150% SERIES report

Dandy Dan writes:

Eager to avenge his defeat in last summer’s Test, Ben had spent some of the considerable amount of time that he had on his hands in preparing slightly more professional equipment than we had at our disposal last year.

Unfortunately, given that he’d been away from Blighty for some months, his natural ability to judge how big a cricket bat and stumps should be, had been affected.

A bale for scale

He had made a fine cricket bat out of an old axe handle and kitchen work surface. Unfortunately, it was so heavy and large Lance Klusener would have thought twice about using it. Hence 150% cricket was born and the series started.

Against a scale-bale backdrop

The length of the series was determined by how many games we could be bothered to play during my week’s stay. Some simple rules were established. Five over games where the loss of each wicket (to a maximum of 11 of course) resulted in the loss of five runs. A hay bale was used as wicket keeper and a ladder as leg slip.

Joel Garner at leg slip

Further hay bales were identified as fielders. To keep in line with the ‘enlarged’ aspect of 150% cricket, a slightly larger dog toy was used as a ball. However, each team had the option when bowling to enforce the ‘Super Over’ where the dog toy could be replaced by a tennis ball. We had already decided it would be called a ‘Super Over’ before we knew who the over the was supposed to be super for.

The first two games went one a piece. Ben took the third mainly due to the back injury I received by repeatedly hooking using his heavy bat. We then had a rest day to allow my back to recover. It was clearly evident in the first three games that neither captain knew what to do with the Super Over. As with many new developments in cricket, both captains waited until the last minute before using their so called ‘advantage’.

Going into the fourth game it was 2-1 in Ben’s favour. It was then that controversy hit the series. A day/night game was started. I batted first but my innings was interrupted due to us both being called for dinner (despite the fact we’re both nearly 30, we were acting/treated like we were 10). Much food and drink then followed and play was never resumed. The following day, in line with ICC regulations regarding limited overs cricket (I think) the game was declared a draw as it had not been completed the previous day. This seemed to annoy Ben. I wasn’t too sure why but it might have been something to do with the fact that I was minus-seven for three after two overs. I reminded Ben of the importance of applying the Laws of cricket and a new game was started.

So, 2-1 going into the final game. Keen not to lose the first series of this exciting new format I made a positive start with the bat and finished my five overs with an impressive 52-0 (probably). This immediately put pressure on Ben’s batting and he lost two wickets in his first over leaving him on minus-nine for two. Another wicket fell in the second and Ben moved onto minus-seven for three. It was then that I had my ‘Brearley moment’. I enforced the Super Over. This confused Ben’s already fragile batting line-up and from that point, a draw in the series was going to be the only outcome.

If anyone from the ECB or ICC is reading this, 150% Cricket is a trademark of La Charouliere CC. However, we are willing to discuss franchise opportunities to bring it to a wider audience.

Giles Clarke – an unfair but fairly amusing comparison of two pictures

Charged with massive fraud involving $8bn investment scheme

'God, you even smell like money'

Alleged to have bowled a deliberate no-ball

'Your alleged greed sickens me'

A rousing speech about spot fixing

Friends, we must take a stand. This great game has been our lifeblood for oh so many years and now is the time to return that favour. Just as cricket sustained us, so must we now sustain it in these times of hardship.

This noble game of ours is badly wounded. Battered and bleeding, it is on its knees in the dirt. And yet we are not helpless. Together we can act to protect it.

Do we walk by, ignoring cricket’s plight or do we help it to its feet and together stand against our common enemies? Do we spurn our beloved sport’s imploring hand or do we tend to its wounds, preparing it for the next battle?

Do we act? Do we act now? Of course we do. But what will be our next step? How will we crush the forces of darkness so that their despicable tendrils never again constrict the veins of hope and optimism that enrich our world?

Well, er, I’m not too sure actually. Have you got any ideas? We could have a whip-round I suppose. Would that help? How about a sponsored run?

My mate Dave’s clearing out his loft at the minute. Maybe we could take some of that stuff down to a car boot sale or summat. Most of it’s rubbish, but we might get a bob or two for some of it. There’s a load of old crockery from his nan’s. It looks horrible, but it’s probably worth something to someone.

No? Okay, maybe we should just leave it then. Shall we just leave it? Yeah. I’m sure it’ll all work itself out anyway. Anyone fancy a pint? Come on then. My shout.

We’ve got some more fist-pumping rhetoric over at Cricinfo. It’s not about spot fixing though. Thank God.

Receiving money for underperformance

A man with a pencil moustache approaches King Cricket.

Man: Hellooooo.
KC: Er, hello?
Man: How are you doing this fine day?
KC: I’m fine. Sorry, do I know you?
Man: No, you don’t know me. But perhaps you should.

The man raises an eyebrow and looks King Cricket up and down.

Man: I’m a terribly big fan of your work, you know.
KC: Oh yes.
Man: It’s a fantastic website. So irreverent. So droll. So recherché.
KC: You’re weird.
Man: I was wondering if perhaps you might like me to represent you, as your agent?
KC: Er, I don’t know.
Man: It would be very worth your while. I will be able to get you what you… deserve…
KC: Well, I’m always up for more work, if that’s what you mean.
Man: Excellent. I took the liberty of having the paperwork signed on your behalf already so there’s no need to worry about that.
KC: Oh, er, okay. Can you do that? Is that the way it’s supposed to work?
Man: Yeeeesss.

The man turns to leave.

KC: But I don’t even know your name.
Man: My name is not important.

A few days later, there is a knock at KC’s door. It is the man again.

Man: Hellooooo.
KC: Er, hello.
Man: I am delighted to say that I have some work for you.
KC: Really? That’s great. Where is it?
Man: It’s not so much a question of where… as what…
KC: What?
Man: Yeeeeesss.
KC: No, I mean what are you talking about?

The man twirls his moustache between thumb and forefinger.

Man: Are you willing to… do things?
KC: Er, maybe. What kind of things?
Man: Are you willing to write on certain topics that you might not ordinarily write about?
KC: Yeah, I should think so. I’m pretty open to new stuff.
Man: Goooood. And would you be willing to write in a certain style?
KC: Well, yeah, I like to think I’m pretty adaptable. What kind of thing specifically?
Man: Would you be willing to deliberately misplace an apostrophe in one of your articles?
KC: Get out.
Man: No-one would notice. It would be-
KC: Get out.
Man: But-
KC: Get out.

How do you feel about the Pakistan betting scam?

We just feel depressed. Cricket is joyful escapism and this kind of thing just knackers it up.

Questioning on-field events

Assuming it’s true (and having seen Mohammad Amir’s giant no-ball, we’re pretty sure it is) the real damage is in the fact that people question everything that happens in a match and you only need to question something to utterly devalue it.

We don’t believe there’s been anything more than the odd deliberate no-ball (in this Test at least) but casting a shadow over everything else is damage enough. The players responsible can say to themselves that they aren’t affecting the outcome of the match, but it’s okay for them: they know what they’re doing and what they’re not doing. We don’t.

Stealing our heroes

The other huge negative is that cricket loses some of its heroes. Even if they don’t get banned for life, they’re no longer heroes; they’re sullied.

One of the joys of this series has been watching Mohammad Asif and Mohammad Amir. Asif’s kind of a numbnuts and we already knew that, but Amir was untarnished. We’ve some sympathy for him because he’s 18 and he’s being shown how to be a professional cricketer by his older teammates, but even so, there’ll always be a bit of shit stuck to him from now.

Jonathan Trott and Stuart Broad v Pakistan – what a partnership

The Jonathan Trott and Stuart Broad fightback poised for action

One’s a balding, short-arsed, right-handed batsman. The other’s a boyish, lanky bowler who bats left-handed. Together they gave James Anderson the longest wait of his career.

Trott and Broad caused Pakistan’s bowlers no little distress as well, which was entirely unexpected given the circumstances. Mohammad Amir started the day taking four wickets for no runs and Broad arrived at the crease with England 102-7.

Number nines don’t generally score Test hundreds from that position and it was even less likely in a summer where the value of a run has inflated astronomically with every passing innings.

For the bowling side, an eighth wicket partnership like the one between Jonathan Trott and Stuart Broad is like having the shit kicked out of you by a baby panda. For hours.

Lord’s getting two Test matches in 2011 as usual

The home of cricket

Most grounds are pleased if they get even one Test match, let alone two.

Lord’s is the home of cricket

What does that even mean? People just bandy the phrase about mindlessly. It’s propaganda. We grew up with cricket and have followed it our whole adult life and never went to Lord’s until we were in our thirties. It seems cricket is thriving away from its home.

Half the cricket that is played in this country is played in Lancashire, Yorkshire and Durham. Half! That’s cricket’s heartland right there. Isn’t that the home of cricket?

Lord’s is special

For whom? The players? You don’t schedule matches for the players. There are 22 of them and several thousand spectators. Is Lord’s special for spectators? When we went it felt like pretty much every English ground we’ve been to – plastic seating and overlooked by blocks of flats. It was nice, but nothing special.

The Lord’s Test – it’s the social event of the season

Lord's Cricket Ground - home of real tennis

We went to Lord’s once. It was fairly normal until we went round the far side of the ground and heard a guy talking about real tennis.

Lord’s has a real tennis court.

Yes!

Well played

What more can you say?

Not a Surrey v Middlesex match report by any stretch

Okay, we know we say not to mention the cricket in your match reports, but can there at least be some cricket that you avoid mentioning from now on? We’re including this one because it’s largely about food and because it contains some happy news and some good advice. Try and make a cricket reference in your comments maybe.

SW writes:

As it was only two days before the wedding we decided on a quiet night out at Jamie’s Italian in Guildford with my best friends, Sarah and Robin, their mums and my future mother-in-law, Wendy. I’d never been to this branch before, but as a lover of the antipasti platter of meats and cheeses thought it was a safe bet. Anything associated with the Naked Chef holds some considerable prestige in Perth where my mother-in-law lives, so I also hoped to gain some pre-wedding Brownie points. She was suitably impressed.

On the whole the food was jolly tasty, although I immediately regretted ordering the Fritto Misto and suffered considerable food envy when Wendy’s choice of lamb chops arrived. This taught me the invaluable life lesson that you should always go for the meat option rather than the deep fried mystery assortment of seafood. Mother-in-laws are wise and wily creatures.

We were quite disappointed that Jamie himself wasn’t there to cook for us, but our South African waiter Alasdair did arrange for me to get a massive tin of chopped tomatoes signed by Gareth who was working in the kitchen that night. I imagine that one day when Gareth is a famous TV personality this tin will be worth some considerable sum of money.

Later in the meal Sarah thought she had recognised our old primary school deputy head sitting nearby so she marched over there to reacquaint herself with Mrs Davies. Robin and I felt really sorry for the woman who was clearly out enjoying a quiet meal with her husband. Nonetheless we soon also marched over and cajoled her into posing for photos with us to celebrate this amusing coincidence. I’m also a primary school teacher and will no doubt be equally charming when three Pinot Grigio-swigging women come to ruin my nights out in twenty years’ time.

At the end of the evening Wendy wanted us to go to a late night bar so we could wait for the Australian, his father and best man, Shane, to return from Vauxhall. They missed their train so we left without them.

At about one o’clock in the morning the Australian rocked up proudly sporting his Virgin man-bag that he had been given by a part-time-model masquerading as an air hostess. He was also clutching a can of Fosters and was wearing the child-size cap that came in the man-bag. He looked ridiculous.