Backing Green at the Gabba

I asked if I could contribute to Cricinfo's Fan Following blog during the World Cup, and they were kind enough to publish it. I have put the link up on this blog before, but here it is in full. Thanks again to the Cricinfo staff.

Choice of game:
Ireland v United Arab Emirates at the Gabba (located in Kevin Pietersen's favourite city, Brisbane). 

Team supported:
Ireland. Not only do I have Irish heritage, I also figured 100% of Ireland's cricketing faithful would not be able to make it to the match, and someone had to sing Ireland's Call in their stead. Hashtag Backing Green. 

Key performer:
While his performance didn't contribute to a win, Shaiman Anwar's terrific century was easily the best innings of the day. Gary Wilson shepherded a difficult chase intelligently, and Kevin O'Brien's belligerence got Ireland into an ultimately winning position, but Anwar seemed to possess a little of both Wilson and O'Brien. Many of us guys and girls in green were assuming he was going to run out of time to make his hundred after a circumspect start. But some powerful late-innings strokes gave us a reason to celebrate. Presumably, the UAE fans enjoyed it too. 

One thing I'd have changed about the match:
Is it wrong to berate Mother Nature when she answers our call? I attended the Australia v Bangladesh match in the rather naïve hope of seeing some action. My rant against the rain would have been heard at the other side of the stadium (because the echo was so distinct). Only a few days later, we spectators are blessed with a perfect Brisbane day (stifling humidity and all), and everybody spends it in the shade. It's too hot, we say. 

Face-off I relished:
Khurram Khan v Ireland. This man's batting prowess is not lost on those who know their Associate cricket. But I suspected the firmer wickets of the southern hemisphere would present a challenge, particularly against fast bowlers. As it happens, things didn't go according to this fan's pre-match script (one wonders why they're drafted at all). Ireland's spin attack performed admirably and, while the UAE were forced to consolidate after stumbling to 78 for 4, Khurram Khan's abundant skill evaporated into the scorching hot sun. 

Wow moment:
Kevin O'Brien produced two wow moments of contrasting styles. He unleashed some dodgy deliveries towards the end of the UAE innings, prompting those of us in the crowd to wonder why a bowler's variation has to be that variable. But that's the best thing about being an allrounder - you can still contribute. His duet of booming straight sixes brought the game back to life. 

Close encounter:
Bail fail. The green contingent in the crowd experienced a gamut of emotions when that brightly lit bail didn't drop. Shock, acceptance, surprise, relief, joy. All in one minute. 

Shot of the day:
Amjad Javed channelled some extraordinary players with his whip off the hip from the all-over-the-shop bowling of Kevin O'Brien in the 39th over. A little bit of Sir Viv Richards, a little bit of Aravinda de Silva and a lot of "Shut up, I wanna see this replay" was heard in the stands. 

Crowd meter:
Less than 6000 people enjoyed this match. I guess this is one of the reasons the ICC is whittling down future World Cups. But sitting among the Irish cricket faithful was always going to make the match more enjoyable, regardless of crowd numbers. We were camped next to like-minded fans from Penbroke Cricket Club (or Penbroke Cricket Clu, if read from their torn flag). Andrew Balbirnie was the number one star in their eyes, but this delightful group of fans were silenced after his dismissal for 30. They soon perked up as Ireland's chase hit the home stretch. 

Fancy dress index:
Despite the dedication of the UAE fans (who were barely visible from the other side of the ground), the points must go to Larry the Leprechaun. A man who can wear a polyester suit, fake red beard and impractical hat, relish the heat, sing all day and be a photo magnet has got my respect. 

Entertainment:
Drummers kept pulses racing in those occasional ODI lulls. Warm applause greeted their renditions of Teenage Kicks and Enter Sandman, played in concert with the on-ground PA system. A few callous groans were reserved for any time a U2 song was played. I imagine those groaners have heard their last album. 

Marks out of 10:
9 out of 10. All the griping about the heat knocks it down a little but frankly, complaining about the heat at the cricket is like complaining about the cold at the Winter Olympics. The day was littered with great people, a great atmosphere and a great match. And that's something the ICC can't afford to shrug from their shoulders. Associate nation cricket is exciting, and it should be here to stay.

PS. Apparently, I was caught on camera wolfing down a chocolate ice cream. It brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld where George is filmed making a pig of himself at the US Open. I hope that footage doesn't come back to haunt me… Actually, make it 8 out of 10. 

PS. Larry the Leprechaun got in touch with me via my now defunct Twitter account, appreciative of this article. Thanks Larry, thanks Ireland!

 

The Weirdest Summer Ever

A retrospective review of one of the more baffling ODI series ever played

It might come across as curious that I’m writing a review of the 1992-93 World Series Cup, but if you don’t like curious, you’re not going to enjoy the next piece. This series featured hosts Australia, world champions Pakistan and the then-mighty West Indies. Each side boasted world class ODI stars like Dean Jones, Steve Waugh, Des Haynes, Curtly Ambrose, Wasim Akram, Javed Miandad, Waqar Younis and plenty more. These three teams were sure to play some amazing cricket. And there were some tense matches, but none of them ran with the conventional pre-tournament ‘classic cricketing contest’ hype. These matches were weird. Very weird. Given the course these matches took, it’s also weird to think they are merely a footnote of ODI cricket today. The following looks at the series in detail, and if all things weird don’t make themselves apparent to you (a hard task, I grant you), this font will make it a little clearer.

The series began with a meeting between Pakistan and the West Indies. It’s difficult to see this as the most dynamic opener to a tournament attracting international attention with more modern eyes. Cricket Australia now spurn the concept of neutral matches, fearing they don’t attract enough attention (unless one of the teams is India). And the host of the match, the WACA in Perth, is constantly fighting the resistance of the powers-that-be, who find the significant time difference between the western state and the more populous eastern states a permanent inconvenience rather than an intermittent curiosity. Consequently, the nature of the post-Packer cricket television does not sit well with those of us who yearn for the ‘good old days of colour broadcasts’. It makes you think that, even though Packer was intrinsically focused on cricket as product, he remained a cricket fan throughout. Everyone since has been solely a programmer.

Pakistan appeared to apply the same tactical nous in the tournament opener that served them so well during their World Cup triumph in Australia and New Zealand the previous summer. After some initially slow progress, they trumped the Windies comfortably by five wickets. Neither side passed 200 in the match, a fact attributed to the lack of pace in what was traditionally a lively wicket.

If pundits assumed things would improve, they would be wrong. The following match, the second of a Perth double header, saw Australia take on the Windies. Australia crawled to 160 from their 50 overs, with Phil Simmons capturing bowling honours with a Benaud-friendly 2-22. Needless to say, the Windies overhauled the target comfortably.

Match three remains one of the more bizarre ODIs ever played. Persistent summer rain (in that context, ‘persistent’ and ‘summer’ is almost a tautology) in Sydney days before the match turned the centre square almost as green as the outfield. “What we need is strong wind and sunshine, we don’t want any more rain at all. We’ve tried a helicopter for an hour, and used super-soppers,” SCG curator Peter Leroy said. (Canberra Times, Tuesday, December 8, 1992, P26)

Further rain on match day drew the potential for abandonment closer. Instead, after truncating the match to 30 overs per side, the umpires ordered play to begin. If not for some near irrelevant pitch covering, the pitch would have been invisible.

West Indies captain Richie Richardson won the toss and unsurprisingly elected to bowl first. No Australian batsman dominated, nor looked comfortable at their short time at the crease as the Windies’ pace attack exploited conditions expertly. Still, top order batsman Phil Simmons was tossed the new ball, and surprised again with 3-11. Dean Jones’ hard fought 21 was the top score from Australia’s total of 9-101. It was expected the West Indies would find the going tough, but perhaps not equally tough. It was a target of 102, after all. The West Indies were bowled out for 87.

Mark Taylor was worth his wait in green and gold on his captaincy debut (deputising for the injured Allan Border). Figuring there was no need to many keep fielders back, he was rewarded with four catches of his own at first slip. All the bowlers contributed to the win in one of the few occasions in the Windies’ era of dominance that Australia targeted them with specified attack. Taylor’s next captaincy assignment against the West Indies would become the first time in nearly 20 years that Australia tasted victory in the Caribbean. There was a case to be made for Taylor’s tactics, wet wicket or not.

The Australia v Pakistan clash in Hobart two days later saw a return to normal transmission, for 99 of the 100 overs at least. Chasing 229 to win, Pakistan hung their hopes on a profitable partnership between Rashid Latif and Asif Mujtaba. That was until Latif was run out for 39, totally losing sight of the direct-hit return from Craig McDermott, and standing startled a few feet short of the crease before accepting his fate. Mujtaba was Pakistan’s last hope, but with 17 needed to win from the last five balls, there was no real hope. Mujtaba and Aaqib Javed managed ten from four when the last ball was bowled. With paceman-iceman Steve Waugh bowling, a victory for Australia was assured. The final delivery from Waugh was a waist high full toss that Mujtaba hoisted into the stands for six. The tie was only the fifth in ODI cricket. The postscript to this match endeavoured to carry on the ‘weirdest summer of cricket’ tag, but in reality, one in 100 overs is all people will remember.

So far, Pakistan’s tenacity had shone in their performances, but Mr Hyde reared his ugly head in match five. No sooner had the green machine looked in blossoming form did it evaporate in the muggy humidity of Adelaide. Once again, rain intervened in their match against the West Indies, but a more sizable 42 overs per side were bowled. The West Indies’ stop-start innings was not helped by the interruptions, and a total of 7-177 was not likely to be enough. But that molehill was made to look like a mountain when the West Indies fielded. So often cutting the figure of a team that wrote the book on how to play limited overs cricket, the West Indies dropped five catches in Pakistan’s reply. That doesn’t include one Salim Malik skier that three fielders attacked, and three fielders backed out of catching.

Pakistan happily trundled to 1-116 when Ramiz was run out after a sudden injury to Salim Malik rendered him immobile. In turning for the third, Malik turned the fortunes of his team radically. He was dismissed not long after, runner in tow, when Phil Simmons took a terrific low catch that enhanced his reputation in this series as anything BUT a top order batsman. Pakistan then panicked. Inzamam added one more to his bulging catalogue of comical run-outs, while Mujtaba was run out thanks to some spritely athleticism from bowler Anderson Cummins in his follow through. Pakistan lost 7-45 to fall short by four runs.

From then on, Pakistan’s World Series Cup campaign didn’t show flashes of brilliance, but rather illuminated their shortcomings. Australia faced them in Adelaide next time and, despite a stunning late order assault from Inzamam Ul-Haq (60 off 70 balls) and Wasim Akram (36 off 15 balls), an otherwise spineless batting and ineffective bowling display saw Australia march home by eight wickets.

Australia wished their form in Adelaide could have carried over to Melbourne against the West Indies, but that wasn’t to be. The MCG’s new outfield which was relaid after the AFL Grand Final the previous September, was under-prepared, with large patches of sand still widely apparent, like a tangible mirage. The upshot of this was groundstrokes on arguably the biggest cricket ground in world were valueless. So, like in Perth, Australia’s top order struggled for impetus against the Windies quicks. Only a face-saving 57 from Mark Waugh (intelligently hitting over the top to find the boundary) dragged Australia to an non-threatening 8-198.

With Brian Lara and Richie Richardson batting as if they rolled out a fresh new wicket, captain Mark Taylor turned to Mark ‘Partnership Breaker’ Waugh to deliver. He took each of their wickets within a few overs. The West Indies then channelled Pakistan to lose 8-36, and the match, by four runs. Mark Waugh followed up his runs and two wickets with three more breakthroughs. Like Allan Border in Test cricket, it was baffling that Waugh’s bowling wasn't used more often. It was even weirder to think history would nearly repeat itself in the 1996 World Cup semi-final; the West Indies (and most notably, Richie Richardson) victims on each occasion. An (almost) interesting side note to this match: Damien Martyn’s catch to dismiss Carl Hooper was later immortalised when Bono (aka The Fly) started flicking channels at U2’s famous Zoo TV Sydney gig.

The same gremlins in the Sydney pitch during match three weren’t in the Sydney pitch for match eight, but looking at the scoreboard won’t convince you. West Indies faced Pakistan, and Des Haynes all but carried his bat, injured knee and all, to score 96 until he swiped at a Wasim Akram full toss,  missed, and lost his off stump. This was the closest any batsman came to scoring a century in this tournament. And, looking at the performances of the batsman, and the quality of some of the wickets throughout the tournament, it’s amazing Haynes made it so close. The remaining West Indies batsman struggled as they posted 9-214 from their 50 overs. What followed defies description, but here’s an attempt at one.

Phil Simmons again opened the bowling with the kind of success many expected from his batting, but this time it was different. In his 10 overs, Simmons sent down 58 dot balls, conceded just three runs, bowled eight maidens and took four wickets. In the modern age of ODI cricket, where a 100+ strike rate makes you an also-ran rather than a superstar, this is unfathomable. Well, to those of us that grew up watching more circumspect pyjama cricket, it was equally unfathomable. Simmons’ probing spell reduced Pakistan to 5-14 by the 12th over, with only Inzamam Ul-Haq (a two in Simmons’ fourth over) and Wasim Akram (a single in his eighth over) making any dents in his figures. This amazing performance had more to do with Pakistan’s ineptitude than quality bowling though, as Pakistan were steamrolled for just 81… from 48 overs. Rashid Latif only had eyes for salvaging some faint pride in an otherwise abysmal batting performance, aiming to bat the 50 overs out rather than score runs. He was the last man out for eight from 72 balls.

Richie Richardson’s assessment of the record breaking performance? “Phil bowled particularly well but the wicket helped the bowlers a little.” (Canberra Times, Friday, December 18, 1992, P28)  

He was so rarely one for hyperbole.

After some more Test cricket (which threw up its own share of bizarre moments), Pakistan rejoined the fold in Brisbane, once again against the West Indies. The break did Pakistan no good at all. This time it wasn’t Simmons that tormented them. He was selected, but didn’t bat or bowl in this match. Not that there was much need to. Pakistan were bowled out for a mere 72 in 24 overs. The top six batsmen combined for a total of just 12 runs. Ian Bishop was the bowling star this time, taking 5-25 while Curtly Ambrose, an almost inconspicuous character in this series, took a miserly 3-13. While panicking at the sight of chasing a small target was a common sight in this tournament, there was none here. 

A day later, Australia rounded out the ‘panicking at the last hurdle’ trifecta, losing by seven runs to the West Indies. Ian Healy (in his longest ODI innings) and Mark Waugh looked to be dragging Australia to victory before Waugh was run out for 54. Australia lost 5-32 at the end of their innings (with no less than four run-outs), all out for 190 chasing 198. The West Indies also managed victory without star bowlers Curtly Ambrose, Phil Simmons and Ian Bishop. The psychological boost went down well, with the West Indies comfortably qualifying for the finals.

The remaining two preliminary matches gave Pakistan the chance to regain some form and self-respect, as the finals were now out of their reach. Australia batted first in Melbourne in match 11 as they found, once again, that boundaries came at a premium. Six fours and one six peppered Australia’s innings, yet they still managed to pump out 6-212, thanks to hustle-and-bustle 84 from Dean Jones. He was on course for a century, until a Waqar Younis thunderbolt turned the stumps into firewood. Pakistan’s dependence on the late overs flurry, like in World Cup, cost them dearly here, as the top order’s sluggish progress gave the middle order too much to do. Pakistan finished on 7-180. More of the same was to be expected in the last of the preliminaries.

As it happens, Australia benefited from its most profitable batting performance of the tournament. Mark Taylor, David Boon and Steve Waugh each made 50s in a total of 6-260. Pakistan performed relatively well, but were ultimately never in the hunt, and fell short by 23 runs. That left Australia and the West Indies to battle it out in the best of three finals.

The West Indies batted first in the first final and, in one of their more enterprising batting efforts, finished on a competitive 8-239. And while Australia started well-ish, Dean Jones did nothing to help the cause. His now infamous request to Curtly Ambrose to remove his white sweatbands baffled and angered Ambrose, and some deadly accurate bowling followed.

“He wasn’t happy about having to take the sweat bands off. He has bowled with them all through the competition without anyone complaining and he was worked up after that,” Richie Richardson said. (The Canberra Times, Sunday, January 17, 1993, P14)

The ensuing contest against Jones made for particularly engaging viewing. For all that has been mentioned since about the incident, that fact is Ambrose didn’t in fact take Jones’ wicket that night. That honour belonged to Kenny Benjamin, catching Jones unawares with a short ball that found the hands of Phil Simmons.

Mark Waugh again started a recovery mission but, like in Brisbane the last time he batted against the West Indies, a clumsy run-out cost him his wicket, out for 51. Later, Curtly Ambrose bowled what must surely be the most telegraphed slower ball in the history of cricket, and Ian Healy duly missed it. Smiles, joyful and ironic ones alike, shone on the players as Ambrose finished without Jones, but with 5-32. Australia were bowled out for 214.

The pattern of the last few matches saw very little in the way of weird cricket, but the slow outfield of Melbourne beckoned for the second final, and normal transmission was to resume.

Australia’s start was encouraging enough, but after scoring 24 by the fourth over, Australia then faced 37 more overs, hit a solitary boundary (an edge off Paul Reiffel), scored just 108 runs and lost all their wickets. Ambrose was again the star, taking 3-26, while Ian Bishop (2-33) and Carl Hooper (2-28) terrific in support. Mark Waugh compounded frustration with another run-out. If not for his elegance at the crease, he would have been lumped together with Inzamam in the bad running stakes. The total of 147 was made at a snail’s pace and, despite their form and ability, the West Indies didn’t fare too much better.

Trembling initially at 3-23, Brian Lara (60) and Carl Hooper (59*) all but saw the Windies to the World Series Cup title. Once again though, the difficult outfield saw any chance of a low-target blitzkrieg an impossibility. Lara faced 100 balls (and injured two when he was struck right where it hurts most, prompting some words from Mark Waugh, and a riposte from Lara) and Hooper faced a win-at-any-cost 132 balls, an innings which would be considered sluggish even in a Test. Australia fought back late in the innings to claim a few more wickets, but none to realistically push for a win. The simple fact was the West Indies were overall the best side. (The Canberra Times, Tuesday, January 19, 1993, P22)

Phil Simmons won the Man of the Series award (even though his primary function could only net him 88 runs at 17.6), Curtly Ambrose won Man of the Finals (deservedly, although Lara could feel a little cheated) and Richie Richardson held the trophy for the West Indies… again.

As time inexorably marches on, this series becomes more and more lost in the annals of ODI cricket. Since then, we’ve seen some remarkable ODI players take the stage, and records have been set, and broken. And with the emergence, and success, of Twenty20 cricket, weird cricket is no longer a rarity, but a certainty. But let these magnificent modern endeavours not overshadow what we saw in the World Series Cup of 1992-93, possibly the weirdest summer of cricket ever.

Check it out for yourself:
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL997C2E2C4390F556

Bibliography:
The Canberra Times (see above)
Wisden Cricketer's Almanack 1994 edited by Matthew Engel (John Wisden and Co Ltd 1994)
World Series Cup in Aust Dec 1992/Jan 1993 - Short Report by Phil Stead
Highlights of World Series 1992-93 Season VHS (Festival Video)

The Curious Case of David Boon

I had only really started watching cricket with any interest, and I would have assumed I was oblivious to cricket’s capricious nature, when I saw THAT ball.

Not Shane Warne to Mike Gatting. Not Michael Holding to Geoff Boycott. Not Waqar Younis to Brian Lara.

David Boon to Phil Emery.

Even at my tender age, I knew this to be an anomaly. And perhaps the only reason Boon ever bowled that day was because it wasn’t an official ODI, but a good story is a good story. 

Australia were playing Australia A in early 1995. And after the first XI’s bowlers copped some early treatment from the dynamic Damien Martyn and the silky Greg Blewett, captain Mark Taylor turned to a part-part-part-time off-spinner who had played almost 100 Tests for his country… as a batsman only.

What’s even stranger than a batsman who has only taken a handful of first-class wickets in his lengthy career taking up the attack? That same batsman being a success taking up the attack. The innocuous nature of the figures was proof enough. Five overs, no maidens, 1 for 13. He wasn’t getting walloped around, Australia A’s initial rollicking momentum was brought to a halt AND he got a wicket.

“How could this happen?” I thought. “It’s David Boon! You can’t smash Warnie, but you can smash Boonie! How did HE get a wicket?”

The curious fact among curious facts in this story though is that Boonie was in actually form with the ball. In a tour match against Zimbabwe a few weeks prior, Boon brought himself on as the Zimbabweans defended in soggy conditions. Boon trapped Guy Whittall in front. 6.4 overs, one maiden, 1 for 16.

“It was a beautiful piece of bowling. I sucked him in with a couple he could turn around the corner, and then produced the arm ball and did him.” (The Canberra Times: Tuesday, December 20, 1994)

It seems as if it was just laughed off. Then, in a World Series final against his regular state opponents (a fact which doesn't require further head-scratching), he produced another “arm ball and did him”. The unfortunate victim was talented NSW ‘keeper Phil Emery. Emery played a frankly ugly shot, shuffling down the wicket and pecking at the ball. It gently drifted between bat and pad, hit the stumps and Emery painted on a face reminiscent of Gatting in 1993. Ian Chappell pushed out the words "Emery's gone, it's seven for 193" while concealing a big grin.

The memory of it endures not because the ball was Warnesque, but because Emery just fallen victim to the down part of the up-and-down attitude cricket possesses. Which is what makes cricket so engaging. Emery knew it, Chappell knew it, Taylor knew it, Whittall knew it, Boonie knew it and I knew it.

Check out the dismissal here (go to about 12.45 in the video, or better yet, watch the whole thing):

Australia v Australia A, Second Final 1994-95

Thanks Cricinfo!

http://www.espncricinfo.com/thestands/content/story/839213.html

Hit-And-Giggle Fashion

While Australia is toasting Test success roasting under the southern son, a crisis still hovers over Australian cricket like the Sword of Damocles. It’s something that, without immediate intervention, could result in serious international embarrassment. The kind of cricketing embarrassment that even sports shows in the USA might make jokes about. It’s the crisis of fashion, and Australia’s T20 jersey design.

Australia has experienced something of a chequered past with their T20 jerseys and its history is not entirely dissimilar to Australia’s ODI jersey history. Vibrant and fashionable, followed by curious experimentation, followed by the embrace of a more ‘contemporary’ look that has every average-ly fashioned cricket fan (which is frankly, many of us… er… them) scratching their heads (that are collectively bereft of all that modern hair product nonsense).

The first Twenty20 International in 2005 was a terrific marriage of old enemies and older looks. New Zealand were decked out in their marvellous old-school beige (a colour that no other team before or since has adopted successfully) and some moustaches that even Mitchell Johnson would applaud. Australia reprised their ODI jersey from the early 1980s. Near fluorescenty gold (not canary yellow) with deep green panels. An effortless combination of colours, assembled with the sort of simplicity lacking from modern jerseys. While sponsor logos, names and numbers were likely to meddle with its design in the future, I figured this would be our T20 jersey for good. How wrong I was.

Michael Kasprowicz in Australia's first T20 jersey in
the first T20I. (c) Hamish Blair / Getty Images, 2005

 After using their ODI jersey against England in 2005 (which Australia did regularly in away T20I matches early on), Australia made a curious turn for their next foray into jerseydom. Authorities took the more than reasonable step of treating the third format of the game as a chance to experiment. Shorter boundaries, giving players microphones and additional cameras were some innovations, but it also meant a re-think to the green and gold branding. The move isn’t altogether new, as Aussie ODI fans sat through season after season of jerseys being bastardised (I hate to draw your attention to the 1999-2000 jersey that featured so many stripes and panels, it looked like Shane Lee was wearing a game of Tetris).

Shane Lee in the suitably maligned ODI 1999-2000 jersey.
(c) Hamish Blair / Getty Images, 2000

 

But the addition of... what's the best way to say this?... Overwhelming Grey, was an unprecedented and audacious step. Twenty20 was fast becoming a game for the people, and the fact is people love their boys in green and gold. Not grey, gold and a skerrick of green. Experimentation is fine, but experimentation is like winning the toss and opting to bowl first. If you do this, you better make sure it works. The 2007 World Twenty20 saw a thankful return to the primary gold, with a diluted grey presence, but general consensus among us... er... those ever fashion-conscious yobbos suggested more needed to be done.

Not even the cool-as-ice Damien Martyn could save
this wardrobe malfunction. (c) Getty Images, 2006

 

The 2009-2010 saw Australia return to a more traditional approach to the design. There was a rustier gold combined with dark and fluoro green, faded white stripes and a thankful absence of grey. The early concept of designing a special jersey for cricketers to distinguish all three forms of the game wasn’t gone (as Australia’s ODI cricketers had by then donned all green with glittering gold stripes), but it looked like experimentation was now going to be left to the players, not the designers. And most accepted that.

Michael Clarke and David Warner in a return to form.
(c) AFP, 2010

 

The next, and still current Australian T20I jersey is a mass of contradictions. The Overwhelming Grey concept is back, only now it’s Black, and the coarse gold and green has been dumped in favour of retro brightness, taking on the kind of colours not seen since the days of Alex Kidd in Miracle World. And though the idea of Australia dressing more like the New Zealand team in all black may upset some amber-swilling Aussies (whose beer guts mean they probably can’t fit into the new jersey anyway), the black is actually pretty attractive, particularly on a camera-filled, flood-lit stadium. The Coat of Arms and the Southern Cross shine a little brighter, and the potential discomfort heat-wise in playing in dark colours is irrelevant in games played only at night. Most importantly, it’s not an indecipherable identity like it has been on occasion in the past. Kids and adults, hardcore fans and casual viewers alike, accept this as Australia’s T20 jersey for good. For now.

The agless Brad Hogg in the jersey's latest progression. Black and retro.
(c) Getty Images, 2012

Dutch Deano

It’s too easy to overlook cricketing minnows when the World Cup comes around. The best in the world play the best in the world on this stage. Associate nations are a colourful aside, and are not given any more thought. Pundits adored getting on Ricky Ponting’s case when he said these teams probably shouldn’t occupy a place here. Green and gold arrogance writ large once again, they said. But the paucity of attention paid to these fixtures tournament after tournament by the greater cricketing community means his words hold credence.

And that‘s a shame, because the exploits of the cricketers involved in said matches are often disregarded. Displays like Duncan Fletcher’s great day out in 1983 and Kevin O’Brien’s record-breaking innings in 2011 are only news because bigwigs were humbled. A minnow v minnow clash, no matter how newsworthy, will only ever be a footnote.

It’s for this reason that not enough people know the fascinating story of Klaas-Jan Jeroen Van Noortwijk of Holland.

In the second Tied Test in 1986, Dean Jones battled crippling dehydration, cramping and illness to score 210 against an impressive Indian attack in Madras (Chennai). The ‘losing 7kg in one day’ story gets more incredible with each re-telling. Van Noortwijk battled similar physical barriers himself in compiling a stunning 134* in Holland’s victory over Namibia, their first ever victory in ODI cricket. The momentousness of the win meant a lot to a team that was not acquainted with success, and to a nation that was not acquainted with the team. But as is the case so often with the most meaningful of victories, it’s those enduring and selfless performances scattered throughout that make a team worth more than the sum of their parts. And for Van Noortwijk, these performances weren’t limited solely to the 2003 Cricket World Cup.

“I was around during Holland’s first World Cup in 1996 in India. Back then we didn't really know what we should expect. Obviously we didn't want to be the clowns of the tournament and we wanted to leave a good impression. But we lost our most important match against the United Arab Emirates, which was a big disappointment.”

The seeds were sown. The old adage of ‘perhaps you need to lose one to win one’ may be applicable here. They then finished sixth in the 1997 ICC Trophy, and failed to qualify for the 1999 World Cup (where, if they finished second, they would have played a match in Amstelveen). Whether it was intentional or not, a far more battle-hardened and determined Holland greeted the 2003 World Cup. Van Noortwijk knew loss too well, it was time to change things.

“In our next World Cup tournament in South Africa, we had one team to beat and that was Namibia. Hopefully we could cause a big surprise, but we had to go home with our first victory on that level. During the tournament we were unable to cause an upset and our performances were quite indifferent so during our last match against Namibia, we could show the world and ourselves what we have learned in the past few years. So we were very determined and focused prior to that match.”

The match was a chance to display the kind of talent the big guns had choked them of, but also to end on a high.

“I knew it would be my last appearance for Holland so I promised myself to take this opportunity and make the best of it. I was very determined to do well.”

Like Ricky Ponting’s 140* in the final some weeks later, it was a case of a batsman willing the best out of himself. Ponting had a World Cup to win, Van Noortwijk had a nation’s cricketing history to begin writing.

On a hot day in Bloemfontein, Holland batted first. After an early wicket fell, Van Noortwijk joined Feiko Kloppenburg in the middle. Kloppenburg himself was enjoying the looser bowling of the Namibian attack, having failed to register a score over 20 against any Test bowlers. The two of them set about building a monumental innings.

“I was lucky that Feiko was playing the innings of his life and - without being aware of it - set me the targets I could focus on. 50 partnership, 50 runs, 64 runs - which was my record for the highest score for Holland during a World Cup match [made in 1996] - and then he moved up to score a century to finally end up being bowled for 121 runs, my last target.”

No sooner was a target set that it was beaten. Namibia’s bowlers didn’t take another wicket until the end of the 44th over. By that time, Kloppenburg scored 121, and in so doing became the first Dutchman to score an ODI century. At the same time, however, Van Noortwijk was on 94*, and the enthusiastic, yet determined, batsman that walked to the crease in the sixth over was now an exhausted one. The heat was starting to take its toll.

“It was hard. But Feiko and I talked to each other and we motivated each other to continue batting in the same fashion. During the last seven or eight overs or so I wasn't allowed any more drinks from the umpire, even though he saw I was having cramps all over my body. Especially the last few overs I could hardly walk or hold my bat. He even offered me to retire…”

Allan Border famously goaded Dean Jones into continuing in the Tied Test of 1986 when Jones was approaching his now famous 210. Jones was ill, Border just thought he was soft. But Jones continued. “A few major expletives later, directed back at me, I knew I pressed the right button,” Border said. No such button was required for Van Noortwijk.

His innings was peppered with blistering straight hits and brutal cover bludgeons. Front foot dominant, and at no stage willing to take a backward step. This was a dogged mentality manifested in centre wicket strokeplay. He continued to use those precious seconds between deliveries to drop down on one knee, recompose and push on. Jones and Border may have occupied the same mind on that day.

Van Noortwijk faced up on 99*, defended the ball at his feet and ran with all the energy he had left. If a wayward throw was accurate, it may have been a case of what might have been, but the century was his. The exhaustion and emotion tumbled out collectively.

Klaas-Jan Jeroen Van Noortwijk celebrates his century.
(C) Reuters, 2003

“There was so much going through my mind. It was my first century for Holland, at a World Cup, my wife and family were in Holland and I was exhausted. It was very pleasing of course and I felt that Feiko and I provided the team a good platform to control the game. But it would be worthless if we lost the game so I still was a bit unsure.”

A historic day for Dutch cricket was only half complete. A total of 314 now needed to be defended. But Van Noortwijk’s day was over.

“During the innings break my body totally cramped. Literally every muscle in my body subdued to spasms and the medical staff put drains in my body. I was not allowed to take the field anymore and watched my team take our first victory from the sidelines. I felt quite happy to do so actually, because I could not move anymore.”

Kloppenburg continued his incredible match with four middle order wickets and, despite a spirited display by the top order, Namibia were outclassed. All out for 250 in the 47th over. Van Noortwijk’s emotions were no less proud after the match.

Luuk van Troost and Van Noortwijk walk off after
scoring a mammoth 314. (C) Reuters, 2003

“[We felt] Pride. And redemption. We proved that we were the strongest minnow, and that we belonged in the tournament. And all of our players learned to play cricket in Holland. It has been the only Dutch team so far to have done so.”

That sense of cricket history being created was not lost on the otherwise oblivious Dutch media either.

“At that time the impact was pretty big for cricket standards in Holland. The sport is hardly known in Holland and the fact that we suddenly got some publicity in the biggest newspapers and television led to a larger interest in the game. On the longer term it vanished because there is no exposure for cricket in Holland.”

And there is the true tragedy of this otherwise uplifting story. We return back to square one. The minnows will sadly be forgotten when the big guns ply their trade, and the legacy of many talented cricketers, regrettably, might wind up being as the answer to a question in a sports trivia night and nothing more. Additionally, the future whittling-down of Cricket World Cups makes it more difficult for Holland to occupy a place there. But there is promise in the future.

“There are some exciting self-bred youngsters that are coming through, like Paul van Meekeren, Ahsan Malik and Vivian Kingma. These guys are very important because our youngsters need some role models to look up to. But these guys need to play as much as possible in Holland, but preferably in Australia, New Zealand or South Africa.”

Hopefully, the qualities of resilience and strength of character best exemplified in Van Noortwijk’s era of Dutch cricket can carry on in the current era. The youngsters, who may gaze longingly at the lucrative dollars that hit-and-giggle Twenty20 cricket can provide, may learn from the kind of example set by the veterans, particularly on that stifling hot day in 2003.

Bob Simpson labelled Dean Jones’ innings as “one of the great innings ever played”. And Van Noortwijk’s innings, identified by its similar sense of self-sacrifice, deserves to be remembered in the same way Deano’s is.

The 2015 ICC Cricket World Cup is coming up. Perhaps another Dutch Deano story will emerge.

Welcome Aboard

Hi, welcome to my new cricket blog. I hope you’ll find something vaguely interesting in these pages. The following probably won’t be interesting to many, but I feel I must establish my credentials in order to justify having a blog in the first place.

I’ve been working as a journalist in Australia for the last eight years, and in that time I’ve written precisely zero articles about my sole obsession, cricket. I’m not a capital city journalist, so international cricket was never written, and rarely covered, by the newspapers I worked on. And local cricket was covered by the seasoned sports journalists who make up for a reasonable ability to write with an impressive cache of contacts built up over decades who can guarantee some quotes in every story.

I use the word ‘reasonable’ there not as a subtle dig at the ability of those journalists. It’s a style over content problem. The overly technical nature of newspaper copy writing grants very little leeway for writing with abandon. Newspaper copy, as I see it, is all about what the ‘reader must see first’ and the ‘economy of words’. So my passion of the great game of cricket would have been wasted on a page that also needed to include the weekend’s lawn bowls results (because “we get calls if they’re not all in there”).

That’s why this blog exists. I want to write about the game I’ve always loved in my own way. My intention is not to convert those that abhor cricket (in my experience, I’ve met many) or to stoke the fire that zealous cricket fans love to watch burning (in my experience, I’ve met many). They’re my words, and that’s all.

I once had a YouTube channel relating to cricket, and I blocked the potential for users to leave comments. “I don’t want to start a slanging match, or leave the door open for others to start one,” I said. It’s not as easy with a blog as it is with videos. The social media generation means viral video sensations are ignored as fast as they’re revered. Regardless of their informative and entertaining nature, blogs appear to have more staying power. I hope readers will enjoy my blog, agree or disagree with the points I’m making, and offer their own handsomely–crafted views as well.

There you have it, that’s my unwanted, yet obligatory, introductory blog. Talk again soon.