Saturday, 31 January 2015

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

Thursday, 29 January 2015

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.

Wednesday, 28 January 2015

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.