cricket with balls

I freely admit that, fortunately, I have absolutely no idea what sex feels like for a woman, let alone what really bad sex feels like for one. But I am pretty sure that it goes something along the lines of a long, slow, build-up that sets every nerve ending on edge, followed by frenetic excitement which builds towards a tremendous moment of ecstasy and release of tension, only for the other party to get there first and finish off, just as you were about to meet your own glorious climax.

I’m also pretty sure that this must be how the Bangladesh side are feeling right now, having had England explode prematurely all over them in Dhaka.

Only Shakib Al Hasan knows why, when his spinners had taken 7 of the 8 England wickets to fall, he entrusted the final over to a quick bowler, Shafiul Islam, who was at that point not only his most conventional bowler, but his most expensive one. England’s tailenders had already shown that they couldn’t play spin. Wright, Bresnan and Swann had all perished to the most moronic of shots. Shakib himself had been played like he was the reincarnation of Hedley Verity and, although he had no overs of his own left, he had Mahmudullah and Naeem Islam available to bowl and to keep the pace off the ball.

Instead, Eoin Morgan, England’s least conventional batsman, took full advantage as Shafiul wilted under the pressure, seeing England to a win that ended up being far more comfortable than they deserved.

It is doubtful that they will make the same mistake again. Then again, it is doubtful that England will bat that badly again, either. Bangladesh had showed what needed to be done. Every batsman bar Aftab Ahmed (whose continued inclusion in the side is more baffling than anything Shakib bowled) played themselves in before making runs. For England, Kieswetter, Pietersen and Collingwood, as well as the three mentioned above, all fell to poor shots played before they were properly in. There aren’t many attacks in the world in which you could chuck six wickets away with gay abandon and still win – and if this Bangladesh side keep improving at their current rate, no side will be able to be this careless in the future, either.

In the end, though, whilst the performance may have been a lot better, it was still England who went away sated and Bangladesh who were left crying into their pillow.

There are people out there that believe England’s trip to South Africa is less about competition and more about recruiting.

That is unfair, and funny.

Their trip to South Africa is about their love of draws.

And not just any draws, but four and a half days of lifeless cricket, and then a final afternoon that wakes up anyone who has accidentally left the TV on.

This is the 4th test of 09 that England has produced a thrilling end after days of wrist slicing tedium.

4 times have we said, fuck the win, what a draw. And 4 times have we fallen asleep earlier in the match.

We have to thank England for exciting us.

Whether it is with a collapse like the last two, or by not getting out Fidel Edwards they know how to draw.

Most teams just play shitty draws that people hate.

Not England, they are the kings of the crowd pleasing draws.

In the future English fans might boo victories, wishing for the rush from that plucky draw with the classic not quite complete collapse or the moral indignation that comes with not getting the tenth wicket because of a bad declaration.

Looking at South Africa’s run rate in the first dig, and England’s ability to lose 6 wickets in a session today, this series could keep all these English draw enthusiasts happy for a while yet.

If it means seeing the Bruce Willis of Nudgers, Collingwood, doing his batting impression of dragging himself through the remains of his dead comrades as mortar drops around him and a tailender batting better than Ian Bell, I will tune in for it.

Viva la draw.

There is more than a little about England’s nail biting draw in this book.

There are 1% of the world’s cricket fans that have never bagged Paul Collingwood.

These are sick people, a lot of them ginger and/or from the north of England, while the others who like batsman who struggle like hell so much they want him elected. 

I am not one of those 1%, I often bag him, I love it.

He is an easy target with the MBE, ginger hair and that face.

And his batting, oh my fucking god.

He makes the prettiest shots look like car wrecks.

He does it for hours too, sometimes never making for than a handful of runs, but all the while looking scratchy, while we scratch out our eyes.

But when I was doing my podcast at the end of day 4, he was the player I thought could stick around and piss off Australia.

Exactly what he did.

It was a tough proper test batsman innings.

Holding up his team without ever looking that in himself.

Watching the flashy and well regarded fall away as he fought like hell to keep his head above water.

For most of his innings he looked like going out way more than Jimmy or Montybot did, but he was the reason England didn’t lose.

You could argue, rather successfully, that on pure natural talent there are 8 batsmen in the English line up better than him. And Jimmy might be pissed I left him off that list.

But the little bastard just tries harder than people with 4 times the natural ability that he has.

He is never going to be a free flowing batsman, but as a determined fighting son of a bitch, he has few peers.

If you are a batsman like him, like say Brendan Nash, he would be your idol.

He really is the Bruce Willis of nudgers. The Clint Eastwood of nurdlers. The Toshirō Mifune of batting ugly.

Ofcourse all these guys would never have been anything like Paul Collingwood, if he was a character in a film it would be Louis Dega from Papillion.

Throughout the whole movie you wanna punch him in the head, but without him it wouldn’t have been much of a film.

I know England played the Windies yesterday.

But I refuse to talk about a game to so ugly that Paul Collingwood turns into Andrew Flintoff (the good one, not the new one) and strangles the game to death.

3/16 and a 50.

Come on, that is obscene.

I hope no children saw it.