cricket with balls

When you click on the cricinfo link to the scorecard for the Eden Gardens’ test the first name you see is Hashim Amla.

That is just how their live scorecard works.

It isn’t making a statement with his name; he was just not out, after facing a few more than a hundred overs to win a series for his country.

He couldn’t win the series, but India must have realised that in order to win this test they were essentially only a chance when he was at the non-strikers’ end.

490 runs for one out in three innings. That is batting.

Before the English series Amla was averaging a very bland 40 with the bat after 37 tests.

On a older test match sofa podcast I said he had talent but had been a massive underachiever.

Now he has conquered India.

His team hasn’t, but he has.

Sometimes you can play in six tests when you are in form and it changes the trajectory of your career, at other times you will remember them as the six tests when you didn’t suck.

And in these two tests Amla definitely did not suck.

His calm head today made his team mates look like they were panic buying before the Mayan prophecies came true.

This isn’t the strongest Indian attack of all time, but Bhajji was humming, Mishra was more than handy, and it wasn’t like the rest of the South Africans looked like staying in.  Prince offered 23 runs as second highest scorer if you don’t count Extras.

While two tests is still not a series, what two tests these were.

Steyn’s bowling, Amla’s batting, Sehwagology, and Tendulkar’s hundreds all set this up.

Nothing could beat the end of the day.

At one end you had Amla batting like he was made of granite.

At the other end was a collection of leg spin, off spin and Sachin spin trying to pry out South Africa’s former number 8 as the minutes ticked away.

Match winning hauls, stoic defense, amazing attack, all packed into a seriesette.

Plus the result was right.

It proved that no team really deserved to take the crown, but that both teams could kick some ass when they got their shit together.

India are number one, which seems odd when in 50% of this seriesette they were beaten up.

Ofcourse with South Africa now winning 3 of their last 9 tests, India’s record is looking more and more impressive.

In the end the artificial ranking system means nothing, look at the player and crowd reaction to that win, that means more than anything a statistician can table.

Now all I need to do is stop wishing this was a 5 test series…

A couple of years back a dude broke into my house.

Unfortunately I was home at the time.

The dude saw me, ran off and stole a virtually worthless laptop.

He has never come back.

Having intruders in your home sucks a fair chunk of ass.

India recently invited an intruder to their house in a macho manoeuvre to show their superiority, then 11 big bastards turned up and mugged their team.

In the last 10 years India have beaten South Africa at home once, lost once, drawn once, and now can only win or draw.

That must hurt.

India has seen South Africa choke in big tournaments, struggle against England and only win one series against Australia (a team India has done pretty well against).

India have only ever won two series against South Africa, there first was back when I had only had sex once, and was wearing out copy of Basic Instinct on VHS.

The other was over 5 years ago.

It should be mentioned that India are pretty good at home.

So when an intruder (invited or otherwise) comes in to where you are good, and makes you less than good, that is really less than good. Exactly.

India has already given this series up, but a draw is needed to keep some sort of faith.

The way modern test series have gone of late, well at least those with England in them, a win after a loss by over an innings is possible.

India have even tried to pick a test team for this match, although I am pissed off they have abandoned the New Zealand tactic of employing two keepers in a game.

India losing the first test sort of ended this as a legitimate title fight (South Africa ruined their part in it by not beating England at home); the only result that could possibly explain the world of cricket right now would be India winning this test to draw the series.

When the best Test cricket can do is a hasty two test world championship series (if two tests is really a series, and it isn’t) between a side that can’t beat the heavyweights away from home and a side that coming into the series has won 2 of 8 tests it deserves nothing more than a draw.

It doesn’t even deserve Dale Steyn or Sehwag.

Those two should be rested on grounds of unnatural awesomeness.

This series deserves more Paul Harris.

2010: where mediocrity ruled the world.

Buy the book, get a t-shirt, or donate to the whisky fund.

Recently Paul Harris came to me and asked that I tone down the vitriol I poured in his direction. I said that while I would love to love him that would not change the rest of the world’s thoughts on him. Paul looked confused, then he asked me what those thoughts are. I took a deep breath and said, “Basically, Paul, people think you are the worst bowler in the history of cricket to get wickets, some also think you have stupid highlights, others think you have a silly bowling action and some question whether you are a nice guy”.

Paul was taken back by this. “Surely some of them like me”. I nodded. “What do the ones who like me say?” I took a few minutes to think about it, but eventually I had to tell him that I couldn’t remember ever having a conversation with someone who like him. Paul was hurt, he knew he was not the most lovable guy on earth, but this sort of anger and resentment made him feel uncomfortable.

“Jarrod, I want this to change, people of this beautiful cricket community need to see that I am human, if you cut me do I not bleed runs. I want to feel the love. Why don’t you come down to my next psychological session and we’ll show the world what I am really made of. Paul Harris; uncut”.

I was uncomfortable with the very suggestion, but Paul’s puppy dog eyes turned me around, so I went down to listen to him on the couch. This is what I heard.

Counsellor: Paul, what is on your mind?

Paul: I don’t know where to start, yes I do, it happened again.

C: Trouble raising your right arm?

P: No, no, well yes, but I meant I took wickets and no one cared.

C: I see, how did that make you feel?

P: Distraught, heartbroken, sullen, morose, glum, pissed off. Just like all those years ago when I made the best ashtray in art class but the teachers overlooked me. It might not have been the prettiest, but it was dependable, had options for cigarettes or cigars, it did its job, but no one cared. They went for the ones with rainbows on them, not the grey one. What parent cares about rainbows, they just want to put their fags in a safe place while they have a drink. I was just a little boy who had made a perfectly dependable ashtray, why couldn’t they accept me for me.

C: Interesting, perhaps in this game your wickets weren’t that important in the scheme of things so the press and fans, while respectful of you, had to praise others more.

P: SachinTendulkar? Dhoni, twice. Come on, Doc, these are the main men. Sure Steyn did some damage, but without me helping out there would have been a lot of graft. I was the icing on his cake. It has always been this way, one day my brother made a table for my mother, it was a great table, sturdy, conventional, reliable, but it needed something, a sand down and a few coats of varnish. I did that; I turned this table into the centrepiece of our dining room. Sure he cut the wood, made the measurements and put the thing together, but without the polish it was just a huge hunk of wood. When my mother saw it she loved it so much she bought my brother a car, a car, can you believe that. Do you know what she got me, a cassingle of some muppet covering MC Hammer. I mean come on. Story of my life.

C: Have you ever considered that you bring this on with a victim’s mentality?

P: I’m no victim. Couldn’t be further from it. I’m a survivor, the rest of the world runs up the stairs, but I run for the nearest house. I am someone young kids should want to put on the wall and pray to at night. I ain’t no extra baby, I’m a leading man. People should want to be me, not want to punch me. I want to suckle at the teat of…

C: That is all we have time for.

P: Oh, man, already?

Paul came to me after the session finished and asked what I thought. I was still a bit shocked by it all, so I told him it was an illuminating experience. He looked happy with me, but he asked that no matter how this piece worked out, that I finish on a positive note.

Harris’ test bowling average is 33.41, which is 0.61 runs more per wicket than Abdul Qadir.

Buy the book, get a t-shirt, or donate to the whisky fund.

“Hello, little boy. So you think you are better than me, than me, DALE WILLEM STEYN. I would laugh if I wasn’t ripping your limbs off.  You should thank your lucky stars they even let the likes of you on the same turfed surface as me.  Just looking at your pathetic faces makes me want to hurt you.  Every single fibre of your being disgusts me.  It is hard for me even to think of you existing without tasting the bile in my throat.  I am number one. Number ONE.  There is no one else on the planet who can do this, just me.  Bow, fucken bow you little tiny insignificant bitch.  Lick my toes, grovel, GROVEL HARDER. You are nothing; I am everything.  You should thank your God that you were even allowed to be destroyed by me.  Tonight when you try and sleep I want you to know I am over your bed, mocking you, whispering a story into your ear, the story of how I finished you.  Vengeance, thy name is Steyn.  You are my victim, a virginal sacrifice before my godly alter.  No man, or Gods, can defeat me when I thrash out my weapons of war.  The world is mine, I own it, you aren’t good enough to be stuck on my shoe.  There are two kinds of people in this world, me, and those who aren’t me.  Can you feel me, I am the hot air on your neck, the monster in your wardrobe, the creak in the other room, when you wake up and feel like someone is in the room, that is me, I’m always there.  You ain’t ever going to beat me, just give up.  You couldn’t dream up a nightmare as bad as I am.  There is no chance your woman will ever look at you the same way now, because I have cukcholded your soul.  This will be the story you’re too embarrassed to tell your kids. Today you went up against an unbeatable force, a monumental monolith, and all you could do was struggle out one breath as a time as it took you apart.  You are an insignificant piece of dirt and I wiped you on the cricket annals door mat.  One day you will think you are over this, you will be hanging with friends, maybe enjoying a beer and some fishing, but then the fear, the soul destroying fear, will smash down on you, and your friends won’t know why you are frozen still.  In what world would an ant like you kill a lion like me?  Turn your head; you aren’t good enough to even look in my general direction.  I have smited you from the earth; there is only crumbs left.  There is only one, his name is DALE WILLEM STEYN and he is NUMBER ONE. Alpha, Omega, STEYN.”

Buy the book, get a t-shirt, or donate to the whisky fund.

I wrote a whole post about the first two days of this series.

Then I deleted it.

Frankly, you’d be better off pretending you saw this.

Or you could fantasize about how a series like this could have started if Steyn and Sehwag were going head to head on the first day.

Anything to scrub the last two days out of your mind.