Windows.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

‘The pictures on my war-or-or-oror-all / are about to swing and fall. Love it. All’.

(Yes this IS an old pic. Dead phone – see below).

Yeh that kindof day. Late for a hospital appointment in Pembs; phone slides across dashboard (YES I KNOW) and (asitappens) out of the fully open car window. I think it’s fallen inside… and besides I’m late for l’hopital… so crack on.

Brisk check, parked outside Withybush. Not looking good. Appointment fine – thankyou. Return with advanced-level-angst to scene of phone departure. It’s crushed, in the road. Later I watch a wee bit of Gauff Muchova. More gut-wrenchin’ swingin’ an’ fallin’. But I’m in Bristol.

Have a little time to try to fix my second VW window-fail. Electrics, driver’s-side gone. Somewhere near Bridgend the whole pane drops inside the door. On the plus side it was about 130 degrees as I drove in but boy did I not like that. Me and Alex sort an overnight exclusion zone, with board. A-and relax.

Starving but curry imminent – India, see? Absolutely baking outside; absolutely stunningly cool in the media centre. (Thankyou, people!). An hour out from the action. Bit gutted I can’t walk round a nd make another glibtastic video… but NEW PHONE not yet charged. Maybe it’s a blessing?

India win the toss and will bat. The light is still searing and almost painfully delicious. (Bat in shades, lads). I have just eaten about three hundredweight of curry and side-wotsits. Magnificent – genuine, heartfelt and humble thanks – I know I’m not worthy.

I have been here many times, including once or twice when the Meedya Posse wanted to stab the in-house air-conditioning engineer through the eyeballs, it was so cold. Today, we are carrying him/her round the city at shoulder height, feeding grapes. 17.22 and the flag-bearers are assembled, including a tiny tot in the pinkest of floppys you’ll ever see. It’s a truly splendid summer evening and there is a crowd – of course there is.

Some bloke called Joffra Something will open for England. From underneath us. Some young whipper-snapper is facing; a leftie; allegedly 9 years old. Legside wide. There is bounce. The young fella has to parry more than once, early-doors. He is 2 not out after 3 balls. His partner, Sharma, slightly miscues another one pitching around leg-stump; no dramas. The visitors are 5 for 0 after 1.

Tongue will follow, from Ashley Down. Sooryavanshi goes fearlessly hands-through, as is his wont and hoists over extra. Four. Then another, then a six over third man. He’s almost impossible to bowl to – although I’m not sure going short of length is wise.

When Archer returns, the Wee Prodigy clatters again… and again… but the latter undoes him – skying to mid-wicket. Make your own judgement(s): it was thrilling and slogging and (mindlessly?) mindful of the run-rate, the powerplay, and the Modern Game. The crowd loved it. 22 for 1.

Tongue is a taaall bastard: legs are 6 feet two. I know this because he’s come to a sort of gully-on-the-circle, beneath us. Replaced by Jacks, coming round. Ishan Kishan eases him through the covers. 32 for 1 after 4 and Tongue has switched ends. But goes leg stump and is eased square. Next up another skier… taken with care at backward point. Ishan Kishan has to walk: his team are a little on the edge at 32 for 2.

Can’t quite make my mind up re- whether Tongue *actually does* take short, staccato strides for a big man, when running in, or not? He’s no Michael Holding, anyway, in terms of aesthetics. He’s bowled a couple just a tad too straight – but maybe you could argue this is likely to happen if bowlers bowl one over spells(?) Curran is in from underneath those flats. In and on middle, first up.

Suddenly struck by how green the outfield looks. Having played cricket in North Glos on Tuesday, at a notably parched but lovely Redmarley CC, this would suggest pretty extravagant watering. Rashid dances in and cashes in, to claim a caught and bowled: the skying tendency shifts towards an epidemic. India 3-down relatively early again.

As Tongue did, Archer has changed ends. He goes ver-ry quickly (or so it seemed) at Shreyas, but remarkably the batter arches his back, tilts and guides the ball over the keeper off an open blade. Ridiculous – and to be honest, about 45% self-protection. Now Curran from the Pavilion End, notably slapping the ball in at Dube. Ar Sam bowls a lot of deliveries that pitch on middle. He has a ridcu-slower ball, too, which he treats us to at the end of the over. 64 for 3 after 9, India.

Tongue changes ends again, again. Shivam says ‘thankyou’ for the width and puts him away through cover. The game feels fast-paced: credit to England if they are trying to get overs completed smartly. That’s not always the case – obvs. Drinkipoos with the visitors on 71 for 3. Feels a little down on par. (*Fatal*).

Wherever India play they have numbers: I mean in the crowd. In my experience this means families – whole families, with gramps, nanas and tiddlers – as much as it means middle-aged sportsblokes. They’re in, tonight and it’s great. Noisy; hearty; overwhelmingly good-natured.

Curran is in with a biggish appeal. I have a great view of this – down the strip – and looks leggy to me. (It was). Shreyas and Shivam are nudging this forward but it still feels a tad light. (50 partnership up, but 100 up in the 14th over – is that gonna cut it? Some brave and athletic fielding in the deep, from England, supports the squeeze.

Banton takes another skier, this time off Jacks. (Fairly ugly heave, going straight but high, from Shivam, safely pouched). Shreyas goes classically and effectively inside out to thrash Rashid over extra: four. Then a drag-down gets just desserts; clattered into the crowd to a fabulous roar. 116 for 4 after 15. Meaning about 160 tops? England still ahead, methinks. (*Fatal 2*).

There are LOTS of people out on their balconies in the flats towards Ashley Down Road. They can almost catch Tilak Varma, as he swivels and hoists Tongue behind, spectacularly. But another brief high for the Indian support, as the batter cuffs rather tamely to Rehan Ahmed at backward point, next ball. 130 for 5 at the end of the 17th over. It strikes me that England have been error-free. Whilst this is not the same as being brilliant, it’s the kind of marker-post you would want, on that journey.

Skipper Shreyas moves to 76 with six, four, six, off Rashid. Important. India are 150 off 18. Sam Curran must hold the charge. He deceives Washington Sundar with a slower ball. Brilliant, mixed, skilful over. Has nerve; has control. Archer will see us out.

Successive miscues draw a couple of runs – could have been wickets. Then a swivel towards forty-five only succeeds in guiding the ball directly to Rashid… at forty-five. Washington Sundar the man out. Last ball and Joffra thinks he has Harry-Kaned a run-out. The review proves he has.

India 158 for 7. Whilst we really might call this a total, the concern for the visitors is that England bat with intent and with depth, and that this pitch looks demon-defficient. True, timing may not be entirely straight-forward, but there isn’t a huge amount in it for the bowlers. Let’s see.

England’s reply.

My internet’s drifted, along with Arshdeep’s line – four byes. Scoreboard’s gone, too.

The light is inevitably different… but still beautiful. Not as sharp; bit more amber in the nectar, maybe. A warm hubbub out there. Two biggish appeals against Salt and then Buttler, in the first two overs. Misfield at mid-wicket: really not sure if we saw any at all, from England. Goodish over from Prasidh, out of Ashley Down. Looked quickish. Just two from it.

Buttler absolutely clubs Arshdeep high into the stand in front of us… but tickles behind next ball. The response in the crowd is powerfully supportive of the lads in blue.

Brook’s response is to flip his second ball over his left shoulder and into the crowd: again, ridiculous. But India well in the game and their fans will need little encouragement to challenge the flow of the English. Prince Yadav in from the flats at 22 for 1. He bowls a horribly wide one at Salt – the kind of ball we all dream about, perhaps especially us non-batters. Clubbed past cover suitably contemptuously. Runs in the over, some streaky some wide, the last drilled straight. England are 36 for 1 after 4.

Pace on can really be cruel, eh? Salt gets a thick edge which flies safely. Prasidh curses quietly. Big Indian media presence here, by the way. And some bloke (not Jack Russell) out painting on the balcony. Asked me to pose but politely declined. 52 for 1, all of a sudden – after 5.

Runs *just come*, don’t they, if you occupy? Pacers err or nicks dart mischievously free. It’s part of the unjustness of the game: stay in and it comes to you. England benefit. Salt has 30 and Brook 20. The total is 68 for 1 off 7. India bring more spin – Washington Sundar. Brook cross-bats him straight, for four, then belts him violently for six, over cow. The insults keep coming: now dispatched over extra for four more; now caressed through cover. Brook has taken 19 from the over. The DJ is milking it: in my view not killing the music early enough before the bowler delivers.

Salt gets in on the act: six over extra, Axar Patel the unfortunate bowler. A mis-field at the boundary kinda symbolises where we’re at. Brooks ridicu-batter onto the roof of the media centre confirms. England are racing clear. The captain has 50 from 21 deliveries and the 100 is up – as is the dander. India look a little broken; we may be done inside 15 overs.

Brook and Salt have put on a 100-run partnership in what feels like ten minutes flat. Brook in particular is in that Higher State: you can’t bowl to the fekker. Drinks with England on 120 for 1.

Arshdeep Singh will try to turn this around. Only a real clump of wickets can offer India any hope: meaning England either can tick these off with a kind of controlled superiority or bang away with abandon. Their choice. Salt cuffs Singh through the vacant slip area. 20.15 hours and half the ground now in shade. Earlier, zillions of fans were squeezing into those precious cooler retreats – underneath the flats, in the covered walkways. I suspect it’s nicely temperate in the temporary stand to my left, now. The game’s gone into a lukewarm phase, too. Less urgent, less compelling. 140 for 1 after 12, England.

With only 19 runs left to defend, Prince looks an unlikely hero. Not that the fella won’t try. He’ll bounce Brook, in fact, and the England skipper will look across in search of a call from the square-leg umpire. Nothing doing. Dinks and nurdles, then. The drama and theatre may yet come… when the ball is there.

I’m not Charlotte Edwards but…

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So we’re on the brink of a big tourney: that always brings out The Opinions. I have a few here, and – I hope – some medium-rounded thoughts about where England Women lie (as it were) as they go into a home World Cup.

Being home is MAJOR. Good support; familiar surroundings; less travelling. It’s just easier and of course you’re competing under playing conditions that you grew up in. You probably know the grounds well – their slopes, their foibles, their advantages.

England have probably the best and most sought-after female coach on the planet – Charlotte Edwards. She is tough, experienced, shrewd. She is a proud Englishwoman who *will know* that her side are or should be about second or third favourite to win this event and that they have work to do to make good on that expectation. Edwards commands respect both for her hugely distinguished career and what we might call her fitness for leadership. She does have presence (without being remotely extrovert) and will make players listen.

Those of us on the outside can only throw in our hunches but it seems likely that Edwards can both drill into people and put the proverbial arm around. Given the widespread suspicion that England have been (to be blunt) less tough than is necessary, historically, that combo of ‘personal skills’ and timely rockets will have been tested throughout her stewardship. She will have been angry at the extended period when the group’s fielding was mediocre or mixed. She will have eyeballed individuals, *had words* and demanded better. There will have been conversations – some across the playing squad, some discreetly with other coaches – to drive urgent improvement.

Edwards will be as aware of the rest of us that several of the first team couldn’t sprint or couldn’t move and coordinate like an international sportsperson. In the wider context of a developing game, where players have been thrown forward pretty quickly into a different, fully professional environment, it was perhaps inevitable that some individuals wouldn’t be immediately at the level required. Speed, repeatable and repeating fielding skills – the sort of athletic brilliance coaches and now more critical paying customers will want to see – do not land overnight.

When Edwards walked in, all of Bell, Ecclestone, Dunkley, Capsey were very much works in progress, in the field. (One could go on). And Bouchier, despite being a good athlete, was making the sort of crass errors that the coach probably felt (and possibly said?) had no place in an England side. There was masses of work to be done but plainly and visibly – especially post the outstanding win in the third IT20 against India – improvements are happening. Performances get better for it: the spectacle (and therefore the game itself) gets better for it.

We are already seeing the connect between sheer, persistent hard work – well done, Eccles/Belly etc etc – and authentic international-level sport. Edwards has plainly been driving towards that. Over time, she will want more players in the Linsey Smith mould; women who can execute their primary skill (in her case, bowling) but also dart around the field compellingly and with confident intent.

In terms of selection, the coach has been clear that Knight remains a fixture in the side, despite her relatively mediocre form of late, and those fears about lowish strike rate. I’m with Edwards on this. The former skipper is in there as much for her mentality and durability as her batting prowess – which we saw was undimmed, at Taunton. It’s about balance. This batting side is susceptible to pressure. Knight makes collapses a whole lot less likely and she can clear the offside circle and reverse better than almost anyone else in the squad. But she is in there for her grit, as much as anything, and the squad needs that.

Patently it’s the batting group that’s the most pressing concern, for England – the line-up. There are strongish arguments for not selecting Dunkley, Wyatt-Hodge and Nat Sciver-Brunt(!)

Dunkley, like Bouchier before her, has arguably spent 18 months or so playing her way out of the team. If her way of playing had consistently gifted scores and results then yes of course we fans, coaches and purists could forgive the ‘orrible aesthetics. But Dunkley not only looks horrible, in terms of technique and purpose, she looks lost, confidence-wise. Edwards has a hell of a job on her hands to restore her… but I suspect that the coach will be trying. (I’d be dropping her, I’m afraid, and offering her berth to Capsey, or perhaps opening with Knight and Wyatt-Hodge. They have the skills and experience to know what level of risk – and run-rate – is required, in the power-play and beyond).

Amy Jones is the left-field candidate for elevation up the order. A) She does have quality and experience. B) She’s opened with some success in 50 over cricket. I thought it was a good and healthy challenge for her to open in the ODI’s, partly because it felt Jones was under-achieving and this might be a way of re-energising her batting. It would be a bold call from Edwards to sling her in to the upcoming World Cup as a top order player but I wouldn’t object. Who Knows? Maybe that’s been the plan for months?

Nat Sciver-Brunt is a world-level player but does she walk back in, with barely any cricket? (Two warm-up matches, I believe?) This in itself is a gamble: expect the coach to take it. Whether or not NSB slots back in to that no. 3 spot is an interesting one. Might that be best left flexible? Capsey/NSB/Knight or even Kemp, according to the state of the game? Edwards is entitled to keep the opposition guessing on that one, I reckon. Plainly England are not settled, re their batting line-up – although to be fair, the coach may well have been clear on this for months. Injuries have meant changes; the need to ‘explore’ means changes. Now Edwards must provide clarity and belief: her players then must execute.

I suspect that both Kemp and Gibson will start and the bowling group beyond them will pick itself – Bell, Smith, Dean, Ecclestone. Wong is likely to be unlucky, given her capacity for brilliance and mischief, but she remains a genuine player, and she may yet have her moment. Tilly T-C may also get what we might call a strategic run-out: horses for courses and all that.

Finally, the very recently-emerged debate (which may not be a debate all) about the captaincy. Charlie Dean has looked the part: Nat Sciver-Brunt often hasn’t(?) Combine those notions with NSB’s return and you have a situation where Dean gets the nod. I would do that… but I’m not Charlotte Edwards. NSB has been named as skipper.

Glam and England. Women.

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It was crazy-stupid of me to omit any mention here of the magnificent contribution that Suzie Bates has made to cricket – not just in or for New Zealand. She’s been a giant. I hope she’s loved every minute of her epic journey from the days when apparently nobody cared, to the professional and significantly higher-profiled present. To be honest, I’m not clear exactly what her retirement plans are. I hope she is and that she does stuff that makes her really happy, in the future. Thankyou for being a leader, a trailblazer and a top, top player.

Up early to molest some scrambled eggs on toast, pre- a longish day. Suitably empowered, into the Polo to hoof (I mean drive extremely carefully and responsibly) to Glam. With rain almost certainly snapping at my heels – or the Polo’s, because it does have specially-fitted heels. The A40 is clear. The M4 is pretty clear. I get to Glam before 9.30.

There is no rain but you’d fancy a bowl. And then there is rain. At 10.16, in the Media Centre, it’s hard to tell… so I’m off for a quick meander. Could be a day for *promenading* and time-filling. Back soon. Oh – should probably note to the universe that covers are on and there is that thing ‘the threat of rain’.

Breaking: my perambulation confirms two things. Firstly that TWO of my good mates are working on the ground-staff today – good luck Minky and Ben! – and secondly we have a pitch inspection at 11.15am. At 10.56, with no precipitation for about 40 minutes, we have a chance. (But there is ‘rain about’).

There are people here, bless ’em. I hope to god (for them and for Glam) that we can get a meaningful lump of play. Masses of work goes in to making these days possible.

OK. We have a start time of 12 noon. And we have been dry for an hour so a start is likely. Toss any minute.

Both teams are out there, going through their heavily-managed drills. (As a coach, I find these interesting: I rob the ideas I like). In other news, lovely to see the brilliant and engaging host/pundit/commentator Lauren Salter, doing the on-field mike-work. (Genuinely think she’s excellent). Her old man is a good Pembrokeshire lad – formerly of St Ishmael’s CC. Lauren smashes it in English and in Welsh. Talking of smashing it, we *really should* have play in 15 minutes. I do note however that the ground-staff have pointedly kept the hover-cover close to the strip…

11.51. It may have brightened, a tad. (*Fatal*). As always, I’ve tried to get as close as possible to a viewing-point – a seat, obvs, in the aforementioned Media Centre – straight down the strip. Not quite possible, today, but short of sitting in the scorer’s box, it’s as good as.

New Zealand have won the toss and opted to bowl. The England team open-up with Lamb; Grewcock; Knight; Capsey. Final dragging-of-the-rope and we should be off: it’s cloudy but ver-ry playable as we stand: 11.57am. (The rope-draggers are loving it; racing around the outfield like mad bumper-car drivers). Here we go. Great conditions to bowl seam in, you would think. Big challenge for Lamb and Grewcock. Kerr – who swings it – will bowl.

There is inswing; Lamb is watchful. Kerr is boldly full – quite rightly. First runs come through extra. Grewcock – a leftie – must see-out the over. She is beaten but not fatally.

Bree Illing (also a leftie) will bowl from the river. She rather plops it there, and Lamb eases it for four, through cover. Then Lamb edges and is caught. She’s either hugely disappointed or doesn’t think she’s hit it. Slinks off slowly. 7 for 1, England, as Knight joins Grewcock. I can’t see a tellybox but that could well have been a great ball, from Illing, who is bowling with some pace…. but not always with control. Two wides in the over. 9 for 1 off 2.

Kerr gets a look at Grewcock. The England newbie is troubled, but does eventually get one away. Help here, very much as expected, for the bowlers. 11 for 1 off 3.

Illing again a bit loose – Knight crashes her past point. Then another legside wide. New Zealand can’t afford to waste these conditions; the day is likely to be reduced. Kerr though, is in rhythm: has two fielders out behind square. Good test this, for Knight. She’s passing it, currently: plays late to cut through cover for four. 21 for 1 off 5.

Grewcock looks less comfortable than Knight, but Illing is offering mixed fayre. She does draw a thick edge but it flies safe, to third man. Then the England bat looks better and more confident, against Kerr. She may be settling. (*Fatal*).

Her partner strikes another boundary. There is that feeling that the batters may be getting acclimatised. (On *that*, we still have plenty cloud, but the scene is… encouraging). Illing slaps in two bouncers: dealt with. Make that three bouncers – or notably short deliveries. First change: Mair for Kerr, J. Right-arm, quickish.

An appeal, for a caught behind. Went legside. No review. Been saying it for years, but Knight is a very fine player. She looks set – she often does. Meanwhile Grewcock latches onto a full one – four through point. That will help settle any remaining nerves. 39 for 1 off 9, England. Illing will continue.

At the end of that ten over powerplay, New Zealand may feel they have underachieved a little. They have beaten the bat but both Grewcock and Knight have begun to build. Hands are going through the ball nicely. And these are bowling conditions to die for.

I say this and Mair’s height (and bounce) count. Good length ball is maybe too good (or too lively) for Grewcock. Caught behind. She’s done o-kaaay but will be frustrated to get out now – *did look* more settled. But that’s a more-than-decent delivery. Jess Kerr has changed ends. 47 for 2, after 11. Capsey has joined Knight.

We have a little rain. It’s almost imperceptible… but brollies have gone up. Not an immediate threat but things could change rapidly. Conditions &/or a wet ball may have contributed to it, but Mair throws down a highish full-toss, which Capsey carts away powerfully. Next ball we have a review, for lbw, as the same batter plays and misses. She’s okay: okay and the skies look to have brightened. 56 for 2, off 13.

Kerr teases Knight outside off. Might have drawn a nick, twice. But when the seamer goes half-volley length, the former skipper cashes in, stunning very straight to the boundary.

Mair bounces Capsey too high. Sue Redfern rightly calls a wide, from square leg.

We’ve had more than an hour of play. New Zealand are drying the ball with a towel but we have a playable cricket event. Understandably, because of the wretched forecast we have a small crowd in to see it: but this is a decent contest. 66 for 2 after 15, with Kerr in and… ah – rain falling. It may have disturbed Knight’s concentration; the sharpness of it. We await a decision as to whether she is out. Knight knows: she’s nicked it. Gone for 28 off 40. A not inconsiderable return, given the conditions. We welcome Freya Kemp at 66 for 3.

Kemp is a left-hander, and what we used to call a natural. She can hit, but has yet to make her mark at international level. (If that’s toughish I still think it’s fair). Illing bowls quickly at her. The rain persists.

Tough to bowl leg-spin in this but we now have arguably the world’s best, from underneath us. Kerr A (or M, take your pick) – (A)melie Kerr. She gets through her over and we think we’re off for rain… but it’s drinks! (Hot drinks, I hope). But hang on… we *are off*. England are 77 for 3 off 17: and we’re off for rain.

Within about a minute, the skies brighten. Sport, eh?

14.21. Well-fed (thanks, Glam) and not yet fed up – why wouldya be? Medium-luxurious press box, with great view of the stadium. Nice vibe, generally. Foodie smells; drinkie smells; general bonhomie with optional-but-widespread kagool-wearing. Actually some sun but still both the occasional downward dribble, and the satellites zapping us with unwanted risk-percentages. So we wait. Comfortably, most of us, but we wait. (Had sight of one forecast: rain close but then *maaaay be* disappearing later, on the unhelpfully intermittent breeze. With this I check local flag supply; hanging limp).

Always expected a reduced game. Covers still on at 14.39, with a wee bitta drizzle. Always bit humbling to see fans digging in and hoping. (Sport, eh?) It may get worse here before it gets better but I hope folks are rewarded for sticking around – I certainly will.

In terms of the game, conditions have played such an obvious role it’s maybe unwise to make judgements about performance. Illing was lively but found it hard to maintain control. Grewcock scored slowly and got out just as she was reaching some level of comfort. But muggy and wet and coolish. Both coaches can and will ‘take note(s)’ but neither of them can view events here as typical or definitive. Accept that because we’re in (a sort of) extremis, here, we can learn stuff about character and durability and consistency, and this is or can be of import. But with the ball flashing or even splashing around, we need to give the players a bit of a break. Right. Another wee walk, I think.

Announcingment, as I meander. God-willing/in’sh’allah, we have a 3.55pm re-start. And the game is now 32 overs. (I’m sure I heard that fiugure: later it proves to be incorrect). All very good news, except maybe the 50-odd minutes gap between the announcement and the re-start. Think we’re entitled to be impatient because it could happen more quickly (IMO) and rain may be incoming. All of which of course the officials know. Understand they are responsible for people’s safety but (having been out there and really looked) I can’t see why the resumption couldn’t have been 20 minutes plus earlier. Because time may be important. Anyway, it’s quite bright now…

15.29. Most of the players out, re-warming. Conditions look good. Hover-cover still in place. Bumper-car race on again – Charlotte Edwards (*thinks*, was it CE?) just hadda bitta fun skipping over it. Capsey just running and stretching in her pads. Bell working towards full pace, on a practice strip. Notable away-swing. (More than slightly fascinated by Lauren Bell’s complete shift across to away-swing deliveries. Some of you will know she had some of the most dramatic in-swingingers in the game: binned. Because strategy and because bowling tweakage. Has worked remarkably well – she might get in a World XI, currently). Hey. We are ready to re-start!

Capsey and Kemp, then, for England; with Illing to bowl from the River End. Fifteen overs remaining in the innings. Single. Another leg-side wide and a mishit that flies over gully. Followed by an off-side wide. Mixed over – a sighter for all the protagonists. But England must attack pretty imminently. A Kerr, from Cathedral Road. Quietish. 86 for 3 off 19.

At the back of our/your/somebody’s minds may be the thought that any side could get bowled out very quickly in these conditions. Balance that (England?) with the need to score quickly from hereon in. Both Kemp and Capsey are free-flowing at their best. Neither, arguably, have been at their best in the national jersey; certainly not recently. Brilliant test for both of them.

Mair then Kerr, A. Batters remain circumspect. Running is good. 100 up: must get some boundaries. Really poor fielding error from Jess Kerr gifts Capsey one, off the incoming Patel. Nine off the over; 108 for 3, England, after 22.

The 50 partnership, dominated by Capsey, comes up in Patel’s second over. The bowler has bowled flattish slow-medium-pace, and gone at 8s. So better for England. Capsey goes into her 40s with another neat sweep, off Melie Kerr. Good knock, this.

Kemp has played relatively conservatively. She knows she needs to change that. A classical strike downtown might be the answer, but she has picked out Mair at straightish mid-on. Enter Gibson, and re-enter Mair, who will bowl to Capsey from the Taff End. The in batter will hate What Happens Next. A shortish, widish ball is asking to be clattered to leg. Capsey mishits tamely to extra cover. Maybe it stuck in the pitch… but it was a medium-‘orrible dismissal. She made 45. Change in momentum; or at least England have stalled. Patel changes ends at 127 for 5.

Gibson has had a mare, but a shortish one. Patel is all over her before bowling her. Poor, from the batter. Charlie Dean may have to come to the rescue again. Interestingly, Suzie Bates enters the fray, from the River End. Five overs remain. The bowler fails to execute a fairly straightforward run out; one which really might have put the home side into real bother. Almost no boundaries in living memory: suspect England may have to bowl the opposition out cheaply – which they may do. 134 for 6, off 28.

Jones is in and almost out, playing rather tamely, uppishly. I’ve said before that I have concerns about the England keeper’s mentality: good player but not always one for a crisis. She repeats the aerial drive but this time with commitment and no little style. The batters have to score at 7/8 or more an over now. The world’s most irritating flock of pigeons has joined us.

150 up in the 31st, with Kerr A bowling in brightish sunshine but with fairly benign cloud knocking about. Jones beautifully smoothes the bowler out over extra for four. Mair will bowl the last.

Foolishly she goes a tad short and a tad wide. Everyone – including Jones – cuts that one for four. Dean follows that with a cheeky fiddle-scoop-thing past fine, fine leg.

Ah. I thought we were reduced to 32 overs. Somehow I am misinformed. Jess Kerr is in to bowl and I’m wondering how long we go for…

Quite like the frisson around that so leaving my error in there. Meanwhile Jones, whom I obviously traduced, has been caught for a promptish and well-executed 30-odd. With that, Ecclestone has biffed Kerr powerfully through extra to *complete proceedings*.

Some in the Media Centre are contradicting the scoreboard here, which has shown the universe a total of 181 for 7. Maybe it would be more fun to leave that unclear, for an over or thirty?

In other news, I’m glad to report that game I felt very guilty about swerving, for my home club, was abandoned, back in Pembs, about half an hour ago. Making me feel marginally less like a traitor. (Back next week, lads!)

THE REPLY.

Inevitably, Lauren Bell will open up for England, with the legend that is Suzie Bates to face. Away-swinger; no dramas. The scoreboard has posted a target of 184, by the way, contradicting the previous information. (No dramas). We may have more breeze but these are the best conditions we’ve seen all day. Bell beats Bates three times in the over but concedes a boundary. I repeat: we are watching cricket in the sunshine!

Filer likes a flop – a la Mark Wood – and she gets one in, early. But then looks quick – possibly too quick for Plimmer? Maybe not. The batter steadies herself and bangs one through midwicket for four. 12 for 0 after 2, New Zealand. There is pace on the ball, here, with both bowlers racing in. Any connection and the ball will fly. Or if they stray (like Bell just did, twice) we may see leg-side wides piling up. New Zealand are off to a flyer without hardly connecting.

Knight shells a toughish chance, off Bell. Great ball, deserved better. But immediately the bowler has her wicket – and it’s Bates, lbw. Her captain, Kerr A/M, marches in. Filer is bowling swiftly… but mixing it up a bit. (Slower, possibly inswinging yorker). Ach. She goes too straight and too full. Clipped for four. At 27 for 1 off 4, the visitors are well up on the run-rate.

But Bell responds. Has Kerr lbw. Big wicket. Little surprised the batter doesn’t review for height – looked very straight but that is a moment, you would think. Bell is bouncing in: Green can only fend her towards gully but it drops safe. These are model conditions for fast bowling and you can feel England’s openers enjoying them. They will be expecting to take wickets, possibly in gert big clumps.

Oof. Big grey clouds to my left. Threatening clouds. Rain clouds. Everyone’s suddenly thinking DLS…

A brief shower which has relented, for now. But things do look a bit different. Wickets required pronto. Bell obliges again. Goes very full and traps Plimmer for 7. (I honestly did wonder if England would blast through this order and it’s beginning to feel that way). Halliday is in (and she can bat) but how much do NZ have, beyond that? They are 40 for 3 and significantly down on DLS, because of those wickets. Plus I fancy both Ecclestone and Dean may be a challenge today.

Looking at replays. Bell, in particular has bowled some beauties. But now it’s Eccles-time, from Cathedral Road. Skies look less leaden than ten minutes ago but you wouldn’t rule our further interference. Ecclestone, as so often, is right on it. With that she bowls a loose one: couple to fine leg.

Looks like Bell may bowl out, quite rightly – she doesn’t in fact. But Green blocks one hard, straight back at her, which she nearly stops with her chin. (Fortunately, hands do get there first). She can continue. This is a brilliant spell. The heavens have brightened and opened in approval. Green, however does get a short one to the boundary: 49 for 3, off 9. Bell has bowled consistently over 70mph in that over.

Ecclestone will be eager and expectant, too. At the close of the powerplay, New Zealand are 15 runs down on DLS. Enter Dean. Quiet over.

Interestingly, when Eccles returns, the batters deal with her reasonably well. They even have the audacity to clump her for a boundary. But the visitors have work to do: still 10 runs down on DLS. So what? Green is advancing, biffing Dean through mid-off and going to 29 off 34. So this is not over. 69 for 3 off 13.

Ecclestone also goes for four. The kiwis are battling. A further boundary. This could be important – could be more rain to my left.

Fair play to the batters for reading this early and being really proactive. Twenty minutes ago this seemed almost done. Not now. 13 have just come off Ecclestone’s over. The DLS equation has notably tightened. England need a wicket. Their genuinely brilliant left-arm spinner doesn’t look like providing. Lots of responsibility on Gibson, who now joins us from Cathedral Road. She cannot be expensive.

We fear rain may be incoming. And *we think* the visitors have gone ahead on DLS. (Think, because we’re hearing different numbers, here). This is tense in a good way – the way competitive internationals should be. Green and Halliday, under the cosh then in difficult conditions, have battled admirably. Bell will have felt she’s bowled well enough to win this: but it’s on the edge. We have drinks, with *all that stuff going on*, and New Zealand on 94 for 3. Dean, the England skipper, will be juggling the need for wickets – Filer? – with the need for economy. We go again with Gibson.

She clean-bowls Green, with a peach of an off-cutter. Huge, in the game. NZ reach 100 in the 18th over, which closes at 100 for 4. It’s Filer time.

She runs in from the River End and starts with two goodish balls… which go for minor runs. Then she lets Gaze free her arms and crash her to the point boundary. (This was the danger – inconsistency). A fielding error ( not Filer’s) next ball doesn’t help. No wicket and Filer has again gone for 8 in the over. Tense. The ball is wet. The sky is doing that leaden mist-thing. Locals think if we go off now (or soonish) we may not be coming back. New Zealand are ahead.

The batters do not appear to be intimidated by Filer’s pace and bounce. (And she’s going short and hard into the pitch). Lights are on and they need to be. Bouchier is on as sub (for Bell, I think) and Gibson is bowling a wide. And then another – damp ball, plus left-right batting combo, plus pressure all in play. England need a wicket. The bowler goes wide and over-full: four, behind.

Dean, from the Taff. Needs to make something happen. Light at issue, now. The White Ferns are managing this better than some of us imagined. (Conditions are now pret-ty challenging for all involved… but not sure I’d want to be batting in this).

We go back to Ecclestone, who was underwhelming in her first spell. She’s towelling the ball. Quietish over.

Bell can return from the Taff End. Comes around to the leftie Halliday. Will be giving Kemp the eye for not stopping the boundary – not easy but probably stoppable. If the scoreboard is accurate (and of course it may well be) New Zealand win this by about 15 runs. We await confirmation… but the hover-cover is ON… because that rain has arrived. This looks to be done.

The visitors stand on 141 for 4 after 24.4 overs. We expect no more. ALL the covers are coming on quickly. People are leaving before any Scores on the Doors appear. (Soon the six-wicket victory is confirmed). The White Ferns backroom staff have stood and cheered as the batters hastily retreated. They think they’ve got a great win – an away win. A win ground-out by their middle-order.

I thought Bell might skittle them on her own. In the end, England had no-one to back the attack leader up. Filer was yet again, frustratingly, less influential and less consistent than Dean and co needed her to be. Ecclestone looked human. But hey, on a day that was a challenge in so-o many ways, New Zealand have dug in and won it. Congratulations to them all.

I’ve written enough; I’ve seen enough. Thankyou for your company and support: I’m headed East (strangely) to play cricket for the Ancients of Wales. Weather permitting. Will iron-out the inevitable typos and errors when I get to Bristol.

Coaching engagements.

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I’m not normally disposed to equivocation or blandness, I hope. But loyalty towards The Mob – and even towards people or policies that (ahem) challenge or trouble me – will mean that the following lacks the kind of candour that I might unleash in a year or two’s time, when I dip out of this coaching malarkey. For now, I still love it and mightily respect colleagues on the pathways that I have been working on. Anyhow: hope these generalities aren’t toooo lame…

Top Man asked recently how many years I’ve been active on coaching pathway(s) in my neck of the woods. Honestly don’t know. And the memory fails and the urge to go digging for ancient manuscripts – well, maybe pics from Aberystwyth – is weakish, to be honest. Fifteen years or more, I would think, as a paid employee ‘in cricket’. Been bloody marvellous.

Think I’m hoping to slap down a few thoughts on what coaching has or might or can look like: feel free to engage in rapturous approval or shoot me down as just a junior coach.

Understand this sharing implies a certain level of arrogance, underpinned as it is with the idea that I’m somehow worth listening to, or *have ideas*. But know what? I think I probably do… and will counter and deflect that arrogance thang by saying that much of what I feel I know (and want to ‘pass on’) is notions, confidences, practice(s) built by watching better people, better coaches. I am clear that I have been working alongside (or assisting, or being assisted) by brilliant people.

So what do they do? They hold the attention of players. They sometimes demonstrate… and they do it well – impressively, even. (Yup; I know. We’ll come back to this). They both drive sessions along – planning and scheduling – and absolutely allow and respond for reading the room; feeling-out what’s appropriate, changing tack, given the energy or level of understanding of the players. They are wonderfully disparate characters – of course they are! – some bit schoolmasterly, some almost tough and it’s hard to reduce their multifarious, individual approaches to commonalities – to ‘good practice’. But we better try.

Coaching is a fabulously rich job, whether paid or volunteer. (Done masses of both). I know coaches who have presence, or who can genuinely capture or even inspire by something more than their capacity to communicate. They go right past direct or directed meanings. They have an aura and the players buy in: they want to follow, never mind process learning. These kinds of coaches aren’t necessarily the best but the power of their personalities can be compelling and rich and often engaging in a deep, natural and human kindofaway. (Apols if that lumps all kinds of contentious categories into a dodgy and abstracted bundle but I’m hoping you know what I mean?) They tend to be ‘colourful’ and ‘individual’ and ‘responsive’ because they are all of those things: they are perceptive, sensitive, original people who happen to have skills in sport. And communication. And diplomacy. And performance – of both, or multiple types.

For the coaching to really work, players have to listen and they have to get better, yes? (Or no? There’s a thesis and an argument that outputs aren’t at all the essential work or the essence of coaching but plainly pathways are inevitably judged at least in part on where the players finish up). As always, things depend. What age-group are we talking? What standard? I am happy to report that I have done most of my work at the entry level to this marvellous meat-market – under 10s and 11s, typically. I try like hell to improve players but more than anything I think, I am trying to make these wee earthlings fall in love with a game: a game that they might well play into their 60s. But back to measurements.

Coaches with ‘something about them’ may be in a better position to galvanise players than quieter, more cerebral types. (But not necessarily). The Aura Guys (and Gals – or however they identify!) may have a kind of Route A towards happy, entertained learners – learners who *do* fall in love with the game (or the sessions)… and maybe they come to idolise the coach – something we have to be pretty careful about.

Aura Guys (& gals, etc) may be susceptible to ego, to showboating, to laziness, perhaps, around necessary disciplines in the game and in their own preparation. They may be so interested in playing to their gallery that they forget to coach. Having said that, my experience is that *mostly*, what I’m going to call humour (in sessions, in matches) can be key. Humour meaning temperature; meaning flavour; meaning wit. Positive, rich, confident and often downright enjoyable team humour can start with a coach who brings upful energy as much as (s)he brings knowledge.

But what about the majority of us, who ‘lack’ charisma? Well our sessions need to be compelling in a different way. It is necessary that they are. The capture must come from out of the black and white stuff: good thinking; good planning; challenges that work on the skills in a way that feels productive and supportive. It’s absolutely possible to host brilliant sessions without being an extrovert… but my experience suggests that (maaaybee with young players in particular?) it’s a tough gig without bringing high energy activity. (So get players racing, or buzzing, or giggling as they fly into or through the drills). Enjoyment is such a big part of achievement – is so closely related to it so often.

‘Low-key’ coaching makes sense in a zillion ways – not least because it fits with the whole player-centred cowabunga – of which we all solidly approve. This should not be about the ego of the host, but the needs and capacities of the recipients. However, the vibe, the energy needs to be bright, and somehow liberating.

Somewhere at the start of this thing we mentioned demonstrations. I have mixed feelings about coaches doing demo’s, having experienced the pluses and minuses. Plainly – and we might say historically – this can feed straight into the idea of a coach being some experienced and therefore entitled demagogue. Probably driving performatively, in the vee, with head remarkably and mesmerically still. This can of course be anachronistic cobblers, much more about the needs of middle-aged blokes than the needs of players… and I have no issue with anybody calling it out as such. But it can also be instructive, if handled well. For one thing, some players *really are* visual learners. So even if Middle-aged Geezer Posing with Bat is overly full of himself, it may be that the movements may be registering in a way that supports development.

A contemporary view of this could be that like issuing penalties for dropped catches/bad listening/repeat ‘failures’ it shouldn’t be happening, because there are better options available – like offering guiding principles, not absolutes or methods. In situations like this – i.e where demonstrations might once have been Option A – I often tell players that coaching has changed on this, and that maybe they should try to find a way towards the particular objective. A way that might work repeatedly, consistently. And offer shapes or advisories or further questions if we aren’t getting to where we want to be – or towards where we want to be? I’m increasingly using words like awareness and even the phrase ‘trying to be conscious (of our movements’) as well repeating my fave mantra over many years, namely “how do we make this work?”

Coaching is about reading the room, being sensitive, encouraging, supporting. Having knowledge but being able to use that to offer good questions rather than lectures. Sure, be A Voice and maybe An Entertainer if that comes naturally to you. If it doesn’t you can still make it work. Think about it; be authentically you and allow (or make) the material of your sessions capture and engage your players.

To begin… at the ending.

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Oof. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Not out on pens. Not tonight.

Most of Wales was saving up the hwyl, or the Ultra-hwyl for next week – for The Big One. But no. Bosnia and Herzegovina did that stealth-bomb-victory thing; firstly creeping into the game, then nicking it, as two Welsh players – Johnson and Williams – had radar malfunctions over their spot-kicks.

Johnson had been anonymous all night, and this always makes me think that a player not on his game just shouldn’t take a penalty. Know many will either disagree, or say that top pro’s can switch that bad energy off and stroke the ball home, even in that prodigious moment. Not sure I agree. If I’m the gaffer I take charge and look deep into the eyes of my players. I take it out of their hands (or yaknow, feet). If they either seem tremulous or they’ve played like a donkey, they don’t take the pen.

Not that Johnson played *really poorly*: he was just mediocre. As was Dan James – who is mediocre – until that extraordinary moment where he latched on to a ball beyond the last man (as per his entire career) but then took it spookily and magnificently early and smashed it past the Bosnian keeper. As absolutely not per… but truly gloriously.

O-kaay, the keeper was leaden-footed, for sure, but again we might credit the forward for striking (as it were) on the up and, if we were cruelly-inclined, against the grain of pret-ty overwhelming evidence. It was a brilliant, brilliant goal, from a genuinely mediocre player, who despite what you heard from the painfully myopic commentary team, had been his usual wasteful, sloppy, kick-ball-flytastic self for most of the first period. (But hey – ain’t life wonderful?)

The visitors had predictably adopted the ‘take no prisoners’ approach. Equally as predictably, James and Wilson were both guilty of exaggerating contacts – something the referee seemed notably unimpressed by.

The fella’s probably been reading my socials. Unpopular opinion number eight zillion: the ref had a largely decent game, and seemed to read those two players particularly well. Meaning his homework has probably included watching a good deal of the Prem or Championship over recent years. The crowd, of course, mostly bayed their disapproval at his appalling bias.

Wales started well, without creating. Ampadu and Wilson looked like players but Bellamy’s side again lacked bite or brilliance in and around the box… until James’s stunning intervention. Later, when the game began to drift from them, Harris, Cullen and Thomas came on to provide legs/energy/threat. Only the latter succeeded. Cullen committed one particularly bad foul then jogged around avoiding the game. (I think he has done that a little, for Wales). Harris had only a couple of meaningful interjections. Thomas, playing wide right then cutting-in to curl crosses or slide passes to the edge of the box, did well – was probably the home team’s best player in the last forty minutes – but there was no fox-in-the-box or thrillingly out-of-the-blue James-like cannon from outside of it. It had ‘one goal is not enough’ written all over it.

Bosnia were set to contain for as long as… and could do that. On the basis that one goal conceded left them well in the contest. Rivetingly, their number ten gave one of the worst or weakest exhibitions of forward play you are ever likely to see: he could have won the damn thing, before overtime, but fell into almost comical (but obviously tragic) serial-fluffing. (Later he was gifted their first penalty, which of course he missed). But they were in the game – from about the hour mark, they were in the game.

Dzeko, almost criminally, given who he is/what he does, squeezed in a header to equalise and then it was pens. No real argument. In the way of these things – in tournament football, I mean – Bosnia had opened out just a little and looked at least as likely to score as Wales did, as the match huffed and hustled to its cruel-joyful destiny.

There had to be a denouement and there was. But let’s deep-dive into sacrilege before we face-plant into it. Take the characteristically tremendous crowd out of this (as if you could, or would!) and maybe the event would’ve seemed kinda tepid, despite the exfoliating drama? In the sense that the fayre was mid-quality, at best. (We should mention in passing here that the visiting fans were a blast, right?) but the wider, erm sandblasting truth might be that Wales have two really good players – Wilson and Ampadu – and Bosnia had one – the superannuated Dzeko – and he was substituted, knackered, for extra-time.

Wales thought they would be roaring to glory or doom against the might of Italia. They’re not: they’re out.

Universe Podcast revisited: United City.

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On a whim – whilst out walking, acksherly – decided to throw out a podcast. Some will know I’ve done this occasionally, over many years. Have been known to confess that I never listen to podcasts myself… but aware others do, so hope this may be of interest.

Foolishly but characteristically decided to allow myself no notes or prep… then talk United City. So have and it’s here. 20-odd minutes. By all means bawl from the sidelines.

Pic is from The Guardian.

On Carrick (& Woodgate): delighted that (dare we say it?) cultured former players got off to a flyer, here. And that United looked a whole lot more like an MU side should look.

On Dorgu: think the fella’s pretty mediocre – or has been – but he had a great day, today.

On Mainoo: has to play – had to play under Amorim.

On Amorim: badly let down by the players be he didn’t & couldn’t *effect change*.

On Pep: a kind of #coachingfascist?

Have a listen and feel free to come over all opinionated.

Amorim.

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‘Emotional’ in what turns out to have been a critical meet with Jason Wilcox. Possibly intransigent re- the structure and playing style of his side. Bit lost, too often, in the dugout – looking rather concerningly downbeat; exhibiting poor or poorly-disguised body language.

These are markers in the demise, or strands in the argument against him. But surely the paucity of the *actual playing*, together with the worst-ever stats around results-over-time are the clinchers? Real football people understand that teams can play well without getting results but fans, both home and away would probably say United have been dogshit for an age. (Since before Amorim, to be fair).

Levels of performance, as a team, as individuals, have been shockingly, almost fascinatingly low. The widely-disliked Fernandes, whose own form has been patchy, has been arguably the only red that high-achieving sides might remotely covet. Who else is a genuine, nailed-on, up-to-standard United player? (Accept that Cunha might get there: but ordinary – or mixed – of late. Weirdly perhaps, Martinez has that combination of flinty resilience and composure, when on his game, that has marked-out United defenders – or any other top-level defenders – over the years’ But who else?)

It’s a profoundly mediocre squad. Shockingly so, given the heft and resources of the club. There’s that general sense that United have had a majority of players regularly active in the first team who should be nowhere near a Manchester United side. Personal issues or vendettas aside, the situation was never sustainable.

I’ve had more sympathy than many, for Ar Ruben. Likeable. Plainly honest. With a rare dash of humility. Obsessive, for sure and probably too inflexible over his system(s).

He will have arrived knowing United were poor, but surely believing he could coach even ordinary players towards that cohesiveness and dynamism so intrinsic to his playing style. He would have thought that Mainoo, Rashford and the rest would follow him and commit. We may never know how those two potentially key players drifted so disastrously and early from the cause but the gaffer has to take some responsibility for not gaining their trust, re-claiming them for the club. Even if their egos or insecurities were instrumental towards their exclusion or exit.

The word manager has become central to the regime-change. Amorim was strident, in his last presser, about how he was recruited under that term. (He did not elaborate, but was evidently suggesting the distinction between Proper Gafferhood and the role of the coach). I suspect he has been wronged on this – undermined and re-imagined by the United hierarchy in a role with less power, in short. He thought he would be the man to buy and sell – or at least decide about buying and selling – as well as select, day-to-day. He thought he was going to be supported, even, in that wider re-mit. No. He was going to be watched-over, then over-ruled by Presiding Individuals. This is why the ‘Head Coach’ got angry; felt betrayed.

I said when Amorim joined the club that he was probably better than they deserved. This still may be true – particularly in the sense of him being a richly capable and honourable man. United have been dogshit for an age. The hierarchy (whom of course we know very little about) may still be stinking the place out.

Ironically and maybe inevitably, there have been a few signs that football may at some stage have broken out, should RA have seen out the season. Ill-timed injuries – ha! When are they not? – have broken the flow that might have resulted from an attacking midfield containing Fernandes, Cunha and a rejuvenating Mount. Young defenders have threatened to look the part, on times, almost obscuring the possibility that a back three containing a fit Martinez, De Ligt and Maguire *might* be competitive, possibly to a high level, in a division where a Manchester United side that patently ‘can’t defend’ stand sixth. A certain energy was flickering, in possession of the ball.

But any bunch of clowns could score against them… and mostly, they did. So any flickers of optimism were soon doused. Mediocre players were failing to do their jobs… but so too was Amorim. Not scary enough to demand improvement and get it. Not convincing enough to free up creativity and flow. Not inspiring enough to be really followed, culture-wise. So ultimately responsible.

Image from BBC Sport.

Town.

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Fan-dom. Funny old game, eh? Maybe particularly when you’re a part-timer (like me), living 340 miles from the object of your viceral-tribal lurv-thing, or whatever it is.

Town. Grew up there and went to virtually every home game, aged 10-15. Then plenty more aged 15-22. Then on special occasions; ‘home visits’.

Been in Wales, see, for forty years or more. (And what a glorious privilege it’s been). So family life – my own, kids etc – got in the way of journeys Up North and back in time. But been doing more, largely due to our mum’s illness, and it’s all tugging a bit.

With every visit the realisations multiply, somehow. Unconscious or inexplicable truths around the magnitude of early life, early mates. Might not be the case for everybody but clear to me now that those mates from Primary School were and are about as good and as key as you’re ever gonna get. Torn between eulogising them and moving on: the universe probably needs to hear about the fabulous ordinary guys who have carried me through life, and will probably carry me out of it, unsung. But too intrusive of their quietness to go naming it. Too invasive of their unshowy, implacably honest ground.

All this feeds in to football. Those individuals; our tribe. I walk the genuinely grim or grimy streets around Blundell Park, on *that mission*: to go support the lads. (Yes they do finally have a women’s team but I’m too late and too far away to participate in that welcome ‘innovation’). The lads, who used to be Stuart Brace and Matt Tees before Terry Donovan and Mike Brolly became the boys Vernam, Rose and Warren. Six times I’ve walked in there, in the last year, through but with the other daft buggers in their Town clobber. Dads. Grandads. Mums. Daughters. All kinda sounding the same. All wanting the same and feeling some kind of connection: to this Town; to this place.

Football. I hate loads about it – the cheating, the money, the ‘Authorities’ near and far. The 21st century moral black hole of it. But walking briskly in, as you do, to Grimsby Town FC, at Blundell Park Cleethorpes is a wonderful, grounding pleasure. And it registers win lose or draw.

Last night I couldn’t be there. And/but they were on the tellybox. Tranmere. We’re 9th, they’re 16th in the table, or were. I’m watching from Pembrokeshire.

It looks a decent night – and the commentator says as much – before soon changing his tune. (You’re right up against the Humber/North Sea estuary multiplex, generally haunted by apocalyptic, cod-hurling ‘showers’. We soon got one). Important game for both sides; the brief interviews with the respective managers reinforced that view. Artell for GTFC thoughtful in that articulate, passive-aggressive way that he has.

Town have been dropping-off, results-wise, despite having a good coach and a solid, possibly even exceptional wider culture. Whether it’s a dip in confidence, or the presence of TV cameras, who knows, but Grimsby are poor in the first half. The squad has as many players who look good on the ball as the top handful of sides in the division but they fell into that awful lower-league hoofing-thing. Almost every contact with the ball was a ‘clearance’. It was Sunday League. Tranmere were better *and* they were winning every second ball. (So not only were Town failing to play to their footballing strengths, they were failing to compete). No complaints that Tranmere lead 1-0 at the break.

I’m a coach and slinger of wild opinions so let’s get into this. Warren, Turi, Vernam and Rose are good players at this level. And more broadly Artell has deliberately gathered a squad who can play patient, skilful (dare I say it?) intelligent football. Phases of passing. Good movement. Ball into feet. Rehearsed plays. I’ve watched them do it, often impressively. Last night they were without their best player, McEachran, who sits and passes and turns and makes the thing tick. But Turi – the guy tasked with filling the McEachran-shaped hole – can also play. Last night, for much of the game, Pym, the keeper and the likes of Warren (unusually and disappointingly) were clattering the ball over his head, bypassing the central midfield.

This is ok if it works. Last night, for 45 mins plus, it was bloody awful. Turi failed to show, or impose his will on the frankly amateurish chaos around him. Rose almost literally never got a touch, reinforcing the belief that he simply can’t play unless Town are threading balls in to feet. Vernam had an absolute ‘mare, from start to finish. Walker – who *does do* this – spent about an hour solely intent on drawing fouls. (For me, he was an embarrassment but he’s not alone at the club for ‘falling easily’: and yes I am happy to call out the coaching staff on this. Of course they are seeing #PremierLeagueLegends do this on a daily basis, but for me Artell and co should be discouraging it not using it as a strategic tool).

But on. To a second half where the Mariners found themselves and a good dollop of their game, equalising before probing for the winner that they may have deserved. As he often does, Artell made smart, timely substitutions and had obviously *had words|* about the lack of courage and composure in the first period. Burns, who for the first time in my limited experience looked a threat, scored a fine goal and would have notched a decisive second but for a remarkable save for Tranmere’s superannuated keeper. It was ‘all Town’ until, disastrously, the defence switched-off and allowed the visitors to *absolutely steal it* in the 96th minute. Horror show!

I had a brother and plenty mates there. They will have felt distraught at that cruel denouement but also at the capitulation in the first half. Town stopped doing it the Town Way. Good players stopped being brave enough to show and to pass to feet. It’s happened a zillion times, at a million clubs. But bloody tough to see that at your own.

Universe Podcast. Power Chords: a launch.

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Ok it’s ‘a day for inside’. Wet; windy; medium-‘orrible. So I’ve tried to make use of it, by recording something that might stand as a book launch… because I think I’ve decided it’s too much hassle to actually host a real-life book launch. (Lovely for me, but time, travel and faffage for those who feel they should come).

In the tradition of DIY-Punkhood, it’s pretty much unrehearsed, with some quotes from various sections of the book, and typically ill-advised *thoughts arising*. Listening back, it feels less twinkly and mischievous than Power Chords itself; maybe because I fall into the trap of trying to explain stuff. And I don’t mention that there is a complimentary playlet and occasional guffaw-inducing interlude in there – as well as the psycho-political positioning.

Punk was wonderful and formative. It was a racket that spat upon banality and duplicity. It was edgy and exciting. I think (or at least hope) that Power Chords offers some sense of that. There’s a lot of love and some teen spirit in there.

Buy it at your favourite independent bookshop – they can order it.

Or here – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/183615433X/ref=sr_1_3_so_ABIS_BOOK?crid=XQZC0N5EVD4T&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.gH51mWifQBHtqeMT7ZgX68rJ5dQ8Z96LTmC1c1QDx7Q8XUUGy5krE17Zd-4bABzS.15ewrP19EN89rDjZkqoOTnfpCvCe4BLyx8tmS-oNWic&dib_tag=se&keywords=rick+walton+power+chords&qid=1761834207&s=books&sprefix=rick+walton+power+chords%2Cstripbooks%2C112&sr=1-3

Or here, maybe – https://www.waterstones.com/book/power-chords/rick-walton/9781836154334

Thankyou.

Let’s party.

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Remarkable in terms of the record and remarkable because of how it felt. Wiegman and England.

The manager (or is it coach?) *really must* have something extraordinary going on. We can only guess that it oozes out from that intellectual calm. And maybe that her huddles are truly and genuinely inspirational.

This is not to say that the woman from The Hague can’t plan, or juggle, or read the game. Surely only Emma Hayes is at Wiegman level in terms of strategy and tactical awarenesses? But where Hayes has a physical presence, Ar Sarina has that quaker-like calm.

She’s needed it. Because (here’s where it gets weird) not only is there an argument that her team repeatedly scraped through this thing but also that very few of them played anywhere near their capacity. Might sound ungenerous or even churlish but that rarest of things the Dispassionate View might see things thataway. Look; if it could be remotely possible to judge (and by this I mean set aside the excitement and the drama and *really judge*) then who gets an 8/10, say, over the tournament?

Before you people freak out at the essential negativity here let me offer a friendly biff around the bonce. I get this… and I get that – duh – if Ingerland really underperformed, then clearly they can get to a frightening level. One where we really might dispassionately talk of dynasties. They won here – wow! Let’s party! – without generating phases of play; without relentlessly closing down; without being all that good. It was a remarkable case (to use a Proper English phrase) of muddling through.

Hampton. Hampton was consistently good. The farces around penalties foisted her into another space, where palpitations and ardent, myopic tribalism inevitably cast her as hero and legend. She made some goodish penalty saves… but most of us would have saved them. No matter: for her general, allround goalkeeping play, she gets an 8. Excellent temperament. Strikes the ball well and often beautifully. HH – who let’s remember turned the issue of the Earps-void or Earps-omission into a non-issue – is now unarguably in the top two or three keepers on the planet. She played to her level consistently. I’m not sure anyone else did.

Walsh is often quiet – it’s just the way she plays – but she was relatively uninfluential. Stanway was mixed. Williamson has sublime composure and head-up passing quality but apart from an accomplished display in the final, the captain was decent rather than exceptional. Toone was in and out, bits and pieces, as she has been for eighteen months. Mead likewise. Hemp had a strongish final but was disappointing through the tournament. Carter looked what she is: honest, strong but limited. Greenwood played below her best – her best being ver-ry good, both in defence and going forward. Less arrowed passes, less brilliant dead balls.

James and Bronze have both been crocked. Bronze still managed to be a key figure, despite being vulnerable last night. Her courage may hoist her rating above 7; I’ll leave that to you. James, apart from that thrilling early goal, was nowhere near her beguiling best – but crocked.

I’m a huge fan of Russo, who (as previously noted) may have the best engine in world football. Outside the box she’s fabulous. Can hold and turn and run like hell. Her energy and sheer willingness are sensational. She got a good solid header in to equalise Spain’s lovely (but poorly-defended) opener but *did miss* opportunities in the earlier rounds and is not, in my view a great finisher generally. Wiegman may, however, put Russo’s name down on the team-mate before anybody else’s and I would have no argument. She has class… and she has that engine.

I too must dash. Let the other scribes do the ‘definitive’ stories and the marks out of ten. I’ve a mum with dementia in front of me and no time to unscramble the scramble.

England won two on the bounce – incredible. Penalties again, entirely credibly but also veering towards another mess. But no. Charles and somebody else and then Kelly stood up. The latter loves the theatre of this and embodies it. A mischievous prance at the ball and this time a fluent, fabulous connection. Job done and let’s party.

Wins just happening.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It’s dangerous but it feels important and maybe even right to stick down a few things about the Lionesses. Knowing they will be judged – not by many, of course, but judged. These things are true for me. Let’s get the vilest or most contentious one out the way first-up.

The penalty fluff-out means we can’t go calling these women #warriors*. It was an international embarrassment and it was bad for the women’s game.

(*OK. Qualification  numero uno. You could probably describe Bronze’s performance as heroic, and therefore warrior-like. She brought everything. I might argue that the only other England player to play up to their level – and therefore express courage in a different sense – was Kelly, who came on and performed).

We can’t describe Hampton’s performance as unequivocally heroic, because she was mediocre during the second half, and wasteful with those strangely over-pumped hoofs up the park – twenty five yards beyond her attack. (Probably adrenaline or stress but weirdly in-keeping with the general level of mis-execution). Yes she may be the best keeper in the tournament for her driven passes and general work, and yes she went into the shootout with three hundredweight of cotton wool up her nozzer, but how many penalties did she actually *have to save?*) Let her enjoy her moment, absolutely, but this was a win conjured by abstracted qualities, barely (if at all?) expressed.

Blimey. What does that even mean?

It means England have quality – they have the second or third best squad in the tournament – and this can out in extraordinary, fascinating, infuriating or cruelly redemptive ways. Russo can ‘earn’ you a win for her lionhearted and endless running, despite her repeatedly poor finishing. (Missed headers in the tournament, rather feebly missed shooting chances and a continuing and concerning lack of fox-in-the-boxness. But all that wonderful other stuff!). Greenwood can earn you a win for her rare steadiness and drilled crossfield passes. James can earn you a win, with her electrifying brilliance. Or maybe Sweden can just out-capitulate you in the lottery that is the shootout.

England can be truly lousy, defensively, from Carter’s workaday limitations to Williamson’s fabulous-but-flawed, non-physical, almost metaphysical reliance on wit and game-reading skills. They can be painfully easy to play through or around: Sweden did that, first half.

Esme Morgan, who replaced her injured skipper, is a profoundly good footballer but she is almost nailed-on to offer a howler, as she did late in extra-time, almost ‘fatally’. Walsh is a sort of elite water-carrier very much in the mould of the modern Academy Era: deeply proficient at rebounding passes and playing safe and short. But like those central defenders, you wouldn’t mind playing against her. There is something there that you can really open up.

But hang on. We should note to the universe that Ingerland did stir impressively to grab back a) a chance and then b) the initiative with firstly a great goal (made by Kelly and finished by Bronze) and the momentum-capping scramble ninety seconds later. Russo might even have won it before extra-time had she not failed to sort her feet again. However, England’s fresh legs looked like they might carry them through, as the 90 minutes expired.

Extra-time was almost all Sweden. The multiplicity of changes (and/or tiredness mental or physical, and/or possibly inadequate direction) saw Wiegman’s side look listless and open as overtime ticked away. Sweden, not the Lionesses, had heads up and energy re-primed. England had little of the ball, making almost no phases of play. (In fact England rarely do this – other than those sideways or backwards rebounds between central midfield or defenders. Walsh making 80 passes with almost none of them counting). Then we had those penalties.

I dislike pens but concede immediately and pitifully that we probably have to go there in the modern era. These were garbage: an embarrassment. The players and staff will know that and do that juggle where they both acknowledge and move on. But they should note that because of Mead’s anaemic performances over many months and James’s in-out temperament, they may need to be taking pen 12 and 13.

England have been fortunate again in the draw and I expect them to make the final. They should. They may go on and win it, dynamically and with style. They do have quality. But almost everywhere you look, they also have soft-spots. Players who get that glazed eyes thing or that rush of fear. Wiegman really must be exceptional at galvanising something but it’s hard to identify what it is. Because errors. Because despite the evidence of wins, she will know she has players who cannot execute really simple things, in the moment.

Be honest, despite this evidence of comebacks and ‘resolve’, which of them feels deeply and inviolably resolute? Or perhaps more exactly, which of them has you confident that they will deliver? Maybe Bronze and Greenwood. All of Toone, Mead, Hemp, Stanway and James do feel bit willowy*, do they not – or susceptible to pressure? (Is that* a cruel word to use? If so, apologise. Reaching for the truth of this. And I acknowledge that Stanway and Toone – arguably all of them – do have a certain kind of toughness. These things are complex).

So wow; we have quite a phenomenon here. The cool record shows England, who really do have top players, are also consistently defying this litany of perceived vulnerabilities. Meaning either I’m wrong with much of the above – entirely possible, of course – or that perhaps their wins, or any wins do *just happen?* And perhaps this is wonderful?

Bristol. Men of.

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So I yomp in there sunnily – because sun. It – Glos CC – feels familiar and kinda welcoming but mainly it feels on the sunny side of 16 degrees. (Refer to yesterday’s post). Bristol is feeling solidly and sustainably sunny. Just gone 1pm and Buttler and then Buttler and Bethell are bashing balls into the net spread perpendicular to our media centre: so I’m seeing them sideways on. Both practice hands through the ball and then either playing  ver-ry late (in Bethell’s case) or pulling hard, high to low.

Then The Lads are doing their footie thing. Head tennis. Barcelona they ain’t. But it looks like fun. Skippers being interviewed so I may have missed the toss. Or maybe not. Currently we have visiting bowlers turning their arms over to my right… and just two or three England players fielding high catches and lashing throws. So looks like both sides are fielding and it’s three v three. Should be fun. The temporary stand ( I hope somebody kindof officially names it that) is two-thirds full and the remaining stands are compellingly a-buzz. We’re set.

Cloud has rolled in. Hearing Brooky had words *Upstairs*. England won the toss and will bowl. Wood (the leftie) is in instead of Potts. Scyld Berry has either got something contagious or he wants to get himself on the tellybox. Sitting solo out on the balcony. Might *actually join him* soonish… not that there’s any chance of a conversation. Flamethrowers galore and here we go.

Wood (the leftie) will start from beneath us, so running towards Ashley Down Road. Drama first-up as he pins the batter with a fabulous yorker. Finger promptly raised but within eight mili-seconds Lewis is reviewing. So probs hit it. The fourth umpire begs to differ: it was a great ball.

The next is not. Weirdly, it’s a horrible high full-toss – no-balled. Of course, the new batter is ‘caught’. Wood boldly going for yorkers. Saw him do this a year or two ago at Final’s Day; looked a threat then. Good over. 3 for 1, WIndies. Dawson.

Mostly flat and looking very quick but Hope nails the fourth delivery. Six over mid-wicket. Strongish breeze was pretty much at Wood’s back so Dawson into that.

Wood goes again. Movement in the stand behind him. (Not Scyld). Or is it something fixed… because this is taking a few minutes to sort? Unknowable, from where I’m sitting. (We have tv monitors but no audio). Mysterious and helping no-one. None the wiser but we continue. And Wood continues to beat the bat. Not the best angle to judge pace but he looks high eighties(?) Charles can’t lay the proverbial glove. High quality, into-the-block-hole stuff. 12 for 1 off 3.

Carse we know is also sharp but Hope goes bang: four, six, four. Some riposte. More instinctive hitting than bad bowling was my sense. Ground looking almost full, now. Dawson has switched ends. Bowls a wide. Then Charles rocks back and cuts confidently through cover: four. He does it twice in the over – so better, for the visitors.

BIG APPEAL, from both bowler and keeper. Brook jogs in, notably smiling. Review… but no edge, no glove. West Indies have recovered well: 40 for 1 off 5.

Carse again from Ashley Down; with energy. But Hope gets most of it – well, about two-thirds? – and the ball is gone, over wide mid-off, for six. Then straighter and probably cleaner-hit – same result. Carse answers with a bouncer that’s called wide. Hope has bolted to 39 off 22. Bethell.

The young fella does okay, staying short and flat; just 4 from the over. Rashid at the far end. Single to long-on. Fumble from Wood out at deep cover offers a second run, next ball. 7, in bits and pieces. 66 for 1 off 8.

Bethell returns and is The Nearly Man twice. Firstly deep-mid-wicket is almost in the game, then almost caught and bowled. But nope. Runs.

Lols. Only just noticed how rammed the balconies are, in the Ashley Down flats opposite. And the sky… the sky is greyer than earlier advertised. (Don’t think there’s weather in the picture, but it IS cloudy and grey).

Rashid bowled just the one over before being followed by Dawson. Not easy to switch ends twice in this breeze, I’m thinking. Sharp hands and throw from Brook have Charles diving. Oof – successfully. Reasonably non-explosive period in the game; which suits the hosts, of course. In the balance, you would think at 82 for 1 off 10.

Moment of the Day contender as Rashid draws Hope forward and Buttler expertly commissions the stumping. Turned. Decent knock from the opener but comprehensively beaten by the leggie, there. Then we have Jacks… and then Bethell. When Rutherford marginally miscues, going downtown, and Banton takes the steepling catch at the boundary, WIndies are 98 for 3 after 12.5. 100 up the next ball, meaning the run rate is 7 plus bits. Is that enough?

Rashid again from Ashley Down. Gets absolutely battered, straight, by Charles – cleanest strike of the day. Carse is a competitor and he does race in there. Now from underneath us in the media stand. May not have been at his best today. 0 for 34, his return so far – from 3 overs. The West Indies have to go at 12 an over for the last 5 to post a legitimately threatening total.

Charles tries to invent something – and does. A cruelly comical way to get our. Steps outside off and tweaks it round the corner, into his stumps. To make things worse, was on 47. Powell and Shepherd are now both newish to the crease. 121 for 4, off 16. Dawson continues the yoyoing but is pulled square. Then impressively dismissed downtown – both by Powell. Soft hands get him a further boundary to third man. It’s brightened a little, out there. Poor short wide one offers an easy cut to the offside boundary. Biggish heap of runs from that over: essential.

Carse finally gets a little luck. Slight miscue from Powell flies out towards Wood, on the rope. The quick bowler adjusts and dive-rolls, avoiding the toblerone, to take a testing catch. Powell had made 37 in good time. Better light floods the stadium: natural light. 149 for 5 as we go into the penultimate over with Rashid.

Oof. First ball GOES OUT OF THE GROUND. Second is less obscene (but six)… as is the third. So the Jolly Lean Giant (Holder) has gone to 19 off 4 balls. His partner Shepherd then bludgeons two more, making (I think) 25 from the over. We’ve heard a lot about power hitting from the WIndies batting line-up. That. Was. It. Wood – the poor sod? – must see this out.

Buttler skilfully runs out Shepherd and Chase bangs the last ball over long-off for another six. The West Indies have gotten to 196 for 6, which must surely give them a chance. The last half hour has been Exhibit A in the case for or against T20 as wild circus. Thrilling and mad. It could be the fairly stifling room we’re in but I’m kinda drained. So will get some air.

Duckett and Smith will open for England. Hosein will bowl slow left-arm, around. He comes over to Duckett, who sweeps and times to square leg. Four. Holder.

Smith hoists… and then poops his panties as the ball drops ever closer to mid-off, retreating. Gets away with it once… but not twice. Gone. Successive miscues. Enter Buttler to a roar. 16.49 and light is still goodish but the floodlights have been fired-up. Duckett cuts hard to Powell’s left; the fielder can’t hold it. Tough, but catchable. 11 for 1 after 2, England.

Duckett hammers a ridicu-reverse through point, for four. A second tough chance goes begging, as Duckett again reverses Hosein. Flew head-high to point, who got a hand there. Buttler drives Holder beautifully high and handsome over long-on, to announce himself. Class. Then a miscued flip over the shoulder goes streakily behind. (Six, four). 33 for 1, off 4.

Shepherd looks intimidatingly strong from up here but Duckett appears unimpressed. He strokes him nonchalantly through the covers then finishes the over with a pre-meditated scoop/cuff behind for the most absurd six of the day. Joseph responds with a couple of quick, angry deliveries at Buttler, who dodges those and snatches two further boundaries. Throwing his hands through a wide one, the batter is a tad fortunate not to be caught out at deep cover.

The madness goes on, Buttler turning to shovel Motie wrong-handed over third man, for six. 68 for 1 as Shepherd changes ends, to Ashley Down. He is more than a little unlucky to be called for a wide but then his bouncer is about three storeys above Duckett – so no complaints there. The diminutive one has tried hard all day to get himself caught out: Powell does the job, athletically, in the deep.

The captain is in. He will be keenly aware there’s a game on here and that his side must sustain a high run-rate. 122 needed from 72 balls as Hosein comes in again. Another reverse from Buttler bursts through. With Joseph lashing it at him, the same batter top edges somewhat, high, high above the mid-wicket boundary. It’s windy and it’s probably swirling but the rather cruel cheers tell you that the fielder should have caught it. (Two thousand blokes in the Temporary Stand are saying “I’d a nailed that!”) Drinks at 87 for 2.

Motie from in front of us. Quietish. Followed by Shepherd with a horrible wide. And a high full-toss gets blasted behind point for six by Brook – who has been relatively restrained, thus far. Next ball flies through extra. Then a further wide, so bit ragged. Charles is getting dog’s abuse at cow corner. He misfields, to a cidery chorus. 112 for 2, off 12, England. Hosein to bowl out his spell.

Last Laugh central. Charles easily snaffles Buttler, reversing straight at him. Regulation, but it might not have felt that way to the much-abused fielder. Lots of bantz out there as the WIndies player ambles back to his post. Enter Bethell, who strikes stylishly straight to finish the over. Four.

Our first look at Chase, today, from the Ashley Down Road End. Brook welcomes him in with six over extra. But risk-reward. Brook strikes out again and again Powell takes a fine catch – again rolling and falling. Banton can go quickly – he may have to. He does: six through square leg, first-up. Then two wides: so edgy. 15 from the over. Motie.

Banton reverses him expertly then batters him into the dugouts. England require 48 from 30 balls. Good, competitive game. Joseph fires one loosely down the leg-side. Bethel collects it in breathtaking style for six: before smashing him straightish for another maximum…and (I think) losing the ball. Probably, this wins the game.

Bethell’s double would be astonishing if it didn’t keep happening. It keeps happening: he cuts for six more before departing to a simple catch, whilst dinking cross-handed. Now Holder is in and going pace-off. Weirdly, the wind appears to have done a significant u-turn. He may now be bowling into it. Lots of field-changes. The keeper is running the length of the pitch, repeatedly during the over, to have words. But England should have this, now. They require 17 off 18 balls.

Joseph slings it a mile down leg – and high. Called a no-ball. The no-ball is a wide. This delivery is spooned out behind square… to the fielder who catches and then has to plop it down to prevent himself falling out of bounds. Good work, asitappens. Jacks is caught next ball. 188 for 6 as Carse joins Banton. A good ball is squeezed out square for one.

Joseph is a genuinely quick bowler but Banton just eases him out between midwicket and long-off. Four. Kinda quietly ridiculous. 2 needed from 12 balls as Holder comes in from underneath us. Carse swipes and misses the bouncer. Then leaves the next one. Flailing at a widish one, he edges through to the unprotected boundary behind slips.

That’s an impressive win, against determined opponents hoisting a significantly challenging total. Much to admire and like and be thrilled by. But also that question WTF are bowlers supposed to do, in this Modern Era?!? Some of the shot-making was extraordinary – or would have been, if it didn’t keep happening. That may make it both tremendous and concerning(?) Enjoyable and entertaining? Yes – of course!

TAUNTON.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Entirely possible we may start on time; with England winning the toss and unsurprisingly opting to bowl.

(Finish this sentence and it starts to rain… a little. So the ground crew spread the covers back out over the square. #Funnyoldgame. Or ARE THEY?!? No. They’re folding the major cover back… but the strip remains covered). This is difficult. Off for a swift wander.

We’re going; after bobbing and weaving. Cross storming in to Grimond. Wide. Then – after a strong and confident appeal – the ump finally raises the finger. The ball left the batter off a good length – too good. 1 for 1. Cross is a fine athlete. Always enjoy watching her bowl. She’s powerful and rhythmic and can bowl proper spells. Rate her – always have.

Arlott is shaping up well, early. (I mean in her England career, but also now). She beats James then bowls her with a delicious, loopy slower ball. Quality but also an eek moment for the contest. WIndies are 2 for 2 after 2 overs. It’s fabulous bowling conditions but clearly the universe needs the visitors to resist. Joseph clips Cross away, off her hip: just the two.

Arlott again looking fit and high. A cutter. Could be striking outside – or no? Umpire Sue Redfern pulls the trigger confidently. Stafanie Taylor understandably reviews – she will know this is a Big Wicket – but she’s out, and the trauma goes on for the visitors. Three down, scarily early.

Beaumont, Bell and Smith have been rotated out, for England. Glenn, Arlott and Dean back in.

The batters may be settling. Joseph and Campbelle both get wood to ball. The latter cuts Arlott square twice to the boundary – widish balls. Slightly messy over, in truth, from the England seamer. 21 for 3 off 6, the WIndies. Lights are on, half the universe is checking various weather apps, but this is playable right now and we are glad to be playing, yes? A quiet period… which the game needs.

Arlott finds that radar. Four dot balls then a cutter from that high hand spooks Campbelle, who – fearing bounce – misreads it. She turns and allows it to hit her somewhere between the kidneys and the small of the back. To be brutal it’s not great batting, but eventually she can continue. As Cross runs in towards us, a light breeze is helping her away-swinger. *Thinks: I’d be unplayable in these conditions! (Cheesy grin emoji). Conditions are peak seam/swing/dart around the place.

Women’s cricket has been well supported down here for a decade or more. Today the crowd is smaller than it would be, were the game not likely to be rain-affected.

Filer is on and chewing the turf again. Repeatedly. Meaning it could be damp underfoot… but not necessarily. She falls over anyway. She concedes a couple of fours but almost draws an error: the pill flies tantalisingly past Dunkley.

Shortly afterwards, shower numero uno descends. It looks horrid. The West Indies are 43 for 3 off 12.3 overs at this point. I’m not looking at the weather apps. A) Don’t need to. B) I WANT THIS BAYBEE TO KEEP GOING. Mind you, given not just the complexities of the (blanket) British weather but the obvious local micro-climate scene – I’m seeing hope, I’m seeing light greyness – don’t go putting your hard-earned on anything, here. The slightly lighter-brighter skies could mean everything or nothing. Coffee.

12.27. After a smidge of encouragement, it’s a big NO from the meteorological gods – at least for now. Hard, blustery shower. Not terminal yet but unhelpful.

So let’s talk about nice things. Like Kate Cross.

The England star won’t relish being parked in the senior seamer bracket much, I suspect, but Crossy brings so much good energy, skill, pace and top, top temperament to the gig that like many ‘seasoned pro’s’ she swats age towards irrelevance. Being dignified; being committed; being fit. She’s challenging younger players to shift her.

KC is running in harder and more fluently than almost anyone – so her pace is goodish. She brings more control than most. Cross may also be one of those people who contributes real lurv-power to the England group. Meaning (however corny it sounds) that she really may be a worldie of a human; spreading heartiness and supportiveness and mate-iness and positivity around the squad. And yes for me this does matter. Or can.

12.47. Right now it feels like more cricket is likely. *Depending*. 12.54, bit more drizzle. 12.57, bit more concerning.

They feed us; one of many privileges afforded to us meedyapeeps. On the written press front – a category that very loosely I tumble into – there are about ten laptops ablaze, today. This is a couple more than usual, for a women’s international and about thirty less than for a blokes’ event. It’s been raining steadily-but-lightly for about an hour: forecasts offer some hope for later. I’m not seeing water *actually collecting* on the outfield just yet but that moment can’t be far away. It’s absolutely in the balance and on the edge and teetering on the wotsits. Cruelly. An emphatic moment of clearing cannot come soon enough…

Let’s talk about Heather Knight, who is not playing. Some in the Press Posse are speculating – more than that, they are making the case for the prosecution – around why she may not play for her country again. The argument is that given she is ‘out for the summer’ (crocked), she is late-career and has never been a great athlete, therefore her chances of getting fit enough quickly enough to be a contender for Big Matches Ahead are slimmish to nil. Therefore she may have donned the shirt for the last time. There may be something in this. We could throw in the notion that this is also a New Regime and Sciver-Brunt has usurped the captaincy role. So who needs Knight?

It may fall this way but Ar Trevor has been better than just the stereotype(d) stalwart-worldie. She remains an outstanding batter who has sexed-up her game for the era of More Boom. She has a palpably better and palpably more proven temperament than many of her contemporaries. Yes a younger alternative may be out there, the batting line-up may not need her – may actually have ‘moved on’. Or not. This stuff is unknowable except to Charlotte Edwards, who may have already made a secret call.

My view is that if there is any chance whatsoever for Heather Knight to battle her way back to fitness and contention, she will be battling. Being (I think) aware of her limitations, she’s always worked like hell. She may not have the agility or flow of Athlete A but skipper or no, this will matter… and she may still have the sheer grit to make herself undroppable.

14.19. There are good-sized puddles on the outfield now. Tad brighter; still raining.

14.33. It may have stopped raining. We can see the Quantocks. The umps are ambling out – brollied. There is no prospect of immediate play, coz of those aforementioned shallow lagoons but there are buts. The officials are talking with Groundsgeezer-in-Chief, who for all I know may be advocating an abandonment. As I discreetly slurp coffee numero deux, I’m hoping he ain’t. The super-sopper is doing its thing, suggesting this is worth fighting for. The Lads (it IS lads) are taking the pegs out of the ground: covers may soon be shifted, I imagine after the supersopper has passed over them(?)

Announcement on pitchside screen. Pitch inspection at 15.10, if no further rain. After that check, a further inspection at 15.40… when play *may be possible*, if it stays as bright as it currently is.

Dangerously optimistic update: at 15.37 it feels like we should re-start close to 4pm. (*Fatal*).

This applies if they can actually get the covers off by the appointed time. Which I doubt.

Oof. ‘5 o’clock start if there’s no further rain’. So the surface really is still wet out there. Reduced game – obvs. Maximum overs per team, 21.

Moments away from that re-start. Should happen and if we start we really might finish those 21 overs. Notes from the re-warm-ups? Mentioned this before but really like that Lottie E is out there with a mitt in hand: failing to grab the balls from Filer that are, encouragingly, flattening the flexi-stumps. Great arm on Arlott; ditto Cross. Dunkley less so but we knew that, right? Energetic turning of the arm for Filer and Glenn. (Other seamers may now be bowled-out).

Game on. Dean will open, towards us; that is, from the Lord Ian Botham Stand. She has Campbelle stumped with the first ball of the new session: the batter wandering, a little naively, perhaps? Gajnabi takes a single. Sarah Glenn from in front of us. Joseph hits her hard to deep midwicket: one bounce.

Then a beauty – full and floaty, possible wrong ‘un – does for Gajnabi. Searching delivery but the batter went all around it. 46 for 5 now, WIndies; seven overs remain of the 21 allotted. Glasgow joins Joseph. Filer is in and starts with a poorish full toss that Joseph can only clout high over Cross’s shoulder at mid-on. Awkward, yes but she should catch it: doesn’t. No matter. After thrashing England’s quickest through the covers, Glasgow can only scuff to ADR, at mid-off. Reaches well so gone… and 58 for 6. England can realistically hope to bowl the visitors out, at this rate. Five overs.

Cute. Glenn has changed ends but is bowling a wide. Then beating the batter. Rather wonderfully, a good number of people have come back in to the ground. Glenn applies a further squeeze to Alleyne – quiet over. Dean is underneath us and being clattered square, without much in the way of elegance, by Joseph. The bowler can really mix this up – and does. Not much sign of the ball being damp: Glenn is doing nothing to suggest an issue. Despite the chronic urgency runs are not coming. 75 for 6 with two overs remaining.

Filer. Another full-toss. Not middled but goes through to the mid-wicket boundary nevertheless. Then Capsey fluffs a stop at the boundary before Alleyne gets a third boundary and a fourth, in succession. One dabbed over slip, the other battered downtown. Poor over for England which makes 100 for the visitors possible.

Glenn will finish: Joseph booms her straight to Dunkley at deep midwicket: the fielder takes the catch nervelessly. Claxton takes a four then clears the boundary in front of square – the ball may even have struck the WIndies dugout! Alleyne skies the last ball of the innings to Dunkley, now in the circle. England must chase 106. Ten minute turnaround.

Sciver-Brunt and Dunkley will open for England. James will bowl. Nice controlled four, through extra. It makes the bowler go shorter… but she fluffs it and it’s wide. Dunkley misses out on an awful drag-down before NSB drives back to the bowler. Eight from the over.

Glasgow starts with a full-toss which Dunkley flat-bats straight for four. Later the bowler beats that same batter with a quickish one which leaves her off the deck. Seven from the over.

James goes widish to Dunkley who cuts. Aerial but safe – four. The bowler going into the pitch (to be ‘safe’) but gifts another wide. 23 for 0 after 3.

Almost-drama as NSB slaps Glasgow towards the midwicket. Just falls short. Next up the England skipper corrects herself and clatters convincingly to the same boundary. Claxton will follow. Good length then wide of off, beating Dunkley. But a big legside wide and a poor full-toss, which is despatched. A-and an offside wide. Times two. So somewhere between mixed and bloody awful. Low risk stuff from England and they’re still going at 8s. We could be done in 12 overs.

Dunkley is reviewing Ramharack’s first delivery. Given lb by Sue Redfern. Correctly, as it turns out. 40 for 1, England. Enter Capsey. Good running, particularly from her captain gets her a three, to fine leg. The breeze may have picked up a tad and it’s across the pitch but these remain bowler-friendly conditions. Perhaps this is why England don’t appear to be hurrying. Brilliant stop and throw on the point boundary, by Grimond. The bowling remains mixed, however. 56 for 1 off 7, England.

Poor delivery from Ramharack gets disdainfully Ramharacked through extra by Capsey. The batters appear to be simply picking the opposition off, rather than going for an early thrashing. Fair enough. Capsey in particular could probably do with time at the crease. Another gift (from the newcomer Munisar) sees Capsey sweep behind square once more. 13 come from the over, bringing England into the stroll home zone.

Make that canter. There is a gear-change, as the home team get close. Sciver-Brunt is hitting hard, with evil purpose.

More boundaries: Capsey is sweeping with confidence. 94 for 1 off 10. What was my prediction, again?

Munisar receives more merciless but controlled violence. 100 up in the 11th. Immediately, the skipper gets to 50 and beyond… and then the game is done, for the loss of just the one wicket, as NSB carts to midwicket. It is, after all another thrashing. But I’ve enjoyed – enjoyed the #getthegameon-ness we’ve witnessed and the solid performance of the England group. They are patently significantly better than the current opposition but that’s ok. There are always things to build for, things to learn. Now I race to the train!

Derby.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Arrived early, as per. Muggy with plenty cloud – but warmish out of that breeze. Wander onto pitch edge and get medium-officiously asked to leave, for not having pitch access. (Not done with much grace, to be honest, but hey-ho). Get back back up into the media centre and crack on.

Interested to see Charlotte Edwards *very hands-on*, in the bowling warm-ups. Has mitt; will have words. Like it. She had ADR and captain NSB coming in over her left shoulder, with – thank christ! An actual name! – Sarah Glenn bowling towards her. Other coaches have often left it to ‘specialist coaches’ to deal with the whole pre-match cowabunga. Can work, can be fine: but I prefer coach to be in there reading those humans, sharing those wee words of encouragement.

Almost some rain. And the breeze is funneling through certain slots in between stands. But you’d still take this* for Derby… (*Gratuitous insult? Possibly. Apologies where due).

As I say this they wheel out or guide out the hover-cover… and it does rain… and they cover the strip. Unfortunate. A brief shower, by the looks. Time? 12.30. When does that hover-cover come off? 12.34. And a different day dawns. Have missed the various announcingments but England must be bowling: Sciver-Brunt taking some high catches beneath us.

12.41 and the lights are on. But it’s brightened. (It brightened too, in the ether, coz “Best Of My Love” came blasting out). Muffled mix, from within the media snug, so can’t be entirely sure that it was The Emotions’ version. On the assumption that it was, my heart, for one, has lifted. Did I mention that England won the toss and will bat? (So my earlier assumption entirely wrong). Quite bold, arguably. Wouldn’t surprise me if Edwards actively wants to put our lot in pressure situations. Again, no issues’: coz of those historical hysterics.

We will start on time, at 1pm. By the looks! Teams – robbed from BBC website – are as follows:

England XI: Beaumont, Jones (wk), Lamb, Sciver-Brunt (capt), Dunkley, Capsey, Arlott, Dean, Cross, Smith, Bell

West Indies XI: Matthews, Joseph, James, Campbelle, Gajnabi, Mangru (wk), Alleyne, Claxton, Fraser, Fletcher, Ramharack

No Knight, due to that injury, debuts for Smith and Arlott, and Amy Jones will open the batting – again another sign of challenges being made and coaching hunches being played-out. I have been critical of Jones’s (batting) mentality for years. Good to see her tested. Lamb and Cross are specialists of a sort – willingly or otherwise – so no surprises to see them in there. James will open for WIndies. (Slow, left-arm).

No Wyatt-Hodge moment: she bowls wide. Beaumont gets a tickle but it’s safe. Low-key first over: one on the board.

There is away-swing but Beaumont can crunch a poor full-toss from Fraser through extra. Easy four. Next ball marginally down leg. Then about six yards down leg. So mixed. There’s a little breeze about but this is not what her skipper wants. Conditions are good for seam.

James drops short, allowing Jones to go hard through mid-on. Easy four. There is swing and some movement off the pitch. Bowlers should ask questions, here. Jones crashes James beautifully through cover for four: previously she’d been finding the circle. Not then. Superb. Both bowlers guilty of indiscipline. Some genuinely good stuff but too many are loose. Eng are 22 for no loss, after 6.

35 for nought, after 8. So not swift progress, for England, but the ball *is* doing a bit. It also appears to be something of a lottery as to where it might land. This doesn’t always make batting easier, right? Jones goes downtown with commitment, against James. Good strike. Matthews must make a change soon, you would think. Or two. Shocking legside wide from Fraser. I’d hoik them both off.

45 for 0 at the 10 over mark. Bit concerning for the visitors. They need Alleyne (or somebody) to deliver. The day is brighter again.

There’s no polite way of putting the fact(?) (for me) that one of the W est Indies players is nowhere near the condition that should be non-negotiable at this level, now. She kinda watches as Beaumont slaps Alleyne through extra. The bowler is unimpressed. A second change – rightly, surely? – and Claxton is in from beneath us.

This is concerning for Matthews and co, now. Jones sumptuously dismisses Claxton through the covers. Fine shot. Possibly *statement shot*. 57 for 0 after 12.

Finally, Jones is beaten by Alleyne… but no edge. Decent pace on that, by the looks. But Claxton is bowling a big away-swinger that is almost staggeringly wide of the leg-stump, then going too short, then beating Beaumont, then stretching the pitchmark cluster. somewhere else. It’s mostly bloody awful, given the encouragement seam bowlers might be extracting. 73 for 0, with 15 gone. Time for Matthews.

I’m off for a walk…

and I return, fortified, with England on 131 for no loss. Run-rate at an acceptable 5. Jones on mid-seventies, Beaumont some 25 runs behind that. (As I type this, she goes to 50, off Fletcher). The only positive I’m seeing from the visitors is that run-rate is not crushingly higher. At *this moment*, challenging Jones appears a real master-stroke from Edwards. Chapeau.

Beaumont firmly block-drives  – 83 plays the returning Alleyne ver-ry straight. It’s quality. Then she pulls for four, to bring up the 150 partnership. Ah. Then six, boomed behind square with style and power. Ominous.

Seven bowlers used by WIndies. (Ramharack, the offie, the one not mentioned so far). Beaumont is into this now, and catching up on Jones somewhat. 71 and 92 on the bragging rights front, as we conclude the 31st over. Claxton has just put down a very sharp return catch, Jones driving hard. Ramharack does the same, in the very next over: again Jones has clattered it. This time the bowler needs treatment.

Comedy moment as Claxton’s bouncer finds Beaumont leaping to hoist her bat *somewhere near*. She gets a good chunk of it. Quite rightly, the level of dynamism from both batters has gone up. The partnership is now 200. Seventeen overs remain, so 320-plus is not unthinkable. Beaumont gets to 100 before Jones. Both milestones have seemed inevitable for some time.

Then something happens. Beaumont is charging a little and maybe swishing a little. Bowled by Fraser for 107.

Just had a really interesting and generous conversation with an England selector. About Amy Jones. But private so not divulging any more. (Apols for the tease. Was interesting). Lamb is in and then out. She’ll be gutted to miss out and may (or may not) view a pre-meditated reverse as an over-ambitious option, a handful of balls in to her knock. 229 for 2 after 37. Sciver-Brunt.

May have to stop taking comfort breaks and just sit there and wee myself. Jones is out caught, off Matthews. You fill in the gaps. So two new bats. Nat Sciver-Brunt and Sophia Dunkley. Both in form, you would say. Light rain – drizzle – is falling. England are 258 for 3 and 41 have been bowled.

Sciver-Brunt is wristy and strong. Dunkley is kinda awkward but hits. So despite wickets falling, the visitors may not be in a better place. These two are odds-on to go hard. The skies have cleared; it’s lovely but still breezy. It’s great playing conditions.

Ach. Poor shot selection from Dunkley. Pre-meditated tickle round the corner but the ball drifts wide of off, and the batter can only squiff it onto her stumps. Enter Capsey, who needs to show her worth. 274 for 4, England. Encouraged by some poor bowling from Fletcher, she starts well.

NSB’s drive through extra-cover is quietly spectacular. Just class. James may be the West Indies best bowler – no matter. Rifled. 300 is up on 46 overs.

Sciver-Brunt smacks James High and handsome over long-off, for six, and follows up with a clean hit through the covers. She is un-bowlable-to, now. She goes to 50 off 35 balls, reversing, before being given lb to another reverse. She reviews. I  might argue she is unlucky – did ball not hit pad outside the line? – but she is gone. Brilliant but gone. Arlott joins Capsey, who has gone well and is on 24 not out as we go into the last over.

Alleyne, who has not impressed, will bowl the last over. She starts with a wide. Capsey lifts to off but Hayley Matthews is tall to reach it. Shame. The England player would’ve enjoyed a 30-something not out. Dean comes in and – cool as you like – strikes what may be shot of the day through the covers, for four. The bowler responds with another wide.

England finish on 345 for 6, after Fraser – who has also not had a good day – fails to hold onto to a catch in the deep. It goes for four. West Indies have been ordinary. In phase two, their only hope appears to be the captain. If Matthews can’t go big and long, the visitors may not get half the runs they need. (That may be dismissively cruel: but it feels like where we’re at). Anyway. A break. Computer off, to cool down.

THE REPLY.

Hayley Matthews will lead, fair play. She will not only open but face, knowing that her team’s chances *really may* rest pretty much entirely on her shoulders. Bell then Cross will go at her (and partner Joseph), in the hope of breakthrough(s) that may make the ubiquitous use of the descriptor ‘crucial’ a little less painful. WIndies make it through 3 overs unscathed.

The leftie Joseph bangs Cross over mid-wicket but is then beaten by one that nibbles. No edge. 19 for 0 off 4. Bell, running away from us, is getting some swing again. I note that she is angling-in her run-up, a little. (No issue for me. As a bowler I’ve never felt able to run pin-straight. Get that rotation may come into play, here, but the seamer needs to have flow and feel comfortable). Cross beats Matthews with a beauty: left her late. 

Bell also beats the visiting skipper with an absolute peach: leg cutter. Again draws no edge. The bowletr is barely straying but three fours come from the over. England will need to hang tough. 40 for 0 off 7 represents a goodish start from the West Indies.

Joseph, predictably, is looking the more vulnerable. One or two miscues, one of which steeples but lands safe short of the inrushing boundary-rider. Tad fortunate: but runs are coming. So time for a change. Meaning Arlott.

She offers Matthews too much width, first up. Cut for four. There have been one or two early fielding errors, including by the England captain, who fails to stop a regulation off-drive. Not great. Application and focus must not drift.

Joseph miscues again… and again it eludes the fielder – Arlott, tracking back. Then Bell dives over one, on the boundary, clicking us over into THIS IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH territory. Irritating for coach Edwards. 67 for 0, the visitors, after the powerplay.

For me, Joseph is obviously not a top-class player. Arlott’s bowling at her has not been top-class, either, a tad surprisingly. She’s bowled two overs for 19. Dean will come in for Cross. 82 for 0 from 12 overs. My dangerous prediction looking dangerously dumb: insulting, even, to the visitors. *Things could change* but England’s bowling and fielding has been below par… and the visiting openers have cashed-in.

On the plus side, it’s now a rather beautiful afternoon/evening. The light is medium-fabulous. NSB is at slip, now, for Joseph, with Dean coming around. Decent over is spoilt by a really poor delivery, wide of leg-stump. Four. 

THEN IT HAPPENS. Arlott’s been garbage… but who cares? She has MATTHEWS caught behind. Wideish, with a smidge of pace off. Big nick. HUGE, in the game. Now England need to press – to execute. To do all that stuff Edwards will have been talking about. Bring it.

There’s a loong drinksy break-thing before another leftie – James – has to face the second ball of the 15th over. NSB goes back to slip and the bowler beats the batter in classic style. Dunkley drops a gettable catch at backward point, off the next ball. (Rough fielding rating would be about 6 out of 10). Joseph continues to look a walking wicket against both spin and seam. But she persists. And somehow the run-rate has remained at 6. So competitive. This is all about the wickets that we expect to fall. Dean is bowling ok. She beats Joseph and England review – for possible catch and/or stumping. They get neither. 98 for 1 off 18. Capsey will turn her arm over.

Joseph gets to 50. It’s felt streaky and even agricultural, at times. She won’t care. England should care (and will) that they’ve failed to remove her from proceedings. Lovely-looking evening. 

James is lucky to survive another real miscue, after Dean’s been all over her. A weird return catch – leading edge? -drops cheekily short. Smith – perhaps not before time?-  is in, replacing Capsey. This change works. James is palpably lbw and looks to walk before the finger is raised. 124 for 2, now, off 22.5. Campbelle is in for the WIndies.

Smith has made a difference. 2 overs, 1 for 8. And a change in the vibe. West Indies now need 8.6 per over, for the second half of the game. (Can’t see it). Wickets feel more likely… but I under-estimated them before so should probs hush my mouth.

Capsey has changed ends, to return. Campbelle monsters it to the bowler’s left but this is one ain’t catchable – despite getting the left hand to it. In the same over Joseph is again swinging that loopy swing… only to be bowled. Lots of credit: 62 precious runs. But sorry; she’s no kind of international player, for me. 139 for 3, then, as Smith comes in to Campbelle: whom she bowls. (These, friends, are the wickets we were expecting).

I think I have to leave this ground about 19.15 hours. (Travel then more travel). I expected to miss some of the event, but have things settled before departure. This looks to be playing out. The England spinners have hurried the game along, quite deliberately, and, given the run-rate is now 10, secured the win. So yaknow, I’m allowed to go.

It’s possible there might be further reflections appearing some time after 10pm… but I’d be unwise to promise this. You know – you have seen – what’s happened, here. England have been underwhelming with the ball and in the field, but still had enough. West Indies *could not* truly compete without another marathon shift from their authentically world-level captain.

Smith bowls Mangru. So 147 for 5. Soon Cross is in. As I leave England look likely to prosper but it’s not entirely felt like a satisfyingly ‘winning performance’. It may even be closer to a mildish disappointment.

Thankyou for reading – apols for any typos.

 

Catching up, having done *some travelling*. WIndies got about 50 runs more than I thought they would. Good luck to them. Smith was as influential as I thought she might be, with the ball. There would be what coaches nowadays are calling ‘learnings’ – as there should be. England are better and can play better. So expect more pain for the visitors as this series goes on.

Go on, skip.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Time flies… and goes bit wild. Nat Sciver first played for Ingerland twelve years ago; alongside Charlotte Edwards. Slam-dunk (or reverse-sweep?) into the near-wild present and she’s Nat Sciver-Brunt, the new national captain, coached by her former-but-senior colleague. And that same Edwards has been boss and mentor for the last three mini-seasons… in India… in the New Fangled Women’s Premier League. Or something.

If that sounds in any way disrespectful then apologies. But it’s been a ride, all of it, from the new eras in cricket and sexual politics to the need for care in what’s being said. We’ve both crawled and hurtled into what the people who write mission statements call a ‘new space’. Much of it, improved. Overdue support and investment for the women’s game has materialised – although of course not entirely equitably – and, surprise surprise, levels of play and entertainment have and are ramping-up. With that, though, comes a change in levels of scrutiny and expectation.

Nat Sciver-Brunt returned from the 2025 WPL with her justifiably high reputation yet again reinforced. She nabbed, boomed, swept or pulled more than 500 runs – a record – taking her WPL total past 1,000, making her the sole bearer of that all-new, most-current playing honour. She is at no. 3 in the ICC world batting averages for ODIs and will skipper the England side across all three formats – a significantly big ask. NSB (we do or can call her that, yes?)  averages 46.47 in Tests, 45.91 in ODIs and 28.45 in IT20s, whilst also having 181 international wickets to her name, according to the ECB website. But so much for the factoids.

There are fascinations in play. A recent Ashes mauling, in which NSB contributed but could not resist the gathering dread. An alleged failure, unusually called-out, in a previous stand-in ‘opportunity’. And that whole thing about fresh brooms and Good New Feelings, with Edwards being by a million miles the outstanding candidate for the perch as Head Coach. (Oh – and a woman!)

The Ashes of course (and unfortunately but quite rightly) led to the demise of the previous coach (Lewis) and captain (Knight). Both of those protagonists were manifestly let down by the players but only Knight had any right to consider staying on, largely because few doubt that she was a good captain, strategically. ‘Trevor’ was immensely focused, smart and resilient. She *did actually lead* but was apparently neither inspirational nor frightening enough to the group to carry them through periods of pressure or drive standards of execution – particularly in the field. Ditto Lewis in his own, inevitably more distanced role.

But is it just me that has almost forgotten that Sciver-Brunt has been vice-captain under Knight for three years? That relative disappearance may say something positive about Knight’s leadership (and must surely be a benefit in terms of experience for NSB) but does it also suggest something around either unclear or unconfident relationships that Nat, despite being a genuine worldie astride the game, was not a nailed-on successor, *somehow?*

The fact that this feels at all vague condemns pretty decisively the regime(s) that allowed drift around succession planning. Both in respect of Nat Sciver-Brunt and the almost complete lack of other viable candidates. It’s a joke that at contemporary levels of resource, England did not appear to have anyone other than NSB remotely capable or experienced enough to step into the captaincy. People may have been thinking, but they weren’t doing.

I suppose we have to accept that there is stuff that we can’t know. It’s possible that relationships have been complex since the year dot. Or certainly since Sciver-Brunt was notably and unusually called-out for alleged inadequacies during the Commonwealth Games, in Birmingham, when Knight was absent.

At the time England should have beaten an Indian side with the proverbial ‘something to spare’. They didn’t and NSB’s captaincy and/or lack of leadership was criticised in such a way as to make some of us suspect that she was either disliked(?!?) or being punished for either arrogance or feebleness. It was an odd moment: the kind that makes you speculate – possibly wildly.

Anyway, she’s here now! In what could be a good moment. Outstanding new coach – the obvious candidate. Outstanding player at the helm on the park: the obvious candidate. Between them it feels entirely possible that they can and will help to drive against the key issues, now widely acknowledged to have been holding England back. Namely lack of athleticism and frailties around that fabulous, fraught, dangerous and difficult universe we lump in under ‘mentality’. Too many players have been unable to really sprint/dive/move in the way that is now non-negotiably essential, because they are international athletes. Too many players have failed to execute – have actually seemed weak, if we are to risk sounding cruel – when the Crunch Moments come around.

These things happened over years, not months; perhaps particularly the events or errors relating more to the ‘top three inches’ than physical prowess. The women’s game (is that an acceptable phrase? Seriously?) is improving all the time because of professional strength and conditioning. But the Ashes did unfortunately expose some clear deficiencies in the England camp. This is the price of fame – of ‘being seen’. Inevitably these areas will be addressed as a matter of urgency, but because there is a difference between fitness and top-end fine motor skills this may be a richly interesting challenge for the incoming coach. She must develop better athletes for the longer term but can Edwards rub the players’ backs so supportively that things improve immediately?

Some of The Issues are around selection; the coach reading these contending humans and finding the ones who will repeatedly perform. Some of this is about available talent – having a pool of fine athletes from which you can pick and blend. I am reasonably confident that Charlotte Edwards is going to be good at covering all of this rich and demanding territory; from the technical to the unavoidably psychological. She is authoritative and massively experienced. She knows the game and she seems to know people. Importantly, she has delivered (and therefore?) players seem to respond to her – to have faith. Rather wonderfully, faith is important in sport.

I am less sure that Nat Sciver-Brunt, as Edwards’ captain, is as well-equipped for her own role. But this is a) complex b) guesswork because of her lack of opportunity and c) a reflection on the vacuum of knowledge resulting from my remarkable but ongoing absence from the coaching team.*

Let me firstly describe one possible scenario. It is an absurd likelihood that because of her utter and innate brilliance, NSB has been finding a lot of her cricket too easy. Even if she doesn’t register it in that way. (I’m talking largely about batting, here). Even internationals: even Moments of Import. Often she has simply been able to see ball, hit ball like some carefree seven-year-old. Often she hits where that seven-year-old would, too – clattered through the leg-side. Of course I understand that she practices this endlessly, this ‘scoring in her areas’; this ‘playing without fear’. So she mitigates against risk through practice. Of course. But there are risks, here. NSB simply succeeds so easily and so often because she is good. Because she is too good, for the opposition. Meaning that she is relatively un-tested… or, less absurdly, has more to give.

Now. I am wondering and even hoping that because the captaincy has settled upon her – incidentally, have we considered whether she wanted or not? I’m not at all sure she did – Sciver-Brunt may use it to power up her game. She may pour in all the juice that previously she didn’t need.

Could be another mad argument. But the new energy, the new responsibility, the New Regime may possibly fire her up. Particularly under this new gaffer, whom she knows and may kinda love. She may go Full Nat.

The mutual NSB/Edwards WPL experience could be pivotal, here. Three campaigns; high-intensity and high-profile action. Togetherness. Understanding. Respect. Let’s hope.

The 32-year-old Natalie Sciver-Brunt may possibly be skipper-by-accident more than by design or inclination. (Who knows what might have happened if CE hadn’t walked through the door?) But wow. Look at her cricket. And there must have been learning, for Sciver-Brunt, under Knight and Edwards, in those difference places; through those different voices. Might we now see the full expression of her faith, capacity and confidence? Go on, skip.

*I jest! I JEST!!

Short and straight.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

A brutal truth. It’s likely that many of us who jumped the Rorytrain last night aren’t Proper Golfers – and most won’t be Golf Experts. But the magic and the drama of the event and the tremendous watchability and charisma of the chief protagonists – some of them, in the case of the actual venue, almost surreally preened – made us cling to it. It was ‘and then some’. It was ‘oh my goodness’. It took even us frauds into palpable wonder and trauma, beyond any planned investment in time or support. We were, I suppose, captured.

I’d prefer to give McIlroy himself (himself) credit for this. As opposed to the oodles of baggage, or the scissored and colorific perfection that is Augusta. Yes even us part-timers had a strong sense of the storyline underpinning: the Heartbreaks and the Breakdowns and the cruel romance. But it was mainly the sport that made this Masters – the golf shots. The ridicu-wedge blasted high before finding the seventh: lols, even the perpetrator, SuperMac, was visibly gobsmacked! The screeching curler around the trees, on the 15th. The magnificent, nerveless iron to the 17th. The quietly accumulating brilliance of Rose.

Throw in the tortured but also fading wildness of DeChambeau and we may already have all we need for epic sport. But we also had Aberg again being coolly thrilling tee-to-green. We had other Significant Locals weirdly marginalised. Overpoweringly though, we had that stirring, even gut-churning absence of certainty around the fella ‘destined to be central’.

I’d been coaching cricket for eight hours – 12 til 8pm – before rapidly piling the kit into the boot and flicking on Five Live. Practically the first words I heard were describing, in rather shocked tones, how the ‘lead had changed hands’. EH?!? McIlroy had gone from being two ahead to one down, in the first two holes! There were swear-words. I wasn’t sure whether to drive more quickly or pull up in a lay-by and sob.

By the time I’d cranked up the Sky Sports live feed, Rory was not only back in front, but stretching his lead. The Madness had started early. Faldo was bleating about DeChambeau’s daft bullishness – ‘you can’t hit irons like that, it doesn’t work’, or similar – and McIlroy looked spookily at ease. (I’ve just read a loada stuff about a) his sports psychologist and b) his American opponent noting that the Northern Irishman said nothing to him, all round… which may be interesting, or not). Then that shot on the 7th happened. It ticked all the daft bullishness boxes, being preposterous and risky and irre-bloody-sponsible, but Rory made the fekker. Superhuman ain’t in it – or rather it is, because it was utterly beyond the realm of the human. Brutally smashed. Ridiculously finessed. A bloody outrage.

That kind of statement should be the end of something… but not here. Not with this bloke. There were impossibly jarring errors – notably that flunk into the beck at 13, planting a 7 (seven) on his scorecard – and the pressure-slippage between 11 and 14 which engineered a very temporary three-way tie on the leaderboard. (Macker/Rose/Aberg). Godlike ripostes on 15 and 17 ripped a hole in any Here We Go Again theories before the universe crumpled back into them on the 18th green, as the Chosen (or Persecuted, or Unfortunate) One missed a shortish putt. Rose’s 10 (ten!) birdies on the day had won him a shot at glory. Fair enough. I nearly went to bed.

The crowds: where do we start, as a soft-leftie Brit, with the crowds at Augusta National?

We know who most of them vote for. We know 12% of the blokes will shout ‘get in the ho-o-ole!’ when the ball is tracking a mile westward. We suspect for a number this event may be a lifestyle choice more than a communion with a cherished ball-game. In short I confess they may not be my natural territory. But hey, mostly they were wonderful. Huge and engaged and powerfully supportive. Mostly in lurv with Rory, of course – possibly even when there were Americans in contention.

Somebody’s probably writing a thesis on why the roaring was so lung-bursting and so heartfelt, for the foreigner.* It can only be a combination of The Personality, The Story, and The Actual Golf. Whatever; let’s toast that crowd and that noise and zone back in to the mesmerising quality of some of the play. Rory McIlroy played a few dodgy shots in that final round. Of course he did. But his response and renewal, under the crushing weight of failure and disappointment and expectation, was incredible and heroic. Non-golf people will have been electrified and touched by his genius and his guts.

We somehow got to where we somehow knew we’d be. A play-off. Mercifully we had just the one hole to complete. Both players played it pret-ty immaculately, with solid drives and beautiful irons. McIlroy won it because his putt was short and straight and his opponents was longer. That, as Faldo might have said, is how golf works.

*Given where the U.S. is, maybe there’s a little hope in there somewhere?

Image from Belfast Live.

Tuchel and Ingerland.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It was an eyebrow-lifter, was it not? The moment when That Mad Bloke got England? That German Bloke, even. A genuinely, interestingly, eyebrow-raisingly spiky decision, from the traditional bland kings of slumbering risk-aversion. Tuchel; as gaffer. I liked it. It was fraught. It was perverse, almost. The fella’s just as likely to break out a samurai sword on the touchline as win you the World Cup.

And yet I also liked it because I’m the bloke who wrote blogs saying that even when City and Liverpool were magbloodynificent, coupla years back, briefly, Tuchel’s Chelsea were better. For a period of six or eight weeks. They were the best club side in the world. So yeh. There is both his incendiary mania-thing going on… and some brilliance.

Two games in and of course we’re still wondering. Two games won against ver-ry ordinary sides. (And no I’m not buying that ‘there are no easy games’ bollocks: Lewis-Skelly doesn’t get to march into centre-left midfield and put his headphones back on, if there are no easy games). Whoever-it-was and then Latvia are going to work, sure, and be disciplined in the modern way – have shape, have intensity – but provided you stay honest and pick your final passes you’re going to beat them. Which brings us directly to Rashford.

A confession: I do want Tuchel to bring his flamethrower to this group, which may be kinda institutionally complacent. But I also want him to cuddle and cajole. Rashford, having played the overwhelming bulk of the available minutes, despite having created almost nothing, is the most obvious recipient of Tuchel-faith – Tuchel-lurv, even. The gaffer is giving him every chance… and then some.

This conflicts your honourable scribe. A) I’m generally soft-leftie and have spent much of my life encouraging kids. B) Gramps played for MU. C) Ar Marcus *is conscious* and was plainly one the most thrilling forwards in Europe, about three years ago. His manager was obviously watching. (Klang! The thought strikes that like countryman Klopp, he may even be soft-leftie: but I doubt it and let’s move on).

Rashford nosedived and embarrassed himself at Old Trafford, over recent times. His ‘resurrection’ at Villa has been heavily overplayed. Tuchel, however, is not to be distracted from his generosity (or Rashness – geddit?) around this. I’m fine with that for now – coaching is, after all, the art of Reading the Human – so we must hope that the manager’s belief is founded on something. It may be: I hope it works out.

The player should be at his peak. I’m thinking he gets either one more go at producing before either the relationship turns towards a one-way bawl-fest, or he is quietly dropped. Rashford has had lots of possession against ordinary defenders but repeatedly beaten himself, found the opposition or fluffed his final pass.

Last night, on the other flank, Bowen had about ten percent of the opportunities Rashford had. He was effectively excluded from the game by that cruel tactical discipline around keeping shape and offering width. I felt a little sorry for him but the anarchist in me thinks maybe show a bitta spirit, son. Release the shackles; ignore that baying from behind the laptops. Race in, towards the ball. Get in the fakkin’ gaaame, san. Nick it off Rice’s toes and storm off darn the pitch. ‘Create sammink’. More fun and probably more fruitful than all that passive feet on the touchline stuff. Do that three or four times in the ninety minutes. Change the vibe and maybe the game. The alternative is you getting hoiked on the hour for ‘not being involved’.

The new England manager will have learned from games one and two. He will want his team to look less like the Old Regime – and certainly these performances felt Southgateian in terms of all that ‘patient possession’ and relatively little threat or urgency. So dull, largely. He will no doubt be clearer that Palmer and Saka will be a meaningful upgrade on Bowen and Rashford and that Rogers is a contender, despite fluffing some of his better moments against Latvia.

That retro-feel back three/five blend, with Burns as Jack Charlton and Lewis-Skelly as Kenny Sansome may work, and may even offer significant threat at t’other end of the park. Their partners seem much-of-a-muchness, their reasonable comfort on the ball and goodish pace and awareness feeling pretty interchangeable. All of Konsa, Guehi and Lewis-Skelly do that thing where they use their bodies to draw fouls as a first resort. (Don’t like it but this is where we are). Rice must play – obvs – and Bellingham, though the latter’s role may need to be considered against a fit Palmer’s strengths.

Foden is a fabulous player in search of a consistent England slot: he deserves it but may not get it. Pickford had his dead-cert-one-in-a-game moment when he took out Guehi and offered the centre-forward an open net, but the chance was woefully passed over. The keeper now has 70-plus caps, which can only point to a relative dearth of truly brilliant and consistent performers between the sticks. (In case you’re wondering, I do get the argument that Pickford is certainly a top, top performer, just not a great goalie). Walker feels like a man from another era: but still may do a job until someone who can still fizz comes in. James has always been a fine player. His superb free-kick surprised none of us. If he can get or stay really fit, for me he plays.

Let’s finish with that terrible Anglo-centric confliction: that Ingerland won but underwhelmed us all over again. Because they were mixed when we hoped they might be brilliant. Because *all that possession* but little purpose, with urgency no longer being a thing – or being a subordinate thing to the demonstration of tactical wizardry. Because of too many conceits and too few freedoms or instincts. Because of a kind of generational arrogance and ultimately an inability to execute to high standards. Oh – and because our expectations aren’t realistic, because we’re English.

 Over to you, T.T.

What the hell?

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Things are never simple and it doesn’t help to get mad, But we get mad. We care. We maybe know a bit about the game. We get mad.

England’s chronic and prolonged capitulation was tough to watch. However mighty and magnificent this Australia side might be. We got angry at the scale of the defeat; how it kept on coming like some plague of horrors. Our language came over all disproportionate. Our body language fell back into a cruel, familiar, performative cringe. In private moments we may have burst out into the unsayable.

Best start by re-iterating some contraflows to that spirited, justified fan-burst. Either Goodly Things or Things We Really Should Remember.

This group – have no doubt – have been trying like hell. Both to compete and then to get better.

They will have been working physically hard and racking their brains, individually and collectively, to try to get to grips with errors, failures, opportunities missed.

The captain and the coach are people of integrity who care very much about the success and direction of their team.

The players on this tour are (actually) the best available for selection: right now there is probably nobody missing.

So how come we all recognise this (as the players will, privately) as a kind of sporting catastrophe? Just how come this utter mis-match? What the hell went on, with England?

There will be cultural and structural stuff, if we zoom right out. The pool of hardened, top-level players is smallish – smaller than the Aussies’. This is for many reasons, some of which are contentious. Australia does have a fabulous climate conducive to outdoor-living and bringing activity right into the centre of family life. This is a cultural advantage. It does not, however, explain away what’s happening at an elite level, where players have been a high performance environment for years. (It’s possible that it feeds into the debate about why our squad has come under heavy scrutiny – quite rightly – for its mediocre levels of athleticism, but we’ll get into that soonish).

Some argue that the structure of women’s cricket and the overwhelming concentration of activity within the shorter formats contributes to a lack of everything from stickability to durable batting. But plainly Aus have a near-identical framework. Others (mainly in my experience males) posture that girl’s pathways have denied young women the traditional ‘toughening-up experience’ of competing with and against young blokes. These ideas may be worthy of consideration but they do not feel immediately responsible for the failings -and I’m afraid we can call them that – of the senior England Women squad *on this tour*.

I’ve argued for years, possibly at some minor cost, that because the non-negotiables have stiffened – for example over conditioning/dynamism/fielding work – players simply have to execute to increasingly higher levels. That’s not been personal or vindictive or (god forbid) misogynist, it’s just come with the improving professional territory. Standards are waay higher: I’ve watched them from close quarters and that is wonderful. But clearly it means a) responsibilities and b) a profoundly competitive environment.

Competitive environments can and should be both thrilling and inspiring. They can and should be challenging but also powerfully and deeply supportive – how else can players risk reaching for glory and improvement? It’s the job of the coach to build such an environment. It’s a tough, complicated, wonderful job. You have to be a diplomat and a psychologist as well an expert on cricketing skills and tactics.

One of the most essential abilities for any coach at any level is to be able to recognise and blend personalities as well as cricketing skills, in order to find a team that works. This may not be your best eleven players but it’s a mix that functions and flourishes in a way that may not be measurable or predictable other than by your instinct and intuition as coach. Great coaches deal with people brilliantly. They know how to say stuff and when to say it, to whom. They mould and inspire or drive – sometimes with jokes, sometimes with the proverbial hair-dryer.

For me Jon Lewis has been unable to do this. The continuing failures to execute a variety of skills *under pressure* falls at his door, despite (obvs) being the immediate responsibility of his players. Shocking fielding is a failure of group mentality as well as individual skills. It’s tough on all parties but the coach – okaay, coaches – should be building confidence and competence and/or weeding-out those who don’t meet the required standards. All of that comes under coaching responsibilities in a competitive environment. There’s no place for Lewis or anyone else to hide from that.

It’s true that because England appear to have a relatively limited pool of genuinely international players so being ruthless around selection becomes difficult or impossible. But the aspiration still has to be there, towards brilliance: it has to be insisted upon. If there’s nobody better available INSIST that your players become excellent and confident, through repetition and skills work.

All of which brings us to the athleticism thing. Alex Hartley – whom I have been around, and like and respect – was fully entitled to call out or call for better athleticism and fitness. (Think she used the latter word, initially and do wonder if she was using it a little euphemistically, so as to avoid being personal around weight?) Wyatt-Hodge is an obviously outstanding fielder who coordinates and moves like an athlete. Who else? Ecclestone, Dunkley, arguably Sciver-Brunt, Capsey, Bell, Knight, Glenn, Bouchier, Filer. Do any of them move and flow and reach and throw like top athletes? How many of them can actually sprint?

We’re into dangerous territory but in this modern, fully-professional era your effective Best Eleven should overwhelmingly look like international athletes. Plainly, particularly in the field, England have a) been nowhere near and b) looked in striking contrast to their opposition, who yes, make errors too, but look at a different level of sharpness and flow. Lewis may not have time to address this entirely: he may not have had the option to bring in better athletes. But he had to drive, encourage or bundle towards manifest improvement.

Inseparable from England’s failures to execute skills in the field has been the issue around mentality. (I’ve been bangin onnabout this, too, for years. Apols to regulars). Lack of confidence is not the only aspect in play here. Lack of focus or concentration and sheer inability to ‘tough out’ moments of pressure or challenge have felt central to the WAshes whitewash but also to an extended period of what we might call willowy adventures. It’s felt *characteristic* of England Women… and this is not good.

Failures to execute skills can of course fall under multiple banners, from deficiencies in technique to the infamous ‘brain farts’ or fear-of-the-moment. Top players grasp the moment, pushing through, concentrating through high angst or pressure to get the thing done. England as a mob were shockingly weak – pejorative word, know that – at this, on this tour. Aus crushed them because they are obviously better – and better athletes.

The brutal truth is I can only think of one player who might reasonably feel she had a goodish tour. Lauren Bell. She too made errors in the field but her prime role of leading the bowling attack gets a significant tick. She executed with skill and consistency. Not true of Filer; not true of Kemp, who could not do that job when called-upon. Ecclestone inevitably bowled well and I again note her fabulous contribution as a team-mate but her fielding was bloody awful. Bouchier had an awful tour, too.

So to the future. Lewis was badly let-down by his players but he has to go. The drift backwards into fearful error and bewilderment has simply been too obvious for him to continue. Knight is almost certainly still our best skipper and one of few redoubtable souls but let the new coach decide if she stays in post or in the side. Many of us would be fine with the idea of a buncha kids coming in, if they had the vim and the focus but I doubt this will happen. Charlotte Edwards, being a) broadly excellent and b) a proud Inglishwoman may declare herself available to lead. I suspect she won’t make wholesale changes but she may have the clout and the quality to make the essential one: to restore some real and robust competitive energy.

Angry fans.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

There may be newbies encroaching so p’raps I’ll say a few words about where I’m coming from. I’m coming from England, out of Wales. I’m an England & Wales fan and I have no issue with sounding that way. So you may see me foaming or bawling on the Twitters or elsewhere, in a fashion most unbecoming of a serious writer. (Actually I think I am a serious writer but not a journalist, and not here). I have had accreditation with the ECB, as a freelance bloggist, for several years. I go to watch and support England Women when I can – more than I do the blokes.

So England Aus then. After four defeats it feels erm, significantly deflating. It’s made me angry as well as disappointed. It’s hard not to make it personal – to have outrageous pops at individuals – when you know full well these are people trying their hearts out. But we are I think entitled to be critical when performances are poor, or even unprofessional, or when the case that we have gotten closer to the level of the mighty Australians is proved more palpably to be cobblers than we hoped or imagined. We remain waaay behind.

In today’s game, yup, the fourth defeat of four, with England knowing they really had to turn up, we got more of the same. A kind of contagion of error or failure to execute. No issue with Kemp playing or opening the bowling. But her first ball is a foot down leg. No issue with Bell – who has been probably the closest to a success on this mission – coming in from t’other end. She bowls coupla beauties but two wides again. Then reverts to her Somehow Unconvincing Athlete-type, to crucify a relatively straightforward chance, at fine leg: the ball spirals a bit but hey that’s cricket.

(Rate Bell – ditto Kemp – but these fluffs speak to and weirdly encourage the wider malaise. I repeat: Bell has bowled well and maturely for the most part, on the tour. But there are still too many wides and maybe critically that sense of potential for drift, in terms of control or otherwise, for a top level bowler, wafts in a little too often. And this from our no 1 bowler. Filer of course has almost played her way out the side with her wildness).

I’ve tried (honest) to avoid soundbites on socials but we may need to fall back on the words mentality and execution again here. Aus typically have it and do it – do their jobs; are good athletes and mentally strong – whereas England repeatedly fall short. In a way it’s maybe that simple. The visitors have had competitive bursts then undermined by slackness, error or calamity. One of many frustrations is that this seems fixable, given a squad of good players and yet…

Zoom out and you have to have a strong, deep pyramid, to go hard at selection and change. Zoom back in and it’s up to the coach do identify where players’ heads are and thereby identify players. Whilst developing them.

Where are the players’ heads? There have been, it seems to me, a whole lot of WTF moments over the past month. Hence the building vitriol and disappointment. Even Knight has made questionable decisions (plural) which have cost England their most redoubtable wicket. Reverse sweeping King first ball after drinks in this first it20 may have been an unwise choice. To the counter-argument that we should go fearlessly for our shots I say ‘hang on, now’. You choose your moment and choose the ball and then go for your shot, wholeheartedly. Do most of your pre-meditated shot-making from a position of strength – i.e get to that position first. Being ‘clear’ is important but so is adaptability. Only if you are desperately running out of balls to hit do you need to bite on major risk. Or, if like Dunkley you are absolutely feeling the flow – irresistibly.

England needed to be brilliant earlier and they were closer to lousy, from the start. Deeply mediocre bowling discipline, or players diving over or past or through or under the ball in the outfield. Poor, unconvincing hands. Angry fans (like me, like you) would call it garbage. Some of it was.

Why were England so poor? They probably picked their best team. They knew the import. Almost nobody delivered, with the ball or in the field. Then Bouchier had another *incredible moment* with the bat to laser-in on the fielder in the deep, second ball. Wyatt-Hodge was rooted and prodded. Sciver-Brunt stayed with that thing of swishing hard across: but to Garth, with bugger all on the board and two-down? In your first couple of deliveries? With the ball (you know) arcing away from you? Where are the players’ heads? And what are they hearing? ‘Clear plans’ no doubt.

Nerves were obviously a protagonist yet again. That we can understand but it doesn’t mean we can tolerate it. Over time it’s the job of the coach to fix such a fabulous and welcoming and supportive environment around the group that confidence bubbles up all over. And equally (but at the polar opposite of a vast, multi-faceted job) that same coach probably has to weed out those who lack the required mentality. And I do mean required. This cricket thing is both a wonderful, instinctive business based around flow and a brutal, gladiatorial arena where folks get culled. You want comfort of a sort but also the edge that drives elite performance.

Dunkley is a dynamic outlier in all this. For today at least. (To be honest, remain unconvinced about her as a consistently high-level performer but hope she goes on to prove me wrong).

Her innings today was authentically thrilling and spirited. The cack-handed slammer was one of possibly three England players who may claim to have been undone by balls scooting low. Her approach – full-on blistering intent – both worked and even threatened to turn a non-event into an event. It also raised the rather fascinating psycho-existential question as to whether T20 itself is wonderful or fraudulent sport. England being so bad and so ‘undeserving’ almost found themselves in the contest. Should that even be possible, given their risible effort? Or is that – Dunkley; the possibility for individual, counter-attacking glory – the essence of most of our wonderful-daft games?

England have great resources but maybe not quite the playing resources or depth that they want. Tough. They’re in financial dreamland compared to most. So coaching has to be effective and has to maximise. All coaches have to maximise – that is, improve their players. Look hard and see who has patently improved under Lewis.

The coach will almost certainly go, after this series. He can have no complaints. Heather Knight must also be in the cross-hairs but she is still England’s best captain and remains one of their few genuinely world-level players – just. To find a fresher, zingier, more deeply confident groove England may need to switch both coach and skipper. The next coach – Charlotte Edwards? – must sort out the heads of the players.

pic from The Cricket Paper.

Positives.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Well there are certainly reasons to be cheerful. Bell. MacDonald-Gay. Filer. Fine batting, at times, from Bouchier and Sciver-Brunt. The skipper doing that holding-role-*plus* job that she so often does, in the second dig, falling a cruel few short of her Test ton; one she must have *really wanted*, given the general lack of opportunities. But let’s start with that gert big daft (for which read wunnerful, generous, lovable) lass they call Eccles.

This is the best spin bowler in the world. The deadliest; the most consistent; the most skilled. But she’s also offering out more love, more laffs and more genuine, heart-warming hugs than anybody else – also possibly in the world. Ecclestone is fabulous in every respect. Not the greatest athlete, so (you can see) she has worked hellish hard on her catching/movement/ground-fielding. Not the greatest bat, but strongish and aware that developing into or towards a ‘belligerent’ (hah! Not her!) ball-striking lower-order batter is probably what’s gonna maximise her contribution. Working hard. Ecclestone is that very rare thing, a truly sensational player – a world-level player – and an open, seemingly ego-less, committed, often hilarious team-mate. Thank god we’ve got her.

I’m not going to go back on Eccles’ figures. Though superb, they may not do justice to the sustained level of bowling she produced again, here. Too good for everybody – even too good for Kapp, it seemed, during one brief contest. This afternoon, after the quicks tore apart the South Africans, we can argue that the job was easy – or easier. She could pile in the close catchers. She could toss and loop the ball outrageously, by her standards. There was freedom. But the excellence still was just obvious: an almost endless succession of deliveries that the batters ‘just had to keep out’.

I was delighted to see Bell not only bowl well but get wickets with great balls, particularly in that second innings shut-out. None of us wants to see a massacre – well maybe sometimes – but it’s right that strong teams express their superiority. The coaches will have been demanding that. Filer and Bell haven’t always looked like they are or will be consistent enough to do it: or not produce compellingly enough to satisfy us *really interested observers*. Yes we have to couch our praise alongside qualifications (on account of the opposition, obvs) but there were times today where these two young bowlers, ‘first off the rank’, looked impressive – looked better.

Filer hit and hurt the mighty Kapp because she was simply too quick. Bell bowled more dream deliveries, arguably, and hit stumps or pads with plenty of them. Her traditional killer inswinger morphed just a little towards a ball that nipped-back more than swung, for impact. Plainly she has also worked hard to improve and hone her skills – quite right too. But the speed of change and development is encouraging and deserving of credit (to bowler and coaches). Bell is now absolutely ‘challenging both edges’. She has deliveries which swing away and/or leave the right-hander off the pitch. She has delicious, almost wildly slower balls which may cut off the deck, too. And she has always had a classic, often extravagant inswinger. What’s been missing – or needed work – is consistency. There is still work to do there but Bell looked a fine and even mature bowler much of today.

Filer is different. Idiosyncratic doesn’t cover it but that’s fine… as long as there is progress towards genuine, elite-level consistency. This is the England spearhead we’re talking about. That moment where Filer struck Kapp was notable. Sure there may have been some uneven bounce in there, but that extreme pace can be a real weapon: if Kapp can’t cope with it, neither can half of Australia’s finest. But groove it; steer it; control it.

There was something refreshing about MacDonald-Gay’s bowling. On debut. Bolting in there, fabulously stump-to-stump. It looked pure and repeatable, simple and kinda myopic in a really good way. Keeping the stumps in play – so often said, so rarely done. The youngster produced at least one laser-focused worldie to shift a leading bat and plenty of others to deny space and scoring opportunities. She maintained her accuracy admirably but not faultlessly: enough though, to make her a live contributor and contender.

Batting-wise, England’s second knock was something of a disappointment. A little complacency, perhaps? There was some good bowling, not just from Mlaba, but wickets also fell that were towards the Xmas gift category.

We know now that it’s reactionary to talk about playing across the line, because shorter formats and plans towards ‘scoring areas’ have taken the game beyond traditional or conservative thinking of that sort. On the one hand I accept this. On the other, players should surely be as streetwise as they are ‘positive?’ Meaning you don’t need to make a statement of intent every ball. Meaning offering a straight bat – which of course doesn’t always mean a defensive shot – can be a good option. And yes, maybe *particularly* if the game is drifting against you.

Choosing the moment to counter-attack may mean defending a good delivery. Fine. Several England players were as undone by their bat-swing as they were by the ball. We understand that Sciver-Brunt, say, can hit nearly everything that moves through mid-wicket. Even deliveries a foot outside off-stick. Brilliant. No issues. She owes us nothing and she’s also a world-level player. But to her and to the universe, just the polite suggestion that more of those balls could go through mid-off.

But let’s get back to the positives. England Women won a Test Match. By a mile. Away from home. It was entertaining and we saw batting of quality and endurance (it was bloody hot!) from Bouchier, Sciver-Brunt and Knight, alongside other contributions. With the ball, and in the heat, Bell and Filer stepped closer towards the top of the game – where England need them to be. MacDonald-Gay acquitted herself well. Ecclestone was tremendous and selfless and great company, as always. I hope she leads the celebrations.

Pic from CRICinfo.

The Learnings.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It’s not only Heather Knight who would say ‘we’ve taken the learnings’, after the crushing defeat of South Africa gave England a series whitewash… but it’s a very Trevor-y thing to say. The England skip is still a top, top player but she’s also a hysterical, that is to say incredibly dull interview. She’s got more Trad England Captain in her bloodstream than Bobby Moore. She’s fabulous, don’t get me wrong, and absolutely not arch-conservative in the way she plays – not anymore – but Knighty dredges up every possible platitude from the Book of Sporting Blandoblurb, when someone sticks a microphone in front of her. It makes me laugh: I expect some of it she does for laughs.

Knight had every reason to be pleased… and expressed that pleasure in exactly the terms you would expect. This does not mean her assessment was either without value or off the mark. She was right to touch base with the ideas of ‘freedom’ and expansiveness, after an utterly dominant performance and a nine wicket win. And it was no surprise to hear the ell-word: learnings are all over the pathways.

England won the toss, chose to bowl and arguably for the second time on the bounce had won the game within about five minutes. South Africa, given that the series had already gone, had lost or rested Wolvaardt and Brits. Have no issue with this; this is how you (as a coach) extract value, by ‘changing things up’ and challenging players: offering them (again to use cricketing/coach-speak) ‘opportunities’. The Proteas camp knew they’d been outgunned, and probably would be again, but viewed that as a developmental opportunity. Fair enough.

What I might query was the insertion of Tunnicliffe as an opener, purely because she looked so completely out of her depth in the last game. *However*; player and coach(es) will have talked that through. She may have volunteered or entirely understood that opening might be a Big Ask… but also a means towards a kind of growth. It didn’t work out. Both she and Bosch were gone cheaply and the South Africans were pretty much dead from there. Shangase offered some resistance in a score of 124 all out but even this was scrappy, shapeless-looking stuff.

Lewis, the England gaffer must have talked about ‘executing well’ and ‘searching for a complete performance’, before this third game – must have. England had won two whilst being notably flawed, in the view of many outsiders. (Certainly in my view). Filer and Bell must have known that most of the home players simply couldn’t live with their pace and quality and therefore the aspiration for them and England was all about the pursuit of excellence. (See previous blog).

The win was always going to take care of itself. This is a weak or weakened South Africa. Therefore seek the highest levels of consistency and execution – let that be your ambition. State it. I bet Lewis did.

Filer’s opening spell – her bowling, in fact – was again mixed. It had just a little of the devastating-by-accident about it. Thrilling pace and bounce which the batters predictably barely knew what to do with. An early wicket but line too wayward. We know she’s bowling high-tarrif deliveries – quick; loopy slower-ones; bouncers and leg-cutters – but Filer, *to spearhead the England attack*, has to be near-as-dammit smack-on, ball after ball. She is not that, yet. There’s time… but will the scatter-gun re-focus?

I’m slightly fascinated to know if Bell had conversations with the coach(es) in which she or they said “ok. No inswingers. The purpose of this game today is to see if I can deliver, without going back to my killer-ball”. It really may have happened – again, I have no problem with that. Clearly Bell has been working hard on an away swinger and/or balls which nip away off the deck. Brilliant and quite right to expand her vocabulary like that. (Could be wobble balls and/or deliveries which are all about seam position being towards the slips. Even if there are no slips).

In game 3, the Shard produced more than a few genuine pearlers (possibly with pace both on and off) which left the right-handed batters – beat them. They would have beaten most. This is good. Under some pressure, she bowled new deliveries with a high degree of success: box ticked.

What Bell also needs to do is eliminate, as far as possible, the loose ones. High tarrif or no, she cannot bowl brilliantly-loopy slower balls down leg, or offer too much width outside off, when the inswinger doesn’t work. As a tandem, Filer and Bell are a work in progress. They were too good for this South African line-up but (with all due respect) bigger challenges lie ahead. *And in any case* this match – this event – was about process more than result(s).

So England went into bat knowing the game was won. Nice. But there was still meaningful work to be done, particularly, of course, for Bouchier and Dunkley. I might have looked them both in the eye and said “ok. We know you gals are working towards nailing down a place. Good. This is a competitive environment. Tonight, Kemp goes in ahead of you”. I really might. Because a) Kemp has something and b) neither Dunkley nor Bouchier has stamped their authority on a particular birth. Unlike Wyatt-Hodge, Sciver-Brunt and Knight, they haven’t been convincing or compelling or consistent enough. They know that; we know that. Sure as hell the coach(es) feel that.

Lewis and co stuck to the less radical plan and Bouchier opened with Wyatt-Hodge, before Dunkley followed. There was some vindication for all because the game was won at a stroll, with Wyatt-Hodge thrashing 50-plus not out and Bouchier striking the ball cleanly, largely, on the way to 35. (She fell to a literally stunning catch from Shangase, reaching hopefully high, at mid-off. The fielders fell about, telling us something about typical levels of expectation. Wyatt-Hodge was dropped on a handful of occasions: one error from Hlubi was alarmingly poor). Because, ultimately she was out, caught, off ordinary bowling, we can offer Bouchier no more than about a 7 out of 10 for her knock, but she did strike the ball well, generally.

Dunkley’ like Bell, like all of them no doubt, has been working hard. She appears to have gone past the seven-year-old clouter-to-leg thing that was her M.O. (I didn’t like it, neither to watch or in terms of results expected over time at the highest levels, but I absolutely accept that if she could have really made that early grip work, consistently, then we as coaches butt out). She didn’t – or not enough. Hence the learning, hence the development.

Dunkley, in her 24 not out, struck two deliveries straightish downtown that she could not have engineered previously. Not with her hands so far apart, in that swishing, bottom-hand style. She creamed these, showing the maker’s name proudly to all and sundry, following through straight. The fact that this feels like Proper Cricket isn’t the thing, here. It’s the fact that it feels like proper cricket * and Dunkley is in a better place to play* because of it. She can *almost certainly* drive more consistently and defend better because of that change in grip and presentation of the bat. It’s HUGE to make this change; I hope Dunkley’s called for it, rather than the coach. I hope it works for her.

Striking out for excellence.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

‘England win by thurty sux runs’. And so they did.

In fact that maybe flattered a very mediocre South Africa – although let’s offer some credit to those batters who took both Ecclestone and Sciver-Brunt for runs, late-on.

The home side had not a cat in hell’s chance of making the required 205 for victory; certainly not without Wolvaardt and Brits going MASSIVE, which they failed to do. The England total – big but not record-breaking – was yet again built around killer contributions from Wyatt-Hodge (78) and Sciver-Brunt (67 not out), with good work from the captain and a cute wee cameo from Jones, at the death.

None of the seven Proteas bowlers could keep their economy below nine runs an over. Before the turn-around, it felt like the series was gone. After about four overs of the South African reply, it was.

Sciver-Brunt bowled two fine overs, removing Brits for nought. (Felt a bit like the game was done, right there). Tunnicliffe came in at 3 and endured the most tortuous inning you’re ever likely to see. How Filer failed to bowl her will remain a world-level mystery: unfortunately for England she produced a ‘mixed spell’ yet again. There was Proper Pace – wonderful to see – but nearly everything was either a foot wide of leg-stick (by the time it got to the wickets), or just outside eighth stump. So not good enough for any of us – let alone the coach – to think ‘yup; she’s The One alright’.

It was Glenn who showed the way.

Sarah G bowls more deliveries pitching on middle and hitting middle than almost anyone else in world cricket. (Meaning a) she hardly spins it but b) she will bowl people swinging across the line). The middle overs leggie was excellent: she finished with four-fer-not-many. Ecclestone and Sciver-B, strangely, took something of a hammering as the game petered out, with a few genuine, nutty blows striking at least a minor psychological wotsit for South Africa as they flew into the smallish crowd. There was, however, no disguising the unbridgeable gap between the two sides.

If Kapp plays it might be different. If Khaka plays she makes a contribution. But they ain’t here… so this *really was* almost an unseemly massacre.

Concerns or questions? We have a few. Firstly that general one about the distance between these two sides. Nat Sciver admittedly can make everyone else look ordinary but her two consecutive 50s-plus, and the untroubled ease with which they were acquired, are heavily, almost brazenly *of note*. Wyatt-Hodge has looked similarly different-level against a weakish (let’s be blunt) South African attack.

Marx went wicketless tonight but was decent at East London: she offers something. De Klerk has looked reasonably consistent. Hlubi took two wickets this evening (much to everybody’s relief, after her multiple traumas) but she is miles away from the required level at the moment, largely because of that alarming void where her confidence needs to be. (Coach; get to work.)

I personally don’t rate Mlaba all that highly but I’m typically out of sync with the Universe of Punditry on that so we’ll move swiftly on. After a look at the scoreboard confirms she went 0 for 44, here. To recycle the obvious, a score of 204 was only remotely get-nearable if Brits and Wolvaardt went BIG… and they didn’t. The former got zilch, the latter her fascinatingly customary 20-something, against England. Again she fell rather tamely.

For the visitors it was a good night – no argument. But the irritants for us fans and watchers continue to irritate. Bouchier and Dunkley both failed again, with the bat, at a time when they will know that they need to show us something. Something consistent. Something compelling. Dunkley then dropped a dolly in the field and Bouchier might have done better with a ball clonked close to her at the boundary. (If I’m Sciver-Brunt, I’m a bit pissed-off).

How to resolve this? Well, maybe give them time. The left-field option of dropping them both – I could certainly ditch Dunkley, her movement and fielding ain’t great – and then elevating either one or both of Knight or Kemp to open or stand at 3, is a live one, for me.

Maybe that’s too wild, too soon, too whatever. But this England still needs a bump or a lift or a kick up the ‘arris to get it to where it needs to be: at a consistent level of yaknow, everything.

This is plainly The Thing and this uneven series does, perhaps a little perversely, offer the opportunity to strike out for that kind of excellence. Knight and co – the usual suspects – went some way towards that tonight: leaving Mr Lewis (the coach) both pleased and frustrated, I’m guessing?

Development – good and bad.

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Let’s have a ramble; a rummage; a wormlike wiggle through the kaleidoscope. A zooming out and in, through the back doors and maybe the bog windows; like we’re *being philosophical* but also scrambling in to see the band without (yaknow) paying. That way we can be irresponsible and disproportionate and blather like the drunken fans we are.

Cricket. England blokes. Pakistan.

That first Test was ludicrous and wonderful and bloody entertaining in a way that re-wrote the laws of art and science all over again, again. England making 6 and 7 an over look routine in the format that still echoes to the voice of Old White Coaches demanding ‘high elbows’. Root being simultaneously relentlessly humble and yet godlike. Brook being ridicu-audacious. Duckett making a nonsense of Commandment Numero Uno – that you just don’t play at anything, early-doors, that isn’t threatening the sticks. Truly special.

We can and should qualify where and when the boldness dips into brain-death but let’s start with The Incontrovertibly Goodly. McCullum and Stokes have built something magbloodynificent. It’s a fabulous, generous contribution; big enough to change coaching and completely re-calibrate expectations around what’s possible, in a game that’s largely stood stubbornly still.

This is some achievement. England do have a good group of players… but how many are nailed-on world-beaters? Or maybe more exactly, (and/or, o-kaaaay, possibly more cheaply, more of the times), how many would be in a World XI? You could make a strong case for Root and Brook and Stokes, perhaps more now for his leadership than his contributions with bat and ball. Interestingly, even if we rolled back the clock a year or two (so as to include Jimmy and Broad), it’s not clear that any or many English (or Welsh) bowlers would make a Best Out There eleven.

What I’m getting at is that the real brilliance of this obviously occasionally flawed England is cultural; is to do with mindsets.

We can all too easily fall into meaningless verbiage when unpicking the ‘process’, here.

Rather wonderfully, in my view, some of it remains mysterious, probably because it’s predicated on the intuition as well as the positive inclination of coach and captain. This takes it beyond analysis.

The thrilling edginess of the Duckett-Crawley axis has grown into a fixture because of the zillion quantifiable advantages of the left-hand/right-hand, big driving bloke/tiddly cutting and sweeping bloke things *but also because of* lashings of belief. Coach and captain believed and encouraged. Crawley boomed on, even when the universe carped. Duckett stayed true to his wild-but-focused striking of every fecking ball that came his way. Inside the England bubble the gambles were absolutely felt and understood as gambols towards a Better Way. The very idea of pressure has become an irrelevance because a) there really are bigger things in life b) there IS an imperative to entertain and c) if we allow ourselves to really embrace opportunities, chances are it will be fun and effective.

So this England (because of complex, intelligent, supportive, ambitious coaching *made simple*) have offered us better entertainment via a revelatory and liberating approach. Fascinatingly, nobody else has gone there, not in Test cricket; not in remotely the same way. We can be certain that other coaches, other nations aspire towards Bazball; they will be using its terminology, its ethics, its drive towards freedoms. Eight billion sports coaches are currently spilling those mantras about ‘expressing ourselves’ – whether to eight-year-old girls or the club First XI. The difference is that words are cheap. The culture has to be authentic. It really has to feel like you.

England Women.

One of the sadder sights of the past month in sport came at the end of England’s World Cup. Sophie Ecclestone, the best female bowler in the universe, in tears, having bowled two full-tosses to concede the runs that put England out.

Of course ‘Eccles’ wasn’t personally responsible for the defeat – the game had gone, by this stage – but she will have hurt big, having bowled two sloppy deliveries, both comfortably dispatched. The tall slow left-armer knew that the exit marked another significant under-achievement, and a huge missed opportunity, as the mighty Australians had also shockingly fallen.

England were poor on the day. Heather Knight had to retire hurt whilst batting but this should not have derailed the effort so wretchedly. (Brutal Truth: the West Indies are consistently mediocre, with just two or three players that might reasonably be considered a threat at this elevated level). Setting a score that was manifestly 20-30 under (their) par should not have been decisive… not given history/resources/the players on the park.

Exceptionally, the England gaffer inserted himself into proceedings at a drinks break. Jon Lewis marched on to have words, when he could see things falling apart. Also exceptionally, he called-out the stand-in skipper Nat Sciver-Brunt, effectively saying that she couldn’t manage or rally the troops in the way Heather Knight might have done. He was obviously angry and disappointed. He probably had every right to be but this is not to say that he had the right to expose Sciver-Brunt in the way he did. It felt classless and makes you wonder at their relationship: do they/have they disliked each other for a period of time? (That happens).

I accept that it’s a fair criticism that this England squad (or individuals within it) has/have been serially susceptible to pressure. To put it dangerously bluntly, they’ve needed to ‘toughen up’ for some years. Lewis could have offered a bollocking (or a whole lot of work) around the lack of resilience on many occasions during his relatively short tenure but it’s been his job to select and coach with exactly these kinds of issues in mind.

To zoom out, he’s responsible for environment and blend of players and personalities. Levels of professionalism and expectation have changed. Expect more; demand more – I have no problem with that – but build the belief; develop the players; support them. It’s your job to turn the fickle into the fierce: and/or discard or deselect those who can’t achieve the evolved non-negotiables for the new era. Not at all convinced Lewis has succeeded at this.

England lost because one or two players on the other side had a good day. This can obviously happen, indeed is likely to happen in this shortened format. (Another reason why players need to be agile, empowered individuals). You mitigate against that as a team by being focused, determined and professional. It didn’t happen. Fielding errors should never be ‘contagious’ but they often are. There were multiple howlers from England. As a fan, I felt embarrassed and a bit angry. This is a particularly well-resourced outfit, compared to all but Australia and India. We get that one of the joys of sport is its unpredictability but this was a patent under-achievement from the Lewis/Knight/Brunt posse.

Finally, that leadership thing. Has Ar Nat always been reluctant to captain? Maybe. If so, again, it falls to the coach to fix that – either by bringing in another potential skipper, or developing the player. Either way he shouldn’t (as well as shouldn’t need to) call out her alleged deficiencies publicly, in or after a World Cup semi-final. Lewis shouldn’t have needed to walk onto that outfield. The work should have done before: selection and development.

Ireland – England: the Dee-word. ‘Weigh things up’.

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So it becomes about development, and maybe that’s okaay?

Ireland got marmalised in the cool wind at Stormont – possibly not the first time this has happened? England, especially the leftie Kemp and the wee dutt Beaumont, battered them, before Cross and Filer cruelly underlined the distance needed to travel. Bat-in-hand, the locals were completely shredded by the pace and guile of the visiting attack.

The whole game was dominated by pace and power – maybe it’s always been that way? Kemp’s dreamy-but-thunderous hitting was visibly different-level. Filer’s raw (but in this instance, kinda wily) rockets similarly marked out this season’s soundbite for us pundits – the ‘point of difference’. Ireland couldn’t cope with the latter and had nothing – have nothing – to approach the former’s languid intensity. Kemp stood and struck – and I do mean struck – a typically entertaining 60-odd. It’s ‘her way’ to look like this is easy… but it was easy, for her.

Interestingly, Beaumont had been scuffling around, compiling what looked to be the worst or least satisfying major knock of her career. When Kemp took charge, it loosened (or freed?) her senior partner up to chip away, reach that milestone and then explode into cartoon character-dom. The opener finished on 150 not out. Kemp had already won the match, dismissing the Irish bowling pretty much at will. Those two were simply better than the women in green.

None of us have any real issue, I suspect, with the fact of Ireland being out-gunned. They look to have only one bowler who is manifestly in the genuinely elite international bowling category – Orla Prendergast. (Or ‘apprenticast/all apprentice/prenographs/oil Apprentice’ as the auto-subtitles thingamejigg fabulously called her, on the otherwise excellent live feed. See my twitter @sportslaureate.co.uk).

Batting-wise, it’s her and maaaybee captain Gaby Lewis and keeper Amy Hunter. Whatever; the detail and/or ‘the record’ could stoke a decent pub chat. There is, however, little or no doubt that we’re talking different strata, here. Beaumont struggled, relatively, then had the class and composure to regather, before assaulting the bowling in the later stages, getting England well beyond 300. The Irish can not get beyond 300: not currently. Not in an international game. *(O-kaaay. Not in an international game against strong opposition).* Which brings us to development.

Rather than bleat about it, let’s look to manage this towards a better day. We all know that England’s vastly superior resources (in terms of dinaros and players) make this a challenge. But it’s also how Ireland, or any other advancing/maturing/progressive or progressing nation gets to stand toe-to-toe. Meaningful games; games against better players; exposure to the scary-but-brilliant.

In practical terms this really might mean England withdrawing batters or bowlers from the contest – either before or during the remaining events. Yes Cross is almost my favourite cricketer but no maybe she doesn’t need to bowl; or play? Beaumont plays to ‘offer much-needed experience’ but is that need greater than that of young player X, who needs to bat? Or more than Ireland need to be able to compete? These ‘risks’ are only risky if your developing players ‘fail’. So coach them and support them… and then let’s see.

‘Course I know some of this is simplistic. There are points at stake and reputations at stake: league tables and salaries and growed-up stuff like that. Weigh things up.

Some of the above is mischief but not this idea that from now on, in this tour, a kind of generosity and understanding needs to be front and centre. What’s the maximum benefit we can all get, here? This is a competitive situation *in brackets*, not a(n entirely) competitive situation. Let’s get real about that but use the remaining edge intelligently to build experience/sharpness/comfort/discomfort/learning in our players. Let’s manage situations so as to maximise development.

What goes on tour…

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Been a while – longer than I realised. And not sure if I’m back or if the mistiness of the grey matter will render this do-able, or not.

Haven’t written about cricket for faaar tooo long. But guess what? Been on a cricket coaching and playing rampage for months. (Maybe I should write about that?) Millfield/Aberystwyth/Shrewsbury/Cathedral School/Gowerton/Llandeilo/Tockington Manor/Llangennech/Crickhowell/Blaina and the rest. Buckinghamshire/Little Stoke (was that Staffordshire?)/Somerset/Gloucester, to play for Wales Old Fellas.

Missed out (and missed) most of the Pembs Seniors action, coz of all the coaching work; the usual madness, just more of it. Heatwaves, some proper exhaustion and crocked calves. Comradeship and disappointment. With the kids, yaknow… development.

How to go there without intruding, though? This may be more personal, more of the person than people imagine. Maybe just stay general. Talk about principles or things learnt rather than What Jonny Did. Maybe I can do that?

Been coaching U10s and U11s. ‘Regional kids’, on a pathway for which their families do have to pay. Have concerns about that and the concentration of activity around certain kinds of venues: the time may come when I am vociferous in this regard but that time is not now.

Now I can celebrate and absolutely unreservedly say that our various crews – been coaching four teams, with my outstanding partner-in-crime – have enjoyed massively, and developed massively. (If that’s a boast, don’t care). And though I do feel a bit head’s-gone and maybe post-energy-slump-tastic just now, my own level of enjoyment has been absurdly fabulous. (Again. Can hardly believe it). Outstanding kids and wonderfully supportive families: almost everybody buying in and letting us coaches do our thing. The Lads rowing that boat and being great company. On and off the pitch. Doing that thing where they try like hell then let go immediately of a battering – too much fun to be had.

Took an U11 side to Shrewsbury School, for an epic five days/four nights of cricket and an U10s side – two, in fact, but was personally responsible for one – to Aberystwyth, for three days/two nights. All this bigger than cricket. All this both a privilege and a pretty profound responsibility. Young lads, some of whom were tearful, come 10pm, at the prospect of mum and dad not being immediately at hand. Opposition that was often much stronger. But still masses of that precious, immediate, innocent commitment – the stuff that builds the team and that feeling that this is good, irrespective of scores, achievements or results.

Sure our team won an incredible, topsy-turvy T20 at Aber, and they were thrilled, meaning *they obviously cared*, but the several defeats either side flew from the collective consciousness a whole lot quicker than the steam train that chugged past. (Young kids can do that, yes? Wipe the slate and get on?) And this is wonderful; to be so undamaged. To go have a laugh, to grab the nearest ball and chuck or kick it, ‘anyway?’ Time enough to get real or rational. We can and did ‘review’ but it doesn’t have to be in the moment of deflation or disappointment. Let’s go jump in the ocean: (we did).

In my experience there are no rules, but ten and eleven year-olds are likely to be able to scoot past ‘failure’ in a way that us Fully-growed-up Humans might do well to recall. Yes they maybe should revisit in order to learn – to develop – but no there’s nothing wrong or inadequate or concerning about the switch back into play or banter. As coaches, we are maybe a bit stuck with the idea that we have to host an instant post-game review (or maybe be seen to host one) but as always this will depend on how present individuals are in that moment. What gives the most value? Have words later, if you intuit that gazes are a bit blank, or players need food or family or freedom. It’s a blessing that the result or the performance isn’t everything, aged ten: let that sense abide, for now.

We Westies often go into fixtures or festivals expecting to be out-gunned by regions who have more and more highly-developed players. Some of this is geography and some of it is privilege and opportunity. Neither of these factors are likely to change(!) so we are left with two broad options: fight like hell or capitulate.

I like to think that we engage option one, but do it with what we might (in foolishly retro language) call a generous or comradely spirit rather than coming over all chopsy and adversarial.

Ah. There may be those at the back of the class here fearing that my insistence on ‘being great company’ as well as bringing top competitive energy necessarily nudges us towards capitulation but no, not for me. I get that this is by nature an adversarial situation and that it may entirely healthily challenge folks’ toughness and resilience – accepted, no issues. But I’m holding out on a kind of faith in sport. Cornier still, I’m gonna say that because I believe the essence of sport is romance (not conflict), there should be a way to compete wholly and powerfully, whilst being a good opponent. Someone who’s good company, even in the heat of all that stuff. It’s possible and I aspire to that – I urge my teams in that direction.

Some may of course think this is naive madness; outdated, outmoded madness. I don’t. I’m a competitive guy but this, for me, is how sport should be understood. Yup – at all levels. Play fair; play to win.

Aberystwyth is a triumph – a word I rarely use, or take care with – every year. A 10s festival, about a hundred young lads (in our case, the girls followed) playing six games of cricket. But also starting their #bantz journey, and their being independent journey, and their eating in a big communal space adventure. Battling (a little, or maaybee a lot) against fear of the ball/fear of the bed/fear of strangeness. Needing and then finding a mate or twelve. Like magic.

But who knew that coaching was so much about getting people comfortable; being nice; being friendly?

Amazing, year after year, to find reinforced that (aged ten/eleven) what’s needed is to be seen; to be encouraged; to be given a chance. Yes we are conscious that *our job* is to develop cricket skills but that bigger picture seems ever clearer. Because these guys are young, because things really do need to be appropriate, we’re confidence-building; we’re in the wider, looser, lovelier business of experience and enjoyment. First imperative? We want these lads/lasses/however they may identify to fall in love with this sport, and (zoom out again, bro’) be ready and inclined towards a life built around activity.

So me and my mad partner-in-crime almost always bowl ten bowlers; almost always rotate the batting order; always know when Jonny or Dafydd ‘needs a bat or a bowl’, or when somebody’s homesick. We’re there, we listen.

Soon as, we muck in and we have a laugh – has to be done. Sometimes, on those ‘residentials’ it’s us that leads the mischief, into the sea, into the arcades. We’re invested in that smiley, woolly stuff as much as the technical gubbins, because this IS bigger than the cricket. The players need, in their individual ways, to feel settled. They need a giggle.

Time.

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Blimey, pre-navel-gazing navel gazing. Should I bother? How is it even possible to say something without scratching-up the stalest of territory – about England, about Southgate, about me sounding like a fan, not some responsible authority? It’s probably not. It’s probably not worth it. But so few of the Bigtime Charlies say anything sharp, or interesting, or tactically right, or with the visceral power or heart of the fan, that *right now*, I’m ploughing back into this. (May bin it; if I feel it neither stays true nor contributes anything worthwhile).

England got beat. Not just that, they got beat too easily, given the Southgate Culture-Matrix. That may have been the signature disappointment from the Three Lions perspective, given the now widely-held view of Garethism as a sort of well-meaning (but maybe not exactly purring) blanket of all-court, essentially defensive integrity with occasional flyers.

Walker and Guehi both made poor errors – lazy lapses – to concede the goals but generally, the team in white were off the pace, unable to intercede, were at some distance from their opposition. Given that Article A of the game plan must have read ‘we have to be on it and we have to stop them playing’ this was a pret-ty fundamental flaw, execution-wise, from England. If we were to seek comfort in the bosom of the obvious, we might say that none of Rice/Bellingham/Mainoo/Foden ‘laid a glove’ on their counterparts.

If it was in the plan to sit and not press anywhere at any time then o-kaaay. That retreat would have to be sensationally durable and watchful. (Meaning it may be theoretically possible but England are nowhere near bright or disciplined enough for that). In any case, whilst of course there was an intention to drop and defend stoutly and compellingly, the almost complete and sustained absence of pressure on the ball gifted Spain the opportunity to show the universe that they are indeed the Best Team in this Tournament by a Country Mile.

You can read this as another crass shout-out for a high, hard press, if you want. Another red-faced fan bawling for more Proper Englishness; more heart; more battle. (I don’t see it that way, but carry on). It’s more that England lacked both the legs and intent to pressure Spanish possession intelligently. When a difference could or needed to be made. Some of that can be coached; some, maybe not.

So, again generally, virtually the whole of the England side looked off the pace – reactive, some would say, in the mould and manner of their coach. Bellingham had that weird slo-mo thing of his going on; looking under-geared, getting caught in possession like some out-of-sync giant. Mainoo and Rice were absent as a force, somehow managing to avoid the bread-and-butter stuff as well as the occasional heads-up thrust. Their defence felt non-interventionist, somehow, as the lads in red simply passed to guys in space, who were routinely showing.

Which brings us to Kane. The fella may have been playing hurt the whole tournament… but he’s simply not been playing. Bollocks to the penalties; his contribution was garbage throughout. (Garbage – yes, a word a fan might use, in anger, probably).

I got bit angry with Kane for his almost complete lameness and unavailability and occasional his feeble exaggeration of contact or injury. He ran nowhere and won nothing. He rarely showed. The skipper may be a trusted player, friend and ally for Southgate but he was patently, for whatever reason, unable to contribute. The gaffer, *finally* – for the ludicrously, much-vaunted ‘bold withdrawal’ in favour of Watkins in the previous game was clearly long-delayed – called Kane in around the hour.

The other sub, Palmer, rather predictably woke England up from their slumber. There was a brief period where a contest threatened to brew, but as Pickford appeared to be the appointed (and arguably sole) pinger of vertical passes, the English Threat melted away relatively weakly. There was no great stirring. What we got from Southgate’s team was more of the low energy, menace-lite holding patterns we’ve seen throughout the competition. Players in deep positions lending other players the ball, partly, in fairness because the lads higher up the park lack the wit, spirit, confidence or freedom to burst into space and either gather and turn or race forward.

Most of that is about culture – about the coaching. Elite coaches create environments but they also groove the moves; Guardiola being the peak example. Spain have certainly been offered ‘the freedom to play’ by their gaffer but they have also been instructed to use their bright, incisive little passes. They’ve practiced getting on their proverbial bikes to find places of danger. De la Fuente plainly not only wants them to play generous attacking football but he has had the understanding and the wit to cultivate and then execute that aspiration. On the plus side, this is precisely why the BTTCM won Euro 24. The negative for England is that Southgate has never understood nor been able to produce this – particularly against good opposition.

Nothing is simple and everything is opinion. Mine is that Southgate is an almost fabulous bloke, who has led his country outstandingly well, in socio-political terms. (This is not a backhanded compliment). But despite his longer-term tournament record ‘speaking for itself’, England have mostly been a poor watch and have been beaten by teams who, like them, have strong playing resources. In this tournament, they played one half of football. One half. Outside of that, they had moments.

For a squad including Bellingham, Foden, Saka, Kane, Rice – you name the ones you rate – this both matters and (for me) should be weighed in. There is or should be an aspiration and a will to play entertaining football; particularly if you have ‘players’. In qualifiers, England have sometimes offered quality and even verve. At the major events? No. Largely caution and game-management of a dour, life-squishing kind. In Germany, during a tournament lit up by the fluency and threat of a free-spirited but well-drilled Spanish side, England were poor, despite making another final.

I am happy for Southgate to be knighted. With our respect and our thanks. He should also go – unquestionably. It’s just time.

I’m with them.

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Honesty-box spoiler alert-thing. I chose not to watch the England game tonight because I’m in Wales… and I expected what happened to happen. A repeat of previous – quite a lot of previous, some might suggest. But rather than get tooo smug about that, I’m going to drop in a few more thoughts; about coaching; about football; about Southgate.

I get that some of you think that this manager has ‘done enough’, has been a notable, even demonstrable success and there is some truth in that. But – because life is complex and there are feelings and responsibilities in play here – it’s also in question.

I chose to coach cricket tonight. For all its faults and that whole icon of conservatism vibe, the ECB transformed coaching about twenty years ago, to put self-learning and ownership at the heart of player development. Coaches were to instruct a whole lot less and allow growth of the player through great questions and Core Principles (as opposed to demonstration and didacticism-by-rote). Skills and brains and leadership were to be developed in a player-centred, even personal kindofaway. This ownership model was thought to be akin to, or essential towards kinds of freedom as well as kinds of discipline and growth.

There may be a case that football has a generic problem with this – so not just Southgate and England, but almost everybody lacks the capacity to find a way, to change, to invent, because most of what they know is on a chart or an ipad. Players are fed – stuffed – with external prompts, with a matrix rammed with all the possibilities except the option to ‘go native’.

The All Blacks had leadership groups decades ago. They made Churchillian team-talks and constant, match-day interventions and instruction from the coaching team almost superfluous. The players could decide stuff: could transform. They were ready; they were equipped; they were autonomous from game plans – or could be.

It may not be quite as simple as football being twenty years behind other sports, coaching-wise but I am going to argue the combination of delusional self-importance, over-coaching and the lack of individual, in-the-moment decision-making and/or tactical adjustments in the allegedly beautiful game is a force – and not in a good way. There are too many coaching staff making too many ‘interventions’. Players are not empowered, encouraged or trusted to make changes: they may be unable to because of the forty-two voices in their ears offering vital stats or shapes or ‘reminders, mate’.

This is a generic problem, for England and for the world that used to be just footie. The culture of game-management runs so deep and is so heavily reinforced by staff during matches that a sort of lethargy sinks in. Nobody wants to play badly or slowly or without any wit… but it happens. The game becomes beige – partly, admittedly because character (often meaning spunk or feistiness or that historic surge towards the gladitorial) is cancelled-out. Cheating and faking or exaggeration is so-o utterly ubiquitous that you can’t challenge: you can’t out-battle or physically dominate. And the gaffer won’t let you really surge. So there are almost no characters – no personalities – because there can be no expression from the heart: only the head. Or from strategies learned.

I accept, of course that the protection now offered to skilful players is a significant positive, as is the notable improvement in comfort on the ball, especially amongst defenders. But we need a balance, yes, between ‘sophistication’ and the things that make us roar? It may be that we can’t legislate for that… so again coaching becomes key.

My trusted Football People shouted most of this from our Whatsapp group, but narrowed-in on Southgate. We’ve all thought he’s been unable to liberate a very good group of players, for years. Tonight he’ll be hurting. Some of that is about how the game’s gone. But he is culpable, as are the players, and many fear he lacks the charisma or wit (or possibly the desire?) to stir up the camp.

Lastly, another barb from somewhere obscure, perhaps. What about the fans? What about entertaining/thrilling/energising the moment for the supporters? They love England and they love football and they’ve shelled out a huge wedge to pile over there in their thousands. Is there no obligation *at all* to show them some urgency? We’re not talking about reckless storming – not yet – but against ordinary teams, when the universe is shrieking that this is boring and ineffectual, is there no awareness of any responsibility to ‘go after ’em?’ Probably not. Because of that aforementioned delusion and the inescapable drip-feed that is game-management. Players really may be too self-absorbed (or too lost) to break out. The manager is responsible for that environment of fear and smotheration.

Below is my ‘report’ from the Serbia game. Hearing it remains relevant.

We’re all over-dosing, I suspect. Cricket, football, golf. Rain, sun, wind. Sleep. Drink. Swear. Fail to make sense but shout, anyway.

Us Lads were shouting about England again, last night. (We do know actually know football so if any of your opinions clash with what follows, then walk away, tutting). Do that early doors – as soon as you feel Southgate’s been slandered or tournament football’s been underestimated. You’re wrong and we’re right.

Swung in classical, predictable anger and disappointment awaaay from The Footie and into The Golf, in the hope that McIlroy could claim some triumph for lusty redemption and alacrity but erm, t’was not to be. We found yet filthier despoilment of the universal good. The poor bastard, having played with sensational coolness and consistency, on a gruelling track, against the gorgeous prostitute that is DeChambeau, missed TWO PUTTS that Aunty Nellie would have knocked in on a municipal in Belfast. It was absolutely Peak Trauma: life-shrivelling stuff. It was even worse than watching England.

Let’s deal with Southgate. You newbies may not know that Yours F Truly (and everybody I know and trust to be a Proper Football Human) has been saying the same kinda stuff about him for years. Fabulous politician and integrator/appreciator. Genuinely good man, as much by learning as by origins – and this may be another significant compliment. Almost certainly a tory-lite, by nature, but now gets most of the Essential Truths around multiculturalism, value and representation. Has grown manfully and generously into what he understands to be a ludicrously *important* and high-profile role. But football-wise? Mediocre.

The Southgate-era ‘tournament success’ is both real and flimsy, in the sense that England have been ordinary in both recent events. (Yup, I mean that). Played relatively little exciting and/or entertaining football: instincts have been to revert to holding/deadening the game/’absorbing pressure’… often against manifestly poor teams. Despite ‘going through’, fine players have looked stilted; one-dimensional; often one-paced.

Can of worms opened; so let’s deal with certain issues arising.

Yes I know that tournaments are often won by teams who have been as dull as ditch-water for much of the campaign: and that the *actual quality* of football carries less meaning for some than the end result. Shame, but true. Typically, teams plan or engineer a way through, rather than looking to out-play or thrash the opposition; partly because allegedly ‘there are no easy games’. (There are no easy games if you choose to contain; or accept the cat-and-mousery. There are no easy games if you shackle your fliers’ instincts to fly, pass, surge). There is a level of over-thinking – and therefore caution – because for all the inane talk of ‘positivity’ coaches fear the expression of pace and invention and threat.

Southgate is not alone in being very conscious of the flow towards choreography, organisation, shape. But his England are often a poor watch (and a real disappointment, given the players available) because he leans so heavily into that culture of game-management. Plus his substitutions are generally poor. Plus, despite picking young players and/or being aware of form, the energy of his teams can be flat. He’s a likeable but dull man, both in terms of lacking spark and being relatively slow-witted. Some of that may be reflected…

The ‘possession football’ his team adopted after an encouraging start against Serbia was nearly as dispiriting as the 4-5-1 default as soon as their pallid efforts gifted the opposition the ball. They were slow, they were boring, they were easy to defend against because they chose, actually to offer no threat. Just a long-term erosion of their opponent’s will.

You may say that nobody chooses to offer no threat and nobody chooses to play boring football. But Southgate’s Posse do it a fair bit, in tournaments. Foden – Foden! – was painfully insipid last night; Kane an irrelevance. Saka looked ace for about fifteen minutes. Then Serbia – Serbia! – were allowed to build and make incursions into a defence that the universe knows ain’t England’s strength. A draw looked likely for much of the second half.

Players and fans know when they’ve been crap. You can’t build confidence – or o-kaaaay, you’re unlikely to build confidence and momentum – if you play crap. And England were crap, against a very ordinary side that they should have walloped, given their personnel and the start they made.

Every one of the Proper Football People I spoke to after the game knows what tournaments are. What risk is. What proportionality is. Every one said they don’t want England to win this championship playing ‘like that’ – meaning with caution and ‘pragmatism.’ They all suspect Southgate of having poor instincts, particularly with regard to getting the best out of attacking talent. I’m with them. This England looks beige again: lacking leadership, lacking spirit and energy. Plainly there is brilliance within. I hope they find it.

In Question.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It would be absurd, plainly, to suggest that there’s a significant mentality problem with the Lionesses: (duh, ‘they only went and won the cup’). But as a fan and follower it does feel like that, a little. Many of us, I think, slip into anger at the nervousness plaguing so many players and/or so many of the early minutes of a ‘typical’ England performance – or should that be non-performance. There are too many howlers.

Again, last night, Wiegman’s side under-achieved pretty extravagantly, being wasteful, slack, lacking purpose or focus. Bright was understandably (and I thought rightly) in there for her physicality and strength against strong and athletic players, but her first contribution was an embarrassment, and she – of all people – seemed to lack the gumption and the will to drive through the spreading nerves and get to her natural (if limited) game.

She was by no means the only one. If you were to drop into that cheap marks-out-of-ten thing, Bright might raise a 4, but who would be above 6, from last night? Williamson, certainly: she may have felt both angry and yes, embarrassed at the level of passing and control and execution around her. The skipper was the proverbial head and shoulders above her team-mates, being the only one playing genuinely heads-up football. (The other prime candidate, generally, would be Walsh, but she was another profound disappointment, disappearing back into the dullness of the most unproductive of water-carrying roles: everything square or ‘safe’; keep-ball but no product. Worse, it often felt that wasn’t making angles to receive passes – so being relatively unavailable, as well as unthreatening).

Russo was wonderfully game and mobile, as always, at least offering some confidence and that potential for linking play. But her ‘killer’ passes or strikes at goal were notably feeble, sadly. Mead and Hemp are excellent players, but their propensity for early nerves and subsequent, intermittent failure to execute even simple passes or heavily rehearsed moves appears reinforced. Stanway had a poor game, Toone was anonymous and despite the additional presence of Bright, the defence again looked vulnerable – again, particularly in central areas.

I get that they were playing France, one of the best sides in the world. But patently England are one of the best sides in the world; they just haven’t played like it, for a year or more.

So we have to question Wiegman as well her players. Job numero uno for any coach of any team is to breed a confident environment: get players happy and able to express. (I’m not thinking we’re seeing that – you? No). We’re dealing with abstracts and moods and personal/psychological stuff, here, so let’s not pretend that this is simple… or entirely manageable, even. And yet it’s still the first box that a manager or coach has to tick. And that manager or coach will be judged, forensically or through anger and disappointment, on the quality and fluency of their side *through his prism*. Are players are giving a fair account of themselves? Or is lack of something – let’s call it confidence – undermining what they do?

If we zoom in then tactical matters and matters of pattern or playing style reveal themselves. But that prior and wider view is a) often more honest – in the sense that it’s more widely felt and understood – and b) it’s hard to shake.

The team humour resonates with fans; they share the nervousness and actually share it around; in the stadium. In this weather-vane ethersphere, the Lionesses are currently mid relative-trough; starting badly and getting caught in cruel, infectious, debilitating cycles of mis-step and angst. Small breakouts into almost-football but then another unforced error. It’s horrible to watch. Coaches have to stem this by either re-invigorating confidences, or doing the shouty-sweary stuff, to get people focused – to get them ‘doing their f*cking jobs’.

Stanway’s job is to cover the ground and make passes. Toone similar – although she darts more and gets into scoring positions more. But she, too, is not making the passes. Bronze may be and may think she is a worldie beyond criticism. But her defending is slack, and given those talents and that force, she’s nowhere near to maxxing-out her influence.

Wiegman is entitled to be thinking about the unthinkable: switching Carter to right back, bringing the left-sided (and tough, and strongish dead-ball merchant, and pinger of decent passes) Greenwood back in – let’s face it, she should have played last night – and either dropping Bronze or pushing her forward. The midfield needs a re-fresh and England’s strongest defensive line-up might be Earps / Carter / Bright / Williamson / Greenwood. (Morgan looks a player but is maaybee too like Williamson: Bright is on a warning but she was the best player at the Euro’s and she does offer old-school defensive virtues, plus a threat from set-pieces – or should). Bronze, such is the scope of her game and her dynamism, could displace any of the three current midfielders and probably bring greater consistency and penetration. (Not saying this happens, but the prevailing out-of-sorts-ness needs a remedy).

We/you/I could write a book about Earps: possibly even about her first contact with the action, last night. Was she already crocked – or how much was she already crocked? She just got in a slightly ungainly position to strike the ball, left-footed, then ouch. Something popped or cracked a little, without any clogging from an onrushing striker. We may never know whether Ar Mary – whom we genuinely love, for her Proper Football Passion – has been a wee bit selfish, in hiding or minimising an injury, so as to stay in the side. (We’ve all done it, yes?)

That story may be a thing of beauty and intrigue… or relative ugliness and deceit. Her switch for the impressively calm-looking Hampton was not what any side would want. But did it reduce the effectiveness or flow of the Lionesses? No. They were bitty and sometimes raw bad in any case. Their prospects for qualification look ‘in question’. Wiegman has work to do.

Derby Day.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Two hours forty-odd, from Brizzle. (No drizzle). Derby is cloudy and blustery – more so than I initially broadcast on my treble-fabulous, high-tech socials – so absolutely no surprise that Pakistan have chosen to have a chuck. Him with the shockingly white trainers just cursed the cold, out there, having just done an hour stint on the mic, in his flimsy jacket and slinky pants. It’s a very Derby day, in short. (No offence).

Sana is opening-up against Beaumont. Short wide one which the batter maaaybe should have cut away. Dot is wot the scorebook says. Third ball perhaps scoots a little low. Then a wide outside off. Weirdly intense quiet in the media centre and a quiet start to the game. 2 for 0. Small ground; smallish crowd. Jackets on. Then Baig – the best athlete and probably the best bowler on the visiting squad.

She bowls from underneath us… in the – I’ll just ask – *probably* the Racecourse End. (Nobody’s certain). She’s swinging it but wind assisted, no doubt. We have no replays in the press box so my error-count could be sky-high, today and my view is from a very fine fine-leg – so not baaad, but not my preferred straight-down-the-track lodging. Wind is from Baig’s right as she runs in again to Bouchier.

Early impressions are that a) it may be hard to stay consistent, for the seamers – breeze. And b) the track seems very true, so once you’re set, scoring may be do-able. Bouchier pumps a nice drive towards extra but Baig, in her floppy, judges the bounce well. Beaumont has her finchy-twitch-twirl going nicely: wrists going like they’re loaded up with bangles. She booms Sana straightish, timed, hard, at mid-on. Deserved runs but a taller fielder than the skipper, Dar, might have snaffled it. Beaumont is going at it, now – and middling. Three boundaries in quick succession. 34 for 0 after 7. Beaumont has 22, Bouchier 8.

Bouchier climbs into an over-full delivery from Baig. Towering… but four – one bounce.

Just as I’m starting to feel smug for that ‘once you’re set’ gambit, Bouchier is lbw, to Nashra. She made 17. The rather lovely – genuinely, in my experience – Dan Norcross wanders in and we find ourselves talking politics. I’m with him but we’ll spare you that. Heather Knight has joined Beaumont. Double bowling change. Umm-E-Hani bowling off-breaks from the (Most Likely) the Racecourse End. Not seeing turn but not ideally placed… and the bat is beaten. Ar Tammy is staying deep and hitting hard, repeatedly, for no reward, to the off-side circle.

Nashra Sundhu will bowl her second from the (Probably the) City End. Left arm, with some flight. First poor misfield gifts Knight a single. Quite possible that the England skip could go BIG, today. (*Fatal*). She has temeprament, yes?

Pleased to report that Kate Cross plays: enjoy watching her bowl. Knight misses out on a short, wide-ish one, from Umm-E-H, before sweeping her confidently square. Just the one. Run rate around 5, as we see out the 12th. One down, England.

One down until we have a review, that is. Beaumont is sweeping and missing… and out, lbw, to Umm-E-H. 61 for 2, as the notably imposing figure of Nat Sciver-Brunt stomps out there. She waits, deep, and emphatically cuts to the boundary. Nice. But two relative newcomers at the crease, now. Match status relatively even; up to England’s best and most resilient batters to go long and squish the visitor’s hopes. Drinks, at 15 overs. Bovril?

Certain amount of ‘finding the circle’ going on, from Knight – probably inevitably. She’s rocking back in relative comfort but not picking the gaps. But Umm-E-H bowls too many too full, and the England skipper drills classically for four, then forces a single to long on. Nida Dar will bowl herself, from the City End. No dramas.

Nat Sciver is showing her quality. She threads a beauty, straightish. Both she and Knight are reading length early, now, and looking to punish stray deliveries, which *do feature*. Oof. From nowhere, Knight is clumping Dar rather clumsily to mid-on. It comes quickly, but Umm-E-H puts it down. Not a gimme, but another opportunity missed – too many in the tour/series, already. Heather Knight is particularly well-equipped to bat long: don’t go offering her, of all people, a life.

Aliya Riaz is in from beneath us and bowling a shocker: drag-down. Escapes, almost unbelievably. England are steady rather than special, at 92 for 2, off 20. When the right handed seamer returns, Riaz fluffs a slower one for a wide, and then concedes the 100th run. It may be greyer out there. Conditions may well be playing into the lack of flow from both sides. It’s kinda gritty.

Fair play to the batters. They’re trying to *engineer* stuff. Reverses and hard running. But still a workwomanlike 107 – for 2 – off 23.

Now another stutter. Knight is caught behind, off a very fine edge. She made 29. Aliya Riaz the bowler. Capsey is in and defends a floaty yorker, before chopping away for a confident single. Feels like this could be an important hour (or whatever) for the young batter.

It’s brighter. And the outlook has shifted *elsewhere*. Sciver-Brunt – like everybody else, weirdly – had seemed untroubled but she’s also nicked one to the keeper. Gone for 37, leaving her side on 118 for 4. Riaz was again the bowler; despite appearing ‘mixed’, from this vantage-point, she has 2 for 12 off her 4 overs. Jones may need to continue her recent excellent form to conjure a decent total for the home side.

*Let’s add an ungenerous but realistic asterisk, here. We’ve seen enough of late to posit the argument that Pakistan are medium-likely to get blown away by the England bowling attack. (We may not, as either Tribal Brits or as neutrals *actually want that* to happen, but it’s a strongish possibility). So a good start from Pakistan is important to the quality of a) the day’s entertainment and b) the meaning or meaningfulness of the remaining games of the series. We want this competitive, for both sides. England need to build that culture-of-ruthlessness… and the visitors want to live at this elevated level. Capsey places Riaz between extra and mid-off, twice, stylishly, in the 30th over. But at 137 for 4 the run rate is considerably below 5: so England have major work to do.

It’s an open ground, this, with the breeze rattling through and around. Maybe we need to stress that as a factor in the day’s ‘errors’ and inconsistencies. The fielders are probably freezing. The batters are probably squinting and baring it.

Sundhu has changed ends. No dramas. Umm-E-Hani follows suit – now in from the City. Quietish. Capsey and Jones are no doubt receiving messages alongside their drinks, at 33 bowled. They’re both in – at 20 not out, apiece – and share a good level of dynamism. England need them to build… but boldly. They know that but the gaffer will surely be reinforcing that signal.

Lights have been on a while but the light is good. Low cloud and some of it leaden… but brightish beneath. Jones is fearlessly scuffing stuff away from middle stump, as she does. For all that the home side allegedly bat deep, these two are plainly the best bet for a strong and sustained attack, from England. And it will need to start reasonably promptly.

Sana maaay be plopping it there just a little but that one kept low. The bowler will be irritated by a further misfield at mid-on but it cost her just the one. 171 for 4 after 35. More from Ayeesha Zafar – her second from the Racecourse. A quick shuftie to my right confirms that Jones is going well again – strike rate just ticked past 100. Capsey is at 74.4. They have 36 and 29 respectively.

Zafar bowls two bad ‘uns on the trot: really could be suffering with the cool and the wind. Not heavily penalised but an offside wide not a great look for a slow bowler. And then another. (Low arm: bit of a mess). 185 for 4, England, off 38.

The question of par and/or what’s necessary are heavily convoluted by the threat of a batting capitulation from the visitors. And now by the wicket of Amy Jones, who departs, for 37, after top-edging Nida Dar. Hmm. The incoming Dean can bat but is not usually explosive. Capsey, despite her youth, may look/should look to take the lead.

Big Moment as England review an l.b.w.: no doubt sensing the drama the sky almost shockingly brightens. Dar the bowler; Capsey the batter. Missing by a mile. (No wonder the umpire twitched, before raising that finger). Wow. Really is incredibright, out there.

*Notes to universe*: this writing frenzy has to slow down. May be a ver-ry lopsided blog, this. And I need a walk – some air…

Capsey’s scoring rate has dropped off, a little. She cannot afford to let that happen. Maybe particularly with Dean at the other end. If Ecclestone was in, she would score quickly or get out. Dean is both better than that and less suited to the moment, arguably. 200 up in the 43rd over.

Fabulous hands as Dean invents one, through mid-wicket. Four, off Dar. Then the batter cuts square. (Waddooo I know?) But, hey, excellent and timely, for the hosts. Then she’s risking a single: word must have gone out. She’s only been in briefly but Dean’s scoring rate is almost double that of her partner. (120-odd to 60-something). Capsey cannot allow that to happen.

Okay. A cute reverse may lift Capsey’s energy. Nope. Dinks the next ball straight back to the bowler, Sundhu. A strangely disappointing 44.

216 for 6: Ecclestone. Run rate still under 5 – so not good enough… but may prove good enough. I’d be amazed if the coach hasn’t demanded 10 an over from the last 5. Ecclestone, without question, will be looking for boundaries. Immediately.

I have no issue with the fact that she is caught, immediately, dancing down and hitting Dar hard – to long on. We could argue that’s Capsey’s fault. Glenn.

This is another mixed performance, from England. A sensational bowling and fielding effort may not entirely gloss that over. It may work to Pakistan’s advantage that a) England will know they’ve under-achieved and b) conditions are almost certainly improved, for batters. Sunnier, anyway. 227 for 7, with 3 overs remaining.

Dar bowls Dean, who is swishing hard across the line. (Fair enough?) The batter made 20 from 21. Kate Cross joins Sarah Glenn. Singles. Then Cross – who hits nicely, straight – bolts one downtown for four. 233 with 2 to bowl.

Umm-E-Hani is in from the City End. Singles. Before Cross clonks straight at long-on. Gone, for 6. Bell is in, with 7 balls remaining. The fabulously tall seamer may have a real job to do, soonish – and how she copes with the cross-wind will be fascinating to watch. (She can hoop it… but *does bowl* legside wides). So a good test, for her.

Poor drop at long-off, from Sana, as Bell hoists. Then an optimistic(!?!) review (after no discernable appeal) for a caught behind. Joke. We’re done. England are 243 for 9 at close of innings.

OK. Fed and watered. But can I continue at the same relentless pace? No. It would be madness. Will relate the next hour or three at significantly lower revs – need to. Long, late-ish drive back to Brizzle incoming. Will try to strip this back to Meaningful Moments only.

Cross then Bell, for England. Irritated that Bell started with a legside wide. The wind is with her inswinger but You Had One Job. 9 for 0 after 2.

Two slips for Cross – partly because of that breeze. Sadaf Shamas and Sidra Amin the batters. Looking early doors as though the England bowlers are also battling the elements: wides and leg-byes already on the board. Bell has a slip in; she bounces Amin, then bowls another sharp sort one. Strikes glove (I think) but flies safe over Jones. Then a legside wide.

‘Patchy’ would be over-stating it but again the Shard-like One is only intermittently good. As you might expect, Cross is more consistent, has bowled three or four beauties – full and bold, leaving the batter late. Had ‘no luck’. The meteo-atmospheric mood – yup, made that up – has changed.Proper Cool, now and we’re really feeling those clouds. 37 for 0 after 7. Rate both these bowlers but are they world-beaters? Are they a world-beating opening pair? Possibly not.

Lols. With that, Bell has Sidra Amin caught behind, for 2. Fine ball – unclear if it was glove or edge. Who cares?

Next up? TWO legside wides – admittedly to a left-hander, coming around. Unacceptable. Lauren Bell *must have been* working on exactly this discipline for two years. Repeat that execution. Must have. If I’m the coach or bowling coach I’m thinking unacceptable. The keeper, Muneeba Ali, has joined Shamas.

Ecclestone, after 9 overs, from the city – later to be known as The Pavilion. Starts with a legside wide. 47 for 1 at the end of the powerplay. Enter Dean. She starts with a legside wide. Strikes me Jon Lewis, the England coach will not be happy – again – with the application (or otherwise) of the fundamentals. He was, you may remember, a top bowler and an elite bowling coach (for England) before accepting the wider remit. I thought Dean bowled poorly, overall, in the last game: she’s slung down too many rank deliveries again, tonight. As a group, Knight’s Posse have been ordinary, in two out of the three disciplines. 66 for 1, after 15.

I miss a wicket – guess why? (*Makes flushing noise*). Predictably, Ecclestone was the successful bowler, Sadif Shamas the unfortunate batter. She made 28. Ayeasha Zafar is not exactly inspiring confidence against the same, world-level spinner. Dean, meanwhile, has not expensive, per se. But for me she’s been repeatedly wayward. England need or will need better performances than this.

Ecclestone has been *all over* Zafar. Now she comprehensively bowls her. 79 for 3, off 19.4. At last: quality. Nidar Dar will have two balls to face. Or three: wide. Then Glenn will replace Dean. As so often, she lands the first one on middle. Oof. But then Dar sweeps her for four! Pakistan will certainly have majored on upping their intent in recent times. And this game is winnable – they have to believe that. The run rate is currently 4.1: they need 5.5.

Cross will have a dart from the City, or Pavilion End, or Somewhere. (She’s switched and is now coming at us, to the left-handed Muneeba). Cloud nestling lower, now – is more in the game. Two wides in the over, the second of which brings up the 100.

Glenn. Capsey dives over one, just a wee bit, and it passes through to the boundary.

General: this is feeling like another 6/10 performance, from England. A stack of those, under the current regime. Could be that Sciver-Brunt being at 50% – carrying some hurt, not bowling – is affecting the quality of execution of the whole team. Could be. But the group feels unfocused, asking questions of the leadership: we may suspect that something’s gone a bit stale. Either the coach can’t drive them or the group needs a further refresh. New captain? Raging bollocking (or equivalent?) More laughs?

Bell is back and bowling a great over. Deservedly gets a caught behind: Muneeba gone for a decent 28. There is a wide in there again but this has been a strong, committed, purposeful over from Bell. 118 for 4, now, after 28.

Dar is sweeping Glenn and missing. After view it’s clear that the ump was right – not out. Run rate creeeeping up towards 6. Light fading a touch. Despite some evident determination from Pakistan, could be things are beginning to tilt towards the home side. Perhaps?

Riaz only gets about a third of Bell but is extending in classical style, so clears the bowler and off it bundles. Four.

Drinks, then four dot balls from Glenn. But Riaz responds with a choice back-cut, to the boundary. Sweet. Ecclestone replaces Bell at the Pavilion ( By Consensus) End. Then Dean for Glenn.

Dar really connects but can only biff Dean out to Beaumont on the midwicket boundary. Important moment. 149 for 5. How much more have Pakistan got? Maybe not a huge amount. Dar made 26 and is replaced by Fatima Sana.

Ecclestone is confidently appealing: Sana in front. The batter immediately reviews. She’s out. (For entirely selfish reasons, a rush of wickets would be nice. Looking at a longish, late-ish drive if we go right to the wire: windows open job. Not that this is about me). T’other keeper, Najiha Alvi sees out the over – a wicket maiden. Run rate is now 6.4.

Coo. Dean is full to Riaz, who mis-times. Given on the park. Review. Out. 156 for 7. 19.17pm. (8Thinks: how quickly can we get this done?) Umm-E-Hani joins Alvi: they are both on nought. Ecclestone has bowled out at 26 for 3. Instrumental, as so often.

Cross from the (Pretty Emphatic, Now) Pavilion End. Bowls Hani -163 for 8. Then England review for a fine edge – or glove? Unconvincing and not out. Diana Baig has joined us. Suppose I could go jump in the car and leave you with the following:

another lukewarm win, for England Women.

But too big-hearted for that shoddy soundbite malarkey. Let’s see this out… even though ev-reee minute is… (g-nash, g-nash).

Crossy wants to finish this, probably for me. Bounces Baig, with Jones standing up. Smartly taken, by the keeper. The batter responds with a flukey edge and striking lofted drive (both four) before playing ‘twister’ to the next. Caught mid corkscrew off a bewildering leading edge (or something). Nine down, Sundhu in. Come on, Crossy girl!

We go into the 43rd over. Dean’s last. No dramas.

Cross has one more. Bowls a strange, loose bouncer at Alvi. And then oversteps. It’s all looking a bit tired. We go into the 45th. Glenn will bowl it.

She’s had back trouble. That first delivery won’t help it. Falls in a heap and bangs it in about halfway. Looks in some discomfort. Dusk settling in. We go on.

Surely Bell can end this? Appeals, but drifting down. Good, straight yorker – defended. Thick edge flies safe. No dramas. Now we’re seeing the lights. Glenn.

Wides, bringing the total for extras to 40. Top score.

Bell’s gonna get another go. As is Glenn. Alvi has 24, then 25, again asking questions about England’s lack of potency.

We go into the last over. It’s gone 8 pm. I could easily be disillusioned but I’m just a wee bit tired. Have enjoyed my Day at Derby. Thankyou to staff and comrades and always, always, despite trials, tribulations and missed ‘non-negotiables’, the players of both sides. Another lukewarm win, for England. Pakistan finish on 206 for 9.

An Imperfect Win.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

So after an intense week of family care-stuff, I drove from just outside Grimsby, to Birmingham. Quite possibly feeling bit liberated… and certainly happy to ease through the under-rated Lincolnshire countryside, before by-passing Newark, Nottingham and the suburban metropoles-cluster where the East Midlands slides into the second city. A46 – much of which nods genially towards the buccolic – then dunno-what, as we hop roundabouts and the buildings close in. (M180 had been closed, so ‘scenic route it was). Enjoyed the drive – maybe especially the bit where google maps danced us round a pile-up – taking me through Diddly Squat-cum-Thingummy-Top, before seamlessly reconnecting with Plan A. Love maps and will always use them (if only to get that picture in my head), but strewth the electro-voices are good, these days. Weird note-to-universe: saw at least six deer carcasses in about a five mile stretch of dual carriageway. Big and broken.

Do love Edgbaston. Admit this is partly for the lush hospitality but it’s also got *views* – particularly from the media centre – and that exciting steepling-auditorium-thing going on. Plus, entirely fortuitously, the weather’s been bloody knockout nearly every time I’ve visited, even for Finals Days, in late September. Yesterday was again properly mint, in terms of meteorology and hosting. I will note again that numbers of interested media/press were low; if anything, lower than the average women’s gig. (Pretty extraordinary, I would have thought, for a season-starter, in the New Age, at a monumental venue, but hey, we’ve been here before). On the plus side it meant again that Yours F Truly could storm to the front of the mighty, vacant press box, unopposed, and grab The Best Seat in the House. Meaning I had a privileged view of England falling in a heap, in the first half-dozen overs. Funny old game.

What follows, as some of you will know, is a streamy carve-up of the life of the game. I fail to note Amy Jones’s four catches. I fail to ‘re-cap’ everybody’s stats. But it was a good day. Even the travel – next stop, Bristol – was okay.

Edgbaston and the Brum skyline. Tidy; every time. Today a bit hazy (1400 hours) but maybe this makes it feel that the Glorious Ents that circle us are getting closer – and therefore makes it better? The view Northwards(?) from the perennially splendid media centre is wrapped, laterally and gorgeously green, between the foreground, now buzzing with robotic, swarming black insects (England) and the green equivalents (Pakistan), and the steely towers beyond.

Athers is bawling out that Pakistan have a) won the toss and b) will bowl. Nidar Dar then Heather Knight take it in turns to do the earnest platitudes thing, as skippers do. Then we’re close to the action.

The England team is pretty much as expected. So at 14.10 Gibson and Bell are bowling close to maximum on a side pitch, in the knowledge that they’ll soon be getting a wee rest – hopefully. Eccleston, interestingly, is having a longish visualisation-session, wicket to wicket. (She bowled plenty, earlier). Bell goes in to get kitted-out and read the Mirror, whilst Charlie Dean joins Gibson to turn her arm over.

Muggy. Lots of benign cloud – so only intermittently blazing. Ground only about a tenth full, at 14.14.

My view of this is a worldie: love this stadium, and because the media suite is sparsely populated, muggins has had absolute freedom to choose the Best Seat in the House. No pleading; no arm-wrestle. I’m down. The. Strip. Looking forward to this one because it’s the first bash, as it were… and because – be honest – we don’t know that much about the opposition. Pakistan are simply a lower profile side than some of England’s recent opponents. All this is good. Bouchier and Wyatt will open for England. This feels like a good combination. (*Fatal*).

Ear-splitting racket – not from the disappointing crowd – as we approach the Mad Singeing Moment that is the players’ welcome. Ground about a third full, now.

Bouchier will face Waheeda Akhtar. A little early away-swing, first up. Medium pace. Third man and deep cover out. Third ball strays straight and Bouchier just gets something on it – four to fine leg. Then a disappointingly lame drive, mistimed and caught at mid-off. Bouchier will be furious and a little embarrassed. No need. Capsey is in at 4 for 1: first over.

Blimey. Next ball Capsey tries a cute, fine cut but only succeeds in inside-edging. Misses her stumps by about four angstroms. Decent start from the bowler – some swing then maybe straightening. Batters haven’t judged it convincingly, yet: or maybe it’s just been really good?

Iqbal bowls slow left arm at Wyatt, who leans forward and is off the mark. Then Capsey is watchful. Poor wide one is given as an extra – rightly. Wyatt, who had been bringing her bat noticeably behind her – round the corner, as it were – mistimes. Caught at mid-on. Achh. Another lame dismissal; for her and for Ingerland.

This is getting scary. Capsey tries to hoist one over mid-on but again misjudges either the pace or bounce – the ball did very little. Caught at mid-on. Three shockers, from England.

Kemp is in, at a humiliating 11 for 3. She swings loosely, with one hand, at a wide one. Even that was bit daft. Then the bowler beats her: twice. Goodish, from Akhtar, but not convinced she’s bowling the proverbial grenades, here. And when you think it can hardly get worse, for the hosts, we have a Sunday League run-out. Utterly, utterly shambolic, with Kemp running about four miles and Knight barely shifting.

11 for 4, off 2.5 overs at this point. Enter Amy Jones. She and Knight have more experience than most, but the former has not always been one for a crisis. (And this is a crisis).

More from Iqbal. Lower stands about half-full, right now:14.49. Finally, England batters feel the ball. 18 for 4 after 4.

Understandably, Akhtar is in again. Knight (or was it Jones?) edges out and up… and is fortunate to escape cover’s outstretched hand. (Jones, I think). Maybe have to give the bowler more credit. Jaffa beats Knight on the inside edge, now. Not quick, but some swing and cut, for the seamer.

Now Khan from the City End. Straight on it. Right Arm, decent energy… but she strays to leg… and gets away with it. Jones almost completely misses the next one; ball drops between her feet. Couple of minor fielding errors creeping in – just when Pakistan need to press. They will know England have a tendency to stay scrambled, when things move against them. *Capitalise!*

But poor from Khan. Two legside wides then one shoved too wide outside off. And now a third extra. Awful and bad timing: skipper Dar will be foaming. The over finishes with another sloppy effort; Jones can slash it away from her hip – a precious four. 28 for 4 off 6. Akhtar will bowl out from beneath us: appeal denied – missing to leg.

Jones carts her in front of square. Good connection – almost six. Then great running after a really lazy misfield. Two. (Brutal truth? As expected, the fielding has been ordinary, from Pakistan). Knight misses a gift – wide loosener from Shamim but then shows some form; lovely hands through the ball, lifting over extra. Then hit ver-ry hard past square leg. Better.

Knight has so often been The Rock. And there have been times when Jones’s dynamism has been a thing of beauty. Just a sign that these two might turn this carnage into a match. Both batters are in, suddenly; waiting and playing late or getting out the baseball bat. Hassan’s off-spin is dismissed twice with some confidence. 50 up, off 9 overs. Yup; better.

Jones slaps Shamim through mid-on for four more; then squarer. Ten off the over. Significant change in the timbre of the event, as we reach halfway. Now possible that England’s captain and vice-skipper are dragging them back towards parity or even control. What else have the visitors got? If they taper off these two batters might make them pay.

Hassan flights one, deep into the crease, then Jones *really has to scamper* for the single. Wild, highish full-toss is clubbed away safely but straight at long-off. 66 for 4 after 11. Competitive.

Dar’s first ball and Knight opts to reverse. BIG APPEAL. Given, after a painful wait, for Knight. She challenges. No bat, but outside off, and the batter survives. Off-stump guard, by the looks, for Jones, who reverses ridicu-fine(ly) and does well to race through for two, before thrashing a drag-down to the boundary at backward square. The bowling is what you might call gently-paced, giving Jones time to pick her spot. Four more wide of mid-on. Eleven from the over.

Iqbal from beneath us. Poor, wide ball is clumped behind square but the connection is off. Easy catch, but good work from Jones, who made 37 from 27 balls. Important, possibly crucial. In comes Gibson. Lovely hands – she waits and clips through third. Twice. Great start. 86 for 5 off 13. Six and a bit per over? Might be enough? (But guesswork – we just don’t know too much about the opposition, pretend though we might).

Lousy full-toss from Dar is cuffed away hard, taking Knight into her 30s. Another reverse is rather shockingly avoided by the fielder at point… but it doesn’t quite have the legs to reach the boundary. Khan will follow, running towards the city. She may be the quickest of the visitor’s bowlers.

She goes over-full and Knight biffs England past 100, over extra cover. In-out: solid enough strike. Another drive-ball is eased out towards long off, by Gibson. We haven’t seen that much of her, with the willow. This is a nice opportunity to really contribute. Extravagant slower ball, by Khan, is too wide. Given. The bowler over-compensates and Gibson goes to 15 from 6 by swivelling and belting it behind square leg. 111 for 5 off 15. England will want (and might get) 160-plus. It’s guesswork, as we’ve said, but feels likely that will be enough – maybe plenty. *Fatal revisited* but decent odds on England bowling Pakistan out.

Hassan, from the City End. Knight is dancing, now – and clouting. Half-stop, from extra. Dreadful drag-down – one of those that’s so-o slow and so-o bad it’s hard to time – is clubbed over mid-wicket, but Knight falls, next ball, skying to mid-on. Cruelly, she’s gone for 49. Ecclestone saunters out… and can pat a poor full-toss over mid-on’s bonce. Ridicu-gift. 123 for 6 with 4 remaining.

Fair play. Khan bowls two successive, deep, beautiful yorkers at Ecclestone. But this is risky territory (going thisss full) and the batter carve-hoists her over mid-off. England’s star spinner has plainly worked hard at her batting, having previously been a willing slugger. Now she’s better than that. She is, however, fortunate to escape with a lose-ish clip that hangs long enough to be a regulation catch. Dropped. Gibson, meanwhile is drilling a beaut through the circle. She is 26 from 11: nice cameo. With two overs remaining mid 160s feels likely. England have 142 for 6, at this point.

Khan has bowled with commendable edge, for little reward. Full and quickish. Gibson times her impressively through square leg, and the bowler responds with a soft, slow one. Good cricket from both. Ecclestone, like so many, stands tall with an off-stump guard: body open. Khan errs, too full and to leg, and the batter clips stylishly, using the pace, over square leg.

Even the mis-hits are finding the rope. High intensity and good running from England – Gibson making something of a mockery of the early batting. Reverse sweeps are being timed; drives are being timed. 163 for 6 it is. Innings closed. Meaning excellent comeback… but also noting that horrid beginning. Quick coffee? Don’t mind if I do. OOOooh. Salted caramel ice-cream!!

Bell is in, from the city. Bowling a massive legside wide, then over-compensating, a little. Then slipping again, to leg. Pace is up – or seems it – but plainly she can’t offer freebies. Nor can Bell bowl a good line but toooo full. When she does, she is push-driven straight, for four. Followed by a classical stroke out through cover. Twelve from the over – so poor, from the strike bowler. Big fan but she has to drop onto old-school line and length – allowing for those booming inswingers, if they come. (They didn’t).

Gibson will follow. She starts with a highish full-toss, which the bowler fields. Her inswinger is overdone: cuffed away easily but just for a single. England expects (and this bloggist expects) England to out-field their opponents but they prob’ly need to out-bowl them, too, eh? Dean next, from the City End.

Decent ball, poor misfield from Wyatt, of all people. Then Ameen sweeps expertly, before repeating but missing. Big shout – looked plum – and review. Gone for 9, from 6. (Feroza is the other opener. She has 12 off 9). 24 for 1, off 3.

Gibson will bowl a second. Touch full, perhaps, but not much in that. Shamas leans forward and into it and the ball threads the circle. Nice. She follows that with an aerial drive and a neat clip off the toes – both for four, bolting to 17 off 6, with another clean strike through cover. Wow. Then four more behind point. Pakistan well ahead, early-doors, not so much because England have bowled badly – not quite – but because the home side were bloody awful with the bat, in the opening phase. That and Pakistan have started brightly.

Dean is rhythmic and is turning that key. She nearly has some reward – Gibson at a stretch almost pocketing a sharp, teasing chance. Bell changes ends to bowl from under my nose (cheers Lauren!) So I have a fabulous view of two fine deliveries, the second of which draws an error from Feroza. Jones dives athletically and instinctively to her left, to take a fine tickle. 50 for 2, now, Pakistan. Ali has joined Shamas, who has 21 off 10. Improved over from Bell, but to their credit, the batters have still taken her for runs. 57 for 2 off 6 puts them in charge.

Ecclestone may, as so often, be key. (Possibly in tandem with Glenn?) She is in from the city. Six from the over. Glenn next.

Loose fielding from Dean costs a single. Then Bouchier almost fails to gather, in the deep – not great. But Glenn draws another rather tame error; Ali getting a weird leading-edge flip into the gloves. 66 for 3. Dar boldly but convincingly sweeps her first delivery off middle stick. A safe single.

Wow. Knight goes down in weekly instalments then the boundary rider flops over the ball. Rank and unacceptable. Whatever happens, this is a ver-ry mixed performance from England. 72 for 3 off 11. But we have a game, alright.

I rate Glenn. Partly because I know from personal experience how tough it is to bowl consistent leggies using ‘a lot of wrist’. She has another appeal for lb, but Dar has made contact. On we go. Then the Pakistan captain drills her neatly enough out to Wyatt, on the extra cover boundary. Just the one. A wee drink, at the half-way, with the visitors on 77 for 3. (England were 66 for 4 off 11). Dean will bowl the eleventh, from the City End.

Another ouch. Fairly feeble run-out. Shamas made 35 off 24, so helpful contribution but that just felt tooo unnecessary, especially given the match situation. (You’re ahead; just stay focussed and play within yourselves. This is not an urgent situation. Don’t make it that way).

Dar should know better. She sweeps straight out to Bouchier – one of England’s best outfielders – and is caught: Glenn the bowler. Almost immediately, England are reviewing, with some confidence. Umpires call: tight, for leg stump, in my view. A further review, for a fine nick behind. (Surely Jones must know(?)… but she wasn’t *that convincing*). Could be a tiny feather on the toe-end(?) Not out, but Glenn has 2 for 11 off 3 overs, so far. Pakistan are 85 for 5 off 12. The game has narrowed, to say the least. Ecclestone, from the city. Muggy sunlight.

I reach for my phone and Ecclestone inevitably claims another, putting the visitors in some strife. Suddenly 6 down. Feels bit like the contest is dying. The Spin Twins – plus Dean, to be fair – have turned this around. Time for Bell to bring some slower-ball-back-of-the-hand wotsits. And a short one, which Khan can only fend away, high on the bat. Escapes.

The Shard is a brilliant at this high-tariff delivery and it gets in the heads of most batters. The extravagant variations draw another mis-hit – this time high and spiralling out to deep extra. Wyatt is waiting and then charging in. (That earlier error notwithstanding) she is as good as anybody out there. Racing in – but balanced – and then diving, Wyatt snaffles it. It’s a highlight of the day.

But the game is moving on, irrevocably, surely, towards a home win. Glenn has changed ends but the result is the same: a wicket. Hassan is out for nought. 89 for 8. Then for 9. Glenn bowls Akhtar for no score. That would be 4 for 12 off her overs, for England’s outstanding leg-spinner.

Gibson may be hoping and even expecting to finish this promptly, but Khan smashes her powerfully through extra for a defiant four. Great stuff. Iqbal is a leftie. Can she extend the resistance? She dabs the first one away.

Dean, from the City End. Cloudier and cooler. Young, female voices to my left, below. Wide ball. An appeal – but it surely pitched outside leg? Freebie: England review. No bat… and closer to that leg stick than I thought ‘live’, but not out, nonetheless. There are two out on the legside boundary but Iqbal clumps it safely and will claim four. We go into the 18th over. Ecclestone will bowl it.

Khan hits her hard, through extra cover, impressively so. The ground’s lower stands have never been more than about 60% full, I reckon. (As I say this, the attendance is confirmed at 12, 241). But it’s lovely to hear loud, excited female voices underneath the media centre. They’ll surely have loved this?

With that, Bell strikes. Iqbal may have been a bit intimidated by the sight of the tall quick slamming it down at her – who knows? The batter can only fend loopily to point. Bell finishes with 3 for 22 from 3.2 overs, so a decent return.

A contemplative in-breath or two. Enjoyable. Mixed. Bit less Edgbaston Oomph than I expected, in terms of The Event. But another step forward in terms of The Profile of the Women’s Game.

You/me/somebody might argue that England’s level was below where we might expect them to be – I don’t think that’s an unreasonable conclusion. They were shambolic, against good but not life-threatening bowling, through the powerplay and beyond. Knight and Jones and Gibson, pleasingly, rescued the batting effort and then their world-level spinners did the rest. Good to see Bell claim wickets but she remains less laser-focussed than she needs to be, at the beginning of an innings. So an imperfect win.

Tribal risk.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Satdee Night’s alright for something. But first we have the afternooon, where we watch mighty Clarby Road FC take on Wdig (Goodwick, to you lot) in the Pembrokeshire Senior Cup. Eleven hundred people there – yes, you read that right – to see the strong favourites from the North roll over the Welsh-speaking farmers from the Preselis. Only dieu, dieu, that’s not what happened.

I have to declare an interest: my daughter’s fella was playing centre-back, for Clarbeston. He was plainly playing hurt (so maybe heroically) but that didn’t stop him volleying in the first goal, during an early foray into the six yard box, at a corner. ‘Oof’, said the crowd – in two languages at least. Whilst I wondered how best to make my claim for an assist.

There were kids with drums, and families and yes, a few dogs. A nine year-old hardman challenged me as I wandered behind the goal, through the Clarby Massive: “Clarbee or Goodwick?” Edgy. Thank gawd I was able to provide a prompt-enough lifesaving retort, reinforced with a cheesy-but-comradely raising of the fist, confirming tenuous loyalty to the Farmer-zone. Then the more I cruised around the ground, the more I liked the overdue conversations with colleagues in footie and cricket and the fabulous ridicu-tribalism. Old blokes; young girls; badges and blazers and that sideways shuffling that so often signals nerves. Lots of folks in on this – so yeh – nervous.

The venerable Fraser Watson – top fella and local/national journo – has written of The Meaning of this stuff (in fact, of this particular event) so unusually I’ll swerve most of that. Despite my social-occasioning it was clear that not just players and ‘staff’ at the clubs were bristling with intensity: most of the extant universe was. Mr Walton, formerly of Solva AFC – so without hands in the fire of this thing but understanding of it – was by contrast able to waft abart and enjoy; which he did.

Bridge Meadow is Pembrokeshire’s Bernabeu, minus the cosmic city views and some of the other guff. Just a hint or two of rolling undulations about the pitch, which is/was better than most recreational jobs – as it should be, what with Haverfordwest being a fixture in the largely semi-pro Ardal League. Netting, behind both goals. A closed stand, where seats are either damaged or unsafe. Stewards and two seven foot nine blokes doing security around the ground and at the clubhouse door. Hot dogs. But mainly people, catching up; stirring, or not. Circling – or ovalling? – I saw everybody I’ve ever met, at least four times

Clarby went and won it – a hearty, competitive game with plenty spice – by three goals to two. They deserved it, meaning Goodwick should and will be disappointed, for not expressing their widely-recognised quality. (Head-up football *at a premium*, as they say). As so often, nerves and physicality and lack of composure blunted the allegedly better side’s capacity to express. Clarbeston Road found the grit and (just about) the discipline to not only see it through, but walk away with that hugely gratifying sense – that luxury in the feels – that it was their lot that played more of the football.

Meanwhile, my gurl’s fella’s sister was at fly-half for Wales, in the Six Nations. Her mum confirmed to us, on one of our many sunny perambulations, that they too had won: finally. Their single victory of another campaign that had felt closer to concerning than encouraging.

But one of the seminal Sports Moment’s of the weekend (for your scribe, obvs) landed about twenty-four hours after this, when I caught up with brief highlights via BBC iplayer. These included Ioan Cunningham – the Wales coach – openly blubbing at the final whistle. Relief and emotion and powerful, powerful angst: shed, I hope, in a moment that really should have been private. Wales – even this Wales – probably should have beaten Italy, at home, and they did. He/they still felt the ignominy of the wooden spoon. There was obviously some Big Unseen Stuff in play for the fella and I felt for the guy.

Muggins had been one of many keyboard warriors that (without, from memory, naming him) suggested ‘bad coaching’ over several years had been at least partly responsible for Wales women’s rugby remaining so far behind. (I was, in fairness, also remembering previous incumbents but the sharpness of my attack felt unwise – maybe be even unfair or ignorant – in the face of Cunningham’s outpouring of grief/joy/relief).

Wales Women are understandably uncompetitive with England. Fair enough. But my beef and my point was that they should be organised and prepared enough to compete with Scotland and Ireland – especially given that the players’ commitment does not appear to be at issue. Speaking as a fan, like a fan, as I do, I had hoped to call out that perceived under-achievement.

Mostly I think this modus-wotsits is legit: I guess I’m trusting that anyone daft enough to read me gets that this is not journalism; it has more freedom and more risk than that; for better, for worse.

Learning is good.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It’s gonna be a glo-o-orious da-a-aay. For me, you and Thom Yorke, probably. But maybe bit conflicted for our friends at the local cricketmob, who have just put back the first two weeks of the season, twenty-four hours before this prolonged blast of windy sunnystuff kicks in. Hey-ho. Funny old game.

Meanwhile, I’m spending all my money on cars – old, unfortunately, not new. Have somehow (albeit medium-temporarily, I hope) dropped into the Struggling Artist category, having forked-out again to indulge another self-published book. Should know better. Have been shocking at this capitalism lark all my freaking life but few things have suddenly conspired and yeh, am back worrying about buying son a pint or whether or not I should go down the caff for a restorative chat with a human, or a coffee. Makes me sad and makes me angry.

But this self-pity will pass; in part because I absolutely know which things have real value; in part because it won’t be long before a wedge of the see-me-through variety lands. Goddabe within a year. Plus cricket and walking and writing kaleidoscopic cobblers will keep me going. I am grounded and tough and hold top-notch CSE’s in living-on-the-cheap and witless defiance.

Still loving coaching on the national pathway. Great kids and overwhelmingly supportive families; outstanding colleagues to coach with or under. First *proper tingles* starting up, after an enjoyable but occasionally frost-bitten winter of indoor nets, as that first selection of the year launches into the Whatsapposphere. Midweek game may even happen, now that the monsoons have abated. Would be fabulous.

The limbs are currently willing, so it’s feasible that I may even play for three different sides, this year: local club, the mighty Pembs Seniors and maaaybee even one of the Wales Oldies representative sides. (Weird and embarrassing truth is some of this may be contingent upon money, as well as the increasing likelihood of mechanical breakdown – whether this be mine or the motor’s). Travel and socials are a wonder of the sporting realm, of course, but both imply expenditure. It may be hard to find or justify – but don’t tell the lads that.

Senior cricket in particular has been every bit as wonderful and daft and enriching and daft as you could ever imagine. Great blokes; good players; just oldish. Ploughing on, for now, under the delusion that the Gods of Happiness and Reward might trump the Get Real, Donkey cohort: it’s nailed-on that pain or pathway coaching will offer a break at some stage.

I don’t agree with everything that happens around our national junior pathway but I quite like the idea of players/families being able to submit video evidence as a sort of pre-trial gambit. (Dislike the word ‘trial’ but there’s no escaping the need to select, as county pathways sharpen towards excellence. Do I need to note that as someone who spent a decade or so as a Community Coach, I get that *opportunities* of a different sort are every bit as important as what the Candidates are doing?) Wee videos, shot by mum or dad on a phone, really might be a way of widening access (and not missing Real Players!) Believe counties in the Midlands piloted this idea a year or two ago: happy that our lot are accepting submissions of this kind for 13 year-olds and above.

Cricket does have particular issues to do with class/money/access/comfort-in-the-environment. I’m hoping that video can winkle open ways in for individuals who might not otherwise get their moment.

Probably indiscreet to say too much about the groups I’m involved with… but they tend to be junior juniors. So I can be loose and friendly and welcoming: the straight drive ain’t exactly incidental, but Priority Numero Uno is to make this a place these young humans wanna be. Even on a regional pathway. Sure it might be true that (depending on your catchment) a good number of the players coming in are club level, rather than ‘regional players’ but this only increases the imperative to get them confident.

We try to make it a giggle – unashamedly. Then have *friendly words* about shapes or strategies. We know what The Fundamentals are so maybe they get lots of goes at x and y. Lots of goes – feeling; adjusting; finding stuff – quite possibly un-instructed. Until some things are grooved, until there are instincts/movements which may or may not be the same (or as valuable as) understandings. The articulation of things can maybe come after the exercise or practice of things.

This week’s soundbite for coaches appears to be something about ‘making good shapes’: I can live with that. Are you seeing or feeling that shape, Johnnie? Are you, Sara? Does it feel balanced – do you feel like you can do it forever and ever, or hold that pose… and give the bowler a cheesy grin? Good.

Coaches are all different, thank god. It’s not natural for all of us to project Friendly Comedian-dom. I do reckon, though, that mostly, for small earthlings, we need to avoid the dry and the preachy. Preach enthusiasm – or preach with enthusiasm, maybe – but be open about the idea that everything depends. Depends upon whether they’re Jos Buttler. Depends whether they can time things, outrageously. Depends on their body-shapes and levels of fluency at *this stage of their development*. You may be coaching a genius or a clown. Both probably need to have lots of goes to find what works: ask good questions, offer your things to consider. Take care not to make them sound like instructions – they may know better than you!

One of the fellas coaching alongside is a) top and b) a former headteacher. (They’re all top but we two have spoken about modes of learning). We both like the idea of offering a whole lot of responsibility over to the kids, letting them take charge: once they’ve settled; once we’ve done drill z a couple of times, maybe. Junior juniors can sort out a meaningful practice on the theme of (say) attacking in the vee. You can ask them to organise it. They can talk or watch their mates; they can find a way. You can make it explicit that the coaches ‘are stepping out of this for fifteen minutes’ but that they/you are hoping for productive and helpful practice.

Watch for a bit. Review and compliment and ask more questions: ‘what kind of feed can you use? What kind of shot do we think we’re looking at, here? Oh – attacking – yeh, we did say that. Does that mean on the ground or aerial – do we know what aerial means? Both? Ok. So how about you decide whether in the next few minutes you’re going to go BIG, for six, or drill that baybee hard past the bowler for four. But fellas we are attacking, yes?’

We’ve done this. It’s worked. The kids have done minimal faffing abart. Typically they’ve tried hard to make it work as an exercise but maybe struggled to provide helpful feeds. Maybe talk about that: offer reminder about drop feed/bobble feed options. Stress that it’s important to help out your team-mates. They can’t practice this if the feed is two feet down leg. So part of being a player is helping your mates get better, yes? Our experience has been that a) they can make this work and b) it’s probably a very good way to learn.

Learning is good. MOT’s, meanwhile, are…

‘Ank Marvin: & traditions like Easter.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Ah the voices. In my head, broiling or brewing or maybe just a chemical reaction to the (breaking) toast or full-on sausage sarny issue swishing abart in me stomach. Should be writing on cricket – Glam and the boy Northeast. No! Goddabee United! Or maybe drop back into women’s cricket mode? Bouchier and the Shawly-Redemptive Amy Jones Not-Shanking-to-the-Circle thing? Or maybe the whole lot? Or more wisely (don’t be daft) *not writing at all* while everything remains a mess.

*Nips to kitchen. Pricks bangers.*

Hunger and too much sport. These are the great tormentors. Caffling-up our very souls, I tell you – or at least competing with the crap wifi to undermine our otherwise serene (s)elective processes. Eng Women in NZ. Town in the mire. Glammy in dreamland. Celtic-Rangers. Paree-Roubaix. United in hysterical disarray. Days – longer days! – melting into Eastery, chocolatey night and then back into febrile couch-surfing. Our choices once again cruelly undermined by a heathenfest of opportunity. What day is it, anyway? Did I really do all that chocolate?

Sometime in the last x hours I was watching England lose. Until 3 am closed in around me and then socials kicked in – or maybe sleep – until a rare, spirited spurt of seamlessly decent wifi made the Old Firm possible, then MU, then bits of Tottingham. And a nod or three hundred towards Lords. Via that cycling madness. So if you’ve landed here expecting ‘clarity’ best hold on tight.

The England Women tour of Kiwiville is done. Successful, largely, in the sense that both legs – T20 and 50 over – registered a W. (Hate or o-kaaay dislike that single-letter descriptor, by the way: surely insinuated in to Proper Sport by slick graph-competent anti-souls, yes?) Batting collapses still a concern but significant positives include the emergence of Bouchier as a rival or foil to Dunkley – she’s ‘classier’ and a better athlete – and further evidence that England simply have the quality to be more dynamic than ‘chasing pack’ nations like the White Ferns, *at this stage*. (I include that qualification a) to snuff out the dangers of International Incident and b) because it’s mischievously true). On.

Jones is the other story, I suppose. Viewed by many as the best keeper in the women’s game and a stylish and clean striker of the ball – can and does score relatively quickly at 6 or 7. But for me, historically scrambled faaar too often and therefore fortunate to have retained her place in the side: lack of genuine alternatives and her work behind the sticks have kept her in there. Now three fine knocks, in succession and under the cosh, have rendered the AJ Question irrelevant. She’s been lucky… but also brilliant on this tour.

Seen New Zealand live (over here) a certain amount over the last couple of years. They’re getting there; look generally competitive in the field and have bowlers in Amelia Kerr, Rowe and Tahuhu and the two Fern Icons Bates and Devine still provide quality. At times, however, their lack of dynamism was again painfully clear. This will be and should be their signal disappointment from this series: that they were *so obviously* unable to accelerate an innings. Sure, England take some credit for this – good bowling. But the White Ferns were consistently a bit lame when they had to be (had to be!) charging. They will provide the occasional upset but must find some boom, to compete.

Glam is 100 miles away from where I live, in the west of the west. This is my excuse for being a lame supporter. No chance would I go 250-odd to Lords for their opener, so I missed the historic knock from Northeast. Loved seeing posts from friends in the ground, on the Twitters. A total over 600 in the first wallop? We’ll take that – even if subsequent days ease to a ‘no-result’ scenario.

For the first time in living memory I watched a lump of the Old Firm Derby. Incredible and hilarious. And intense, as always. Sunday League defending (see more, below) but some thrilling attacks. *That noise* raised to traditionally awesome levels: scary, inspiring, violent, unforgiving. A wildish, drawn romp with a daftish lap of celebration led by the Rangers gaffer, who took performative misunderstanding to yet another high. #Legend.

And so to MU ‘Pool, via the Paris-Roubaix, which I vowed to watch right through, after the god that is van der Poel scarpered off with almost 60k to suffer. (I *did* watch right through, knowing that I’d miss a wee chunk of the shamateurs of Manchester). On cobbles, through mud and tunnels of deranged ‘supporters’, the World Champ blasted the rest into distant mediocrity, winning by three minutes, on his own, in a display of elite-level guts, control, power and discipline that your average Premier League footballer could neither comprehend nor match. This was a flawless execution: a stunning expression of superior, hard-won gifts. (Hope to god that he’s doing this clean).

Meanwhile at Old Trafford, United continued with their own distant mediocrity, being repeatedly exposed by this goodish but not Peak Scouse-level Liverpool. Sure, United had their moments, even in a first half where the visitors might have scored four, but for lack of completion from Diaz (this we expect?) and a strangely fuzzy Mo Salah. Garnacho had an early goal struck from the record but Klopp’s raging late in the half plainly reflected the mis-match and the threat of another massacre conspiring/unpeeling towards points shared or dropped.

So it turned out. Fernandes was surly, ineffective and repeatedly shockingly wasteful but he scored a worldie. Mainoo was in and out but he scored a worldie. Salah kicked the ball straight and with conviction once, from the penalty spot, for a late equaliser.

For United the issues run on, to the point where Ten Hag must and surely will go. He’s not entirely at fault for players being woefully slack at closing down/tracking/being watchful. But he is palpably responsible for team shape and the disciplines around that. His players are not good enough – most of them. The gaffer has not been smart or tough or inspiring enough to develop or deliver the matrix.

His side remain shapeless in nearly every sense. Non-negotiables remain un-ticked. They are a million miles – still – from producing performances. Any half-decent side can play through them at will.

Klopp was incandescent on 40 minutes because United were so pitifully vulnerable and yet somehow remained in the game. The home team’s three central defenders were constantly over-run, almost incredibly, both from the flanks and through the middle of the park, where Fernandes and Mainoo barely got a foot in. Diaz and Darwin Nunes pace and movement was killing them… but then not.

The stats spoke loudly again about how many strikes on goal Manchester United concede, week after week. Even if they were a fabulous side going forward, this just doesn’t work. (And they’re not).

Eighteen months ago Rashford may have been the most electrifying striker in Europe: now he’s in his own world of pain and disillusionment. Garnacho remains a prospect – Hojlund too. The midfield is so dysfunctional it’s hard to name it. There have been, no doubt, about eight zillion man-hours expended on the training ground about defending – and maybe particularly defending counter-attacks. And United are still absolutely shite at it. So I’ve been relatively supportive of Ten Hag. But now he must go… and the squad must be gutted all over again.

Beautiful Games: book launch.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Included below; the audio from our Beautiful games book launch, at The Mariners, Nolton Haven, Pembs, on Sat 23rd March 2024.

Hosted by my good friend the treble-fabulous Mr Stephen Hedges, it features some daft bloke warbling about sport and the Meaning of Everything – as he does – plus some background noises and a wee bit of ambient pre-amble. Would’ve *really loved* to include the genuinely brilliant and hugely generous #pubchat that immediately followed the talk, but certain individuals shared some personal stuff about family experiences that it just wouldn’t have been right to include. So cut.

We had intended that the aforementioned #pubchat would dig in to and expand upon the Waltonian propositions… and it certainly did that. Some concerns were raised about school experiences in activity needing to ‘mirror real life’ rather than ‘just look to cater for all’. I hear that argument, and respect the need for (for example) competitive sport. I grew up – and I do mean grew up – through competitive sport, where (amongst other things) I learned to value guys in my teams who found little support or encouragement elsewhere, because they were either fully-fledged or aspiring football hooligans. Don’t ask them to spell much, or do their French homework but stick ’em on a sports field and watch the fekkers fly. Suddenly brilliant; suddenly selfless; suddenly valuable. I get how magnificent organised sport can be, for shedloads of reasons including that one.

But only about 20% of schoolkids are getting it: or only about 20% are developing a culture of lifelong activity. Twenty per cent. This means that BIG THINGS ARE IN PLAY. It means that (without sacrificing opportunities for ‘organised sport’) we have to include everyone – get everyone active.

The speech and the book then, have to come over all philosophical. I think there are moral imperatives in play as well as economic arguments: society cannot afford for zillions of people to be physically or mentally un-healthy. We all deserve a lump of happiness and the wider clan needs us to be productive. It’s a no-brainer that activity *nearly always supports* health. Great, uplifting, compelling experiences in Physical Education for young people can be personally transformative, can maybe lift where we’re at, as individuals, on the Happiness Index.

I want all of it – generous and ‘holistic’ approaches to PE, throughout the age-groups, and fabulous recreational sports and/or pathways. Change the thinking and invest in all of it. (Surely we’re sliding somewhere quite dark, if we don’t?)

There are political and philosophical notions we just can’t duck out of. My argument, I suppose, is that we need to prioritise and invest in wellness, not maxxing-out on profits. Because every one of us is valuable.

After the verbals I include a transcript of my speech.

BOOK LAUNCH.

Enough already of this welcome and adoration. It can’t last. For as sure as eggs are eggs… and beans are beans… and brown sauce is better than red, on bangers and bacon, you will desert me. For we are fickle, are we not? We ‘like’ everything but then move on, to the next story – the next poor, unfortunate target for our fleeting attention. I’m a realist, friends. There’ll be a lol-tastic notification coming along any minute – over here; over there – cats on the Twitters; dancers on the twick-twocks – and my moment in the spotlight will be gone.

I blame the Kardashians – I blame the Kardashians for everything – just ask the kids. Pouting. Potholes on the A40. Climate Change. Footballers diving and Raducanu changing coaches every twenty minutes. I blame the Kardashians. Cold toast; hot – fuck me, burning hot – Cornish pasties; V.A.R.; 30p Lee; too many adverts spoiling yer telly. I blame the Kardashians.

Surprisingly however, Beautiful Games is not the work of an embittered old bloke who can’t pout. The closest it gets to Worldly Cynicism is maybe through the introductory quote, from Naomi Klein:

‘Everywhere we look we find “binaries where thinking once existed.”

I kinda like that, because it makes me sound brainy. To be honest I haven’t the faintest idea what she’s onnabout but it seemed a good idea to have something wordy and philosophical in the first few pages. The rest is bollocks about Ford Escorts and beer. And sport.

‘Everywhere we look we find “binaries where thinking once existed”. Wish I’d said that. Instead I said

on P xii “I really want this book to be explainer-lite. Can’t stand the idea that the dots have to be joined/profundities unpicked for a readership that is thereby presumed to be brain-dead: insulting bollocks… (more)… not everything will be revealed”.

I also say “this book, whilst wading through the baggage of a middle-aged white guy, will be anti-bigotry. Believe it or not. Its purpose is to celebrate personal and universal stuff about activity. Not sure that can be done without advocating for those damp essentials love and understanding”.

But what the feck does that mean?!?

Glad you asked. Let me have a thrash at this. The book is in three sections: the first is called ‘Formations’ because it digs into things that may have made me… but which also relate, surely, to all of us? Family; environment; good energies; trauma or tragedy.

So ‘Formations’ is Big Relatable Stories. There’s stuff about ‘cannonballs’ – the heavy, soapy, brown-leather footballs we used to head, as kids, even though they weighed about twelve tons. There’s stuff about travelling to Canada dressed as Elvis Costello, and the hairs in my nostrils freezing as we stepped off the plane into the North American winter – at minus 26. (Fact). Then about playing indoor soccer with mad Italians and some geezer pulling a large hairy knife on my best mate in a nightclub in Thunder Bay. Exactly the kind of thing we’ve all experienced, yes?

Look, there is family, adventure and growth and maaaybee one of the central themes of the book, poisons in the ether – machismo; toughness; the ever-present fraudulence that is ‘masculinity.’ But also the wonder of sport and camaraderie and the craic. So the wild, contradictory kaleidoscope that is life… as a bloke(?)… or (know what?) however we may identify.

It’s no accident that chapter one – Unwise Tendencies – is about the violent homophobia that was everywhere, in our childhoods. I may need to come out as boringly, resolutely straight at this point, but that prejudice (in the North of England, in the 60s/70s) had a massive, conditioning effect on how I was and who I became. I wonder if it might be something of a surprise to many of you to discover *how much* the book has to say about blokeyness and ‘strength’ and pressures around behaviour. Let me read you something on this – true story:

Reading from P4 …”Much of the rich hinterland around this…

and no, I don’t know what that means either”.

I don’t happen to be gay… but I/we who were skinny or medium-brainy or had some facility for French or English Lit were in mortal danger, at school and beyond. I understand this excruciatingly poisonous, mind-boggingly pervasive plane of enlightenment marks the extreme edge of ‘laddishness’ but I think we know it’s still with us – and maybe in places we don’t really care to look. Certainly machismo in sport lies very close to prejudice. Beautiful Games deals with some of this; sympathetically, I hope, but also has a pop, creates some mischief.

On a happier note, the first section of the book does contain plenty in the way of wholesome tribute to Welsh heroes at Solva Athletic Football Club and later at Llanrhian CC. There’s lots of heading (a football) and some speculation about the effect of that. There’s a brief ode to K D Lang. There’s a coupla key chapters about family tragedy because *absolutely* that has made us… and a lot of family pride. This is not just about sport: it’s about formation.

Part Two is called ‘Practice’, meaning the hows and whys of sport. And the brilliance, and the inspirational figures or methods that become your way/my way.

We’re into culture and good practice; the Wonderstuff, whether that be through the All Blacks’ ‘No Dickheads’ policy or Brian Clough’s ‘OH YOO ARE BLOODY ‘OPELESS!!’

Both were godlike and inspirational, in ver-ry different ways; the one a kind of code of honour and way of being that set extraordinary and (dare we say it) civilised standards of behaviour *as well as* producing an 86% win-rate in international rugby over more than a decade. (And this is a very high figure). The other – Brian Clough – was a law unto himself but found a way to motivate his teams through personal magnetism, elite-level pig-headedness and a truly intuitive but profound understanding of a) football and b) people.

At my own daft level I love coaching teams: in fact I really like the word – is that sad? TEEEEEAAMMM! Teams are gangs of mates or soul-sisters who do that walk-through-fire thing or just pat you on the shoulder when you’re bowling like an arse. Teams encourage and build and take you, the individual no-hoper somewhere hilarious and miraculous. And know what? Teams aren’t just for sport… and they aren’t *just about* sport.

Clough was maybe something of a drunk and something of a bully. (I’m neither, honest). But he took two mid-ranking teams – Derby and Forest – to league titles and he and Peter Taylor engineered two European Cup wins. Incredible… and I think fascinating. His players ‘just knew’ he was a genius. They followed him and believed in him. He did ‘just know’. This was about relationships as much as skill.

This may be anorak central but bear with. Clough’s former players talk about his team-talks. (I like team-talks). Apparently on occasion, even before massive games, he would spread a towel on the floor of the changing rooms, and place a football on it. Like some druid ritual. Then he would just say something like “OI. You lot. This is a ball. There’ll be one out there. Go get it… and keep the fucking thing”.

Interestingly – I think –the great All Blacks coaches Sir Graham Henry and Sir Steve Hansen – allegedly got to a point where they barely said anything on matchdays. The players were so prepared, so in charge, so empowered, that there was no hairdryer and no Churchillian rhetoric from the coaches. No need. The players are ready. I’m aware this may be a bit niche, friends. But compare and contrast with Guardiola, Klopp, Tuchel, etc etc – with the zillions of messages going out before and during top-level football matches, now. I think that may be a kind of madness.

In Part Two I write chapters on the All Blacks, Clough, Guardiola, Bazball, the fabulous and universe-changing development of women and girl’s sport. There are also Honourable Mentions for Dutch football/Bobby Charlton/Chloe Kelly/Welsh rugby/the Baabaas and many more. I do make the point that though women and girls sport is better supported than before there is still much work to be done and throughout this book, I promise, I am mindful that competitive, organised sport is not the be-all and end-all, in any event. Beautiful Games moves towards being about Sport Development – that is the provision of activity for all. More on this in a moment.

Some of you will know that I have ECB Accreditation as Written Media and most often use this to follow England and Wales Women cricket: it’s been a real privilege to have been quite close to the powerful surge in that half of the game, for towards a decade. I talk about this in the book – in both books, asitappens.

Locally, Llanrhian Ladies are a spectacular example of the joy and development occurring in cricket. They are absolutely magic and have transformed our cricket club so they are in Beautiful Games – of course they are! Finally, in the section on practice, the book turns to the other great revelation of the current moment, namely Pembrokeshire Seniors cricket.

Reading from P155 ‘Here’s something weird and wonderful...

To p157 …”I am going to be bereft when I can’t bowl”.

Sad but true, I really AM gonna be bereft when I can’t bowl. But onwards, in haste. To the final section, which I’ve called ‘The Case for Sport’.

I have worked as a coach for Cricket Wales – still doing it – and as a peripatetic PE teacher for Sport Pembrokeshire. Ver-ry proud of my colleagues in both organisations. Latterly I also did some work ploughing through a significant bundle of reports on wellbeing/activity/lifestyles for children. I’m no academic but this was ‘my territory’ so Matt at Sport Pembrokeshire let me loose on this to try and draw insights about what good, enlightened provision might look like. Who needs activity most? What’s most effective? What can we justify doing? Inevitably political/philosophical and strategic stuff, in an environment where (criminally, to be frank) budgets are likely to tighten, not loosen up.

I may have gone into this feeling a tad cynical about surveys. As a deliverer of sport you can’t help but think that it’s bloody obvious that activity is so essential and life-affirming and developmentally important in every way we don’t need reports to tell us that! They feel a bit like exercises commissioned by dead-souled office wallahs. Like who doesn’t know that exercise is good and that we have to fund absolutely everything that’s legitimate, to fight the good fight against obesity, poor mental health, the fall into sedentary behaviour and the peer pressure around body-image – for which I blame the Kardashians!

We all know this! And yet, because the more I looked at the surveys – from Pembs County Council/Senedd/the Happen Survey/the Good Childhood Report, from the Children’s Society etc, etc – the more I bought into the idea that they are often very sophisticated and skilful, and they do provide us with good, even valuable information. We just have to act on it.

So I talk about personally taking the Happen Survey into Pembrokeshire Primary Schools and then producing a kind of brainstorming document around good practice (for our Sport Pembs practitioners – Active Young People Officers, by name). About the conclusions we might draw, the options we might take. I try to weed out from the mighty, meaty documents some workable priorities or undeniable truths. I offered them to my colleagues in Sport Development across West Wales, and I offer them to you, in Beautiful Games.

Reading from p 195…

“I wrote two reports…

To end of chapter on p196.

Part Three then, does make the Case for Sport, indeed it campaigns, in a way that I hope still manages to provide some entertainment. You don’t have to be wearing a tracksuit to get this book. You really don’t. Despite being ‘sport-mad’, I can tell you that those of us who coach or teach Physical Education (or sports, or games), now understand that given where we are – deep into a wellbeing crisis, with no sign that authorities get that – we have to get moving. All of us. So PE becomes more about everybody; welcomes Joey who can’t catch and Sara who can’t run in. Welcomes them; offers them something they can do and enjoy – probably with their friends.

You don’t have to be a Sports Development geek to sense the requirement for a wider, broader remit, for Physical Education. We have to get every child comfortable with movement. Find the funding, make the change, acknowledge the crisis and the need for a re-fresh of the offer. Ludicrously, in my view, despite being lumped in to a new Area of Learning with Wellbeing & Mental Health, PE is still not a core subject. Make it a core subject.

Let me finish, dear friends, with a Mad Idea. There is nothing more important than the physical and mental health of our young people. Could we be bold enough, then, generous enough, civilised enough to *actually invest* in what matters? By this I mean – amongst other things – look at and think about the UNICEF National Happiness Index as a meaningful measure of where we’re at. Stick the GDP and the Footsie right up yer arris. Forget this charade about ‘economic growth’. Value that which is valuable: health; wellbeing; the capacity to move and make adventures. Let’s ‘get going’ on that.

Mine’s a pint of Guinness. Thankyou.

Ability is not the issue.

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Gonna front-end this piece with a few words. Have a concern that, written immediately as the players left court, with the Raducanu interview driving the narrative, it’s overly unsympathetic. (Despite being an opinionated middle-aged bloke, I don’t think I’m generally unsympathetic).

In my role as a pathway coach I am *definitely* not lacking in empathy or sensitivity towards issues around confidence or mental health. I make some sharpish points, here, about the need to be tough at all levels of sport – particularly, of course, the elite level – but maybe it’s a mistake to omit the balancing-points around player welfare and ease. (I guess I took these to be understood: and that therefore it’s permissible to challenge).

Raducanu is brilliant and in no way do I want to contribute to undermining her. Quite the reverse. I want to see her regain her place at the very peak of women’s tennis. But plainly there are *questions arising*, currently, which many of us recognise. Questions that she, as a slam-winner and top, top player, must answer on the court. She knows this, and must also know that this is relatively time-critical. Going down 6-0 in the first set, to a low-ranked player – however good or inspired – is unacceptable. Not preparing sufficiently well is unacceptable. There are nettles to be grasped, broiling kitchens to be endured.

So compete with everything you have – not for us fans or critics, but for you. Compete with maximum effort for maximum honour and personal satisfaction. Show us you love it and need it; that it means everything. Or quit. If it doesn’t make you happy or the grind simply ain’t worth it, quit. That’s a perfectly legitimate option: after you’ve tried like hell.

Let’s do that thing where we infuriate the entire universe of People Who Really Know… Tennis. (I don’t really know tennis but I *do get sport* and I *do* coach and of course this makes me the very worst kind of keyboard warrior: the cod-psychological, smart-arse-know-nowt kind). But on.

Raducanu. I fall into watching her opening round match. It’s looking like it’s in Qatar, but the wind/sun/ failed serve-toss combo might mean Brighton. But no, it is Qatar, so more #sportswashing, in front of plenty media, twelve people and a peregrine falcon or two. (Apols, if that’s offensive stereotyping: but I’m bored of Big Unethical Moneystates scooping up everything – and there was nobody there. Occasionally the spittle, though righteous, will stir).

But Raducanu. Loses. In the first round, again. (A-and yes I know what her ranking is, currently, but c’mon). Then maybe heroically, maybe foolishly takes interview immediately post-game. She acquits herself reasonably well, given the circumstances – 6-0 first set, second lost in tiebreak – but airing the notion that she needs to practice more outdoors and in daylight may not cut it with most of us.

*Thinks*: wot yoo lost (partly) because you weren’t ready for the conditions… of daylight… and some wind? Is that what you’re telling us? (Or, to be fair, it’s one of the things you need to attend to?) Call me an ill-informed, judgemental outsider but there’s a large and hairy WTF quotient looming here, is there not?

You’re a professional athlete – a tennis player. Your job is probably to prepare, eh? For the physical and mental challenges – inevitably, more of that later – and the challenges the environments may pose. The ‘conditions’. Part of the whole bundle is accepting that you can’t control those but (or so) you practice like hell in a variety of situations, so as to maximise your readiness for whatever. Raducanu did imply that maybe she hadn’t trained outdoors enough, in daylight.

The match was lost in the first set, in the sense that the Brit failed to register, against Kalinina, of the Ukraine – listed at no. 237 on the WTA rankings. Appalling Admission no. 862: I didn’t see this set, but for a player of Raducanu’s potential (or quality, or heft?) this was poor. 6-0 is either a significant blip, unacceptable, or catastrophic, depending on your level of investment or tetchiness. And I reckon many of us have become tetchy.

The second set was at least competitive, with the wildcard Brit muscling or easing through to 6 apiece, before wilting in the critical finally rallies. (Raducanu nudged ahead, late-on, to threaten a third set, but a couple of killer unforced errors rather gifted Kalinina the win).

There are arseholes out there who get vitriolically angry, early-doors, thinking about Raducanu. ‘For chrissakes; how can a slam winner with her talent, athleticism and god-given groundstrokes fail so much? It can only be woke weediness. She prob’ly doesn’t even eat meat. She prob’ly didn’t even need all those operations – it’s all in her fekkin’ head!’ These are the unsayable things that people are saying, are they not?

I watched the US Open win - a good lump of the tournament. Raducanu was irresistible in a pret-ty special way. Her backhand was Federeresque; ridiculous and free and endlessly without fear. Her movement was truly excellent. Her temperament seemed largely devoid of doubt. She proper announced herself and it felt like this was on merit; this was a beginning upon which she would surely build. The Fall has been dramatic – or melodramatic, depending on your understanding of the issues (or non-issues?)

We may find ourselves rustling through that unappealing sackload of unsayable stuff. The changing coaches every Wednesday; the hard-to-read flightiness or casual(?) capitulation. The bad results piling up – yup, with the pejorative language.

So is she a prima donna? Is she a spoilt brat – another posh-ish, indulged type? Practically uncoachable, and trapped in her own, feisty-but-vulnerable world? However offensive they may seem – to her, to you – these are questions she needs to answer.

We’ve seen and can see that the playing skills are there but how do we account, generally, for the mentality of champions… and has Raducanu ever had that? If we can answer this mad abstraction in the affirmative, does this increase the likelihood that its absence may be temporary? Was the wonderful surge that was the US just a flush of adrenaline and very temporary liberation into greatness? If so, does that make it a single, divine fluke, in the context of what’s beginning to feel like inevitable disappointments?

I’m as tribal as you lot. I want Emma Raducanu to do well – to reclaim that position, that respect, that maximised self. I have concerns about her mentality: (what other descriptor can we use?) It may be wise to avoid pejorative language in a case where all of confidence, belief and equanimity may be precarious but sustained top-level careers surely need either toughness or the propensity to rebound from the sharpest of setbacks. High-end sport is, of course, exposing.

Raducanu is in the crosshairs because of her notable brilliance, marketability and the psychodrama into which she may have spiralled. She needs to find something, quickly: a long-term, trusted, inspirational coach would be good. A way out or forward and on. This may demand digging deep, fighting the fight, re-building that capacity to play through those clutch moments. Ability is not the issue.

Pope and dolphins and Klopp.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ 2 Comments

Big call whether to write about Pope or Klopp. May not decide ’til I’m *really in there*. Or, unsurprisingly to the three of you who fall into the Regular Readers category, that issue may remain unresolved.

Day after the first net session where I ‘ran in’ as well as set the world straight. (Been coaching every Sunday for several weeks – and still loving that – but joined some of the old guys soon to set off for Chenai for the Over 60s World Cup and yeh, had a bowl. With mixed success). Oh – and woke up this morning having to acknowledge the schoolboy error of having bowled with toenails just that wee bit too long. Other aches and pains not kicked-in yet.

But Pope. A special, timely knock, which fits with his Golden Boy trajectory-thing – that is, ‘expectation’ – and offers England a chance to meaningfully resist the Indian strut towards a win. He may, despite the distraction of that contraflow between boyishness and the vice-captaincy, be too accomplished to need public affirmation but, let’s face it, it’s always handy. This was top-level classy, in the spotlight, under the cosh, just when we needed it and probably with Delhi Belly. He may have had to overcome a slight niggle or two and no sleep ‘cos the Bharat Army were holding an all-nighter in the hotel car park. Whatever; it was special and ver-ry public. And away; in India. Massive that he got right through the day. Next up, Bumrah with a new ball.

But Klopp. Also a moment. Whether it falls into the Do You Know Where You Were category may hinge on whether you’re a red (obvs), or if you even follow the footie. (If you follow the footie to any degree then it was biggish). I can tell you where I was – and worse still, I’m gonna do that thang.

I was on the cliffs at Strumble Head, North Pembrokeshire, because a) it’s bloody sensational and b) in the faint hope that the humpback whale that (I kid you not) has been cruising the block might reveal itself again. Glorious day, but I under-clubbed on the clothing front.

Anyway, I get out of the car – a mud-splattered VW Polo, with a century on the clock – and shift the Graham Parkeresque shades that are digging into ma beak. There’s something out in front. Wow; forget that Whatsapp notifibloodycation; there’s something there. Unmistakably. It’s a byoodiful day, if parky, but I’ve stepped right into a pod of dolphins doing their arched ‘oi oi geezer’ flypast. Forget the phone. They’re no more than fifty yards off the coast. In front of the line of empty cars – again suggesting that the moment has singled me out. I adjust my box and raise ma bat.

Then I walk to the block building, where the Proper Naturalists are watching. You can tell they’re proper because they have two dogs each and lenses that reach the Wicklow Mountains. Best not talk to them before I’ve looked at the info-posters on the back wall: I need to know what’s a dolphin and what’s a porpoise. Then we can exchange pleasantries and make circuitous (but cool) enquiries about Humpy. (Dolphins have beaks; porpoises don’t).

No sightings. But there are more dolphins to our right. And the fella with the handsome hound-terrier-thing is *actually friendly*. He’s barely anal at all, despite the clobber. We could probably talk about cricket or football as well as cetaceans. I loiter and yes, do raise bi-nocs to my eyes, purposefully, before setting out towards Carregwasted, or somewhere.

Another ping finally prompts the check. Shit – it’s The Lads – meaning elite bantz and/or stuff that matters. It’s only now I see that Klopp has recorded his ‘message to the fans’. Wow. I am 157 yards north of the block building at Strumble Head when I hear that Jurgen’s dipping out. I have no connection to Liverpool Football Club but I’m genuinely bit shocked. And then, listening to that explanation, respectful – respectfully disappointed.

I’ve not spent the last twenty-four hours trawling The Athletic (or anywhere else) for in-depth analysis or Insta-goss. This can sit with me as human story; with a thoroughly good man feeling like he best escape into family life/ordinary life ASAP. He owes that to his wife: and crucially, there is life beyond football. Liverpool can’t be everything forever. If there’s a sort of continental drift going on, Klopp’s not going to let his energy combust in the subduction zone. He ain’t gonna go down and let the all-consuming consume him. There’s more ground to discover – a life to be liberated into. Fair play.

Ar Jurgen’s always been easy to love, despite the occasional touchline aberration. (Notes to universe; all managers are monsters). Klopp is unequivocally big-hearted; generous; understanding of and able to coach the best from the human spirit and the collective will. He’s urgent and deep and brilliant, with that soft-left man-hugging soulfulness being a pleasingly sharp contrast to the spiky mania and techno-genius of Pep. The German is more lovable; closer to us; good-natured. A leader who could travel on the bus or tube: and share the jokes about Hendo or the Egyptian King. Even now.

The ‘achievements’ will be listed elsewhere. They’re real, but so too is the feeling. Klopp soaked-up the power of the surge, early doors. He knew he could make a high-energy, irresistible kind of entertainment work at Anfield. It might be high tariff in terms of that gambol around possession as god: he would tilt things more towards directness than control. Liverpool would attack you. The fanbase would identify with that and quite possibly get off, just a little, on the rawness and pace and the somehow ballsy defiance expressed or implied. It would be ‘proper’.

The gaffer understood that Liverpool is unique: there was something he could harness to his own brand. This season, a patently unexceptional Liverpool side – o-kaaay, on the Grand Scale – with a strike force consisting of Mo Salah and two blokes trying to find something find themselves top of the league. Klopp is building quickly,; is ahead of the game again. But he will know that City have more quality and are more likely to approach invulnerability. The reds will need every ounce of the gaffer’s nous and ability to motivate if they are to grab the Prem title.

I do wonder if this is part of Jurgen’s thinking. Plainly he does want to enjoy some semblance of Normal Family Life, *and* avoid a critical loss of verve whilst still in post at Anfield. But could he be stirring yet more definitive defiance amongst the Scouse Posse by announcing this now? Could he be pressing green for go on one more almighty surge? Might he understand that this is the way – the best, most likely way – to keep the storm brewing? I hope the bloke can do it.

India Eng: * sounds like*…

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Yeh, all very well, battling ‘gainst a tasty turner (is it really that?), in the angry sun, with eighty zillion people watching, but in Pembs we’re raging against the dying of the green light – the flaming WIFI! So yeh whilst I have some sympathy for Our Lads, having to get up at 3.30 to play international sport, it’s the (never-ending, trust me) high-tech/low-tech trauma I’m principally concerned with, first thing. Sure it’s gloomy; sure the calves and the crows look bit bedraggled… but can bitta damp and bitta swirl really knock out the signal?

Of course it can. Nearly always does.

I don’t get up mad early because I can’t watch – no TNT or whatever-it-is. I don’t get up because admittedly foolishly I watched a crap film ‘til lateish. (Terminator something: what the hell was I thinking?) Plus – incredibly, I know – nobody’s paying me, and we’re one notch down, rightly or wrongly, from Ashes Cricket. But I am interested in this Test.

India are good and they will want to compete: (euphemism, for grind England into the dirt). England *really might* relish the prospect of setting out the Bazball stall even there. Plus, even though he may have a somewhat reduced role, Bumrah is damned watchable. England, very much to their credit, have been tremendously watchable, for two years solid.

Like most of you, I’m on this from breakfast-time, or more exactly faffing abart trying to find available coverage on the tellybox, then laptop, via that pitiful WIFI. Half an hour’s furo-angst later, with the i-pad shoved hard against the bookshelf between me and next door, I’m in business. That former doorway might be plastered-over with unconvincingly soundproofed board and the source, from our friends at Bee Effing Tee may be scandalously poor and subject to brain-scramblingly frequent interruptions, but it lands about three foot two from the alcove, on their side. Finally, we do seem to have fluked a decent signal. Allez-bloody-loo.

I can live with the fact that the lads decide to have tea, a few minutes after I’m set. Talksport 2. Kimber has started with a duff ‘stat’ which he admits proves nothing but then gets into his flow. Some might say it’s heavyish on the smartarsery but the bloke has good intelligence and intimidating knowledge of the game. Harmison offers a decent foil. Helpfully, the match is obviously and immediately riveting.

Test Cricket is forever contemplating its navel: or worse, being either ushered towards some inevitable grave, or potentially fore-shortened. England have cut through the white noise and the tribal-historical psychobantz and had a right go at things. They’ve been thrillingly bold and changed or even made irrelevant, the arguments. They’ve entertained us in exactly the way Stokes and McCullum promised. Almost uniquely over the span of the universe, a Management Posse have said extravagantly generous stuff and then delivered. How’s that gonna go, in Hyderabad? Six an over possible?

With 23 overs left in the day, and England a smidge short of 250 all out, it’s game on – but only one side can score at a rate that would make Geoffrey Boycott blush. It’s already apparent we may be looking at a short, eventful game. Hard to know how long the McCullum Crew will remain in it, but we know that they will resist.

Highlights? Stokes has climbed into his armour and clanged another unlikely (but likely) 70. Spinners have been ‘on top’ but rather wonderfully – in terms of the execution and the narrative – Bumrah – the other knight-god-icon – was the one to fell the England skipper. Hartley offers a nice cameo, with the bat, 23 on debut.

In the zooming and booming, it’s easy to forget that England were 50 for nought, early doors. Duckett went on to get 35 before the clusters of wickets either side of some stout resistance (wot else?) from Bairstow (who sounded in great nick) and also Root. Wood, alongside Stokes, hints briefly at another lusty contribution but then suddenly he’s bowling: struck for four, first ball. The sole quick is partnered by Hartley – another characteristically bold call from the England camp. Slow left arm, second over of the Test. He is thrashed for six twice. Wow.

Wood, of course, is putting it all in there. Bowls two short ones in his second over; both called wides for height. India have 22 for no wicket after eighteen balls. Hartley looks nervy, maybe: poor ball gifts Sharma runs to leg. Then Jaiswal slams a further boundary. Two worryingly expensive overs from the newbie. Kimber notes that Hartley may never have opened the bowling with a red ball. So Big Ask. It’s also been suggested – repeatedly, by Pietersen – that he’s not finding any meaningful turn. Ah.

‘India are flying along’ at 35 for 0. They’re doing an England.

Leach is in, to follow Wood, who just bowled those two overs, with customary intent. Subtext – in and out of the comms box – Leach rarely spins it significantly.

Stokes predictably persists with Hartley, who is ‘suffering’. Jaiswal has 40… off about three deliveries. Statements are being exchanged: Stokes offering the aerial route, India saying ‘cheers then’. 68 for 0 after ten overs. Stokes saying ‘I back yooo, mate’ to the debutant.

Wow is the word. We have more rapid-fire, high-colorific cricket in front of us: from a team that are unequivocally not led by Stokes and McCullum. In a Test Match. With a capacity crowd. This might be wonderful.

If there *are* negatives they may be around just how long this match may last… and (for England) how damaging Stokes’s faith in Hartley might be.

But then Hartley beats Rohit Sharma twice! Reviewed: not out. England go on to burn all three reviews before we get to 15 overs. The calls weren’t entirely howlers… but they may need to reflect on that.

Sharma has looked/sounded watchful as well as positive, but he skies one from Leach. Stokes races around and pouches. 80 for 1. England need a cluster: could this be the start?

No. The left-hander Jaiswal sparkles throughout, and the lushly-gifted Gill sees out the day alongside. India not just ahead, at 119 for 1, but expansively, entertainingly so. The home side have not only accepted the gauntlet that is the *England Vibe*, but have stylishly brushed it against Stokes’s jaw. Yes it’s possible that the hosts could lose a bundle of wickets. Yes the England spinners might find the necessary consistency or Wood might transform the energy of the match. But it feels, to be blunt, unlikely. India are bossing this; the crowd are loving it; the batters are probably better than our lot; the bowlers are odds-on to prove more of a threat.

On day one, having won what was widely regarded as a crucial toss, England started well, faded and recovered, with the bat. On a challenging surface (though not an unfair or inconsistent one), the 246 all out was no capitulation, but offered little slack: the bowlers had to respond with discipline as well as ambition. They didn’t – not really. Stokes naturally held out with boldish or theoretically wicket-taking fields but only Leach found line and length. Hartley was targeted and though he bowled one or two jaffers, he was mediocre; short or wide *just enough* to offer fine players gifts. Ahmed was similarly unconvincing: Wood was rather mysteriously absent.

We should finish on a positive, eh? Jaiswal was pretty close to sensational.

pic from Guardian Sport

Sancho.

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Difficult to know, from where most of us are sitting, whether Jadon Sancho has been genuinely worryingly depressed, following his difficult time are Manchester United, or if he’s ‘more simply(?)’ been cheesed-off at his various demotions.

Both scenarios are unfortunate, but only one of them legitimately invokes our sympathy. Either way, and let’s be clear, there may be lots of ways, in this peculiarly contemporary saga – so wise to bin the binaries medium-pronto, yes? – one of few incontrovertible truths here may be the one about how Sancho played his way out of contention. He was poor, on the pitch. But how much of that was a function of stiff, unskilled management of a sensitive or complex soul and how much is down to raw or rather dumb brattishness or lack of application from the player? And, hang on, is that already sounding like another dynamic, oversimplistic duo? ‘Misunderstood’, or ‘Typical Modern Player: lightweight?’

Time-out – early. It can be fun and even invigorating to latch onto View A and judge: or B. It’s just not clever. Deep breath; look in mirror; extend tongue out for inspection. Sniff and re-gather.

We might suspect that Ten Hag is as impassively wooden as his clipped Dutch accent makes him sound. We know that Sancho’s poor timekeeping has been noted over a period – not just at United. But he doesn’t look or feel like a rebel-without-a-clue. Some of us wonder whether the lad was really that good when he came in, or if his stint in Germany was dotted with inconsistency or peripherality. We didn’t really see. Was he truly high-level brilliant, or merely sometimes electrifying? If the former, does over-expectation figure in the matrix, from early-doors?

We ask this because from the moment he stepped out for M U, he rarely looked a top player. Sancho – or this Sancho – could neither do that twisting-the-blood thing nor convincingly play within himself, like an elite player-in-transit might, before finding his or her groove. He looked so short of confidence that even gearing-down to a ‘simple game’ looked beyond him.

We know that (or hear that) a man-hug can sometimes sort this out. The proverbial ‘arm around’. Klopp is likely to be a master at this; Ten Hag, less so. But this does not at all mean that Sancho wasn’t getting enough love, in those early days. He may have been. And besides, for all the legitimate talk of confidence and wellbeing, there is an argument that *in this particular environment*, a measure of resilience is a requirement. Professional sport searches for and supports confidence and makes demands of it. The competitor needs to be resilient: they know this. Theoretically.

An individual may well be delusional about their own contribution but they are aware of what is required. Everywhere, the word ‘expectations’. Who gets in their ears, from club, per-group or family, when times then become challenging, is therefore important. Who’s ‘around?’ How is the challenge met?

Big Brutal Picture. The very nature of ‘form’ – real, constructed or subjectively-viewed – implies judgement and consequence. Sancho plays repeatedly below par and (despite help/support/concern for his wellbeing) he has to be dropped. Whatever the family or agent are saying. Dropped. Not for being a bad man or a weak man or anything else but for playing below par. The reasons are important… but secondary. They will be attended to, but for now, it’s Arsenal away. If, after time, the club hierarchy become displeased by poor attitude or timekeeping or lack of commitment to training; or if the player sparks any difficulties in relationships through petulance or perceived arrogance, then that’s different. Things will deteriorate. The exclusion-through-performance becomes exclusion for misdemeanour.

This will be, weirdly, both an absurdly cushy environment and a disciplined one. (That mad binary is true). Players both ‘don’t know they’re born’ *and* are under a cruel spotlight. Training sessions filmed; contributions checked and logged; bodies sat-navved. Sancho has seemed too bland to fit the role of Champagne Charlie; too quiet to be a subversive. And yet he was banished, to train ‘elsewhere’, suggesting something personal in the drift. Words must have been said.

Of course the club has responsibilities (as well as financial incentives) towards keeping players happy and well. Sancho was a signature investment; whatever the reasons for his poor return, it seems certain that substantial efforts, whether by personal interventions or professional support, will have been made initially, towards appeasing any issues and building ways back to expected form. At Point X, though, a falling-out occurred – a few unwise or spiteful words from either player or manager or both. Given the power-distribution in the relationship, this could only go one way. Ten Hag was right to look to offload.

Leaving, of course, more questions – principally, I would argue, about the younger man. Like who has been around him? He doesn’t appear to have the strut or inclination of a rebel. Who’s in his ear? He was dropped, for playing badly or to little effect. Fine. Work hard, play your way back in. But no. Before we know it trust and those key relationships – that key relationship! – are gone. Busted. We lurch into less edifying territory.

How truly vulnerable has Sancho been? Why this MASSIVE FALL? Why the sense of animosity, as opposed to shared purpose? Oh – and have people in either camp – or both – been, yaknow, *clutching at agendas?*

This dispiriting episode may yet prove more unsatisfactory if it turns out the player could have bitten his lip and knuckled down but for other influences. Or is he really just a bit young, a bit deluded… a bit unable to accept the non-negotiables?

Sancho will really have to work to restore himself, now. I genuinely hope he can.

Pic from Daily Telegraph.

Warner: a short inflammation.

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He brings out the tribal in us Poms, for sure, so he ain’t gonna get a fair trial. Not here.

Don’t care. Just not having the general rehabilitation of Warner. It’s just been too obvious for too long that the fella reeks of banter gone bad, sledging gone to the dark side and celebration-entirely-as-wind-up. Nobody’s jumped so performatively high or roared so consciously provocatively. And yeh we get that this is what competitors do… but not like him: no need. He has the arrogance of the small man and the feeble-evil veil of the absolute J Arthur.

Ugly? Maybe. Judgemental? Certainly. But this is what plenty people think. In the cauldron of sport that Warner so seems to relish, he’s been bubbling under with the Bad Guys for aeons, however nice he might be to children and animals. His chopsiness and malice – faux, forced or ‘just for fun’ – have made him a leading candidate for Most Hated Man in Sport for more than a decade. Why? Mainly because of that inflammatory-distraction schtick he’s got going.

Of course, there maaay be something in the idea that sport is bendable to your will, and that therefore you can benefit from ‘getting in the heads’ of the opposition: that notion’s been nearly as central to Warner’s career as the swing of his bat. But na. We’re not aligning ourselves with the spurious pomp (with the Spirit of You-Know-What) if we shout cobblers to that. When it’s so obvious and so-o cheap, we’re entitled to bristle – and do it with an honest gale at our backs. His Panto villainry entered that joke isn’t funny anymore territory about three seconds after he first tried it… in 1872.

There are ways of being psychologically competitive without being an arse. In this case, time hasn’t much cured the universal dislike. Warner hasn’t noticeably moved towards our grudging respect, except maybe in the cricket media, some of whom will know him outside the game. (Others I think may be doing the ‘grown-up thing’ of accepting his abrasiveness and unpopularity as his way of ‘leading the fight’, or ‘taking it on the chin’. Understand that; don’t buy it).

It’s not just the Brits who’ve disliked the fekker and enjoyed his scalp more than the rest. Again, though his batting record is good, particularly at home, I don’t register this attention on the leftie’s wicket as being about Warner the Perceived Threat, entirely. Many feel he’s hard to respect.

He’s back in the news over a spat with a former comrade. To be honest I’ve barely looked at this but clearly Warner’s leading role in the whole Sandpapergate thing has been called-out. (Like we needed it), *he’s* been identified as the major protagonist. Well ya don’t say?!?

Sandpapergate was scandalous and poor and an insult to all of us. For me it figures entirely that Warner was indeed at the centre of it and likely bullied (in some way, to some extent) the junior player who allegedly carried out the damage to the ball. It stank. Some of us have both moved on *and* maintained a level of hostility to a) the idea of that significant (and significantly high-profile) cheating and b) Smith and Warner themselves. We’re somewhere between noting it still and not forgiving. We’re happy to take the accusation that we really should have forgiven this by now right there… on the chin.

Pic from Getty images.

Proper England.

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70-odd thousand supporters in the ground; a grandstand finish; some heroic effort and some painfully poor choices when Our Lot seemed likely to score. Star player on the night and wisest, coolest head? In the pundit’s chair – Emma Hayes. And goddammit she’s lost to America. Everybody else bit lost in the rush and the ‘urgency’. So yeh, Proper England.

Russo fabulously mobile and full of intent – but only on the park for twenty minutes. James and Kirby and Stanway scandalously wayward or seemingly lazy… but probably just nervy, because despite their experience these MASSIVE, FLOODLIT, WEMBLEY NIGHTS are maybe something you do grow into over time. And then, in any case, they were stirred to brilliance. The visitors run ragged but also doing that ‘we’re here and we’re going to pick our moment because we *just might* have more class (or certainly composure) than you Inglish’ thing. The Oranje looking, in that first half, like they might get battered but win three nil.

Pick your moment to get irate about. Or enthuse about. Or say ‘this could only be England’ about. Because this was/is authentic, now. Was it the godawful second goal, where every Lioness in the building went AWOL, or misjudged, or daren’t commit, before the consistently excellent Earps let a distinctly ordinary shot squirm under her body? Was it when James repeated the Unbelievably Bad Choice Option, despite having time and options? Was it Kirby – the brilliant, low-slung, cerebral, skilful Kirby – being persona non wotsits again; as absent as her fellow water-carrier (and fellow absentee) Walsh? I lost energy on all these things.

But c’mon. We were gripped. By the drama of the last half hour, and the quality of Hemp, despite her cruel isolation, and by the two richly weighted assists from James, and the wonder-pass that made the Netherland’s opener. Gripped.

When Toone – who had rightly been dropped after a series of performances which kinda personified the Lionesses thoroughly disappointing campaign – slid in the winner from James’s perceptive cross, Wembley went medium-bonkers in a particularly satisfying way.

England had surged back, hugely to their credit. The gaffer – Wiegmann – who had maybe been found wanting, tactically, early doors, threw Mead and Russo and probably Stanley Matthews at this, late on. She could have withdrawn Bronze or Stanway or Kirby or anyone but Hemp, at the half. Instead the tangential (and wasteful) Kelly got the hook, with England two-down and weirdly both dominant and worryingly porous. Then Morgan, then everybody with an English passport put shoulder to the wheel. It was a great win.

What it means though, is likely disappointment. Post-match, the wonderfully sturdy Earp heaped the blame on herself. Nah. One big error but she was exposed by poor work in front. Plus England should have capitalized on chances before and after the two weak concessions. Earp we love, for her general quality and the occasional delightfully obvious and possibly marginally defiant ‘what the fuck’, to the nearest and most intrusive camera. You’d want her in your mob.

As a squad, this particular group have under-achieved in this particular competition. But what the fuck? They got Wembley rammed. They won something major. They are worth the investment and the grief. They are our new, watchable, wonderful Ingerland.

Welcome to the End of Everything.

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It rained. Like biblically. And then it was clear and bright – IS clear and bright as I write – for a big lump of time. Others, notably my hugely esteemed friend Mr G Dobell, Esquire, expressed immediate concerns about possible errors/omissions/slacknesses from the groundstaff because the match was abandoned surprisingly early, given the medium-fab conditions which followed. In short, (dare we ask?) did the venue staff cock it up, allowing the devilish downpour to seep through into critical areas of the pitch? (Because it didn’t look right).

And then – factoid – it *really was* balmy, or at the very least pleasantly helpful, for a prolonged period, immediately after the deluge. And, yaknow, this was an international match, in which England were in real danger of eviscerating the record books. So questions.

It may, however, be foolish to let hard rain be the story when the story should be Salt, or Duckett, or the cruel tribulations of the Irish seamers. Some extraordinary cricket happened.

Here’s how the action we saw felt, live:

Don’t ask me; just don’t ask me. I have no idea what triggered the enduring JD earworm. Was it Brizzle in the drizzle, being overcoatastically moody? Maybe. Maybe the (very temporary) greyness pointed my soul back to the Boy Curtis at his poetic/philosophical peak?

Existence well what does it matter? We live in the best way we can.

The past is all part of our future. The present is well out of hand.

Welcome to Gloucestershire County Cricket. Where Salt is facing Adair and Jacks is quietly pacing and Crawley – probably not a JD man – is England skipper. (I nearly wrote ‘incredibly’, here). Oh – and Salt has now taken 18 off the first four balls. (And then then the fifth was a wide). So my earworm thing was a portend. The world is ending. Welcome.

Jacks shows a greater degree of mercy than his partner; partly because the second over, from the spirited Little, is goodish. The poor fella Adair, meanwhile can’t find a wormhole quick enough or fast enough. England are going waaaay beyond that routine making of statements thing into a brutal humiliation zone. Jesus. Jacks joins in. England are SIXTY for 0 off the first FOUR OVERS. It’s an all-new, ridicu-level battering. This is happening despite the *bowler-friendly conditions*. Go figure: both Little and Adair are getting some swing and some movement off the pitch.

I’m trying hard not get distracted by a particular journo who is talking on the phone. It’s work-talk, and he’s not (now) doing that loud self-important thing (quite), but it is a pain in the arse. He ain’t gonna read this, so I will add that a senior colleague of his views him with deliciously real contempt… cos that feels like some kind of silent retribution for the last twenty minutes of infringement.

Salt has got 50 and then 60 before we get through 7 overs. Everything is ‘going’. Then he is, caught skying to mid-on. Cruelly thrilling stuff. Crawley marches out with England on 87 for 1, and McCarthy replacing Little, at the Ashley Down Road End. Jacks welcomes him with a six then four.

100 up on the 7 over mark. Perversely, Crawley gets England there with a gently steered straight drive, after having played a straight-batted defensive shot(!) to the previous ball. Jacks – fishing or fending(?) – is fortunate to escape as he edges towards short third, but Young bowls him with a peach the following delivery. 104 for 2, off 8. Duckett re-forms the Little and Large partnership with the towering captain. The skies have lowered a wee bit… and then cleared and brightened.

There are ironies in play – maybe there always are? Here they concern the noticeable softening of urgency, as the two notably urgent England Test openers see out a regression into Proper Cricket. The expectation for endless violence has retreated, somewhat. This gentility may be temporary.

Crawley drives straight and hard, at McCarthy. Classical. Four. But the recent #bantz in the press box includes the idea that England were ‘on for 700’. So even assuming a good wedge of stoutness and application from our Irish brothers, a massacre, possibly of historic proportions, seems inevitable. As if to reinforce that, Crawley hoists dismissively, for another six. 136 for 2, off 14.

Curtis Campher may be forgiven for drawing plenty of ujayii breaths, (for yogic comfort), before joining us – despite that slight tapering of violence. He gets off fairly lightly and can inhale further, over drinks. Ireland need drinks: short, nasty fekkers, probably.

Adair returns from beneath us. Goes too full. Cuffed through midwicket. Then Duckett absolutely clatters Campher, pulling just in front of square. Gleeful and violent again. When the batter tries to repeat – albeit with more of a cross-court top-spin drive, Nadal-style – mid-on bravely gets a hand there. Good, if symbolic stop.

Sit back briefly, to reflect. A re-cap should probably include the idea that Ireland haven’t necessarily bowled that badly. Feels more to me that England simply have better players. Salt (in particular) then, and Jacks were enabled or freed towards that killer explosion from the off. Duckett’s swing at Camphor suggests that he’s ready to launch, now, too: fabulous, skilled driller goes flying between the bowler and the ump. Four, and now 176 for 2, off 20.

We have our first sight of spin, from what (I’m going to call) the Media Centre End. Van Woerkom (born Christchurch) is a left-armer. The batters don’t let him settle. Little’s authentic Irishness serves him no better, on his return to Ashley Down. Crawley blasts to 50 in the over, which includes a crunching six over long-on.

200 come up in the following (23rd) over, with the light now brilliant and Duckett’s sweep joyfully extravagant. He also has 50, now.

Crawley goes. VW gets some turn away from him and the ball flies to short third. Sam Hain (born Hong Kong) will replace him. Duckett is pulling hard, at Little, who seems happy enough to proffer that gamble. Slight miscue, safe and good running brings three. Ireland cannot afford any misfields. There have been a couple. England’s leftie slog-sweeps, and times, to go to 68.

I think George Dockrell has just become Ireland’s seventh bowler on the day. No issue with that: why wouldn’t you cast around to seek some change or respite – or luck? Hain looks settled, early but it’s Duckett again who catches the eye. Another fabulous, liquid sweep rattles the boundary fence/rope/toblerone-thing. Hearing various numbers quoted here: all suggest this is a world-beating, record-breaking score (for England’s second team).

Oof. Adair has fallen heavily into the advertising-boards. He may wish it happened after his first three balls… but he will carry on.

Hain is plainly a man who can launch, but currently I’m enjoying his late-playing, soft-hands vibe. He’s guiding the ball around, seemingly untroubled, seemingly waiting. Ah. Until that. A rather ugly swipe towards cow – top-edged. He’s fortunate. There may be a team policy to pull the seamers hard, perhaps to expose and even demoralise the (mere) medium-quickness of the visitors. Cloud is in-filling, as Duckett slaps Dockrell for six, to go beyond the ton. (Off 72 deliveries; lots and lots of ver-ry well struck and well-placed shots).

14.45. Rain feels possible – maybe imminent.

I thought Hain was looking good, early doors, but his frustration may have grown. As it gets *really dark*, he slaps hard at another shortish one and clubs it to mid-wicket. Just as the rains starts.

Wow. It rains hard. On a ground where there’s not a huge amount of cover. (Not a complaint, just an observation… and possibly borne of the fact that my son is out there, and I’ve got his coat. Insert appropriate emoji). It’s rained HARD. To the extent that we wonder if this is over… at 15.02.

15.12. Clearer and brighter to our left. But is The Damage already done? Not heard any announcingments yet…

MATCH ABANDONED. May add more thoughts later… or may go the pub with my son, who leaves for Thailand/Aus (for SIX MONTHS) tomorrow!!

Woodentops.

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I left early, exhausted and *concerned with travel*. Strode manfully back to Cardiff Central and waited, patiently. I can do patient.

Then A Journey.

I got home, ok, about 11pm, only about half an hour late – a result, given the circumstances around and behind me. My train had waited for some time yn Abertawe, to allow other delayed passengers to catch us up and clamber on board what may then have been the Last Train West.

I knew it would happen but during that pregnant pause in Swansea’s fair city the extended family group I’d seen at Haverfordwest at 9 am – all male, aged between 14 and 74 – bundled into the carriage and sat close to me. (Genuinely being exhausted, I’d done that sit right in the corner, feign sleep and almost disappear-into-the-walls thing but such was their level of intoxication (and general stupidity) these disparate gentlemen, united in their dumb, beery haze, failed to either notice my aspiration for quiet seclusion or respect it. Worse still, they failed to respect the young woman sitting more centrally.

They ‘sang’. Bad versions of Barmy Army songs, ill-remembered. Snippets of anti-German, pro RAF choons, fer chrissakes(!) But they also sang foul, repeated, endless, and pretty unfunny wee ditties about ‘The Girl in the…’ The kind of feeble, crude, dumb songs you can only sing when you’re a dumb, drunk bloke.

All this whilst they were force-feeding each other more, plainly unwanted beer – because you can’t be seen to ‘dip out’, eh? I’m sure they thought they were being ‘good-natured’ and it’s true there wasn’t the faintest whiff of violence or truly ugly, physical behaviour… but or except the songs… and the intrusions into other peoples spaces and faces… which were palpably offensive.

To cap it all, the only moment of coherent conversation between them featured Young Buck X telling Grandad(?) that he was planning on joining the police force and Grandad advising that he should try to ‘aim higher than Hendon’, which is ‘where all the Woodentops go’. Laugh? I nearly bought a round.

Here’s how the cricket felt:

Let’s shed the minor disappointments. One: the boardwalk was shut, denying your scribe the *full effect* of the Cardiffian yomp, from Central to Glam. (For aliens, the boardwalk hugs you against the Millenium Stadium – yeh, yeh, I know – and alongside the canalised river. It’s groovy). Then, arriving in a pool of sweat, and after a battle with the wifi, when one settles in to the view, it’s clear the ground is well short of full. Scandalous. Happier and medium-pointed news is that Brook is opening, with Malan. It’s a magbloodynificent day.

Southee and Henry, for New Zealand. The former is in from the River End, looking taller and maybe more disproportionately long-legged than I remember. Or maybe it’s something about that tightish, slickish kit: or his electrifyingly white trainers. Or maybe he’s had shin-lengthening surgery? Maybe a little more bounce than some Glam pitches(?) Henry beats Malan with a beauty – looked quick from up here.

Two very different fours, from Malan, in quick succession. Stylish cut and then workmanlike bundle between the bowler (Southee) and mid-off. Five overs done and England are 21 for 0. Henry beats Brook. After the scoring rate *everywhere else* of late, Brook having 9 off 14 and Malan a few more off 20, feels bit tame… but maybe that’s my heart still racing post the necessarily swift walk in. (Love 50 over internationals: for the record).

Southee goes tad over-full, to Malan. He leans beautifully over and into it: scorches square, for four more. Then weirdly – cos this is short-format – the next ball Our Dawid swishes agriculturally across the line but fails to make contact. Soon he will find those hands again; skilfully guiding Henry off the sweet spot, towards a wide third man. (Only one but bloody lovely. Eased, softly). Then Jamieson is creeeeeeemmed through extra, to welcome him to the game. Stunning: Malan looking ver-ry good. (*Fatal, usually)*…

Be honest, you had absolutely no money whatsoever on Malan scoring three times as quickly as Brook. Me neither. But it’s happening. Henry is still with us and bowling with notable determination. The England fifty is up, pleasingly symmetrically, on the 10 over mark. No loss. Malan has 34 of those runs.

Jamieson slaps one in… and Malan smashes it in front of square, emphatically. It’s a Statement as well as a boundary. More pace as Ferguson comes in to replace Henry, from Cathedral Road. Thick edge flies fine through third man. Brook, meanwhile, is sitting. Really interesting, considering recent flim-flam. The bloke could be forgiven for exploding wildly into this, on some Mission-to-Prove. But nope. Malan’s doing the walloping. ‘I’ll just sit’.

Finally, the Real Brook (of boomtastic urge) emerges. Clatters Jamieson through mid-wicket. Then again goes hard, and is maybe fortunate to inside edge for no damage. 76 for 0, after 13 overs, with Malan 52 and Brook 23. The visitors, it should be said, have had no luck. Now Ferguson zaps one passed the outside edge: looked sharp – maybe even gathering off the pitch. 

Drinks (for me) means I miss the demise of the mostly-imperious Malan. Some bloke called Root walks in. Air-con working a treat, in the Media Centre but I’m loading up on instant coffee!?!) and water. Oh – and there are about twenty-five journo’s and media-peeps in the house. For the women’s equivalent there would be eight. One brings two: Brook nibbles a bouncer behind. Gone for 26. (It was Ravindra that snared Malan. Dunno how, yet).

Blimey. Stokes nearly follows Brook. Lucky his fend from Ferguson loops cruelly over gully. (Some sense the fielder may have misjudged that, early on. Was airborne for an age – even at ‘live speed’). The game is changed, somewhat. England are now 85 for 2, off 17. Plenty short stuff happening. A decent challenge for these two youngsters at the crease. (Root… and Stokes). 

Ground fuller now than at the start of play; which is nice. 

In fairness I know plenty of folks who work at this ground. They will have been working hard for months trying to sell this fixture. They know they are often grafting in a relative vacuum, because the fan-base is arguably smaller than they ‘deserve’. It’s tough filling this ground. And this means prices are now as big as they are elsewhere… which doesn’t help filling the stadium. Not sure I know what the answer is.

Steady start from Stokes and Root. That is, until Root tries to slog-sweep Ravindra and miscues. Maybe the ball was too full? Whatever, he skies it to the man retreating man from the circle. Easily caught. 101 for 3, as Buttler joins Stokes. Not seeing anything that special from the bowler – he produces a right pie to Buttler, first up – but he has 2 for 8 from 4 overs as we stand. 103 for 3, off 21. Jamieson has changed ends.

This is shaping up ok. Spectacular day, competitive cricket. Bowling’s been good but the locals have two genuine worldies at the crease, approaching halfway. Run-rate is below 5, suggesting a fair contest twixt pill and the willow, yes? Buttler drives the first six, straight: Ravindra. Glen Phillips, entering from the Cathedral Road End, will hope that his own spin proves resistant to that kind of biffery. Just the one from the over.

Phillips has bowled a little straight, and a little short, early doors. Relatively unpunished. Now Stokes rocks back and clubs him for four, through mid-wicket. Easily. Largely, both batters are taking the easy ones, from both spinners. Two hours done, fourteen overs an hour. I may have to scoot before the end of this…

Henry, at Stokes, from the River End. My wifi resolutely not updating. On either of the two feeds being offered to me. #FirstWorldProblems.

Both batters are in; 150 for 3; can only be a matter of time before they feel a gear-change is necessary. Off for a walk, to check out the hwyl and to see if that sorts the f**king wifiproblem…

Refuse to let the DEAD WIFI to ruffle my feathers. So will carry on ‘live’ and report on Buttler’s fluky toe-end, which somehow evades the bowler as it doinks bowlerwards. Southee returns, and immediately tests Stokes with one that bounces. No dramas. But then England’s superstar (well, one of) pulls away with absurd comfort, to the legside boundary – bit ominous that, for the bowler. Cannot be long before one or both of the batsmen engage Smash Everything mode. The peach of an off-drive from Buttler, against Ferguson, suggests we may need to add ‘Stylishly’ in to that description. He now has 49, and Stokes 43, as the 36th over is completed. 179 for 3.

Ravindra has changed ends: Stokes doesn’t care. He gets to his fifty with a clumpiferous sweep, over square leg. Hah! Before tamely cuffing it to extra cover, that is. Infuriating end to a goodish-but-somehow-not-entirely-convincing knock, from the English gladiator. Enter Livingstone.

The thought strikes me that it’s rare, indeed, for a fixture in Cardiff at this level to feature so few confident clatters downtown – to the river. So plainly the pitch is either a bit more two-paced than is immediately apparent, or the bowling has been better than it seems from 80 yards away. (It’s seemed competent rather than unplayable, from up here). 200 up, from 39.4 overs. So ver-ry close to five an over, still. Less than you would think this England line-up would score, on a fabulously sunny day, in the capital.

WOW. Livingstone has pressed the boom button. Three consecutive sixes, off the unfortunate Jamieson. Twenty from the over. Here we go?


Yes – pretty much. Meaning Buttler and Livingstone find big chunks of their limited over mojo(s). The stadium gets the lift it needed, as does the England run-rate. (I bin the laptop and surge on, like the batters, upping the ante &/or seeing this baby out on my i-pad. Heroically). 300 seems thinkable, if ambitious.

Livingstone gets beyond fifty. Southee comes in from Cathedral Road. Livingstone falls, driving high to long off. As Woakes comes in, 280 seems likely. I hope I’m smelling food.

Buttler goes, for a solid 72; mistiming, to mid on. Southee the bowler. Willey has the unenviable job of cracking a few with little time in the game. He starts outstandingly – a clean pull middled to the rope. Henry will come round to England’s left-hander, for the penultimate over. Quietish.

Woakes can’t connect with Southee’s slower ball. Then Willey heaves downtown – four. Helpful cameo, from Willey, as some clean striking and quick running get England to 291 for 6 at the close. Unclear if that’s par. We’ll see.

THE REPLY.

Is steady. More cloud cover and more shadows – not sure how that works. Topley struggles for line and Woakes is unable to threaten. Willey joins us but Conway and Young proceed well enough – and occasionally sparkle their way – to twenty-odd apiece. England may need to play the long game. Big Name Journo’s/Meedyapeeps doing that thing where they pronounce powerfully about such-and-such, relaying stats and opinions to the faaar horizons. Yes. I am bored by that stuff. Meanwhile Woakes beats Young with a beauty: done for length more than by any cut, I imagine. Maiden gets a polite ripple.

The over rate has been poor, today, though I should’ve built that in to my planning. Chez moi is 100 miles west of Cardiff, so gonna leave just gone 7pm to get the train. (Later train gets me home at midnight; current option reduces that to 10.20 in Haverfordwest. Late enough for me, as I’m playing two games of cricket this weekend: only survivable if I pace myself).

Rashid gets the breakthrough, bowling Young. Conjecture in the pressbox surrounds the fact that he bowled it from wide, thereby changing the angles. There was some turn, too – classic leg-spin. Nicholls joins Conway and Root joins us from the river.

At 76 for 1 after 13, the visitors are marginally ahead in the game. Root bowling from wide – notably wide – to Nicholls. There may be some grip for the bowlers. England need a cluster of wickets to really change this. It doesn’t feel *that likely*, so the guys in black have an opportunity, here. First game in the one-day series; would be nice, for them. Tidy over from Rashid, though.

Atkinson, from the River End. Confess it’s the first time I’ve seen him live. Lights come on, as if to focus on the wide he *just bowled*. Looks slippery-quick.

Root has changed ends. Atkinson flashes one past Conway, who has 46. Nicholls nails the hook shot, to go to 13. 99 for 1. Drinks. (18 overs).

Poor, tired ball from Root is clipped away behind square. Then Conway drives sweetly at a full one – too full – it’s drilled through the field, bringing the batter his fifty. But Willey gets Nicholls: could this be the start of something? (Hasn’t felt all that likely. This has been feeling like an orderly-enough grind towards an away-win, to me). England need that cluster. Plenty of runs to find, for sure, but Conway looking in control and neither seam nor spin too scary a challenge. (At which point Mitchell dispatches Atkinson truly splendidly straight, for six). 133 for 2 after 22.

Willey is a player. Bowling with skill and heart. Did okay with the bat, too. Great yorker for no reward.

Topley returns, from the River End: Conway spanks him behind square. England will work at this… but there’s that slight sense of resignation…

Livingstone will have a bowl. Decent call – ‘something different’, to break the proverbial log-jam.

On that bombshell, going to vacate the premises. May update on journey home: fearing a cock-up re my train ticket, so allowing a little extra time to show suspicious ticket inspectors emails confirming *my return journey*. Later, peeps.

Know what? Am going to chill, on the homeward journey. If I get second wind, I may yet add something. But let’s enjoy the frisson around that lush possibility, eh?

On my medium-traumatic journey home, I see that the visitors did indeed cruise to an eight wicket win. Fairly chastening week or so, for our men and women. Work to do.

He didn’t catch that?

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

‘What the? No. He didn’t. He didn’t?!? The ball was (f-word) behind him!! He didn’t (f-word) catch that. Nobody does! That’s ridicu(f-word)lous. He’s dived back to grab that. Ridiculous’.

So sayeth you, me, and Alexander the Great, if he’s watching. Because what else is there to say, what else is there to do but be gobsmacked in that timelessly, gormlessly wonderstruck kindofaway; like Bairstow; like Broad; like Wood; like most of Australia, for pity’s sakes?

Root: catching Marnus. Diving backwards to clutch a ball that’s gone so quickly past him, the bloke in row Z is putting his pint down before the incoming pill smashes his glasses. A ball that was so utterly uncatchable by mere mortals, so loaded with searing, malevolent pace that every sentient being watching live is still ducking, now, eight hours after the event. And the God of All England takes it at full stretch, behind him.

But it gets better. Like Nadia Comaneci doing high-bar stuff, on the frame of the London Eye, whilst supping a tequila sunrise, and doughnutting a Ford Capri, it gets better because Marnus is stomping away, bawling about the bad light, to the umpire, *after Root held the catch of the century!* Irony is dead; the shockwaves have gone viral and Labuschagne’s panties are down by his quivering ankles. For those who like their #bantz or their wind-ups, there is the Broad Bonus – the lanky one having switched the bails around, purely to get in Labuschagne’s head – the *ball before* the dismissal!

But the catch; the catch. It’s a moment of inviolable sporting perfection. The sheer brilliance. The profound-but-childlike joyfulness. Largely, or first, the shock. Then, The Achievement. Oh – and the beaming, beaming lols. The faces of the England players, all mad, all so cattle-prod-up-the-jacksie stunned, but all too innocently thrilled to be triumphant, and the thundercloud that is the Marnus Stomp. If yer a Pom, un-im-provable.

The fact that Bairstow (who admittedly is crocked) barely flickers whilst Roooot launches and grabs, is unimprovable. Mark Wood’s smiling fizzog, an age after the unquenchable fuss should have died down, is unimprovable.

For all the resonances, cheap or seminal and the tribal or historic matrices, this was a great, pure sporting moment. Root’s instinct, coordination and remarkable flair for that which is both simple and classic, is sensational, exquisite, wondrous. This catch is somehow calming – for its revelatory but obviously natural brilliance? – and deeply, deeply stirring. This catch is a f***ing worldie. Thank god for cricket; for Wood’s irresistible heart and for Root.

Taunton.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

So we’re done then. The #WomensAshes, I mean. Hard to gather it all in to a single event, to be honest – maybe that will come later. For now, as always, I include the relatively-stream-of-consciousness response to the action, live. The feel of what happened. I make no apologies for the distracted/abstracted nature of this ‘report’: most of you will know it’s what I do. I *might* apologise for traducing the level of support, at Taunton, initially; I am aware of the tradition down at Somerset for Proper Crowds. It’s just that for the start of the game, cocooned within the Media Centre, we simply did not know that hundreds (nay thousands) of folks were delayed in queues at the gates. Ultimately this was a strongly-attended, well-contested match. Now read on…

I banned myself from writing anything. Until now. 12.32.

So no mention of the annoying arse on the train… or the muggy walk in. Or the hugely tasty (and well-received, in this quarter) Indian fodder, provided by our friends at Somerset CC. Or the genuinely *really charming* ground-staff. Because this is a new regime. Sleeker; more Proper & yaknow, Growed-Up; less of the nonsense.

Won’t last: not meeee.

Australia have just won an amiably amateurish toss and chosen to bowl. Fair enough. Great conditions, with just a gentle breeze and plenty cloud cover. Kinda medium-bright. The kids are out, waving their flags, a-rhythmically. Think this has been pitched as a ‘sell-out’ – they often are, when they aren’t. This ground is currently (12.49) about a third full; or rather the seats are. (Transpires there are still biggish queues at the gates: fear of Just Stop Oil – whom I support! – has caused some delays. As I write, seats are filling. Ultimately, it may be at capacity.)

The trumpeter is playing a rather irritating ‘Jerusalem’ as Gardner finishes her first over to Dunkley. Then our brassy friend catches the mood rather better with the jaunty Steve McQueen number.

Schutt will follow Gardner, from the Marcus Trescothick Pavilion End. Dunkley is looking to hit hard but is mistiming… but no dramas. Australia’s quick is looking strong: built a bit more like a sprinter than a year or two ago. (Gym-work? Or is this another Waltonian fallacy? Dunno). I did note to the universe of twitterdom that Schutt is wearing a heavy bandage to support the right knee, but moving ok.

A quietish first 2: England 6 for 0. But no. A straight one from Gardner draws a heavy thick edge – Dunkley doing that trademark slash across the line. It steeples and she is well-caught by Litchfield, racing back from cover. Knight marches out early: Dunkley made only 2. She is a fine, attacking player but there are risks associated with that grip and that batswing. If she has a dip in confidence (and scoring), we’ll hear more about the relative extravagance of her technique.

Schutt is in to Beaumont. She gets that early swing (but it is early). Somehow the batter is either slipping or so badly out of kilter that she cannot get anything on a ball arcing at leg-stump. She’s out, falling over, bowled. Early trouble, for England, with both openers gone for a total of 4 runs accumulated.

On the plus side, this brings together Knight and Sciver-Brunt, arguably the best batting combo on the planet. (*Fatal*?) After 6 overs the home side are 19 for 2. Enter Sutherland. The ground is now somewhere between two-thirds and three-quarters full, I would say.

Sutherland goes shortish at Sciver-B but the tall all-rounder gets above the bounce and cuts, hard. Less convincingly, S-B inside-edges to fine leg for a streaky boundary. Schutt is bowling unchanged, from underneath us. Overdoing the drift towards leg – wide given. Attempted yorker then tucks Knight up… but missing: no dramas. Tidy opening spell from Schutt – 1 for 14 off 4. 67 mph, typically.

Sutherland runs in with purpose but Sciver-B biffs her straight for four. Good racket from the crowd, who are already into this. Suspect a good percentage of the noise is alcohol-free, too – schoolkids here in some numbers. Seats still filling, too…

Did I mention that both teams have stayed pretty close to their recent ‘first teams?’ Alana King and Charlie Dean both play, but I do wonder if the coaches might have rotated things a little more, given the last game/dead rubber scenario. Succession Planning; Experience; all that? A firework-deficient spell: Knight almost breaks out with a nutty, well-timed guide through point but just for 1. 47 for 2, after 11, as the aforementioned King joins us from the Trescothick End. It’s brightened.

Starts with an ambitiously full, floaty one: driven for a single. The bowler is looking for turn and getting a little. Beats Knight. But then Sciver-B can ease into a half-volley and drills elegantly for 4, taking her to 21. Knight is on 19 as Gardner returns, from the river.

Next over. Knight is advancing at King. Lofts with conviction for 4. Then there’s a stumping shout against her… but the foot had slid back promptly enough. The batters know they are at bare minimum, run-rate wise and are looking to raise it. Good contest(s) developing. King is clubbed over mid-wicket twice – the second crunching into the ‘rope’ – so 6. Ground full now and yeh, we’re all enjoying.

McGrath for the first time, from the River End. Run-rate has picked up – now level 5s. I need my shades, to look out from the Meedya Centre. Lovely. 84 for 2, after 17, as we have drinks. Feels like England’s Finest might be moving into Dynamic Phase: both batters beginning to strike with power and purpose…

Wareham. Sciver-B misses out on a drag-down. Knight doesn’t. Mixed over, from the bowler. Length offered and a little width, too. McGrath will look to haul this back in. Does okay.

Wareham’s right-arm leg-spin is back on track: that might have been a maiden(?)

Knight on-drives McGrath past the diving mid-wicket – just the 1. The bowler is mixing this, with back-of-the-hand following an injection or change of pace. Good work from Australia as the threat of momentum is stalled. Wareham now teasing Sciver-B, who is using her feet but unable to get the drives away. 100 up, in the 23rd for England but Aus have won this last five over mini-game on those proverbial points.

Now Wareham bowls a loose one – a big full toss – and gifts Sciver-B another (chanceless) 50. My god she’s good: tall; athletic; hard-hitting. She blasts one straight at me for another 6 in the Vee. Look out – now she’s flipping McGrath over her left shoulder. And Knight is following her to 50. Run-a-ball stuff, now, as the batters execute the Go Hard strategy.

Ooof. From nowhere, McGrath is putting down a relatively straightforward return catch. Juggled then dropped. Sutherland has changed ends. She’s got that fluent run-in going, to challenge Sciver-B. 68mph: beats the batter. A brilliant stop out at deep square: repeat – good contest.

More changes, because Australia need the partnership broken (even though it’s not currently taking the game away from them). Gardner from the River End, turning that key, slapping it flattish. 130 for 2, England, off 27. Just under fives.

Sutherland’s natural length may be a tad short for Taunton: Sciver-B is pulling her away for 4, to deep square. Free hit: the bowler responds with a slo-mo wide of off but Sciver-B can only thick-edge it tamely to backward point. (No damage, of course).

If Knight and her partner can stay a while then what’s thinkable, score-wise? Towards 300, if they can launch? Capsey, Jones and Wyatt to come – all dynamic players. 270 achievable but there are caveats around Jones (always) and the relative lack of boom as we descend the order. In short, Knight and Sciver are The Finest We Have and have the skills and temperament to go deep and BIG. They are Option One: here’s hoping.

Sciver-Brunt sweeps beautifully, and hard: 4 more. Schutt replaces Gardner, as Healy again shuffles. Then we have King, and again Sciver-B lofts her precisely and safely over mid-wicket. Just the 1.

The change finally pays. Knight has been untroubled but for that nagging feeling that she/England have to raise this a little. She charges but loses her shape – her head – trying to cart through leg. Bowled, by a straight one. Good innings from the skipper, who made 67. Strangely, the loss of the wicket may offer an uptick in expansiveness, because now we have the precocious Capsey.

Schutt is in to Sciver-B but is short. Clumped to cow for 4. Schutt goes much fuller. 168 for 3 after 33. Level fives. I need some fresh air…

Our first sight of Jonassen – I suspect because they fancy her against Capsey. BIG MOMENTS, because both sides will know that Capsey can score quickly but there may not be *that much* beyond the next batter, Wyatt. So this could be 280, or 220 all out. Asitappens, Capsey is out; for a handful. Australia back in the box seat at 180-odd for 4, with 37 overs done.

Wyatt tries a ridicu-flip against King. Gets away with it, but it will hardly boost her confidence. Sciver-Brunt is into her 90s. And now 99. And now, off the hip, to 100. She really is quality. Fluent; ‘natural’; strong; ‘cute’. *And* she keeps doing it against Australia.

Our Nat aside, Wyatt is the best athlete in the England side: great fielder, has skilled hands with the bat, can really leg it. She gets a 2 that nobody else would chance, to bring up the 200. Still feels like 280 will be necessary to compete, against this lot… but 300 remains possible. Beautiful, deft late cut from Wyatt slides away quickly to third man; might be shot of the day. Then slaps McGrath hard through square leg for a second 4 in the over. 210 for 4, off 41. Wareham.

Wyatt is flying. In to out, as always, with lots of fade into (and generally over) extra cover. 24 off 15. All working, currently. Gardner returneth – she gets The Treatment. Wyatt goes smoothly but with consummate timing over and into the margins. Six! Now Sciver could just sit back and let her partner get on with it: Wyatt goes 6,4, off King. It’s absolutely thrilling stuff. 300 *should be* nailed-on…

Inevitably, Sciver-Brunt joins in. Another fabulous sweep, square. Australia have no answer, just now. Until Gardner bowls Wyatt.

I think it may be a fluke. Not convinced the bowler means to york her. It’s a floaty, looping one that Wyatt may just get an under-edge to. Whatever; she’s been tremendous. 43, in a flash. 250 up, in the 45th. Amy Jones has joined Sciver-Brunt. Jonassen returns from the Trescothick Pavilion.

Jones is lucky, hoisting rather lazily to deep square. Falls a few yards short of the fielder. Decent over for Australia.

Gardner is one the world’s great all-rounders. She will bowl the 47th. King is stooping to stop a reverse. The ball breaks through her hands and strikes her in the face. We break, whilst she retreats for treatment.

Ah. Jones is run out, by a mile, following a brilliant throw from the replacement fielder, Darcy Brown. It’s a pearler of a throw but quite why Jones dug it out thataway, (from her heels, when she might have clipped it away square) may be open to question. However a) brilliant fielding, with the option for b) malicious grumbling, coz King would never have done that! Ecclestone.

Sciver-Brunt, to a rapturous reception, is leaving us. Caught expertly in the classic Aussie style, above her head, fingers up, at the boundary. But *yet another* fine, fine innings. Against the Best in the World. She made 129.

You’ve got to love Eccles. She heaves one unceremoniously (but convincingly, too) for 6. Dean is in there with her, now. Late flourish and England will be close to that 300 mark.

There’s a review: first thought, live – down leg. No bat. Might be contentious, looking at the flight of the ball, but Dean is LBW, bowled Gardner, for 2. Enter Cross. The ball beats everything – four precious byes. England are 280 for 8 with one over remaining. Should mean we have a game. Jonassen, as so often, will bowl out. Clump to deep mid-wicket brings 1.

Ecclestone is not, for me, a batter *but hits nearly everything*. Cross, for me, could be a batter but she’s the one that misses: Jonassen hits. Innings closed at 285 for 9. This is poised, as they say.

You’d think I’d learn. Peaked tooo early again, on the energy front. So less constant warbling, from now on.

Great energy from Cross, as always: fine sight. But Healy nails a marginally full one – driven smartly through the covers. I need food, or drink, or something. The crowd nicely behind England: that could count.

Bell follows and has Litchfield caught behind; Ecclestone taking the catch rather awkwardly, at ground-level, at first slip. (Is she really a slip fielder?) Perry joins Healy. Briefly.

Cross has found a beauty to bowl the Aussie skipper – the ball nipped back sharply. Great start, for England: Australia 15 for 2, in the 3rd over. Delighted for Cross, a personal favourite for her big-hearted flow.

Best part of the day: brilliant light, with some breeze, crowd engaged, game on. It’s McGrath who’s joined Perry. Bell is getting this white ball to swing significantly and getting some bounce. (She’s ver-ry tall). Perry is fortunate not to inside-edge on. Sure she went for 26(?) in the last over of the last game but I like how Bell’s growing into the Strike Bowler role. I hope she’s demanding that ball first and *really believing* she’s the one. (Having said that, I think Wong may be)…

Not sure if it’s a plan for Cross to hang a few out wide, to McGrath, but she’s been crunched to the point fence twice now, so maybe change? Aus are 40 for 2, after 7. Ah. Bell did that hang-it-out-thing to McGrath. 4 more.

First change is Nat Sciver-Brunt from the River End. Perry is watchful. Ecclestone will come in from t’other end. She’s on it: powerplay done at 53 for 2. Australia up with the rate. Interestingly – or not – the breeze may have stiffened. Flags and trees to my right looking livelier. It may be troubling Sciver-Brunt, who has bowled a couple of wind-assisted legside wides. Maybe that fuelled the sharp bouncer at the end of the over? Jones did extremely well to grab that – high, to her left.

McGrath advances ambitiously to Ecclestone. Wrong! She is stumped, stranded and painfully stretched: Mooney replaces. 68 for 3, off 13.3. 1 for 3 off 3, for Ecclestone, at this juncture. Knight opts for Dean at the River End.

Greyer, out there. The heavenly arc in front of me is 82.4% cloud-cover. Should be of no relevance but Australia 30 runs behind the Duckworth-Lewis score, at this moment. But the atmosphere, meteorologically, is different. (I just went to look). Floodlights.

Capsey will have a wee bowl. Rain. Off they go. 97 for 3, off 19.2.

So a moment for a few #WomensAshes ‘conclusions’. Firstly, if I’m in the Oz coaching group, I’m not that happy with how they’ve gone. Absolutely not dominant: sometimes – in the wind, in Bristol – closer to messy, with the ball. Some of this is to England’s credit, of course: but not sure Australia have played to their maximum, on this tour.

(I interrupt this speculative opiningment to report that the whole set of covers is now being dragged on. And the shower appears to be passing… or not).

England, meanwhile will be clear and hopeful that they have indeed closed The Gap, on the juggernaut-tastic visitors. This series has been close. However, just me, or is it mainly the old(er) guard who have again been largely responsible for the local’s gain? Sciver, Eccles, Wyatt, Knight. Goodish contributions from elsewhere but the Dunkleys/Capseys/Bells, whilst contributing, have not psurged to another level.

But that may be a) inevitable, or b) unnecessarily negative. We’re closer, man! Bell is growing; Capsey is at the right level. Dunkley may need a performance to underline last year’s emergence but she is under no immediate threat. For me, ways forward include dropping Amy Jones, giving Wong more opportunities and persisting. Resources of all kinds are in reasonable order. Continue the hard work to improve fielding and the up-skilling of ‘non-batters’. Do that thing where you both reinforce confidence and make clear that there are good players knocking at the door. This is international sport and the non-negotiables increase and expand month by month.

18.21. We still have a little light drizzle. I’m checking train timetables. You?

As I write that it’s re-brightened. The Lads are removing the cover pegs, meaning they expect to haul them off imminently. A nod towards the scoreboard confirms Australia are 20 runs behind, on DLS, as the covers do indeed disappear. (With that, stadium announcingment: 44 over game, re-starting at 18.50pm. I take a quick wander; still raining but maybe improving from behind the Abbey, which is where the weather’s been coming from).

Update: Aus will need 269 from the reduced game. (Pleasingly, somebody ballsed up the maths, first time around. #humantouch).

100 up, for the visitors (also pleasingly) smack on the 20 overs. Dean.

Foolishly the off-spinner concedes firstly a no-ball and then a 6, to Perry, who goes beyond 50, again, again. This batting pair of Perry and Mooney may be Australia’s Knight and Sciver-B. Worryingly. Cross is in from the Trescothick Pavilion End – meaning she has changed ends.

Unknowable if conditions are tougher, post the rain – nobody’s wiping the ball. Perry may argue that case; she is caught off a leading edge, by Capsey, at point. Cross the successful bowler. Gardner joins us: the Gardner/Mooney partnership could be Australia’s Knight/Sciver-B combo. (Lols).

Dean is getting some turn, to Gardner. Australia are 120 for 4, off 23.

Cross strikes again! Full, at Mooney, who can only drive to Ecclestone, at regulation mid-off. Comfortable catch, big wicket. 120 for 5 and advantage England.
Two new batters, with Sutherland joining Gardner. Impressive, classical straight drive for 4, from the former, to get off the mark. Still a touch of away-swing, for Cross. Against the wind. Knight doubles-up on pace: Bell. It may be irrelevant but Australia are almost 40 runs behind the DLS target.

Good energy from the kids in the ‘schools only’ stand. Every half-decent bit of fielding gets a generous roar. Stadium announcer confidently booms out the 38th contradictory runs total needed. *Imagines both dressing-rooms going WTF, loudly*…

Gardner may be rising. Strikes Bell majestically downtown. 6. Then cracks her square to the same conclusion. Then 4 more – last two were short and too close to the hip. 155 for 5 after 27. Some signs of nerves? Cross has just bowled a dreadful bouncer – wide! – and followed it up with something eminently cartable. (4). The bowler tries a slower one; it’s boomed past her left hand. Gardner is rising. But not.

Criminally (arguably), the Aussie star is run out, despite diving about forty feet: Wyatt typically bright in the field. Wareham joins Sutherland, who has 8. Gardner made a characteristically dynamic 41. Sciver-Brunt replaces Bell at the River End, then Ecclestone is in front of your Honourable Scribe. England going for the jugular?

30 overs. England significantly ahead, surely – because of those wickets? Australia 6-down, needing either 93 or 103, from 14, depending on the next announcement. But Sutherland and Wareham can play.

Review for a stumping. Sweeeet work, from Jones, as Wareham misses a wide one. Sciver-Brunt delighted and the crowd all over it. (They’re loving Wyatt’s work in the field, by the way; she is, after all, the World’s Best). Jonassen will come in, with work to do. Interesting change: Charlie Dean.

It works. A voluptuously loopy one castles Sutherland. Game over – with apologies to Alana King and Megan Schutt.

Be nice if Lauren Bell can grab a couple of late wickets. Wild swish from King offers some hope. Steepler… but where’s it going? Straight, straight up… and into the watchful Jones’s gloves. Nine down, 194 on the board. Start the car: Jonassen is tidy enough but this can’t last, can it?

No. Dean has been spinning it. She finds the outside edge and Jonassen is caught with ease, by Sciver-Brunt, at point. A deserved win for England, who get a lovely reception as they march off. Australia have retained the Ashes but *this has been a competitive series*.

The winning margin here in Taunton was 69 runs (DLS). Compelling rather than inviolably brilliant? Maybe. But it’s important that Australia, unchallenged for so long, feel the squeeze from some direction: the world game needs that.

India, are you now ready to step up?

Could be my End of Season. Thanks for supporting; until we meet again. 🙏🏼 🏏 💖

Wild is the Wind.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

So. Kate Cross. Who knew? Some of us. She can bat. Sometimes looks like she *just can’t*… but that’s a blip in confidence – something she often talks about, openly – and she generally gets past it. Kate can bat. And she can bowl. She’s one of the finest sights in cricket, running in powerfully and fluently; when that flow is really pumping.

Crossy got England home – or rather Knighty the Indomitable and Crossy got England home. In an epic of sorts; a tense, somehow mis-shapen kindofa game. Lowish or mixed quality, often. Australia subdued and/or just poor, by their richly-developed standards. England’s catching poor – where have we heard that before? – and then stumbling over that metaphorical line. A daft classic, probably heavily affected by a strong breeze across the ground, Ashes Pressure and a pitch that may have been a little two-paced. But a match that brings the series alive, watched by a generous crowd.

Here’s how it felt live:

Arrive elevenish. Covers being removed and the super-sopper slurping hard, removing whole lotta recent rainfall: weirdly, dumping some of it rather carelessly inside the boundary-rope. (Can only presume the grounds-guys know it’s going to drain efficiently enough, out there). By 11.30 it’s visibly brightening and the forecast of no interruptions to play looks viable. On a practical note, for the players, this has all meant there is less time than is customary for their extended warm-ups but I reckon this is maybe no bad thing. Days are too long, for me, generally – too many hours of draining concentration, not all of it necessary. Nets are being erected and coupla players out there wielding bats, come 11.40.

Am set up, as close as possible to my fave behind-the-bowler’s-arm berth. Beaumont is out there with a coach; she’s playing top-hand-only drives, into a net. Sudden, heavy squall and everybody scrambles. Unfortunate. Might slightly delay my wander around the boundary. Covers being hauled back out there.

Ten minute burst, then notable improvement. Off for a wander: may try to get something signed, as a memento/prize for a player in our pathway game on the weekend. (U10s v U11 girls). Dunkley out, swinging a bat. Dean having a kickabout. Will still be damp underfoot. Minor winge: apparently the doors to the Meedya Centre have to stay shut, meaning we can’t wander out onto the balcony. Real shame, as one of the pleasures and privileges of attending these games is that bit where you get to take in the atmosphere from outside, above some of the crowd. (I know; #firstworldproblems! A-and they were opened later).

Am always interested in the various drills and preparations. Gardner currently striking full-tosses, straight – cack-handed coach throwing medium-hard from twenty yards. Fifty yards away, Beaumont and Wyatt(?) are drilling half-volleys, either side of a similar net. Most of the England Posse out there, now. 12.05. Significantly brighter, now; looks fairly set.

12.33. The Toss. Aus win it and choose to bat. Conditions good, now – by which I mean bright with some cloud. Stiffish, variable breeze, ground drying quickly. They announce the wrong England team, in the stadium, to some consternation (and hilarity) in the Press Box. Looks like Wong and Filer not involved; they’re walking round the boundary and/or talking to Aussie mates. As is Dean. Knight, Sciver and Glenn are bowling in turn on one of the practice strips. The goddess that is Perry is having a committed throwdowns session immediately below us. Exaggerated, straight bat-swings. That breeze billowing her (short) shirtsleeves.

The kids have lined-up. It’s a little cloudier, as we approach the magic hour…

Healy and Litchfield will open for Australia. Kate Cross will bowl at them from the Ashley Down Road End. First ball is over-full and a little wide. Eased out to the extra boundary, by Healy. Then a real gift, as Cross offers a full-toss wide of leg-stump. Poor start but we have a review: yorker-length, straightish.

Funny old game: Cross off-kilter then nails the Aus skipper. 8 for 1 and enter Perry. She clips one away for a two. Last ball is a genuine away-swinger but is simply too wide. Mixed start, then, for Cross, but BIG WICKET. Bell will follow.

The tall right-hander will be shaping away from the left-handed Litchfield. Then *lots of stuff happens* – including a dropped chance behind – but the ****ing wifi has dropped-out, in sympathy. Not infuriating at all…

#carryonregardless…

Bell goes across Perry. Too much. Wide. The wind is ‘helping’ Bell’s inswinger, blowing left to right as I look at the bowler. Tough for Bell to get any joy with her slower-ball/leg-cutter variation and may just be that the inswing is happening frustratingly early-doors, helping the batter, because of that breeze. 23 for 1, Australia, after 4.

Cross is running in hard and with that pleasing, trademark flow but goes over-full again. Litchfield on-drives nicely. Bell continues to battle against the elements – another leg-side wide.

Two slips in for Litchfield, for Bell, because of that swing/breeze combo. Meaning 6-3 field. Changes to 5-4 (with second slip removed) for Perry. Sciver-Brunt in for Cross; ninth over. That slightly forced arm-pumping. Vertical hands. Perry pulls her around to about forty-five, *interesting* Beaumont. But it’s four – not without some risk. 46 for 1 after 9.

Bell will bowl a fifth: clocks 72 mph. Highish. Good crowd in.

Exquisite cover drive, from the left-hander. Real quality. Brings up the 50. She repeats… but the connection is nowhere near as clean. No matter: Ecclestone has rather feebly dived over it. To make matters worse, Bell goes too wide outside off then too comfortably at the pads: both balls carted to the rope. Bad wee spell, for England. 62 for 1, with Litchfield racing to 32 and Perry on 18. Sciver will come round.

Coo. Perry bunts straightish but within teasing distance of the diving fielder. Fingertips job. Then Litchfield drives Sciver-B at mid-off. Ecclestone is The Most Surprised Person in the Ground to see the ball pouched – ’twas above her head, arm fully extended. (A-and… we all love her… but she’s not a great athlete). Bargain. Except that brings Mooney to the crease… and she is arguably the world’s best. After Ecclestone has bowled the 14th, from the beneath the media centre, in bright sunshine, Australia sit at 74 for 2. Honours even; five an over?

Am interested in how wide (in the crease) lots of seamers are bowling, at left-handers. Sciver-B doing it now, to Mooney. Broad using that angle a lot, against Warner: wondering how stat-based that approach might be? Obviously it’s ‘match-up’ based – everything seems to be these days – but should it be the de rigeur method or a method of variation, I wonder? We have a break: 79 for 2 after 15. More of the playing-area in shade… and then not. Clouds hauling past in that breeze.

Testing delivery, speared in by Ecclestone is met with an exemplary straight drive. Four; Perry; in much the same way that she was practising, earlier. Gonna be a long day. And driving home straight after. Off out for some air and a wee break.

I’m *out there*, on the balcony, as Glenn drops Perry. It’s a poor error – from both, in fact. But that very same Glenn claims the Aussie icon, shortly afterwards. Perry has clubbed a few, highish on the bat and finally pays the price, caught Sciver-B, at mid-on. She’ll be furious; was cruising (largely), on 41.

England’s fielding has been ver-ry mixed. Several straightforward drops. (Like the blokes, as one of my twitterbuddies chirped). But it’s been notably, importantly below standard. Like the blokes.

McGrath has joined Mooney. Aus are 125 for 3 after 24. Glenn is in from Ashley Down. She also bowls from relatively wide, to the left-handed Mooney. Some would argue that the ball has to do more, from there.

Capsey, from the pavilion. Draws a leading edge from McGrath. She’s not going to spin it much, but has Mooney missing; stifled appeal.

Glenn as the skies brighten again, but paradoxically with the outfield darkened by cloud. Then immediately flooded with light. Is that making the catching difficult? Is the wind making everything difficult? It’s a factor.

Mooney takes Capsey up and over cover – steered, with care – for two. Both batters into the twenties in good time. Signs of intent from Mooney as she comes at Glenn twice in succession, but can’t connect materially. 141 for 3 on 29 overs; level fives – ish. This is probably okaay, for England; it’s certainly not intimidating or explosive – not yet.

*Moment*. McGrath plays inside a straight one, from Capsey. Bowled, for 24. Gardner – a worldie – joins Mooney. Glenn can’t keep the pressure on: drags down to Mooney and is dispatched to the legside rope. Capsey, meanwhile, is drawing errors. Gardner edges, but no dramas. Ecclestone will replace Glenn at Ashley Down. Mooney goes at her and lofts comfortably over extra for four. Not much in this, you sense, but the errors and catches dropped feel important.

Gardner is a player; she booms Capsey stylishly over mid-on but it plugs, rather, and the fielder can gather. Was just going to write that this has been a good spell, from the young offie but then she bowls a legside wide. (Has been encouraging, mind).

Australia need to get into Expansive Mode but tough to do that against Ecclestone. Gardner goes and profits. Key part of the match upcoming. Run-rate must be raised; wickets bring tension and ratchet down any momentum. Capsey persists. 6 overs, 1 for 22 is a creditable effort. Bell follows.

She goes outside leg stump but Mooney can only take the single, bringing her within touching distance of another 50. But drama interveneth. Bell is heaved up, from high on the bat, by a slightly cramped Gardner. Sciver-Brunt turns and races back. England’s best fielder – o-kaay, aside from Wyatt – takes a difficult catch, with arms outstretched. When Sutherland is comprehensively bowled for no score, England are (as the Aussies rather irritatingly say ‘up and about’. Fabulous moment for Bell, who does appear to be maturing nicely, now. She’s clearly being preferred to Wong… and this Main Strike Bowler role does bring some pressure. Not long ago she could kinda hide a little, behind Brunt K and Shrubsole.

Mooney gets through to her 50 off Capsey but Australia are 188 for 6. Heather Knight would take this.

Two lefties in, with Jonassen joining Mooney. Both hugely experienced. But the visitors are still marginally below that 5 an over thing as we enter the last 10. Poised, as they say. Bell slaps in the first sharpish bouncer: Mooney copes and the 200 is up.

That same batter strikes Capsey hard and clean, over mid-on – perhaps the first time anybody’s really got hold of the young bowler. Four.

Sciver-Brunt returns and we have an *almost*. Bell is well in the game as the shot comes at her. It drops awkwardly in front – close. A brilliant fielder might have taken it but the ball rattles between chest and ground; not out. Ecclestone will bowl the 44th from the Pavilion End. 214 for 6. Australia will want (or have wanted) nearer 270/80 than 250.

Knight has a challenge to squeeze this as hard as possible. Cross has been expensive: who’s gonna bowl ’em, other than Bell and Eccles? Sciver-Brunt is in. Those three will be the protagonists, no doubt.

Ecclestone to Jonassen; dot ball. Then single to long-off. Knight fizzes in a throw which hurts the bowler’s fingers, but makes a statement. Relatively quiet over. Bell, from Ashley Down. Brilliant running from the batters grabs an ambitious two.

Not sure if the fact that there have been a number of mishits – particularly those up towards the splice – is suggesting the pitch is a tad two-paced(?) Ecclestone won’t care: she’s just bowled Jonassen with one that turned significantly from out wide. Solid effort from the Aussie; she made 30. 240 for 7. Wareham is then rather fortunate to edge her first ball through the (absent) slips: four.

Mooney can only slug Bell for a single, first-up. And Wareham mis-times her pull. The trees towards Sefton Park are suggesting the wind may be increasing, if anything. 257 for 7 as we welcome Nat Sciver-Brunt back for the denouement. The light is as good as any time in the day. Maybe that helps Wyatt take Wareham’s clump out to the deep. But Wyatt takes most of them. 260 for 8 as Schutt faces another extravagant back-of-the-hand delivery from Sciver-B. Then another.

Innings closed on 263 for 8. Doesn’t feel over par, or un-gettable. But the dropped catches? Hmmm…

Brown will open to Beaumont. Off the hip for a single. And a no-ball. Dunkley profits from the free hit – four over cover. Then a wide, wide. Nine from the over; not great from Brown.

Perry will try to do better, from Ashley Down. She gets some swing, but it’s wide. Dunkley clatters it and mid-off misfields – four more. Again, it’s mixed and again we wonder what influence the wind is having. Two wides and a no-ball, from Perry. England are 20 for nought after 2 without hardly playing a shot!

Brown is bowling 74 mph but then bouncing too high. Wide. But Dunkley can’t connect at all with the stuff wide of off. She can, however just get something on a leg glance: four more.

Perry is slinging it almost everywhere but she has enough to trouble Dunkley. She bowls her, for 8. Capsey is in next; defends competently. It’s felt for some time that Perry has dropped down the pecking order both in terms of her bowling and her allegedly non-dynamic batting. She’s staying boldly full, here, as Cross did, on the edge of glory and the batter’s driving arc. Capsey gets one away, straight.

Beaumont seems strangely late on stuff. Almost castled. Then, slightly exasperated(?) she slashes and middles past extra. Hard. The next two balls are representative of what we’re seeing: first is edged past the keeper, the second is yet another wide. There have been 18 extras in the first 7 overs. It’s wildish – wildish in the wind – but England are notably up on the asking-rate. 69 for 1 off 8. Expecting a double-change from Australia. Here comes Schutt; the wind assisting that deadly inswinger.

Sutherland the next change. From Ashley Down. Capsey charges and gets two… and a free hit for the no-ball… from which she can’t profit. Then Beaumont absolutely thrashes a short, wide one through the covers. Australia in some bother, here. England are 84 for 1 after 10. The bowlers really can’t string more than two decent balls together. I might go outside and enjoy it for a bit… (cheesy grin emoji).

Three or four overs out there in the sun. Liking the crowd and Beaumont’s sudden explosion. But then she gets herself out to the worst ball in history (well, o-kaaaaay) and Aus may be back in it. But with England still above 8 an over… they shouldn’t be.

Capsey has bludgeoned a tremendous and tremendously bold six, off Schutt. Had to clear long-on; did. Now the skipper is in alongside her, with Sciver-Brunt to come, the home side are strong favourites. An England win here sends the proverbial message too: the message being ‘LOOK OUT!’ (Selfish though breaks through: might it be asking too much for Our Lot to brutally squish any resistance, storm to victory and thereby allow a certain medium-tired scribe to boot home at a reasonable hour?)

With that Capsey holes out.

That feels a little indulgent, in a sense but if Sciver-B goes on to dominate from here-on in in the way she can, then no issues. This is set up for Knight to bat through watchfully whilst S-B flashes *mindfully enough* to all parts. Sensible, Run-a-Ball Cricket would do it, from here. (But there are buts, right?) Howler, in the field gifts Sciver-Brunt a boundary. Thinks: what the hell are them Aussies doing, today?!?

Gardner may bring some Aussie-level quality. She has a BIG SHOUT, against Knight: the batter hit it. England are 128 for 3, after 18. So the run-rate has been throttled-back, somewhat.

S-B misses out on another poor, short delivery, from Wareham. It’s a quiet over – just the way Healy will want it. The slower bowling has definitely stilled the momentum. A reverse from Knight raises the crowd. Four.

Whisper it, maybe, but Sciver-Brunt has had a quiet series. Ditto Knight. They are both powerfully steadfast – can build. Is today the day?

S-B batters Jonassen to the square-leg fence. Her first shot of real violence. But utterly controlled. Like that, as did the crowd. 152 for 2 after 23. Still ahead.

Gardner draws a minor error from Knight – inside edge. But okay. And Jonassen gets some spin – almost unheard of. So these two batters must stay honest: for one thing there is the possible concern that beyond Wyatt, there is little to come. (Jones I habitually exclude, despite her ability. She is, in my view, concerningly prone to a pressure-induced scramble. Ecclestone is gutsy but clumsy, Glenn mixed but fairly untried, Cross can hold a bat but may not persist, and Bell is a bowler).

As Sciver-B has expired, reversing, we may get to see these various prejudices under Ashes conditions. Could be tense. Wyatt enters with England 163 for 4, and Knight on 16. Sciver-Brunt made 31. This is a ver-ry even contest, now. It may not, on reflection, be high on quality: could the drama yet compensate for that?

As we have further drinks, so the abacus is out. It’s only four and a bit per over that England need. So do the obvious. Play smart, careful cricket. Nothing needs to go above ground. Singles do it. Doubt it will be *that simple*. Schutt, from Ashley Down. Review, for a run-out. Now this would be craaaazy…

Not out.

Wyatt has certainly turned down the boom factor. Good. Wareham is on again from beneath us: think she’s bowled a lot of ordinary deliveries. The batters play tap-and-run – well. When the bowler over-pitches, Wyatt instinctively goes over extra, but with control; again taking the one. Sadly (for England) she can’t keep that discipline going.

Schutt is bowling very straight. Wyatt opens her body up to play inside-out and towards extra. Doesn’t get enough of it and it flies tamely to point. Unforced error. Brings Australia back into it. Jones must find something now.

Disproportionate roar as Knight finds the boundary, off Wareham. Then again as the 200-mark is breached. 64 needed, 90-odd balls to get them. Partnership imperative.

Knight (*fatal*) does seem to be seeing the ball better, now. More confident striking. Self-evidently, if both batters play within themselves, England should canter home. But there buts. Choice of bowlers and bowling changes critical, for Australia. Knight gets Schutt away to backward square: four.

Jones gifts her wicket. A-GAIN. (Those familiar with my views on this will… yaknow. Edited lowlights; I think she should have been dropped about three years ago). I am deeply unsurprised then, that Jones has biffed/miscued back to the bowler. Pressure back in the game. England are 203 for 6. 37 overs bowled. Knight has 43. Ecclestone.

McGrath rejoins us from Ashley Down. Knight takes the single – as does Ecclestone. Calmly. Twice.

*Absolute howler* in the field gifts Knight a boundary to midwicket. (Think it was Mooney again). Less than fifty needed. The England skipper gets to 50; HUGE in the context of this wildness and sloppiness. A further roar when Knight reverses Gardner for four more. Top player, top temperament.

Ecclestone is being commendably watchful. Gardner is testing her but the England spinner comes through. Now it will be Jonassen from in front of us. Single taken. Ecclestone goes hard across the line but connects well enough. Then the skip eases another nonchalant single.

Near-drama (is that a thing?) as Ecclestone slaps straight at mid-wicket, who threatens to make the grab at the second time of asking. But not quite. 227 for 6. 37 needed. More from Gardner. Wide ball!

Ecclestone is no batter. Otherwise I might be really angry that she JUST HOLED OUT ON THE BOUNDARY! Madness – but madness borne of pressure and lack of specific ability. She is no batter but IS the best bowler in the world. So forgiven. Meanwhile, the Ashes.

Sarah Glenn is pitched in there. She looks watchful against Gardner. 33 needed off 8 overs. So just over 4s.

Jonassen, from the pavilion. Good over. Healy has words for Gardner. Knight is facing. Ball is down leg, Knight reverses, clumsily. It’s safe. Unfortunately, Glenn can’t match that. Over-balancing a little, she drills at extra-cover. Caught. England are 235 for 8. They need 29, as Cross walks out there. A mis-field offers the one, but this will keep the incomer on strike. More Aussie conflabs, understandably.

Jonassen to Cross. The bowler cracks. Two poor balls, both short. Cross pulls one for four. Then when the ball is over-full, it’s dispatched genuinely splendidly straight for a crucial four. 20 needed. Gardner. Knight takes one. Cross does the same. The bowler changes the angle; comes around. KNIGHT HOISTS HER FOR SIX!! Bloo-deee Nor-ra!! 12 needed. Four overs remain. Proper tense, now.

Jonassen. Cross is making all the right moves. Fabulous in defence, pulling the marginally short one. Knight misses out, arguably, on a full-toss. But well bowled, Jonassen; just the two from the over. Ten required: HUGE CALL as Healy goes to Schutt – meaning more pace on the ball. Lights on and the ground in shade.

A single, ‘exposing’ Cross. She flips one over her left shoulder for four. Madness. Five needed. Schutt errs – too full. Cross classically booms her to the extra-cover boundary. One required. Extraordinarily, Cross follows a textbook forward defensive with a wildish swish, that almost offers a caught-and-bowled. Over to you, Knighty.

The captain slaps a full-toss out through the covers. Four. Job done.

Wow. A dramatic end… but what have we just seen? HUGE WIN, certainly, for England, re-balancing the Ashes series. Plus the moment Crossy crossed over into Free Beers for Life. Wonderfully, there are *warm hugs* between both sets of players and staff as they troop through the formalities. Great stuff, without the cricket being great stuff? Yeh. I’d go with that.

And talking of going. Longish journey and early start tomorrow.

Thankyou, as always, for your company.

Weaknesses.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Belief is HUGE, of course, but this isn’t just about belief.

‘Expressing yourself’, of course, is the aspiration but c’mon: saying that with little or no explanation or context is feeble, to the point of being meaningless.

The urge to entertain, is of course worthy, maybe particularly if you *really do believe* (as McCullum and Stokes just might), that it’s more important than winning.

Attacking or ‘being attacking’ is great. We all want to thrill people.

But there are buts. And those buts aren’t necessarily contingent upon the context and tradition of Test cricket, though of course this format *does have* particular, distinctive, possibly even special parameters. There is time; there is that different level of strategy, because of time/weather/the imperative towards resilience (over time) and the testing under pressure with tiredness and exposure. Mentality. Guts. Heart. Etc. Test cricket is kindof awesome…

But a note: few of us who would call out that England first innings as a kind of classic of Bazballtastic feebleness are doing so because of doe-eyed or rose-tinted nostalgia for Things Lost. We’re not delusionally adrift in our own memories. We are doing it because that baseball from Brooks, those errors from Root, Pope (and even Duckett and Stokes?) spoke to live, current falsehoods and weaknesses, not absence of ‘tradition’. We wonder who is taking responsibility?

Brooks got fifty but it at no stage did his approach look like it was working. At. No. Stage. He was exiting stage left in order to club tennis or baseball shots vaguely down the ground. Fine, if that works. It didn’t. He looked ungainly and frustrated as much as he looked ‘carefree’. (Carefree is closer to indulgence at this level, than is healthy. He didn’t look ‘liberated’; he looked like a bloke out of his depth – like a walking wicket). Given that Brooks is a prodigious talent, this felt wild and wasteful: and it plainly encouraged the opposition, particularly their quicks. It was also the opposite of entertaining, for England fans.

Not blaming Brooks. We can only conclude that he was given license, with that specific plan to step away and then clout, thereby disrupting the Aussies and scoring quickly. For most of us, the period had a high cringe factor and it didn’t work – obviously. (It was streaky and demoralising, surely?) The extended plan, to clatter short balls, was exposed to the point of embarrassment – that word again – as English batters went ludicrously and loosely aerial, rushing towards that inevitably dispiriting end-point. Brooks’s own mode of dismissal was every bit as shambolic (and irresponsible, and unwise?) as expected. Caught, slapping woefully.

McCullum and Stokes are better than my anger suggests to me. They are deeply and profoundly Macho Men but they do engage brains, too. I am confident they talk with both strategic brilliance and philosophical heft, to each other and to their players. And they are almost certainly rather wonderfully generous. Love that.

However, in private you do have to wonder if they do crank out the cliches about ‘playing without fear’ glibly and without qualification. How else are these tactical clangers persisting? Can it really be stubborn-ness? Or some sort of perverse siege-mentality? We’ve seen that often, in sporting environments.

Bazball needs qualification. This morning, England were neither ‘entertaining’ nor bright, nor even committed. In the particular, inescapable terms of Test cricket they were WEAK. Weak strategy, weak execution, weak in relation to smarts and resilience and intelligence. This capitulation was not worthier or more entertaining than a slow death.


Pic from The Guardian.

Last knockings?

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Could the New Regime, at England and Wales Women, really change something as BIG as the GAP? Has a goodish-but-also-mixed first four days set them up for a Grandstand Ashes Test Boomerang-of-a-finish? Or will the returning fate-weapon-thing merely clonk them, (England), in the face yet again?

Would Filer’s point-of-difference out-weigh and overcome Jones’s flaws-in-confidence and Knight’s tactical-personal mis-reads? Or would the Oz Juggernaut – allegedly driverless, in the absence of Meg Lanning – rumble on, relentlessly, making English selection and English Exceptionalism an irrelevance?

Most of these things I ignore, mindlessly, or barely note, in the LIVE BLOG extravaganza, below…

Wow. Gardner, in first, turns one several inches *the wrong way*. But then Wyatt eases one away for that medium-critical first run of the day. Then McGrath.

Australia are ahead, here, make no mistake. But they know that Wyatt can score quickly – is inclined to so – and that Cross is a) no mug and b) experienced. So Aussie fingers may begin to tingle, should England start brightly. Could be ver-ry exciting.

McGrath is looking a little tamely/lamely unthreatening: Gardner significantly less so. The tall seamer is floating down some fullish but hittable deliveries – some wide, some too straight. She’s helping Wyatt get her eye in. There’s a little swing for her but if the batters can remain truly watchful, she feels manageable. Early appeal from McGrath but the ball is missing by a mile: no review.

Wyatt robs a tip-it-and-run-style single. Aus simply not ready for it. Then a widish delivery is cut just forward of slip, by Cross. Ball after and she’s swinging too loosely: gets a fine nick into the hands of Healy. Cross had looked a little sloppy: faux-confidenty, perhaps? This was a sloppy dismissal. Could be vital because though Jones is a genuine bat, she has, extraordinarily often (or that’s how it feels), over a period of years, failed when the squeeze is on. She plays down the wrong line, first ball.

Gardner is a really good bowler – good player – on her game, now. Revs and loop on the ball. Historic, Five Day Test. She appears, rather predictably, to be relishing Crunch Time. Wyatt, in particular, has to respond.

Quite rightly, Healy has switched-out McGrath, for Garth. Change seemed right. Jones can barely lay a bat on the ball. England are stalling.

Wyatt steers one cutely and confidently through third (wo)man. Helpful riposte. She repeats, if anything with more gusto, but the fielder collects. Garth is getting a little shape through the air: if she was bringing more pace it might be troubling the batters, but as it is Wyatt can sit back a little and cut away, with that characteristically open face. 147 for 6. Jones plays across Gardner and is fortunate to get a wee tickle – otherwise plum. Then the batter ‘breaks out’ by lifting over cover, for four.

Think this may have been in quiet desperation as much as strategic: Jones does Scrambled Mind more than anybody in world cricket. As if to confirm, she misses the next ball (again) by a mile and she is stumped. It’s another shocker. The game may be gone: the rest may hit but can barely bat – Ecclestone included, and no blame attached. England’s indulgence towards Jones, over three years or so, when it’s seemed clear that her mentality is simply not that of a top-line international, has again come back to haunt them. England may yet win it, of course, if Wyatt can stay cute and Ecclestone can club away long enough. But The Ashes may actually be disappearing already.

(Understand we’re in dangerous territory, talking about people’s mentality. But in Jones’s case it’s been obvious for some time that she lacks the necessary playing resilience for an England player. She can play, alright, but gets more painfully poor dismissals at key times than any other player that comes to mind: so she’s in for her keeping. But her period of grace and good fortune – presumably because the selectors have been unconvinced by any of her rivals – has been absurdly long. Make the change. Make a change. Leave her our; let her unscramble – or not. This should be a competitive business – is a competitive business).

Gardner, meanwhile, is ramping up the pressure with some skill. Flight… and dip… and turn. Nothing outrageous, but good, challenging stuff. Ecclestone just about coming through.

Garth drops short but the ball swings notably – away from Ecclestone. She toe-ends it towards midwicket. Wyatt moves on to 45 with a squarish push. Australia need three wickets to win this.

Ecclestone was a club-clubber of a batter, not too long ago. Everything heaved. But she’s plainly worked admirably hard to straighten things out a little, on the batting front. Now she has moments when she looks both resilient and competent. She is keeping out a decent yorker, from the returning McGrath. The off-cutter defeats her, but strikes pad highish, and is missing. Throughout, the England spinner – the Best Spinner in World Cricket? – is looking gutsy and determined. (I’m afraid Jones has rarely, if ever, looked gutsy and determined)…

Another delivery dies in the pitch. Wyatt, alarmed but watchful, drops the bat on it. Gardner (did I mention?) has a deserved fife-fer but Ecclestone clumps her with no little style, through extra, for four. England are 167 for 7, needing 101 to win.

Quite like the look of Wyatt. Calmish. Steering rather than hitting. And Ecclestone is visibly digging in. So despite the visitor’s obvious advantage, Hope is not yet lost, entirely, for Heather Knight’s Posse. But Australia are grinding this out, as they do: and there is only Bell and Filer to come. Wyatt gets a maiden fifty (weirdly) on her Test debut (weirdly-but-yeh; get that).

It’s a lovely day, at Trent Bridge. Some breeze but fulsome sunshine. Ecclestone celebrates by sweeping to the boundary. Wyatt is again watchful; playing straight to another full one, from McGrath, who has the freedom to go boldly. Most deliveries are *right up there* – and hitting.

The exemplary Butcher, on comms, does a wee piece on England’s strategy against Gardner. In short, nobody has played with the spin at all. Extraordinary. Moments later, Ecclestone tries to play to square leg: Gardner has come around. The batter misses. Plum. Decent effort, from both spinners, in fact. The Aussie has a six-fer. Enter Filer, with 90 needed and just Bell remaining. Start the car?

Filer defends three goodish balls quite well. When McGrath comes in to Wyatt, her expansive clip to cover may suggest she thinks she has to counter. Filer then keeps out a peach of an inswinger: and again. This kid looks like she has something. Temperament.

The match situation is BIG, already. If Australia win this Test then because of the mechanics of the points system and the Aussies possession of the Ashes, England have to win almost everything. Ah. Filer’s briefish resistance is done. A straight one from Gardner proves too good. Bell strides out.

Wyatt goes for a voluptuous sweep, against the same bowler. Given. Out. Australia are the deserved winners, again. Ash Gardner has an eight-fer; she’s understandably thrilled.

From an England point of view, there are a few positives. Filer’s bowling. Ecclestone’s bowling. Tammy Beaumont going huge. But they have been sloppy or worse at important times… and perhaps this is the key? Australia have not been flawless but they have a strong tendency to recover, should they lose a session or find themselves under the proverbial cosh. They are champions, mentality-wise and this means they execute; almost always.

I suspect that England are not far behind in terms of talent but the brutal truth is that Jones should have been out of this side for about two years and other individuals have not risen to their moment. I personally doubt that Dunkley is a Test cricketer but her time may come – England’s time may come – in the shorter formats. The white-ball game diminution-imperative, in terms of stickability, quality(?), consistency, in favour of urgency and physical heft, may yet work to England’s advantage: we’ll see. But there’s an argument here that the widely-reported gap between these two sides remains.

Pic from Radio Times.

I did warn you.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Tea, day 2. England are 503 for 2, leading by 331. The stallholders, barmen, security staff and grandees of the Home of Cricket have been charging the home balcony to plead the case for spinning this out, somehow, into day 4. Livelihoods depend on it. Relationships depend upon it. The ice cream parlours within the postcode depend upon it. ‘Steady on, Stokesy! Get the lads some batting practice – bring back Trotty or David Steele or somebody. Get Broady to extend his run. Get Stop Oil in to cause a ruckus. Just give us a fekkin’ fourth day!’

I did warn you. (Read yesterday’s post). Ireland had to do lots of stuff *ahead of* going after wide balls or ‘trying to be positive, form the get-go’. Firstly, probably, they had to be aware that – despite what the sports psychologist & the coach might have been saying – they had to give themselves some kindofa chance… by staying in the game. Priority Number One.

Instead, two or three of their better batters took on minor risks and paid a high price.

A brutalist view might be that the game was dead by lunch yesterday. And therefore England’s jolly romp (and Ireland’s wilting in the field) – whether that be through nerves, poor execution, or just the inevitable consequence of a strongish, in-form side meeting opposition of manifestly lower quality – has been a result of seemingly inconsequential, seemingly minor errors of choice. Cross-bats, slightly lazy movement, or unwise advances. (Bye lads. 20-odd for 3).

Now, live, Pope has smashed a six to get to the fastest double-ton by anyone, in England. Before dancing down and getting stumped; bringing the declaration, at 524 for 4. Meaning up to 30 overs of Broad, Potts and Tongue, tonight. It may well be thrilling – possibly even for the fans in green. But such is the squishtastic England advantage, any kind of restorative rearguard action from Ireland feels deeply unlikely. Sadly.

Broad starts with a maiden. No hooping; no real alarms. Then Potts.
Moor and McCollum are out there, trying to be grittier and doughtier than very gritty, doughty things. If you can separate things out, you might think that conditions are goodish, for batters. Lush sunshine, ball initially doing bugger all, pressure (bizarrely?) more off than on them. (The game IS dead, surely?) But clarity and separation and cool, cool-headed-ness are hard to find, eh?


Potts bowls an absolute peach for no luck. Then immediately McCollum whips to leg and misses. Concerning. Full enough and straightish but nipping too much. The Durham quick looks robust, skillful, sharpish: is he top, top level? (I mean in international terms?) Not convinced – but do like him. Time and opportunity will tell.

Moor is extravagantly ‘textbook’, in defence, to Broad. Good. Head, elbow, eyes. Forward when he can. McCollum follows the pattern, to Potts. Good. Some nip, for the bowler’s off-cutter; possibly tailing in, too. The openers reeking of watchfulness, encouragingly. McCollum breaks out when Potts offers a smidge of width – four. 16 for 0.

Enter Tongue, who gets Moor with his very first ball of the day: his pace telling. Maiden scalp for the bowler, who went well for no reward yesterday. Moor was late on it, but the speedo-thing is suggesting 82, only. Felt quicker to this viewer and was too sharp for the batsman.

Balbirnie, on a pair, drives Tongue smoothly enough… but then the Irish skipper gets a top edge to one and Bairstow can pouch. Two wickets in the over and a further sharp intake of breath for the Irish. They may not share the sense that the young quick *may have earned that*, with yesterday’s debut performance. They may just be crapping themselves.

A second look at that Balbirnie dismissal confirms the presence of what the pundits often call brain-fade. It was – for him, a seasoned international player – a bloody disgrace. Weak, lazy, glazed-over-eyes job. Unedifying.

If this was Newcastle or Arsenal, you might suspect that McCollum’s susbsequent, protracted injury was tactical. After all, Ireland need to ‘break up the game’ – ideally for about another 30 hours. But the poor bloke has twisted and fallen at the crease and is clearly in pain. We do lose ten minutes or so, before Stirling is whirling his arms at the crease. Tongue is fired-up and at him, slapping it in and drawing some cut from the pitch. Smothered. Ireland are 28 for 2 after 10 overs. With McCollum crocked.

Stirling is getting his eye in. Clubs Potts compellingly and boldly through the covers. He has 9 from 9, which is his way. He eases Tongue through point then takes on the pull next ball. Mis-times but no dramas. Drinks, a handful of minutes after that prolonged stoppage… in which everybody who needed one probably had a drink.

Leach will join us. Spearing with some purpose, again. Yet another good shout, from Stokes, you sense. Just looking to challenge, or re-challenge, at the right moment: spacing those changes immaculately. Leach rarely really turns it, we know that, but he’s extending that loop again, to get the ball right into the toes, or under the bat.

Tector, from nowhere, has had a thrash at Tongue. It goes for six, but heralds some testing short stuff. 58 for 2, Ireland. Big appeal, from Leach… but he will not push for the review: begging the question. Tector is notably fuller with his batswing, but mixing that with legitimate resolution. (Not sure the fella can bat, mind). 🙃

Bairstow and Tongue seem clear. Stirling has clipped it as the ball passes across his ribcage. Is it glove? It is. Gone for 15. 63 for 3. Tucker is welcomed by a real nasty one: Tongue, who now has three wickets, bending and slamming. Helmet. That’s an ugly, scary way to start your knock. Another interlude – understandably. Unfortunately for the newcomer to the crease, this will only encourage the chin-music.

Dreadful ball from Leach gifts Tucker a way in. Four to the leg boundary. Silly mid-off in, and slip. Lovely, evening light; rich shadows. Tector has battled to 23.
Tongue has three men back. Bowling about 84mph. Strikes me that though his movement has looked a tad restricted, Bairstow’s keeping has been good. Lot of leg-side takes as the quicks slap it in.

Leach has bowled one or two – and therefore one or two too many – gimmes, wide of leg stump. He concedes another boundary. Meanwhile Tongue has bowled eight overs ‘straight’, but this period has included those two breaks. Solid effort from the young fella. Has 3 for 27: looks bit tired, as he retreats to the boundary.

Finally, Leach rips one past the bat: Tucker helpless. Will we see late drama? Maybe. Broad is wheeling away, prompting knowing nods and approving gestures in the crowd. Here he comes. A thoughtful twiddle of the headband and he will come round, to Tector. Legside field. Highish percentage of bluff?

Two short ones, one duck from the batter. Then variable bounce becomes a factor – mishits or airshots. But no dramas. Two no-balls in the over as the old warhorse charges.

Things almost quieten. But then (of course) Broad makes something happen. Short ball, looks to have struck glove. But no. Chest: as you were. Tector can even respond with a smart pull, middled, to the boundary. 92 for 3, with the last over of the day approaching.

Leach is in again, bodies around the bat. Legstump line, by accident or design. Probing, but Tector and Tucker have manfully seen this out, with Ireland 97 for 3 at the close.

Decent and important effort from the surviving batters; just the small matter of 255 runs to find. With some luck we’ll see a meaningful lump of cricket on the morrow. Or, perhaps more exactly, the visitors might claw themselves towards respectability and extend the game-time. There is some value in that.

We are the crowds.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Life can be traumatic; we know this. Real Life and when we play.

Often, in the latter, we get sucked in to ‘traumas’ and ‘dramas’ that are so patently manufactured or disproportionate that we should be bloody embarrassed, yes? But hang on. Describing or critiquing levels of authenticity and place and value, as though there’s some hierarchy or league table of meaning? Na. We’re neck-deep in the febrile and the tribal, even us brainy-bums. We’re not gonna escape into clear philosophical waters – not whilst we’re bawling at the telly, coz those footballers are cheating.

It may be true that somehow the universe is conspiring more than ever towards some swamptastic mania, or that we’re falling into it more readily, but perhaps that suspicion is more revealing of my own relative superannuation, than any quantifiable truth? (You Statspeeps, am I right? Can we measure this out? Do ‘socials’ and the surge towards intense, short, highly-colo(u)rific events sling us with developing and increasingly irresistible force into the whirl? Are they doing it more than before? Is everything about lust and intoxication – was it always? Or am becoming a Daft Old Sod?)

Flitting between screens and sports over recent days, it strikes me that the roaring at Elland Road and Goodison, the insane closeness of mountain-stage fans at the Giro and the parallel, if changeful calm at many cricket grounds is an absolute wonder, in its breadth and its signalling of the human condition. We are mad. We are both unhinged from the actual sport and inseparable, just tossed into a capricious mind-stew. We are watchful and equitable and off our heads. We can judge with either crystalline brilliance or the feeblest and most outrageous dishonesty, the shift of a hand or foot. Depends whose team. Depends which player. Depends how many sherberts.

Everton, Leeds, Forest fans. Mad as a box of frogs – and also wonderful. But seething and on the edge, with that rather disturbing sense that they want something to hate. (That’s a bit dark, yes? Sits quite close to the fear that violence may erupt). On the footie scene, was it just me, or, at this season’s end, were there more players and managers conspicuously whipping up the crowd? Sure that’s part of the theatre but… is it a thin bit, a look-at-me bit, or something more unhelpful? Get that it’s inevitably of the now but is This Frenzy a concern – or when is it a concern?

Many of you will know that I have worked in cricket, for years, as a coach. And that I follow the game – in particular England and Wales Women. I’m fascinated by the contraflows around that whole ‘traditional’ cricket narrative and the epoch-changing turbulence currently turning the game upside-down. Again the richness is extraordinary. Go to a well-supported county game at Taunton or The Oval or Headingley and soak up that restful vibe. Check out Glos v Glam, in the Blast, on the live feed. All will be well, in the moment. But wow, behind the scenes…

The times are impacting. Politics, economics, changing fashions, greed and maladministration internationally are impacting – or have. The madness and short-sightedness of (Indocentric), 21st century capitalism is of course the particular and extraordinary context. Some would say that big-money corporatism has replaced glacial imperialism as the controlling force, and that national and county or regional boards have been sucked-in or squished, in the race to provide sexier fayre.

Plainly, in the UK, the fabulous mix of Old Money, ‘traditional support’, exclusion, inclusion and the mass of what I’m going to call *actual cricket-watchers* has been (as they euphemistically say) challenged by the bolt into newness. Things are complex but also heartfelt – so simple. Most County Cricket fans are deeply insulted by the fact of and manner in which the Hundred was parachuted-in. They find the gaudiness offensive, the PR insulting and believe it was part of a plan to slim-down the Counties, by making the Blast non-viable. They think the ECB were suckered or bundled into changes which ticked boxes but utterly disrespected those who most obviously, in their view love and support the game.

The counter-arguments are that a) change had to happen because (for example) the County Championship (and therefore the Counties) is/are not sustainable and b) cricket must grow and find a new audience. In simple terms, not enough people go to watch Four Day Cricket and the game needs re-invigorating, to draw in a further wedge of TV money.

Few of us would argue that the status quo was entirely fit for purpose, pre- the Hundred, but this not the same as backing it. (Of course we live in our own bubbles but a strong majority of the Cricket People I know think it was not just divisive but flat unnecessary… because the Blast was improving and improvable at massively lower cost, both in terms of cash and goodwill). I would also place myself in the admittedly lower percentage of people dismissing the idea of growth itself. Growth in terms of inclusion – yes, absolutely. But think it’s unrealistic and unnecessary to think in terms of a HUGE GAME. Enough can be enough – not to exclude folks – but because cricket might just always have a lower profile than football. And that might be ok: make the game better, not necessarily bigger.

It’s possible that some of those who voted in the Hundred genuinely want more diverse and younger audiences for cricket, because they feel that is right, as well as smart. It’s possible that some just fell for an attractive power-point. Either way, it was a big moment; one that has not, because of the explosion in international franchise or short-format cricket, secured the future of the game. Far from it. The wider game – the world-wide game – has lurched into another crisis. Everybody wants to own, run, or play in an IPL.

The Indian Premier League is The Beast. Now featuring a women’s tournament, its seemingly undeniable clout and import have sent cricket somewhere else entirely. The money – because of the massive Indian cricket audience, largely – is colossal and life-changing, for players. Revenue from TV and advertising is stupendous. Owners and broadcasters relentlessly ladle on the noise and the colour. It’s febrile; appropriate to the age; possibly defining it.

This affects all of us in cricket. The young players on our pathways are aware of it, administrators the world over are trying to replicate it or ‘factor it in’ – whether that be to corporate planning or junior training. Elite players are right now deciding whether to go all in on ‘franchise opportunities’, ‘stay loyal’ to their national sides, or maybe burn out, trying to do the lot. Heads are being turned, by the numbers, the dancing girls and the dosh. It’s baseballification-plus, with different-level money.

We’re all different and all the same: rubbing shoulders, raising a holler. Being part of the tribe. It’s magic; it’s scary; it’s dumb; it’s wonderful. We all do it, and we sportsfolks do it compulsively. We ‘go ballistic’. It may even be a necessary part of the congenital daft-punkism that drives all games and supporters: essential to the energy and the craic. (And by the way surely something in that fervour drives performance – maybe as much as the eight zillion hours of practice?) I love the crazy difference between Evertonians and Glamorgan Travellers. I love that we both lose ourselves and yet we also have the power. Because we are the crowds.

Pic from Danehouse/Getty Images.