.

There are some who think the switch hit is against the spirit of the game. There are others who believe 7-2 fields are against the spirit of the game. If you look hard enough, someone probably thinks the toss is against the spirit of the game.

I'm not so worried about the spirit of the game, or whether it exists at all. I just like it when cricket bends itself to adapt to different situations.

Cricket is not like a banana; it has not been perfectly created to fit into your hand. Due to the tactics, surface and structure of the game it's in continual evolution. It can't be stopped by players or officials. Cricket just changes. Some of these changes are bad, some good and some odd. This Test will not be like the next Test, nor the one after, nor the IPL. Even with switch hits.

Most sports don't mutate as fast or often as cricket. Most sports aren't played on a constantly mutating living surface.

Helping England tame spin

Us spinners are wily.

We compensate for our lack of pace by being a little bit dodgy. We're like that scary guy at the start of Willy Wonka who looked like he wanted to smear chocolate on the innocence of young children.

Really, like that same guy, we're ok, it's all just a test.

England are currently playing spin like it's been designed by American Lawyers.

But I think I can solve their problems.

I've assumed that there are key problems that the English players want answered, and so I've done a bit of playing spin in the subbie FAQ for them.

1. Should I play some shots?

When a spinner sees that you are not going to attack, they can pick a spot and work you over. Eventually they will beat you with a ball that hasn't even been invented yet. It's best then if you play your shots to upset them, I suggest the sweep shot, get down log and go go go.

2. It's hard to drive on slow pitches, you know.

When you see a spinner, your first inclination might be that it will look cool on super slo mo if you dance gracefully down the wicket and loft the bowler back over his arrogant head. But on a slow wicket you might end up spooning it straight up in the air. If you want the big masculine moment that will play with classical music behind it, a slog sweep is a perfect alternative.

3. Straight fields are hard to score off, man.

When the bowler is bowling straight at the stumps, with a straight field set and no pace in the wicket, it becomes tough to simply deflect the ball into gaps and score singles or twos. But a lap sweep, getting to the ball before it pitches, can go very fine and will also mean the captain will have to address his straight field settings.

4. Everyone's on the legside, help!

On a pitch with massive spin, often an offspinner will place 6 or more fielders on the legside as a trap to force the batsmen to blaze through the covers. But you don't need to blaze against the spin, all you have to do is premediate and reverse sweep. You're a modern batsman of mystery, you'll make your own fucken legside.

5. I don't really play the sweep, slog sleep, lap sweep or reverse sweep all that well.

That's ok, we can teach you. You want to start by getting down on your knee early enough that the bowler can see what you're doing. Make sure your pad is directly in front of the stumps. Then when you see the bowler change his delivery based on your actions, you should ignore him. Now you need to grope hopelessly at the ball, if at all possible while losing your balance. And then finally you should look utterly baffled when you're given out LBW, and then again when your review is denied.

 

plan to unplan

Watching England win Tests had up until recently become my profession. I've seen them win a couple of Ashes, and defeat Pakistan, West Indies, Bangladesh, India and Sri Lanka. All up close and personal. It's meant that I've been an often reluctant watcher on their journey to No.1. Their gritty, well-planned effectiveness has played out in front of me so many times you start to see the reasons why it exists.

To become No.1, England have done a bunch of things right.

They hired Andy Flower who is a brilliant cricket coach. He's even got the face of a cricket coach, someone who can only smile for seven seconds a week. I can't see how England would've made it to No.1 without him in charge. Anyone who doesn't believe cricket coaches do much after watching Flower scruff this team and hurl them to No.1 is trying to stay in the dark days.

While no one was paying attention, England became the most professional side ever in cricket. Off the field they are No.1 by a distance whether it be their coaching, fitness, analysis and even their administrators. Every box is ticked in preparation. They probably have a person whose job is just that. Names like James Avery and Richard Halsall may not be known to many cricket fans, but they are the best at what they do, and when you continue to hire the best in the business off the field, it can only help those on it.

They call their bowlers, like so many do, their bowling unit. But for this team it's probably better to refer to them as a bowling pack. They stick close together, give little away and stalk their prey. Their plans are simple and workable, do enough with the ball in all conditions, have good variety, more than one capable back-up and the ability to play allrounders when required. There are few eight-wicket hauls from a bowler on the rampage. Generally the wickets come in clusters at both ends because of the pressure and how hard it is to score off them.

Andrew Strauss is a natural leader of this team. He's not showy, or unorthodox, he just forms plans with the coaching group and senior players and keeps the team calm. He's not Stephen Fleming or Douglas Jardine tactically, but this team makes sense with him there.

Their fielding is athletic and well drilled. Their catching very safe. And if someone does something good half the team will race over to make sure he knows it was appreciated. It's an unconfirmed rumour that they have a manual on when it is the correct time to pat a team-mate on the bum.

Their batting can be monumental. It is all built around their top three. Stoic men in no rush. The perfect men to slowly choke the life out of any new ball by either defending or leaving it alone. The opposition bowlers have to bowl to them. Then when the new ball is seen off, these three men, or if they let any other batsman come in, can cash in between the 25th and 80th over. When the second new ball does come, England will have set batsmen facing it and probably have one batsman eyeing a big score.

It's not revolutionary. Sure, in money ball there is talk of seeing more pitches to tire out the pitchers, but seeing off the new ball has always been a pretty sound cricket theory. Tired bowlers with an older ball is what batsmen dream of.

England have just done it better than most, and they also bucked the trend of selecting players like Virender Sehwag, David Warner and Tillakaratne Dilshan. Perhaps it was a plan built around having the right three men, rather than something Flower always believed in. But in the right conditions, say Australia, England, New Zealand and South Africa, it works perfectly. These are generally new ball countries where seam or swing is extremely effective. If you can see off the first new ball, and your batsmen below are quality players, you can up the scoring rate later on and make very big scores that intimidate the opposition.

The problem is that in the subcontinent this game plan doesn't work.

When the ball loses its shine on a low and slow turning wicket, it can get harder to score. England's batting plan was tested by Pakistan and it failed, and now it has failed in Sri Lanka as well.

In some ways, England have already changed from their solid top-order plan. In Pakistan the batsmen stood at the crease waiting for Saeed Ajmal to beat them. Against Sri Lanka they were far more attacking and at times a little bonkers. Andrew Strauss' decision to come running down the wicket like a seven-year-old in a beach game was completely out of character for him. He's more like the person who would spank a child for playing that shot.

Jonathan Trott's hundred was England's ray of light. Trott played Trott cricket. It was sensible, played to his strengths, and only premeditated when Sri Lanka were trying a 15-man legside field. According to Trott, England's batting is so bad the team may have to call in an exorcist.

To stop that in future it might be best if they just forget about the plans. I know it's tough, because England is a plan-heavy team. But it's not like their batsmen are poor, young, or stupid. They've been around and some stuff, and this is no-one's first trip to the subbie. Let them all work it out on their own. Now, maybe only two or three come good. But two or three an innings would still be a vast improvement on what they have at the moment, which is very occasionally one.

Now there are more reasons than their batting template for why England is struggling in these conditions. Strauss is not making runs, with everyone else in form that mattered little, with no one in form that matters a lot. They seem to trust the sweep shot more than an NRA member trusts his rifle (even though they've shot their own toes off with it many times). And they don't really use the crease that well, either forward or backwards.

At the moment England batsmen are little more than targets who occasionally throw in a gut-wrenching premeditated sweep.

Before this series, like I did before their last against Pakistan, I thought Flower would come up with the appropriate game plans for England to conquer these wickets. So far he hasn't.

Yet, I continue to believe in Andy Flower. The 'man with the plan' has to become the man who lets his players play. Just let go of the scruff of their necks and see if they land on their feet. Blocking, slogging and sweeping haven't worked. Perhaps batting will.

Get well soon, Jesse

A giant cartoon bear smiled at an overly aggressive dog. I'm sure other people saw different things that day, but that was my opinion of Jesse Ryder the first time I saw him. He'd just dry-heaved James Anderson to the leg side and this made Anderson remarkably angry. Perhaps Anderson thought he could get into the new guy's head but instead he gave me a new favourite player as Jesse just cheekily grinned at him.

It wasn't the grin of some nervous debutant. Jesse obviously believed he belonged, and was finding Anderson's histrionics pretty damn funny. There was just something different about Jesse Ryder. You didn't have to make a joke about his weight to see he wasn't a cookie-cutter type young cricketer. Jesse was different.

Before he'd played, my introduction was through Adam Parore saying that there was a batsman who was too fat to play for New Zealand. This instantly appealed to me. Perhaps because I never liked Parore, or because I was craving another BBB (Big Beautiful Batsman). Parore's comments made a few headlines, but the New Zealand selectors didn't seem to take them too seriously and before long Jesse had been picked for New Zealand.

Jesse may not have smashed England everywhere that series, but he could obviously play. Through the off side he was a dream. For a big guy he didn't rely on brutality much at all. His timing was extraordinary. His hands were remarkably soft, almost delicate. And his shots could be almost feminine at times. Through the off side he was like Sourav Ganguly in a fat suit. Elegant, delicate and strong. Like a rugged, more man-of-the-people version of David Gower.

Gower was also a bit different to the norm, however, Gower never cut open his hand in a nightclub while trying to break into a toilet. Gower probably never told a nurse he was the future of New Zealand cricket. Jesse was talented, but the troubling signs didn't take long to show up.

While his hand was still healing there was talk he wouldn't make it as a Test batsman. His temperament was not suited to the format. To me that always seemed like nonsense. Forget the off-field problems, purely as a batsman he was born to play Test cricket. He was a batsman far more than a hitter, and his skill would be suited to any form of cricket. All he had to do was get his chance on the field and stop stuffing up off of it.

When he drunkenly claimed he was the future of New Zealand cricket, he wasn't wrong. New Zealand have a good mix of hard-working professionals who come together to form a decent side that, when all on song, can upset far better sides. But they don't have many players of Jesse's talent. You don't keep a player out of Test cricket because he's a young guy who enjoys eating and drinking too much.

His first Test was against Bangladesh, and was largely uneventful, but in his second he made 91. It was astonishing, but somehow this wild man off the field had kept his temperament well enough to at least make a Test-match 90 without punching anything.

Off the field his temperament hadn't improved. He was banned from the national team after missing some team meetings in a series against West Indies. New Zealand Cricket chief executive Justin Vaughan went out of his way to assure everyone that Jesse wouldn't be cast aside, that he'd be taken into the loving bosom of NZC and taken care of. Aaron Klee, Ryder's manager, did his least favourite thing and fronted up to the media to tell them that Jesse had decided to go cold turkey on the drinking.

This was followed by India's tour of New Zealand. A series where Jesse didn't just look like a Test batsman, he looked exactly like what he had told that nurse he was. The future of New Zealand cricket. First Test, Seddon Park, first innings, New Zealand collapse to 60 for 6. And while his captain, Dan Vettori, is playing his unorthodox, aggressive shots, Jesse is playing shots so sexy it makes you weep to watch them. Jesse was reaching the off-side boundary like India had forgotten to put fielders there.

Jesse never looked like a batsman without a Test hundred; he looked like a guy who was ready to be a huge deal in cricket. As he closed in on his milestone, Vettori went out and Jesse was left with the tail. Now, batting with the tail as you go for your maiden Test century is probably not ideal, but with New Zealand's tail it's even more scary. Because you know you only have ten batsmen and Chris Martin. If you parked a kid's tricycle in front of the stumps with a bat taped to it, it would average more than 2.43.

Luckily for Jesse, his batting partner was still Iain O'Brien, his Wellington team-mate who seemed to be doing everything in his fairly limited powers to get Jesse over the line. Until he danced down the wicket like a drunken debutante to be stumped by a foot, though it felt like two pitch lengths. Maybe more. To this day O'Brien claims he was trying to get Jesse on strike. If he was, it was perhaps the world's most misguided attempt to help a friend, the cricket equivalent of pushing someone in front of a train to get them to their destination quicker.

When he drunkenly claimed he was the future of New Zealand cricket, he wasn't wrong. New Zealand have a good mix of hard-working professionals who come together to form a decent side that, when all on song, can upset far better sides. But they don't have many players of Jesse's talent

Jesse was on 98 when Martin walked in. India did what you do when Martin is at the crease: bring in the field and start to giggle. Martin played and missed, looked like it was his first time with the bat, thrust out his body in what he assumed was the way a normal batsman would, used that weird batting face he has, and had one ball caught close, in from his pad.

At the other end, Jesse laughed. He giggled. He smiled.

I can only imagine what a normal batsman would do in this situation. His face would be clenched like he was going through violent constipation; Jesse looked like he was watching a stand-up show. He was enjoying the situation as much as everyone else was. I couldn't believe a batsman two runs from his Test hundred would be so relaxed and find the situation so humourous.

Somehow Martin lasted the over.

The first ball next over Jesse played a slightly uglier-than-usual Jesse Ryder swivel-hip pull-shot to bring up his hundred. Next ball he was out. Jesse was a Test match batsman.

In the following Test he made a double-century. By the end of the series he was averaging over 50 in Test cricket. Jesse had also booked a place in the IPL. So it wasn't just me who loved Jesse, everyone was jumping on board.

In the IPL, Jesse had another bad episode. His cold turkey turned to a drunken incident that Klee originally denied happened. Maybe the press over-reported it, but Jesse certainly was drinking again. Shortly after, Jesse had to pull out of the World Twenty20 because of a groin injury. There were also stories about wild house parties. More injuries. A broken chair that lead to discipline. And the occasional good knock thrown in.

It was now harder to follow Jesse's career. Even when he did play a game, it was sort of a surprise because he'd be out for so long. When Jesse would play, he'd still show the odd sign of his natural talent, but he never seemed to be around for long before another injury got hold of him. For me he sort of faded into the background. I still loved watching him bat, but just working out when he was in the team was hard enough.

That's why I didn't even watch the New Zealand-South Africa Twenty20 on the 22nd February. It was the third in the series, and I didn't have much interest in the first two, so the third was hardly on my mind. I knew Jesse was back playing, but I didn't realise how close he had been to a call-up. And I missed the game. Once I heard about Jesse's role in that game I had to watch the replay. At the start of his innings he felt like normal, if not slightly eager, Jesse, racing to 48 off 27 balls. It wasn't his best innings; it was equal parts brilliance, luck and belligerence.

Then the man who smirked at James Anderson and laughed at Chris Martin changed.

From 48 to 50, Jesse took 10 balls. He didn't defend or leave balls, but something was different. The need for a comeback fifty could have got to him. He would have wanted to prove that he was still the Jesse of old. Perhaps he just wasn't ready, and in the middle overs when the pressure was off he was able to capitalise on a good start without thinking too much. But something did change. He wasn't free-flowing, looked frustrated and far from carefree. He was batting like something else was bothering him. He lost his timing and patience. His hands seemed harder and heavier. It was unsettling to watch him go through it. And the winning position he had put New Zealand in was fading away.

Jesse's last five balls were truly awful: He skies a ball that should have been caught, and takes a single. Faces a dot ball next delivery, then takes a single when Franklin wants two. Gets back on strike and faces another dot ball. Then tries to lap-scoop Johan Botha to beat a short fine leg that you'd imagine would have been hard to clear off Botha's quickest ball. It was bizarre, nervous and ugly, nothing like the old Jesse.

Jesse had made 52 off 42, with four off his last 15 balls. New Zealand needed 20 off 27 before his slow period started; when he got out they needed eight off seven. New Zealand lost that game. Jesse, who had top-scored, got most of the blame.

A week later he was in trouble again. He was caught drinking late at night while injured. Team protocol had been violated, a small misdemeanour to any other player, but for Jesse this was huge. The man with the soft hands and massive frame had again found a way to make himself a punchline and a target. Klee was back under the pump again, editorials were written, John Wright's patience had been tested, the New Zealand team felt let down, and Jesse would not make a return to Test cricket against the South Africans.

Ryder could find humour in situations that would give other batsmen the jitters © Associated Press

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What New Zealand fans would have expected would follow was for Jesse to apologise through Klee and say he was going to do better in the future. Then a few months later he'd do the same thing all over again. With perhaps another injury in between.

But this time the announcement was different. He decided to take a break instead. This was a decision that Jesse, Klee, Karen Nimmo (Jesse's clinical psychologist) and Heath Mills (CEO of NZPCA) came up with. It was an indefinite, break but seemed more definite than any apology or hollow statements that had come from, or been attributed to, Jesse in the past. It was as if Jesse had finally had enough of what his career had become and was now trying to get his whole life back on track.

Jesse has demons. And Jesse needs to work on those demons far away from the press and public. This decision was the right one for him. He shouldn't feel the need to rush back, he is only 27. He should devote all his time and resources into just getting himself right.

One day I hope Jesse Ryder is happy. If he comes back to cricket, and I can see that happiness and a few wonderful shots through the offside, that would be a treat. But if not, I just hope that the guy who brought me joy, finds his own. The man has a great smile; I hope he finds many reasons to use it in the future.

Sachin Tendulkar makes his 100th international 100

Yes, he did.

 

thanking dravid

There are many stories about Rahul Dravid flying around, most of them about his brilliant batting or down to earth gentleman like personality.  And they are all right, the man is a gentleman superstar.  It was an honour to ever see him bat, and an even more amazing honour to meet him.  But my story is a little different.

Rahul Dravid is the reason my wife and I got married.

Before meeting me, my wife was a cricket-obsessed nerd just like we are, and one day when she was trawling the shit soaked anus of the interweb, she found her way here.

One day I wrote about a torturous innings when Rahul Dravid made 3 ones off a katrillion deliveries at the G while being dropped 48 times.

It was fucking painful to watch someone you admire so much fail in such a prolonged and awkward way.

Anyone who saw that would have thought some billionaire had cloned Dravid's body and just walked onto the field.

He was essentially a dog that had been run over by a car who was just begging for another car to run him over.

I think Mitchell Johnson was the car that day.

At the end of the day's play I wrote all about this episode.

"Dravid batted like a man who had just been gelded. It was ugly to watch, and the fact a batsman like that could be given a Bronx cheer for finally getting off the mark is horrible.

If Dravid was my dog, I'd take him out to the country and I'd take a shovel as well."

I was pissed off he was opening, I was pissed off he was doing it badly, and mostly I was pissed off that I had to see him like this.

I'd always loved Dravid.

Before an Australia India series, Australians would all start talking up Tendulkar, and then VVS Laxman, but Dravid never really did it for them.

They liked a fighter, but he was the other guy to them, the boring one. Even when he was making double hundreds in Adelaide.

So to see him like this just left me cold.

But, it wasn't the first time Dravid had dragged his carcass around the crease like this.

And at one of the other times in the UK, my future wife had been there, and lived the same sort of horror I had. You know the horror, that it's funny, but you wish it wasn't happening to Dravid.

Seeing my words about Dravid meant she wrote a comment, and we bonded over seeing Dravid at his worst.

Later on we'd get married and she'd slip a ring on my left hand, which is very similar to my right hand that years later shook Dravid's right hand.

Our wedding was at the Oval, the place of Rahul Dravid's last overseas Test century.

At the reception the tables were named after cricket grounds.  One was the MCG, and we used this photo.

Yes, that's Rahul Dravid just a couple of days before he would set into motion a series of events that would lead my wife and I to marry.

So, when I say "thanks, Rahul", I fucken mean it.

TRD – Team Rebuilding Desire

Genetic sexual attraction is as fancy way of saying that you've fallen in love with a relative. It doesn't happen often, and most of us will never truly understand how a sister and brother or father and daughter, can have romantic feelings for each other, yet alone act on them.

Cricket has a similar syndrome that few fans could ever truly understand. Most fans want their side to be the best of the best. They want to be able to gloat to everyone who had the misfortune of not being born in their part of the world. They want to go into each series thinking that the opposition will be little more than road kill for their heroes. There are other fans including those who truly want cricket to be the real winner. And even those other sick fans who prefer their side to lose just so their natural pessimism is proved to prophetic.

Then there is the TRD fans.

 

TRD (Team Rebuilding Desire) is something that certain fans suffer from. While they get some satisfaction from their team's heady success, they get much more from the new players coming into the team and replacing the old players they know everything about. The problem is, this turnover can also bring losses. Now true TRD fans don't care about this, that's what distances them from just the shouty guy who wants everyone dropped who hangs out at your local corner store. The TRD fans desire the new blood, they crave it like some tween heroine from an otherwordly novel, and they care little for things like ending careers or a few series losses.

I can finally out myself as someone who has this affliction. Over the years I've wanted everyone from David Boon, Adam Gilchrist, Steve Waugh and even Ricky Ponting to move on just so I can see the next crop come through. These guys don't have to be dropped. They can retire if they want; I want new blood, not needless blood.

During the mid-90s I wanted David Boon dropped more than anything in the world, even though I loved watching him bat, just so I could see guys like Damien Martyn, Ricky Ponting and even Greg Blewett. It became far more important to me for these guys to come in than for Australia to keep winning. David Boon couldn't shock me, I knew exactly what to expect from him. I could tell you how many times a day he'd readjust his box just by how many runs he'd made.

Then in the mid-2000s I felt the same. So Australia's collapse in 2008 was perfect for me. Because I don't even need the next big thing. I just need lots of new things. I need the old things repackaged. I need the new things still in the box. I need the damaged things. I need the things I never wanted. I just need it new. I need Michael Beer, Phil Hughes, James Pattinson and Matthew Wade. I need Bryce McGain and Patrick Cummins. New, fresh, different.

Right now you're probably assuming I just have a one-off illness, it's even possible you think I've made this up, that TRD is just some figment of my imagination. But I bet there are some Indian readers who get this. They love Sachin, Rahul and VVS, but their TRD means they want to see Che, Rohit and Ajinkya now.

To some of you this may seem sick and wrong. You'd want us locked up and our tickets taken from us and given to loving normal fans who don't need to get their satisfaction from something this disgusting. You probably think we should all change our ways and continue to support and appreciate our aged greats.

This may not be normal to you, but please let us get our kicks from something as simple as a selector or coach saying, "we're in a rebuilding phase, we'll be looking at some new faces soon for sure". Nothing makes a TRD happier than that.