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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.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

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.

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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.

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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.