India calling. Loudly.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

So cricket then. And women. Women finally getting Kraazy Kapitalism’s blessing, in the form of lorryloads of lakh. The blessing and the obscenity that is an explosion of crore… and all the game-changing and life-changing stuff around that.

India – all-powerful in those fuggy committee rooms – has pressed ‘detonate’. The neon, the napalm, the jazzed-up slave-market bidding-war boogaboog is ON. The Frenzy has leaked across to the Women’s Game. Shafali Verma can buy Guadeloupe. Nat Sciver can buy Andorra. Ebs is out of retirement. March.

Of course much of this is wonderful. Elite cricket for women has been surging for years, ahead of  the typically tepid investment, (but) most obviously/and/or pretty much exclusively in Australia and England. Even India, until very recently, has felt adrift, as though unable to cut through the raw sexism and superannuated conservatism of The Authorities. Outside of those Big Three, the environment, resources and playing standards may have been building, in some cases nobly or thrillingly, but flickering; developments of every sort were stymied by a lack of support.

Often this felt willful; that is, a ‘natural extension’ of #everydaysexism. Despite it being common knowledge in Cricket Development (and beyond!) that the female universe was ABSOLUTELY THE PLACE for growth and investment, *somehow* this rarely translated into anything approaching equity, in terms of opportunity, pathway progression or a viable career. (Plainly this is still the case, in many ‘cricket-playing countries’).

It’s got better. Australia have led the way, ‘morally’, strategically and in respect of playing standards. England have followed. Now the TV-sales-rights-thing for the Women’s Premier League – in India, yes? – plus the cost of the *actual teams* means there is a previously unthinkably Giant Wedge allocated towards the game.

Interestingly, I note that Arjun Sengupta in the Indian Express is reporting that because the WPL salary cap is relatively low – at Rs 12 crore – the players, despite obviously getting waaaay more than they are used to, will get a smallish percentage of the revenue accrued. This is not necessarily a male/female issue: the IPL players – that is, the blokes, salary cap 95 crores – are believed to receive about 22% of the overall revenue. For comparison, NBL stars get 50%, NFL players 48% and god knows what Premier League footballers get, because there is no wage cap in the Beautiful Game.

In short, cricket, quite possibly because there are effectively no unions – or no effective unions? – underpays generally, compared to other leading sports. I wonder how long this will continue?

 *Puts call in, to Mick Lynch*.

But back to the clear positives. This is a massive incentive for women’s cricket. It’s historic. It’s a statement from which huge philosophical and political developments might spring. The value of things has shifted. Possibilities have opened up, in and beyond what happens on the pitch.

I imagine the likes of Heather Knight (hopefully) and Danni Wyatt and Issy Wong (certainly), will be tingling at the financial implications, feeling somewhat suddenly blessed *and yet* bearing some awareness of the responsibilities ahead. They may well still be trailblazers, of a sort – women exposed to a higher peak, a lusher, wider, more colorific screen. Let’s hope they enjoy it in every sense.

                                                                           *

That whole concept of ‘deserving’ is a conflicted, spurious beast, eh? But Knight has been a genuinely brilliant (England) captain and player for a decade or more. Wyatt similar. These women have been driving and ‘starring’ for their regional or international teams without, frankly, much reward or much of an audience as their cricket transitioned painfully slowly towards Real Professionalism. That may be changing – has changed – but of course it’s the New Generation – the Capseys, the Wongs, the Bells, the Charlie Deans – who will be alighting into this transformed landscape.

(If selected), I’m pretty sure they will be thinking of Brunt, Shrubsole, Sarah Taylor and the like, as they run out into the roar, at Bengaluru. For them – and for the wider women’s game – there will surely be a palpable sense of arrival?

                                                                                *

But where does this leave a) red-ball cricket… and b) the international game?

We can’t pretend there will be no implications.

In truth, we don’t know yet, whether the lurch towards Big Money Tournaments and their expansion around the globe will shred traditional formats. Plenty fear that.

Plenty of players talk a good game about recognizing Test Cricket as ‘the pinnacle’ but it’s not just an increasingly rammed schedule that seems likely to complicate matters here. Money chunters loudly, and whether we choose to couch that as players ‘seeking security’ or players being greedy or disloyal matters little to the net effect. Player A – who can get a gig in two or three out of the IPL/Big Bash/Hundred/the new South African Wotsit – may not need to even contemplate either any longer format cricket or the international game. At all. You might need a County or Regional Side of some sort to kick-start your career but… after that? P’raps not.

The raw truth of it is that as of NOW, professional cricket players (at the elite level) can choose to make a good living by hot-footing around the New Events. Most will know they can make a whole lot more moolah as a ‘hired gun’ than as ‘an honest County pro’ at Leicester or Glammy.

Culture and tradition can either be vital, or completely bypassed. There are New Choices. Doesn’t matter if I (for example) *kinda rate* the IPL but never watch it – and don’t, for tribal reasons, give a toss for Rajasthan Whatevers – because (for example) my son’s all over it. It’s MASSIVE. So the Very Best Short Format Players can feast on it, without me, or you, or what we might call the traditional audience. Their choice – and no problem.

It barely matters that the various other monster gigs are currently lower-profile than the IPL/WPL. They’re still big enough. They compensate well. The number of options (for explosive/dynamic types) is increasing. So this moment of incredi-boom is become, also, a moment of existential crises: what is right? What is sustainable? Are there not – yaknow – too many? How the hell do we manage this?

                                                                               *

Test Cricket takes time. It takes a particular kind of preparation. It implies a particular kind of understanding and investment (not necessarily financial, but that, too) from supporter… and governing body… and player. Can Test Cricket be, or where can it be, amidst the New Schedule? And who gets to design that schedule? What freedoms or responsibilities or contracts will players typically have? Utterly individual, to accommodate everything? And what about four day cricket? Will the Hundred kill off County Cricket – was it covertly designed to? If you’re not a Hundred venue, how do you recruit players/stay afloat, when the circus calls ever more loudly and more often?

Ultimately, how many players will want to be County Cricketers, or even England cricketers, if Route A to security/fame/glory/razzamatazz is making that inessential… or possibly irrelevant? How many are better-suited, in every way, to gallivanting and booming?

I love that Sophie Ecclestone is going to be rich. She’s a fabulous, hard-working cricketer. It’s wonderful, but not straightforward, that the universe may be offering playing opportunities denied to Ebony R-B, Isa Guha or even Katherine Brunt. Whilst it feels overwhelming likely that Ecclestone (and her rough-equivalent megastar, Buttler) wants to and will continue to play for England, extravagant new choices are emerging. And where you have choices… and Big Decisions… you have consequences.

Special.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Go elsewhere for the 5 Moments of Greatest Garethness or the 5 Whitchurch Women Who Withered, Unwanted. For the goss and the factoids, go elsewhere. We’re gonna talk about poetry. Bale the Blistering Wingman of Doom; Bale the Arch-archer of Dead-Ball Wizardry. Gareth the Flier and Gossamer Druid.

He raced in to our lives and lifted the sport and the bloody, blood-red country. More direct, more threatening and winningly more committed to the cause than Giggs, Bale really did seem to ooze Welshness; it was inseparable from his outsize talent, bleeding across a series of developing Red Armies until a Qatar seemed inevitable. And he did it all crocked.

Isolate a few goals – haring down the wing for Tottenham/clubbing obscenely overhead, for Real – and you may have the sense of the generationally-spectacular talent: but there will always be a tension in the wider world around the Bale Enigma thing. By its nature it’s probably unresolvable but that won’t stop the lads on TalkBollocksFM blathering, between farts…

  • How crocked was he, for how long?
  • When did he know he would have to ‘manage his way’ through?
  • (Or) was he just one of those blokes with a lowish pain-threshold?

Not sure many Wales fans were asking or will ask these questions but…

  • Why did the Real die-hards hate him – did he really spend most of his life on the golf course?
  • Was he really such an Ex-Pat Air-head that he failed, over all that time, to join in?

Minor fascinations for some. Much of the evidence for his relationships with colleagues points to a good, funny, humble bloke. So an admittedly weird mix of convivial laddishness and excommunication. It’s feasible Bale was both chirpy and ‘quiet’. Certainly he was a low-octane captain for his country, sure enough or quiet enough to single out his moments of import or intervention *at interval*. Meaning he neither blazed nor bawled: he was a god of stealth and inspiration.

Wales has felt blessed to carry him and Bale, wonderfully, has deeply understood and reciprocated. He’s poured what he had back into the surge towards legitimacy. For aeons, the national side simply had no players, or so few that even the crackle and hwyl of their honesty and pride would not, could not get them to the tournaments that mattered. Not quite. Then Bale and Ramsey found themselves amongst a matrix of goodish, competitive individuals. Yes they still had to punch above but the squad could hold their own… and wait for one of those moments.

Gareth Bale provided and kept on doing it. ‘Til the good folks of Abertillery and Aberaeron could finally stop talking about ’58.

If we say little about Qatar it’s because Wales plainly underperformed. The skipper himself was peripheral; unable to string things together, never mind electrify the campaign in the way he and His Country had hoped. But Gareth Bale had already passed into legend – in that sense his work was done. He was bard-like, he was totemic, he was a real Prince of the People already.

Some of us said (and wrote), immediately after the tournament exit that the lad from Whitchurch Comp should call it a day – that it was right and that he deserved to stop. Enough of that nursing.

Feels good that he’s listened. He’s been special.

sportslaureate.co.uk 2022 Review.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Wow. Best part of 30 posts, on the site and all but four on cricket. I suppose that’s the legacy of a worldview targeting my former Cricket Man audience. (For newbies, I was @cricketmanwales and cricketmanwales.com for some years, before I decided to freshen this baybee up and use the sportslaureate appendage. I am still proud to work on the Cricket Wales Pathway, as a coach, but may be preparing the ground – honestly dunno – for a combination-thing with bowlingatvincent.com sometime in the future). Anyways. Twenty posts on women’s cricket: perversely proud of that.

Let’s blaze through the oddities. Two posts on important, interesting and influential cricket books – ‘Hitting Against the Spin’ and ‘Different Class’. (Buy and read: simple). The annual (blokes’) Finals Day pilgrimage. An appreciation of Phil Bennett. And four posts on England in Qatar and one on Lionesses v Sweden.

The year started, perhaps appropriately, with something on Bairstow:

Is there also a sense that, being drawn to drama, Bairstow’s juices simply don’t always flow? That he responds to situations which demand heroics? Despite being plainly a mentally and physically tough guy, his contributions seem fickle – less reliable than his personality and grit and gifts would suggest.

If we squint at the notion of the Year As A Whole, somehow Jonny B has retreated into the steamy-glorious wake of Stokes and McCullum.. but this absolute Yorkie, this ‘broad, bellowing, beautiful battler‘ owned, or should own a powerful chunk of our sporting memories.

Because of my traditional support of women’s international cricket, the Hand Grenade of Lurv that Stokes and McCullum have rolled under Test Cricket is woefully under-represented. In Worthy Winners, (December), I do finally capture something of the generosity and yes, wonder implicit in England’s lurch towards fearlessness and out-living.

I may need a month away somewhere exotic, or a pint of poteen, or a long, deep sleep. To find the words, the New Superlatives. But there’s that over-riding urge, is there not, to record it now – the thrill, the love, the stand-up-and-raise-the-rafters-ness? Stokes. Anderson. Robinson. Bazza. And a Great Moment in Sport.

This was Rawalpindi but it could have been every time England stepped on the park. It was a travesty of some magnitude that Stokes didn’t gather-in the BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year Award: he certainly gets mine.

My broad choice to deliberately shun men’s cricket in favour of Knight, Sciver and co weakened at two further points. I was there, in Bristol, when things got ‘obscene’ to the tune of 234 in twenty overs and wrote on arguably the sporting performance of the year, when Buttler and Hales carted India into history, in that World Cup semi.

At Gloucester County Cricket Club – or whatever we’re supposed to call it – I went live, as per, as England went ballistic. (Brizzle again. With the blokes – July). But looking back I find I still found the moment to *comment more widely*…

To my right, the recently-retired-into-a-job-on-telly Eoin Morgan, in a very Eoin Morgan jumper – beige/faun, v-neck, politely inoffensive – is with the A-listers Butcher and Ward. Doing his Mr Clean-but-bright thing. No sound on our monitor so can only imagine the chat is high level; usually is with those gents. Life been busy so banging in the coffees. 18.18.

I was working when Buttler and Hales did their utterly remarkable job on India, but scuttled back to – theoretically at least – offer reasoned and informed views. (Can’t wait. November).

About noon. Seen six minutes of highlights so this qualifies me. I can blast away, like Hales and Buttler, confident in the knowledge that my opining is shining and query-proof. Especially as you lot can’t be arsed (allegedly) to think beyond counter-bawls, which don’t count, or only count on the Twitters.

Glad I subconsciously cross-referenced (that’s a thing, right?) the Hales-Morgan divide, during these streams of erm, reportage.

But The Women.

Have moaned a little, over the years, about the lack of support and appreciation for women’s sport generally, and particularly within the field I choose to follow. The BIGGEST, MOST WUNNERFUL THING, in 2022, is/was, of course, the now undeniable surge in quality/exposure and therefore support for female sport. Think England Lionesses – but also the stunning improvements in the WSL – and think cricket.

Australia are streets ahead, still, but England are and have been for some time the #bestteamintheworldthatisntAustralia. For me the Hundred has been only a bit-player in this – but I’m not going to get drawn into that, for now. The ginormous and healthy and fabulously watchable upswing in women’s elite and international cricket has been building relatively unseen, for years but finally, despite continuing, glaring omissions, is (relatively), crucially visible. Folks can see that Wong is a thriller and that Ecclestone a genuine worldie.

The noble (and prickly, and fire-breathing) work of Brunt has earned this. (Not just her, plainly, but Brunty is my Goddess of Wall-dismantleage). Skills and agility and power and pace and inge-bloody-nuity have boomed. Despite poorish crowds and poorish money. Heather Knight has grown from Arch-typically Doughty England Skipper into a great, consistent, sometimes expansive bat. It’s worth paying the entry money to see Villiers throw.

I went to the single Test, in Taunton. (Eng SA, July). It was rain-affected but it mattered. For one thing this is a matter of respect (yes?) For another, as England enter the post Brunt & Shrubsole era, the universe is calling for bonafide, legitimate, ‘saleable’ stars.

Wong is bowling 70-plus. Legitimate bouncer. Then oooff. She bowls Wolvaardt – arguably South Africa’s key bat. Full and straight, didn’t appear do do a huge amount but clattered into the off-stump. Big Moment for Wong and for the game – she looks suitably pumped.

Issy Wong is ready – and more. She can carry the exposure, the hope, the drama. Wong is raw and waggish (in the good way): she’s a talent and a laff and she can hoop the ball around thrillingly. If the world needs fast bowlers (and my god it does!) and ‘characters’ (and my god it does!) Ms I.E.C.M. Wong is the dude. Or duchess. Or star we all need. Seriously; the emergence of Wong/Bell/Capsey to bolster the boostage is important, gratifying, necessary, good. It’s one of many reasons to get into women’s cricket right now.

(Decider: Eng v India, July).

Wong will want a share of this. She looks determined to the point of mild anger. She bowls 69mph, then slaps in a bouncer which Rana can only smile thinly at.

(Spoiler alert: Eng smash the mighty continent, to confirm their clear second place, behind Mighty Oz).

Big Picture. I’ve been saying for years that India are under-achieving, largely because they have remained significantly behind their hosts, tonight. Given the resources theoretically available to the mighty continent, they have been persistently less professional, less convincing and less dynamic than Liccle Ingerland.

There are lots of words about Eng women. Only about half a dozen of us have consistently followed and reported their action. Go read. Then watch them on’t tellybox and go watch them live. It’s lovely.

In November I got into the football, thrashing wildly at the Meaning of Qatar, in Swallow.

We had Russia and now we have Qatar. Both monsters…

I was particularly offended by the fans buyout – i.e. the bribing of the England Band and a clutch of Wales fans, by the Qatari regime. It was like a profoundly appropriate symbol for Trump/Putin/Johnson era shithousery. Magnificently, shamelessly appalling in the manner of the political/philosophical moment: diabolically ‘2022’.

The England Band buy-out is almost funny. Except that I think we should find them, slam them in stocks at St George’s Park and lustily launch any available rotting fruit (and maybe orange paint). Fellas, you might think you are being cute, merely extending the repertoire of your slightly middle-class playfulness, but no. You are t**ts of a very high order. Shameless, brainless, conscienceless t**ts. Same for you taffs.

I also *had words* about Southgate, particularly contrasting his honourable conservatism with the liberating, intuitive McCullum/Stokes axis. This felt a BIG DIFFERENCE.

Bazball is predicated on a hearty kind of fearlessness – but one which *dares* and attacks. Southgate, in my view, is incapable of that – and yes, that does diminish him. I repeat my admiration for the England football gaffer as a man of integrity and political/cultural significance. I also note that my/our criticism of him is absolutely not borne of English exceptionalist entitlement (and therefore delusion). Southgate is a man of caution. He’s not a great coach.

Southgate couldn’t pick Rashford, to race and dazzle, against France. Because despite the United man being plainly on fire, his edgy lack of proportion and reliability – his immediate force, in other words – didn’t fit with Southgate’s measured way. This, for me, was obviously erroneous and yet classic Sir Gareth.

But we can’t finish on either this marginal narrowness, or with the wider, surreal nihilism or negativity of the political milieu, 2022-style. Not when most of The Writing here is essentially an act of protest. In a few words, 2022 was brilliant when we think of…

Women’s sport finally coming into focus – and our livingrooms. Levels of quality soaring.

Stokes, McCullum.

Wong/Bell/Cross – particularly Cross, who is a favourite (and I can’t explain that) – running in, carrying our hopes.

Friends, I have no idea if I can sustain my travelling and ridicu-‘reporting’, into 2023. But I may. Thankyou for your support: please do read/follow/re-tweet – all that bollocks is helpful. Remember my political wing is over on bowlingatvincent.com

Happy New Year to all.

Rick.

Twittering on #England.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Thought this *many times* so adding it, belatedly. Why have none of us contrasted the admittedly macho, but essentially generous liberation of Brendon McCullum & Ben Stokes, with the clear (on-the-park) conservatism of Southgate? Bazball is predicated on a hearty kind of fearlessness – but one which *dares* and attacks. Southgate, in my view, is incapable of that – and yes, that does diminish him. I repeat my admiration for the England football gaffer as a man of integrity and political/cultural significance. I also note that my/our criticism of him is absolutely not borne of English exceptionalist entitlement (and therefore delusion). Southgate is a man of caution. He’s not a great coach.

Anyway. Here’s my twitterblogthing, of yesterday… 👇🏻

What better way of recording the angst, the anger, the disappointment than by exposing it raw? And what’s more raw than The Twitters? So I’ve simply lifted my @sportslaureate feed from last night; in reverse order, with all the hashtags. (Blame the So-shull Meedya Expert who once told us Cricket Wales Peeps that it was ‘essential to bang at least three hashtags & three daft pics in there). It may be cobblers, but I find myself in the position where I am actively courting attention… on account of occasionally-depressingly-low numbers of readers.
Lols at the notion that this is going to fix that problem!

I stand by every word but concede that my frustration with Saka’s propensity to ‘draw fouls’ disproportionately obscured any credit to the player – who did well. However, he should have realised within about five minutes that this clown of a ref was rarely going to give ‘decisions’. My criticisms of Southgate are longstanding. His cultural/political excellence is beyond dispute but that don’t stick the ball in the onion-bag.

My criticisms of Henderson are neither partisan, nor personal. He just had one of those nights.
It took the fella half an hour to strike a clean pass. Everything was underhit, or struck with little confidence – he acknowledged this on more than one occasion, to an angry colleague. Given that he was Playmaker General, this did not augur well.

In short the gist of my arguments is that last night was classic Southgate in that he failed at every stage to go the positive route. Firstly, he chose not to recognise the obvious: that France are a fine side with an ordinary defence (and an iffy keeper). England started with six essentially defensive-minded players. Then, laughably, he not only failed to hoik Henderson at half-time, but chose to insert the marginally safer options (Mount and Sterling) ahead of the obvious threats, Rashford and Grealish. Pitifully weak and poor reading of the game – but very Southgate. Mount might score but he will offer you running cover: Sterling might do something and he is more experienced and has better percentages than Rashford. Woeful and negative on every count.

But I’m ranting. Here’s chapter and verse, Twitter-style. Last tweet first.
Feel free to disagree – but you’d be wrong. 🤣 ⚽️ 🙏🏼

Wow. Lots of people not watching the same game as me. 🤯

Will be up early to watch #cricket. May write about the #football then… or may just say ‘go read my tweets!’ 🤣

Good luck to #Fra , btw. Ordinary tonight but generally better than #Eng . Expected les Bleus to win the tournament: feels likelier, now.

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Poor game, poorly refereed. #Southgate culpable, as so often, for conservative selection & mistrust of game-changers & ‘talents’. No meaningful role for #Rashford or #Grealish. #Foden peripheral.

The guy’s a good man but an ordinary manager.

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Incredible penalty, from #Kane. 🤣Refer back to my Forest v Derby tweet!

Ref’s an idiot. Clear pen against #Mount. #VAR sorts it – unusually, in this tournament.

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

#Eng central defence: is there one? 🤯 👀 ⚽️
Laughable space, repeatedly. Then #Giroud punishes #Maguire’s inattention.

#Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Classic #Southgate, to go for #Mount, instead of the Luxury Player, #Grealish? 🤨

#Eng  #Fra  ⚽️

#QatarWorldCup2022 #FIFAWorldCup 

#conservatives 🤓

#Eng now ahead on points. 🤓
Who knew that URGENCY mattered? 🤷🏻‍♂️

#Fra 

#QatarWorldCup2022 #FIFAWorldCup  ⚽️

Inflammatory cobblers 4.
Standard-wise, it’s FA Cup, 3rd round, Forest v Derby, yes? 🤷🏻‍♂️

#Eng  #Fra  👀

#QatarWorldCup2022 #FIFAWorldCup  ⚽️

#Saka draws one. It’s probably kosher but mildly irritating that he sees his primary objective as drawing pens, not lashing the ball into the net.

#Kane scores. Perhaps reward for an up-tick in the energy from his side? 1-1.

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

So why is #Henderson – slowish, unlikely to score – the one charging at the keeper or centre-backs, when #Fra  pass back?

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

#Southgate may may missed this but it’s widely known that #Fra  (relative) area of weakness is their defence…

#Eng 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Half-time. It’s been poor entertainment & generally low-quality. #Henderson must surely get hoiked. #Eng  need a creative, confident playmaker. It’s so pedestrian atm even #Bellingham & #Foden look ordinary. #Fra  have forward gears in reserve: maybe Eng do, too?

#Qatar2022 

33 mins. #Bellingham ordinary/poor, so far. #Saka too interested in drawing fouls – & it’s working against him, with the ref. #Eng  looking (largely) like a limited, conservative, pedestrian side. #Fra  just livelier.

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup  ⚽️

#analysis 🤓

#Henderson relentlessly woeful. Case for hoiking him.

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar #FIFAWorldCup 

Ver-ry clumsy challenge. #Kane inevitably looking to draw something… but that WAS clumsy. #Eng  don’t get the pen.

#QatarWorldCup2022 #FIFAWorldCup 

22 mins. #Henderson yet to hit a firm, committed pass. But some signs #Eng  are settling.

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Great strike. #Fra  looking better, now they have the lead.

#Saka WAS fouled (but not strong enough) prior to the break but FRANCE LOOKING BETTER. 1-0.

Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

#Shaw dives in & then #Giroud has space for the header, 8 yards out? 👀 🤯 Poor.

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup  ⚽️

Unbelievable that #Maguire should be offside for that early free-kick. 🤷🏻‍♂️

#Eng  #Fra  #Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

How can the ball not be suitable for play? 🤣 ⚽️ 🤷🏻‍♂️

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Inflammatory cobblers 3. I don’t mind if this is ‘cagey’ – expect that – as long as its high quality cagey. 🤓

#Eng  #Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Inflammatory cobblers 2. The #Eng  national anthem is ridiculous & waaaay beyond its sell-by-date.

#Fra 

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

Inflammatory cobblers 1. #Lloris is poor. 👎🏻 👀

#Eng  #Fra  ⚽️

#Qatar2022  #FIFAWorldCup 

‘Worthy Winners’.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

I may need a month away somewhere exotic, or a pint of poteen, or a long, deep sleep. To find the words, the New Superlatives. But there’s that over-riding urge, is there not, to record it now – the thrill, the love, the stand-up-and-raise-the-rafters-ness? Stokes. Anderson. Robinson. Bazza. And a Great Moment in Sport.

Almost obscured by that other, obscene giant, flashing it’s gaudy wares at us from the fucking desert, we find, we stumble-upon Another England playing with the kind of absurd generosity that Southgate could never even contemplate: Brendon McCullum and Ben Stokes engineering a thrilling contest from a ‘feather bed’, an unforgiving ‘road’, a ‘dustbowl’. Because why not, why wouldn’t you, if you really understand what sport is, or what it can aspire towards?

A final day at Rawalpindi that owed everything to the very rarest combination of ambition for the whole game, as opposed to just the win; thereby re-affirming something a whole lot simpler and purer than some spurious Spirit of Cricket. Yes, McCullum’s blokey machismo may be flawed or even questionable, *on times*… but no, today is not one of those times. Today is a day to savour the life-affirming brilliance of his statement of faith and the new, joyful supremacy of a timeless idea: to enact that inviolable connection between responsibility and execution.

Bazza believes there is a Right Way and that confidence and liberation can take us there. In the wider context of a sport in some turmoil and under some threat – chiefly due to diabolical and generally avaricious government – This England are bypassing all that selfish ‘radical’ market-conservatism. This England are world-leaders in challenging.

Maybe the details don’t matter (but that declaration, tho’?)

Offering 343 with ridicu-lumps of time left? Nobody does that, in this situation, on that road. Nobody. Stokes did, because it was right and it made the game. Then that old bloke who can only bowl in the gloom at Trent Bridge does his thing and Stokes himself finds some truly fabulous leg-cutters and fatty Robinson finds some reverse and waddyaknow? Despite bumps in that road – howlers plural, from Pope, behind the sticks and gritty defiance from the last pair – the four-eyed slap’ead (who can’t turn it) claims the final wicket in a win that might need those aforementioned New Superlatives. England win a stone-dead test.

It was a privilege for those us who were able to watch the final day play out – even if just on the tellybox. The boldness was already fixed in but the bowlers needed to find spirit and guts as well as a disciplined line and length. Allegedly the pitch was going to offer nothing. Allegedly reverse might… but its influence on the game had been relatively minimal so far. Stokes opted to go all-in on the aggressive field-placements – he had to, right, to execute the unlikely win? – and press the Superhuman button again, again. The fella’s almost certainly in some discomfort but bowled a zillion overs of inventive, probing medium fast, endlessly beating the outside edge with leg-cutters/reversing outswingers.

Robinson, we hope, is on the proverbial journey towards better understandings around race and civility but the lad’s arrived as an international bowler. Some time ago, in fact. At a warmish ‘Pindi he found energy and threat for good periods: on times he even found some bounce. Anderson got his wily head on and bowled with shrewd, unshowy economy. It was an outstanding effort from an allegedly limited seam attack.

Spin-wise, there is a clear argument that Will Jacks is The Story: ‘Part-timer Gets Six On Debut’. But as time tightened and the drama focused, Stokes looked to Leach. After tea he bowled maidens just when they were needed. When Ali, in particular and Shah defied, at the death, he nailed the latter with a floaty, loopy one. The affectionate slaps to that pate told of the pleasure that final wicket gave to his comrades. Leach plainly contributes – perhaps more than those of us on the outside give him credit for.

This was all constructed upon the bulwark of big runs… and a spectacularly dynamic run-rate. So engineered from the off, by that culture of boldness. Stat-men and statesmen were no doubt consulted, pre- and post the toss: resolutions made, pictures painted. Last Day scenarios would have been mentally rehearsed from the moment Duckett and Crawley first went out to bat: An Approach agreed or reinforced.

Who cares, ultimately, where the percentages between laddish bravado and philosophical righteousness lie? Not me, not today. England were what we have so often called ‘worthy winners’ – they kinda defined that. The game won, too.

Pic from Sky Sports.

Qatar: #beyondsatire.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Wales have just dug out a draw against the States. But Wales do that, eh? Get outplayed and yet *find something*. And more often than not it’s the Golfing Enigma Himself, Mr G Bale Esq, who wields the silver spade. (Or o-kaay, wedge).

The other unfathomable truism – that the skipper and nonpareil would, according to custom, hardly have a meaningful touch, prior to the moment of godhood – also came to pass. The fella did nowt, before ju-ust easing his body across the defender’s incoming challenge, duly drawing enough, quasi-clumsy contact to force the decision. Bale was honestly largely ordinary (again)… but was the hero (again).

At the half, the Americans swaggered off, having delivered a consummate lesson. They were energetic, incisive and even stylish. Wales looked – or were made to look – deeply ordinary. Weah got the goal: there could have been more if the USA had found quality in the box to match the quality around the park. Players, fans and pundits of a celtic persuasion were longing for the break from about the twelfth minute, such was the mauling: *except*, of course, the second goal didn’t come… and there’s always Him.

The inevitable swap – Moore for James – changed things, as did the general lifting of the hwyl, from the Welsh. Now not only was there an outlet, there was possession and soon, hope. Who knows what Page and his staff said but within a few minutes the reds were ‘spiritually’ on the up and if not being thrillingly threatening, then at least bearing in on that US box. Extraordinarily, an equaliser felt likely.

The penalty came lateish, after a flurry or two from both sides which failed to produce the glaring opportunity to seal something. Moore should have scored with a header he simply met too hard: the USA raced in and around but rarely at Hennessey’s net. It was even, in short, in that second period. Until Gaz did his thing again.

The draw means Wales may need to be cheering the English, come Friday night. The USA may really test that Maguire/Stones combo if they show the flair and movement we saw here but Southgate’s team will be marginal favourites. Iran were so poor it’s hard to see them registering a point in the group but (with all due respect) it feels like Wales are least likely to rack up goals against them, or anyone else. Meaning the England/Wales fixture will be another one where the men in red may need to play above their capacity – and dig something out.

Here’s what happened earlier: England v Iran. And the socio-political *observations*.

Ok. It may be that a certain social medium is descending into the swamp from whence it came, only a deeper, probably more foul-smelling affair, if that’s at all possible. (A supra-Musky slew: that work?)

Maybe not, but of course in the month of #QatarWorldCup2022, sludge and slop of the moral/philosophical variety is gonna be inevitable, nevermind possible. But hey, lighten up! It may be that Infantino is to sport, to ‘gay’ness and to integrity what Elon bach is to civility, truth and Workers’ Rights. And it may be be that swamps are merging everywhere and the Orange Gibbon is back and Tesco Spicy Wedges have gone up 30p but… IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE I WON TWITTER with my #beyondsatire!

*Just before* Qatar had the benefit of that deliciously mysterious off-side thang and waaaay before the ridiculous non-penalty for England after two blokes rugby-tackled Maguire and Stones, in plain sight, in the Iran box. In other words hand me the trophy and let’s be done with it. Nobody’s bothered, are they, about the actual football? And the actual football is as crassly-anarchic-in-a-bad-way as the whole god-damned concept, anyway, yeh?

EVERYTHING is #beyondsatire. Arid. The appalling, criminal indulgence and environmental disaster of it. The Fake Fans, Fake Football Culture; the half-time disappearing trick. The raw and obvious corruption. The gross incompetence as well as the world-level hypocrisy: even the legitimate stuff, the acceptable cultural differences like no beer (unless you have a monstrous wedge) have been handled with the sensitivity and intelligence of an Orange Gibbon. I was going to watch none of it. But then work was cancelled, so waddayadoo?

England started with impressively unconvincing ‘authority’, against an Iranian side who had boldly refrained from singing their national anthem. (They win my Actual Cup for this, on the assumption that it really was a united gesture against recent violence and oppression from their regime, but the gesture may have weighed so heavily that they could not slough away the fear – for themselves, for their families). Almost unthinkably, in terms of pure footie – yeh, I know! – Iran were almost certainly worse than Qatar.

Trippier and Saka could be weirdly displacing easy-peasy passes. Maguire and Stones could look cool-but-also-ready-to-spring-an ut-ter-howler. It didn’t matter. England didn’t need to find their flow – got nowhere near it – until their third goal went in. (And no I don’t care if that sounds daft: the performance was somehow a tad invertebrate, again and if I was Southgate I’d be having words about consistency and ‘bloody execution’, at the half: even three-nil up).

All the goals were good: Bellingham’s looping nod; Saka’s flush drive; Sterling’s sharp prod from Kane’s fabulous, whipped cross. But in every square yard of the pitch there seemed to be a bloke in red failing to do his job. England had space to play, time to play and – it very soon became obvious – little to fear. Southgate’s side, despite this open invitation to enjoy and express, were again that mixture of brightness and infuriatingly one-paced ‘approach play’. They approached mainly by polite request, written in triplicate. Maguire played some wonder-passes but together with Stones and Trippier he rarely stirred the action. Bellingham was looking silky as always but not much of consequence was being threaded into midfield and on from there: not snappily and smartly. Mount does all that but barely had an intervention. As a consequence, Iran could endure – were allowed to.

Even when the goals started to happen, English energy and concentration levels were mixed. Too many simple passes were missing their mark: only Kane seemed determined and able to make every contribution count. Overwhelmingly the possession of the pill was with the fellas in white. So where were Sterling and Mount, for half the match? Making quietly ineffective runs. Making quietly ineffective wall-passes backwards.

This may feel like it under-appreciates England, and the alleged complexities of international football. But I stick by it. Iran were miserable (I’m afraid) and it seems crazy that it wasn’t til the leggy dynamism of Rashford and the old-school centre-forwardism of Wilson was introduced that Southgate’s team roared again. The United striker grabbed a neat goal with his third touch and Grealish was gifted a tap-in by Wor Callum’s generous assist.

Saka’s game was encapsulated by his second goal; he ran forward with thinnish control and confidence, scuffed his shot but in it went. He was subbed and he will rightly play next time: but I hope somebody’s showing him video and stats around his contributions. Far too many are sloppy for a player of his qualities.

Iran scored two (somehow, late-on) but conceded six. Dreamland and yet not, for England. Stones hauling down his oppo to give away a pen may have felt wildly ironic, given the early ridicu-grapple-which-came-to-naught. But it was dumb… and the decision was right. Amongst his justifiably constructive appreciations for the fine goals and largely serene domination, Mr Southgate will be having words about that concession. The gaffer will know that drift and slackness will draw punishment.

Wales v USA is where this group starts. England, having plainly started well, need to extend beyond, prove they are better. Because they are.

Pic from BBC Sport.

Can’t wait.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

About noon. Seen six minutes of highlights so this qualifies me. I can blast away, like Hales and Buttler, confident in the knowledge that my opining is shining and query-proof. Especially as you lot can’t be arsed (allegedly) to think beyond counter-bawls, which don’t count, or only count on the Twitters.

England smash – I said SMASH – India, in a remarkably one-sided semi that took expectation round the back there and gave it a damn good hiding.

After the bowlers had contained a medium-tepid Indian effort, the dreamy England skipper and his extravagantly-levered and levering compadre, Mr Hales, dismissed the much-vaunted Shami, Singh and co with a measure of contempt. Hales was again so shockingly brilliant that it is believed that Eoin Morgan has, in tribute, withdrawn his own membership of the Mild-Mannered Jacket-Wearing Crypto-Fascist War-on-Drugs Party and headed to the nearest tattoo parlour. Halesy is whatsapping over the wording any mo but it’s reported to be ‘recreational is cool, bro’, across the wingspan of a circling hawk.

Before I raced off to work – grimace emoji – I had heard England had chosen to field. I pushed it a little, then, to actually watch the first two overs, before booting off to enchant Year Six (x 2, local state school) with ‘balance and control challenges’ and the River Crossing game from #realPE. (Went great, thanks for asking. But, as per, I *really was* twitching the coaching antennae towards the activity in front: meaning I didn’t think about The Cricket ’til about 10.55… when an 11 am finish was confirmed as entirely viable. At which point I broke the land speed record – just joshing, occifer – between Neyland and Nolton Haven).

I HEARD, on the radio. Talksport. The news primer, at a handful of minutes after 11, was ‘that it’s all over, in Australia’. But did that mean good or bad news, for us Poms?

My first thought was ‘ah. Bugger’. Surely they would break this with a ‘fabulous England go through’ vibe, if they’d won? And bugger – “all over?” I’d imagined getting home for the last handful of overs. More headlines and more ads later they lead again with a rather understated “the World Cup Final will be Pakistan versus England”… and I throttle back, from the 78, to take that in. They’ve only gone and done it!

This is the harbinger of gleefully raised eyebrows but also existential crises about whether to divert, in my ecstasy-but-raging-hunger and gather-in a lamb and mint pasty and a hot chocolate – in short GO REALLY MAD – or drive on, towards yaknow – coverage. Mid-quandary, more info comes in: a TEN WICKET WIN. Hales and Buttler both 80-odd! Forgive me but there was now gleeful swearing in a “fuck-me-sideways” kindofaway, before I drove on.

Now I’m reflecting, whilst cruising through the Pembrokeshire lanes. Ten wickets. So Singh, Shami, Ashwin’ Kumar never got a sniff! Bloo-dee No-ra! Bet Hales was hauling them all over. OOOh, and whattabout a the final? Pakistan? Why is it I’m thinking most of England and Wales wants or wanted Pakistan to win it – or maybe the Kiwis? – if England (& Wales) don’t? Wossalldatabart? But who cares? Model final. Onwards: mind that bloody puddle, it’s about two feet deep.

I get back and check out brief, i-player highlights, after seeing the Sky Sports prog is back on at 3pm. And now I look at the scorecard.

I see Virat went well but that India trundled too long – nearer 6 an over than the 8-plus they surely needed – for extended periods. However well England bowled or however challenging the conditions might have been, that mindset felt too conservative. Batting first, against this England? Not enough; not enough intent, or gambling, or fearlessness. Some of that stuff… but not enough. Because you know even an England that’s not really convinced in the tournament will really go. They’ve brought in Salt, for Malan, which if anything is gonna raise the levels of violence. In this moment, this England is going to attack hard and sustain that onslaught. You – India – are going to have to think ten and over for lots of overs.

Just seen some comments from Moeen, on Rashid. Hope it’s true that he was brilliant again. Rate the thinking around having three very different spin options, in the England side. A rare, joyous luxury that two of them are potentially sensational, spirit-hiking, match-winning bats. (And Rashid has his moments of defiant excellence, too).

Have expressed some doubts, historically about Woakes and Jordan. Am genuinely an enormous fan of both, for their multifarious, legitimate skills but had/have a slight fear they may be relatively hittable, at the very highest levels of this format. Long may they prove me wrong. I repeat that I love Woakes’ all-round contribution and Jordan’s very real pace and unsurpassable fielding: just have a hunch that somebody may be able to really get hold of them, at a crucial time, when they have ball in hand.

‘Getting ahead’, this performance will and should make England favourites, if not bookies’ favourites, for the final. The universal presentiment will be that Buttler’s got his fellas peaking with spectacular timing. The balance and richness of the England side is beginning to look ‘destined’.

Without Topley and Wood, they are still bloody tasty, as the annihilation of India proves. We’ve long-known that Buttler himself is touched by something special. Many of us think his partner Hales may previously have been excluded for too long and out of some slightly weird, possibly cliquey conservatism as much as for ‘disciplinary reasons’. Now he’s here, doing what he’s done for aeons – smashing the best bowlers on the planet around, like they’re Under 13s.

Was going to rumble on about Curran and the benefits of having seven bowlers and eleven blokes who can all strike a ball, in the team. But superfluous. You will already be aware that my post-match analysis is as all-consumingly magnificent as England are, in flow.

Can’t wait to see the game.

Pic from Sky Sports.

Ok. Now watched extended highlights. Maybe I under-appreciated Kohli & Pandya’s aggression? But stand by that general accusation that India were too pedestrian (relatively, obvs) for too long. Were they over-confident or just a tad culturally cautious? Or nervous?!! Nasser, on comms, has just noted the disparity in their scoring rate for the first 12-15 overs and the last, exhilarating knockings.

The England reply started with 3 boundaries in the first over: Buttler making that mark. Onwards, then, to 33 for 0 after 3 and 63 without loss after 6 – at a time when Pandya and Kohli were extravagantly cajoling the crowd into distracting or intimidating the batters… because England were cruising.

Hales gets to his fifty off 28 balls. Buttler is similarly keen – it’s relentless, ten an over stuff. At times it feels like a piss-take: dancing and scooping or standing and clouting to short or long boundary. Harsha Bogle is in mild shock. One straight drive, hoisted off Shami by Buttler, registered heavily it seemed with the commentary team, the crowd, and the TV-watching zillions, like some notably awesome statement of superiority. And of course Buttler goes and finishes it with another rapturously sweet swing: six, over long on.

Done in 16 overs. 168 chased. Ten wicket win. India were 113 for 3 at the equivalent stage. Massacre, in terms of this format. Interesting to hear Buttler speak so articulately about the freedom that England’s endless batting line-up offers himself and Hales. They can go hard: they did.

Swallow.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Would like to write a furious, sweary and dangerously superior blog about the World Cup – the football one. Despite being neck-deep in the #T20WorldCup in Australia and increasingly captivated by the Women’s Rugby World Cup, New Zealand.

This in itself says something about football’s evil clout: it’s ability to swamp all known reason as well as the mere expedition of human activity. (Yup. All of it). Soccer is both the Beautiful Game and the Shit-vessel Supreme, especially the administration, the market side of it. Like one of those forest (and Forest People)-munching machines from Avatar, the game devours us; our ability to think, judge, act with any semblance of decency and intelligence being swept away in a roar of metal and sap.

A sociological (and therefore potentially wokeish) diversion. Could be that our propensity for tribal excitement leaves us particularly vulnerable to exploitation. In fact that would surely go out under ‘raging certainty’ on Bet365, or one of the other scavengers circling the soul of footie. The ‘bad side’ to visceral/communal joy is… it maybe dislodges other faculties. The thought striketh that governments and other makers of mischief may have cottoned-on, to this weakness.

We had Russia and now we have Qatar. Both monsters,* both benefiting from entirely predictable corruption, swilling through the posh hotels and swanky offices of the ‘football authorities’. A few voices were raised – indeed this post is a direct response to yet another magnificent and (in a good way) righteously challenging column from the Guardian’s Barney Ronay – but they/we (as we all know) will be drowned-out by the ubiquitous sludge that is PR/developing content/sportswashing. Those Who Govern feel like Untouchables because they are: money, influence and our feeble acquiescence will see them alright, and they know this.

Which brings me to two stories, from recent days. Most distressingly, the ‘fringe’ report that elements of state security in Qatar had drawn-in then shockingly violated gay men so as to send out a warning to World Cup visitors: ‘don’t you dare be who you are, on our territory’. Secondly, the widely-reported recruitment of the England Band and Welsh equivalent(ish) to a sort of metaphorical Qatari Cheerleaders Squad.

Go find the first story – there may be important updates. It’s appalling and it should be a game-changer (ironies alert!) in terms of how we all view the tournament. In short I think that if vindicated, it should prompt MASSIVE DISSENT and lurch us into significant boycott territory. (Personally, I think we should have steadfastly occupied that ground – i.e no f**king World Cup in Qatar, end-of – since day one).

The England Band buy-out is almost funny. Except that I think we should find them, slam them in stocks at St George’s Park and lustily launch any available rotting fruit (and maybe orange paint). Fellas, you might think you are being cute, merely extending the repertoire of your slightly middle-class playfulness, but no. You are t**ts of a very high order. Shameless, brainless, conscienceless t**ts. Same for you taffs.

Shame on you. Even if you try to subvert the Qatari bribe by effecting some miniscule ‘protest’, before being gathered in and having your temporary privileges withdrawn, shame on you. You have personally taken the sportswashing phenomenon to the next level; allowing a nation-state to shaft you, your integrity and the gullible universe in a spectacular new way. In a foul country where a very particular crew have their hands on the hereditary/oligarchal purse-strings, you are the cheapest of puppets.

Deep breath and re-compose. Look I get that we are all prostitutes. But c’mon, guys. Is that complimentary bar and are those flickering freebies really worth it? To guarantee your behaviour and support… for this project? When every man jack of us knows it’s abhorrent on every account? Fraudulent. Scene of multiple human rights/workers’ rights abuses. Crap-but-disturbing, phoney, film-location vibe. A hypocrisy-fest, hosted by a merciless, misogynist state, in spanking-new but heartless stadia because there’s no existing football culture whatsoever!

Won’t be long before somebody leaks or gets hold of the Conditions of Employment for our musical friends. That should be instructive. How, exactly, was this wee bit of sports massage supposed to remain un-reported? Who, in the Qatari/FIFA Department of Further Illusions thought this baby would pass un-commented-upon?

The answer of course is that they know it doesn’t matter. The volume of Fabulous New Content and frothing, insatiable love for the game is such that this further corruption – for that’s what it IS, right? – will barely register. The Lads from Merthyr and Mansfield may have Pied-Pipered us somewhere yet more cynical but who cares? The World Cup is still coming to swallow us up.

*Fully accept the Western View of Putin’s Russia and the opaque Qatari state system are deeply compromised by misinformation and prejudice from our side. The following can both be true: that we are relatively clueless… but the regimes really are heinous and grotesque.

No bullets.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Some factoids and feelings about Deangate/Deeptigate/Sharmagate – whatever.

Firstly, I’m bored by it and bored by the *suggestions* and *implications* of this and that… and the bellowing in and out of pomp and prejudice and smart-arsery. Going to deliberately fail to name as many external protagonists as possible so as to try to steer a course towards level-headedness; coz that finger-pointing – nah. Those ‘personality tweets’ – nah.

In no particular order, then. Would bullet-point for brevity (and to suggest my increasing irritation at the whole circus) if I could see how the **** to do that on this wordpress editor thingy. Imagine bullet-points between these chunks of opinion and grief.

Heather Knight and Deepti Sharma were magnificent, together, when Western Storm won the KSL in a brilliant finale some years ago. They nicked it, together. I was there. It was great.

Almost painfully long twitter thread seems to be pret-ty conclusive about Charlie Dean repeatedly leaving her crease early.

Law junkies, though? That whole anorak thing. Discuss?

Deepti’s Sharma’s predilection for fake bowling – i.e. sauntering up but then abandoning, as though there was some issue with her run-up – is irrelevant to the actual run out in question, but is plainly about getting in the heads of the batters. In short, she winds the oppo’s up, a good deal, deliberately. This may be relevant in terms of relationships, not rules (or laws), but historical shithousery, however it may offend opponents and onlookers, plays no part in the adjudication of this single incident. Ideally.

As an old-school sports-bloke I’m here to tell you both that the nature of the universe is changed, such that the Spirit of Cricket is transparently problematic to the point of being obsolete and that sport does and should have what we might call a moral dimension. (Eeeek!) There is sporting behaviour; it can make things better; it just doesn’t need to be inextricably associated with daft blazers and ‘good families’.

We can’t go on calling what Sharma did ‘against the S of C’, not because it doesn’t possibly transgress something, but because we have to find a better, less loaded phrase. *That one*, unfortunately, smacks of weird, longtime English Exceptionalism: the kind of hand-me-down ‘humility’ that has largely (and let’s be honest, deliberately) kept people of colour and low income out of the game, or out of its spheres of influence.

Zoom on and in: Mankads are perfectly legit under the laws – laws which were recently tweaked (and improved, in fact), to try to demilitarise and indeed demystify some of the harrumphing and counter-blasting around those Moral Issues. No warnings are required. Batters know when they have to stay until. Bowlers know when they are entitled to strike back at the stumps.

On this occasion, Deepti’s (likely) intention to never let go of that ball (and therefore to run out the batter) is a complexity for some – I get that. Argue about the ‘fakeness’ of this moment but be clear that Mankads are legit, generally, if the batter has departed before the proscribed instant.

And yet I sympathise with the idea that it’s somehow a shame that Mankads exist. Ideally and in the abstract, I’m thinking can’t we just warn people and then those batters stop? The umpire ‘have a word?’ Then if the batter goes early she/he/they are fair game. If they transgress that notice, then bye, no issues. But money and telly and life being more complicated make this more complicated. Shame.

Some folks think that regret’s feeble and folksy in itself. That the batter has obviously been cheating so wtf?!? Why burden the Innocent Bowler Playing Within the Rules/Laws with all our post-imperialist angst? (If that’s what it is?) They have a point. It really may be the batter that’s cheating. It may be simple. It’s why the rules were sharpened.

A classic Twitter Rage has stirred. We the Digital Ones are prone to misinterpretation and even bile. FWIW I’m anti-imperialist twitter fiend feeling bit down about all this. My own brand of hurt isn’t about tradition, or one so patently heaving with assumptions. I hope for people to respect the sport as well as the rules: but hey, half of you think that reeks of another age. I would have publicly warned Dean, if I was Sharma – drawn the umpire’s attention to it and maybe the camera’s. Then if she shifts early again, I run her out. We’ll never know but I think the England player would’ve stayed put.

Final thought is about those relationships. I do regret (at 17.23, GMT, on Sep 26th) that wider foulness might erupt – by that I mean beyond the playing camps – as it seems that Knight and Sharma/Kaur move towards accusations of outright untruths. That level of bitterness ain’t good. Deep breath. Let’s consider. And move on.

Really looking.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Rather wonderfully, sport has that capacity to turn against expectation. Yesterday was a case in point. England surely stronger than their opponents; the day surely a batting day? Not so. Perhaps absences (Knight, Sciver) were always going to be ‘big in the game?’ Perhaps the potential for a leadership vacuum, in the England camp, was more of a threat than we thought? Or maybe the pitch simply played disproportionately extravagant tricks with the heads of the home batters? In any event, India cruised home surprisingly easily.

Here’s how it felt live:

Hove, in the sunshine. About 18 degrees, I reckon. India are warming up in front, the nearest of them – Verma, Kaur – no more than about ten yards away. It’s 10.22: it’s fielding.

I have baggage to declare, having ‘called out’ their work in the field more than once.

I really like watching players get ready. Despite being a laughably low-level coach, I am watchful around this stuff – never know what you might learn about a) drills and b) personalities/relationships. What is striking me now (and it’s not major, but I am aware of it) is that this feels a little undercooked. A notch down from the high intensity that (one might argue) this side, in this moment, might need or deserve.

India have been poor, too often, at catching, gathering and moving urgently around the gaff. They are notably behind England, obviously behind England, in the field. More importantly, arguably, they have opened themselves up to the accusation that they look unprofessional in this department. So I am really looking. India have won the toss and chosen to bowl first.

Tannoy/screen announce the sides. England’s feels full of batting. Beaumont and Lamb, Dunkley, Capsey, Wyatt, Jones, Davidson-Richards, Ecclestone, Dean, Cross, Wong. The strip is unknowable (to me) but the day looks ripe for stroke-play. The Indian side may be stronger in this format than the IT20s: is it madness that I think their best batters bat better longer – Mandhana and Kaur the chief candidates?

Blimey it’s early to be into *fatal* hunches. Would love to see Capsey get a lorryload and Wyatt find that dashing groove for an hour or two, not four overs.

Dean is giving Lamb a nice wee neck massage. And now Beaumont.10.53. Out they come. Another ‘ceremony’ and another minute’s silence. Immaculate.

The extraordinary Goswami will open the bowling. In that birdlike slow-mo she goes in and beats Lamb. Despite ver-ry limited oomph in the run-up, the bowler is finding 67mph. Quickish arm and lots of snap. Beaumont plays and misses, too. Just the one from the over.

Meghna I know little about but she’s in, next. Has a genuine away-swinger and gets bounce. Bowls two attempted yorkers at Lamb, the second of which gets bunted through midwicket for the game’s first boundary. But she’s getting some movement through the air, maybe more than we might have expected, given the bright sunshine flashing around the ground. Beaumont mistimes against her but Lamb puts away a legside gift. We move on to 14 for 0 after 4.

There have, in truth, been a couple of minor handling errors in the circle. Conditions are perfect and the ball surely perfectly dry.

Goswami is producing a disciplined spell without looking immediately threatening. High hand, good off-stump line. Might she produce as the sense of mild squeeze tightens? The work in the circle may need to improve. 16 for 0 after 6 – so quiet. Beaumont asks Umpire Redfern to remove Meghna’s watch, which is plainly reflecting and distracting. Straight in the pocket, no messing or protest from the bowler.

A rare, legside wide from Goswami but this remains cat-and-mousey, with Beaumont and Lamb looking patient.

The breakthrough comes. Lamb looks surprised by a shorter, quicker one from Meghna. She swishes instinctively, as though dismissing a particularly irritating fly. Gets a thin edge behind; gone for 12. Dunkley joins us. Will be really interesting to see how, if at all, she adapts her typically relentless aggression. England are 21 for 1 as we reach 8 overs completed. The visitors ahead, then.

It gets better for India. Goswami pins Beaumont on her crease. Ball may have been missing but the opener has to walk, after one of her more forgettable contributions. 21 for 2 as the in-form Capsey strides out. More cloud-cover.

Two brand-new batters in: big period in the game upcoming. Bowlers will need to be rotated out very soon. The first committed ripple of applause for some time, from the locals, as Dunkley cuts Meghna behind point: four.

Rajeshwari Gayakwad will bowl some left arm slow. Flighty, coming round. She’s bowling about 46mph but (lols?) she gets called for a front-foot no-ball. Dunkley can’t biff the free-hit past the fielder. Whoa: #lifesrichwotnots. Appeal and review for lbw the very next ball. Takes a lo-ong time but the original decision – not out – ultimately upheld. *Tiny* touch of bat; otherwise plum. Now Vastrakar.

Capsey smooooothes her beautifully through extra, for four stylish and much-needed runs. These two will know they need to rebuild and they have the talent to do it. A second boundary comes, a smidge straighter, more upright: ten from the over and the sense that England will counter, now. Dunkley reinforces that view by charging, ambitiously at Gayakwad and hoisting her straight. Doesn’t get everything but gets enough; four; safe. 43 for 2 after 13. Drinks.

Sneh Rana is in, and Dunkley flips her over her shoulder, then repeats to bring up the England 50. Words may have been said, during the break, about the run-rate, which remains below 4. Meaning the spinners may be tested, here. Rana concedes 8 but Gayakwad only 3. 54 for 2 after 15.

Decent crowd in – good to see. Hove is more of a dish than a bowl, making light feel somehow more available. It’s practically a seaside venue – so flat – with lots of white surfaces, lots of glass. But let’s talk fielding.

Capsey booms Rana out over extra and the fielder inexplicably makes no meaningful attempt to dive, at the boundary edge. Next ball the same batter clips wristily towards midwicket, where Kaur launches, stretches and clutches, one-handed. Just a wee bit loose, from Capsey: some level of trouble, for England, at 64 for 3. Wyatt.

Sharma is in her second over, finding some turn. Wyatt looks brisk and determined; she plinks an early four. Having started this piece noting England’s batting depth, the current underachievement need not be terminal but somebody needs to get a move on, now, for the home side. Dunkley has a relatively ordinary 24 from 39 as we get through 20 overs: 72 for 3 on the board. Conditions imply a par nearer 300 than 200.

‘Let off’ for Dunkley. Weirdly, she takes a longish time to review an l.b. decision. Gayakwad’s delivery is probably hitting – hence Redfern’s raised finger – but the ball struck glove on the way through. Not out. This does nothing to disrupt the relative ascendancy of the visitors, mind. With Deol now mixing up leggies and offies, and the run rate remaining below 4, Keightley and co will be ‘Concerned of Hove’, I imagine.

Goswami has changed ends. The sun has re-booted. India are going well. Deol is loopy (as it were) and then full and wide. Dunkley plays straight… to the fielder in the ring. Disappointing. At the halfway point (if that’s a thing?) England are wilting, under some pressure, at 91 for 4. Run rate is 3.64 per over.

Let’s talk about Amy Jones. (Been at this before – to the extent that I fear it may sound personal. It’s not personal).

Jones is a fine keeper and a very watchable ball-striker, when she gets going. I remember clearly noting her fluency and dynamism, with the bat, when she first came into the England side. She hits beautifully, or can. Today we see the other side. The side that is disappointing. The side we see too often when there’s pressure in the game. Jones seems to feature in most of England’s lows or collapses. When the side need someone to stand up, she tends to fail.

She may be a tad unlucky, today, getting a ball that’s so slow it dies in the pitch and limps at her leg stump. But Jones is in a mess, jumping somewhere, as though startled by a firecracker. This was no firecracker: instead it was a tame, loose delivery which finds lower pad and stumps. Bowled Gayakwad. For me, Amy Jones has been playing her way out of this side for maybe eighteen months. Seems barely credible that (apparently) no real contenders to replace her (as keeper-batter) are waiting in the wings.

Wyatt, at least, has looked relatively fluent. Unable to dominate, but able to ‘go on’ to a meaningful score. She is out just shy of fifty, looking to sweep Sharma – a ball that went straight on.

In the circumstances (her side under the pump) we might question the shot selection: a straight bat removes any risk and may offer an easy run or two down the ground. However, Wyatt, being the chief contributor to the innings, is relatively in the clear ‘guilt’-wise, on this occasion.

Davidson-Richardson and Wyatt had rebuilt reasonably well together but after 36 overs, with Ecclestone having joined, England are in manifest strife at 141 for 6. Big Picture is India have been goodish rather than exceptional. The pitch is offering a little to the bowlers but is by no means unplayable. Five or six runs an over feels par for the conditions – no matter what happens when England have a bowl.

Ecclestone is no classicist with the wood but she has grit and power. As does her characteristically beaming partner. They raise it. 50 come from 57 balls and finally – finally – they get beyond 4 an over. But another one dies a little in the strip… and strikes Ecclestone in front: Sharma the bowler. Gone, for a creditable 31.

Dean is in and Davidson-Richards, now on 29, faces a review for a run-out. No dramas – she made her ground. 179 for 7, with 43 gone. Now the set batter must calculate or let it flow.

The fella Flynn, on commentary, makes another interesting point, referring to Goswami’s relatively early completion of her ten overs. The Indian Icon will not be bowling at the death. England, meanwhile, surely need boundaries?

D-R can really hit but Dean is glancing Gayakwad skilfully to third man. Four. Could be that Davidson-Richards has been instructed to see this out – her continuing relative restraint might support that theory. (She has 38, now, from 51). Sharma will bowl the 47th. The 200 is up: I did not foresee a low-scoring affair at 10.30 am this morning but now have to accept the possibility that batting has been and will continue to be trickier than the environment suggested.

Goswami lacks the agility to get to a chance, as Dean paddles around behind. (Profoundly catchable). Davidson-Richards finally breaks out, to smash Sharma at cow corner. The ball lands inches short of the first 6 of the innings. The following delivery skittles narrowly past everything, again dying en route. D-R’s 50 comes up in the last over but then she faces a review for a stumping, off Meghna. Not out.

We close on 227 for 7, with Dean undefeated on 24 and her partner on 50. Mixed feelings: India must be satisfied, England will fancy themselves to ‘knock a few over’ on a used pitch. I’m torn between the notion that England are better and the likelihood that their score will prove to be an underachievement.

The reply.

Wong. Does feel like somebody who can make things happen. She runs in about 15 mph quicker than Goswami did but generates about the same pace; touch more, perhaps. Expectation but no drama.

We don’t have to wait long. Further evidence for the Tricky Pitch Theory as the aesthetically pleasing blur that is Kate Cross races in… and Verma miscues. It’s more a timing issue – meaning the ball stuck? – than an edge but Dean doesn’t care, pocketing a dolly at short midwicket. Unsettling, for the Indian bench.

Wong is laughing – no, really – because the ball, despite being slapped in there hard, is keeping scarily low. Yastika, surely horrified, unzipped but making no contact. Mandhana may be either ‘playing her natural game’ or thinking a charge might be better than a grind. She hits consecutive boundaries. Yastika is facing Wong and swishing at a leg-side bouncer. It’s not a gimme but Jones, belatedly diving to her right, should take it. 29 for 1 after 5, India.

Jones comes up, now, to Cross. Half-appeal. Missing. It’s still a beautiful day, out there. Ecclestone – vice-captain – is having a long word with Wong, at her mark. Frustratingly, the young strike bowler bowls two wides in the over. Yastika picks up a shorter one with some conviction: four. 41 for 1 after 7.

Jones reviews as Cross pins Yastika but was always pitching outside leg. Poor call, perhaps a sign that England are forcing – they’re certainly behind in the game. Both batters are striking with some confidence; as Mandhana pulls Davidson-Richards square, they’re both into their twenties. 50 up, for India, in the 9th, with ten boundaries already.

Another change as Dean looks to drag this back towards England. She’s unlucky to draw an inside edge that can only wriggle away to fine leg. Further slippage as Wong misjudges on the rope (six) then Yastika tickles fine again – a ball from D-R that invited that option. Dangerous times for the home side. Yastika powers Dean through extra cover for yet another boundary and India are threatening to romp away with this. 75 for 1 after 12.

Oof. Wong is attacking a skier, off a leading edge. She can’t get there. Again the pitch may have played a part; again India proceed. Drinks. Stiff ones, for England?

We finally see Ecclestone in the 17th over. Arguably several overs too late, given the perceptible lack of threat. 50 up, for Yastika but from nowhere, Dean gets through her. Bowled. 99 for 2. The start of something?

The light is brilliant, the crowd may have stirred. Ecclestone has a slip in there. It’s for Kaur, who has joined Mandhana. Daggers on comms understandably noting that Ecclestone will likely bowl ten miles an hour faster than the opposition spinners. May mean nothing: may be important.

A fine 50, for Mandhana, skipping down to Dean. Hoisted with no little exuberance, over mid-off. Emma Lamb will have a bowl. Tidy enough, but Kaur in particular has the luxury of playing her way in here: India don’t need to keep pressing. Lamb may benefit from that in the short term… but yaknow, look out.

More cloud, at half past four. Not a threat but looks cooler; air feels different. Ecclestone continues.

25 overs done. India have two worldies at the crease and 128 on the board; just the two wickets down. Little sign that England are able to disrupt the visitor’s progress, worryingly, for everyone in their camp. The Indians in the crowd are enjoying. When Wong (who in some senses is a fabulous athlete but who may not be a great ground-fielder) fails to gather at the rope, the enjoyment is both palpable and a little cruel.

Talk in the Media Centre that Amy Jones (third choice and possibly reluctant captain) maybe lacks the personality and instinct to break this thing up. Can’t speak to her nature, to be honest, but this has drifted. In other news, Katie George – doing stints on comms – has just legged it out of the ground and down the road to get a round of Proper Coffees in. What a star!

Cross is really racing in and slamming it, but the ball is still middled, in front of square. Like the bowler, Beaumont’s body language is smack on; gathers smartly and lashes it in. Unfortunately, that standard isn’t matched by a subsequent, poor delivery and by Capsey’s mix-up in the deep. Cross drifted to leg and the fielder made a hash of the dive/gather. At drinks on 33 overs, India are absolutely cruising at 175 for 2.

Wong is back from in front of us – at the Sea End. For such a force of nature, she has been as influential – i.e. ‘absent’ as the rest. Mandhana smites her for six, magnificently, for the Shot of the Day. Kaur follows suit, opening her shoulders in style to drill Dean for four more. Suddenly, the visitors need just 33 from 84 balls. (Extrapolate that out and a fifty over total for the pitch of about 270 presents itself: seems about right).

Cross does brilliantly to grab a high bouncer – called wide – then that allegedly Tricky Pitch turns protagonist again: possibly. Smriti Mandhana is playing across and mistiming. (Did Cross take pace off, a touch?) The leading edge loops highish over the bowler’s end and is easily taken by Davidson-Richards. Deol comes in and promptly nearly engineers a Keystones Kops run-out – but no. Palpitations but all good.

Dean has bowled pretty well. In her final over Deol sweeps her straight towards Wong but the fielder lacks the sharpness required: it’s a chance. That feels symptomatic of England’s performance – in short, not good enough. Six out of ten. India have been eight.

Ecclestone is still battling; challenging. Has an appeal; applies some pressure; creates a spike, at least, in drama and possibility. Harmanpreet Kaur sees it out and gets to 50. Cross finds 72 mph, to Deol. It’s still a lovely afternoon.

As we roll towards inevitable victory for Kaur’s side, questions. Why the lack of dynamism and general lack of purpose, from England? Why no Ecclestone until this was almost over? Why didn’t Capsey bowl… and everything get really mixed-up, during the Indian procession with the willow? The answer, my friends, is probably due to changes. Captains and coaches and line-ups. Plus the pitch (a bit) and the fielding (a bit). This England side never looked like their First XI. No wonder we saw a lump of stuff closer to the Mildly Unsatisfactory category than the Unmitigated Success Zone.

But this is ungenerous to India, who have cruised it. They were goodish and consistent with the ball and their fielding was an improvement on recent (and indeed long-term) form. Then captain Kaur followed the national icon that is Smriti Mandhana in looking frankly untroubled, as she picked off the bowling in her own time.

The last blow is a refreshingly emphatic one, as Kaur heaves Davidson-Richards beyond Beaumont and beyond the rope, to finish this. A 7 wicket win – 233 for 3, India. England were ordinary; directionless.