UPDATE AT END OF POST
Back in the day, way back in the day, I had an idea to write a blog. I started one up on blogspot, had to close it down (I like threats of violence), opened up another on WordPress, but bored with that and I thought I should specialise. In 2010 I decided to write a new blog, based on cricket. I get these madcap ideas every now and again (still convinced I can do this and an America Sports blog).
What should I call it? I always found it difficult to come up with names for blogs that were catchy, but a bit different. What should I call the cricket blog I had some grand visions for, but ultimately I knew would be a failure? Nothing with crap like googlies in it. Nothing about Inside Edges or such stuff. Not for me. No. Think.
When considering a name, I wanted to make it personal to me. I’d been to six test matches overseas, of which we lost all five that I had tickets for all of the days, and won the other where I had just two days of tickets. Of all those matches, one stood out. The exemplar of what a cricket fan has to go through in a five day test. The periods of slow play, laying the foundation, which Day 1 was. The burst of hope as your team takes a hold of the game, which was definitely Day 2. The striving for success, to put yourselves in a winning position, which Day 3 seemed to be. The evaporation of hope, as the opposition grind down a tired team and reach virtual parity, and that, my friends, was Day 4.
Then there was Day 5. Day 5. It still makes me shiver with that awful feeling of despair. It still hurts as I think of those Aussies running over to their crowd in front of the scoreboard, knowing the Barmy Army were to their right, suffering. The time when I saw a cricket team freeze before my eyes, paralysed with the fear of defeat and not knowing what to do. Watching mental disintegration in its most visceral form. Stupid shots, silly runs, shotless innings, hopeless wafts, dodgy decisions, and fear. Pure unadulterated fear. There was no calculation for when the game was safe, and when we lost the 10th wicket we knew that we weren’t safe. This was 4 and a half an over. They had a good batting line up.
And the question was raised, again and again. How could the team that had been so good in the first three days, be so bad on the last? How could the team that had played without fear in England not 18 months before, be paralysed with it on that December afternoon? How could players like KP, who had taken the final day at the Oval in 2005 in his hands and make it his, succumb meekly to a pathetic sweep shot?
How Did We Lose In Adelaide?
I had the name. It encapsulated a seminal event in my life, coming after the death of both my parents in the space of 9 months, becoming a mental wreck, a shot to pieces individual pinning hopes on great holidays, great mates and enjoyment to forget the grief. It reminded me of the sheer beauty, and pain, of sport, of why it is played, why it should never be discounted, why test cricket should absolutely not be messed with. It reminded me that bad times in sport, the real lows, in many ways should be appreciated because if you feel that bad, you bloody well cared enough to hurt. It seemed a perfect name for the blog. So I used it.
How Did We Lose In Adelaide
England resume tomorrow half way there, with more than half their wickets left. Tomorrow is Joe Root’s chance to emulate Brian Lara in Barbados, Sachin in Chennai, Smith at Edgbaston to name three. To have the innings of immortality at your fingertips, but yet, but yet, so far away. It is a chance for heroes to emerge, for legends to be made, for the Australians to ask the question I have asked so often myself. It is a chance for Woakes to play the nightwatchman role of his life, to surprise us and make us embrace him. If they should be denied it is for Jonny Bairstow and Moeen Ali to take the good fight forward. 178 runs – not a small amount, but not insurmountable. This isn’t Butcher at Headingley, with a series gone, but Lara in Barbados with a series to control. This is the chance we thought we didn’t have, the chance brought to us by a champion bowling performance 72 hours too late.
We could emerge triumphant, we could leave the Aussies shell-shocked, in recrimination, undermine the captaincy of Smith who would never live it down, we could build up the confidence of the men who played a small part in setting this up. We could hit the enemy where it hurts, with a victory when there seemed no chance we could avoid defeat. We could slay the invincibility aura that some have given this bowling attack. We could quiet the Aussie fans and media, in their tracks, make them pay. We could do all this and more with 178 runs. One hundred and seventy-eight runs with six wickets remaining. One century partnership and it is probably ours. We can see it. We can taste it. We want it. A chance to complete the circle dating back to December 2006, to the naming of my most important blog in 2010, to the pain of and pains caused by the whitewash in 2013/14. A chance to exorcise some demons. To laugh and to cry. To feel joy, remembering the pain. What a chance!
220 all out by lunch.
This post is dedicated to Sri Grins! Comments below.
“I’m Flying High, I’m Watching The World Pass Me By”
UPDATE – How Did We Lose In Adelaide? Without much of a fight it seems. I woke up at 4:20, looked at the score on my phone, swore, posted a comment, went back to sleep. Woke up with the alarm at 6:10 and saw the end result. What a shame.
I’m aware Chris and I have hogged the mic, so to speak, for the past few days, so we are handing over the keyboard to Danny and Sean for the next two days. Danny will be carrying out the review of the match / Day 5 and Sean will apply his forensic mind to any issues arising from the last test. Me? Christmas parties.
It’s Dmitri’s season, so got to start thinking of them. We’ve still got Perth. But most of all, we still have each other.