cricket with balls

As the hours tick down towards the start of their oh-so-tricky first Test against Bangladesh, England’s selectors are apparently enduring sleepless hours wondering who to leave out from the side.

So far, the only people certain not to be in the starting XI are Luke Wright and Stephen Davies. Even Liam Plunkett might get a call, on the grounds that (a) Stuart Broad might not be fit and (b) he’s the next most-capped bowler in the side – which would mean adopting the age-old English policy of going for experience despite the player having been resolutely crap for the entire tour.

Which means that they have to play Broad, because otherwise they have to play someone slightly less threatening than Angelina Ballerina. Except they can’t play him as a part of a two man pace attack, in case his back goes again.

In which case they have to play Finn, despite his being likely to blow away at the first gust of wind, because they have to play Bresnan, if only to ensure that there is some food left come the intervals.

But if they play three seamers, they have to leave out either a spinner or a batsman. Which means either leaving out Swann (unthinkable), the leading wicket taker on this leg of the tour (Tredwell), the guy who scored a ton in the last game (Trott), the only specialist opener in the side other than the captain (Carberry) or Ian Bell, who hasn’t really done anything to justify being dropped. For once.

And before anyone starts, you’ve more chance of catching Andy Flower climbing out of the back entrance of Robert Mugabe than you have of him dropping KP.

Never fear, though. Because the Balls has the answer. There isn’t one England player who isn’t taller than any given member of the Bangladesh starting XI – even Bell. And when you get to a certain height, your features must just be fading into the distance, like mountain tops. Which means that England should just take advantage of their opponents being a bit on the short side and just play Broad. And then, if he starts falling apart again, slip Finn onto the field in his place. A bit of hair dye and no-one will ever know.

And then the selectors can get a decent night’s sleep and stop coming up with stupid ideas such as Trott opening, or dropping Tredwell on a track prepared for their opponents’ 1283 spinners.

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.

I don’t know about you, but before the Paris Hilton sex tape, I really didn’t know who she was.

The name was familiar, but I didn’t know who she was, what she did, why I knew her name, or what she looked like naked and green.

I knew of Tim Bresnan before he started tweeting, but I knew little of him, the average English cricket fan probably knew nothing of him.

Then he calls a bloke a KNOB, some groundbreaking website breaks the story, it ends up all over the news, he gets in trouble with Andy Flower, then he comes in because Stuart Broad has a sore bum.

He suddenly has a profile.

Not a great profile, but people suddenly start watching what he is doing.

Before hand he wasn’t doing much, so there wasn’t much to watch.

But now he is in the headlines (barely) and people know a little more about his swearing habits and a penchant for mother jokes this was the most important game of his career.

He could have fucked it up.

The excuses where there, Bumble and Bhogle couldn’t stop mentioning twitter, England were mid-collapse and this was a semi final of a semi-important tournament.

Instead the big fella* stood up.

While Shane Watson came at him hard, Tim was good.

From there on in he and Wright put together an innings saving partnership.  It wasn’t enough, but his top order didn’t deserve to be saved.

The innings was streaky at times and just damn lucky at others, but a top effort.

Making 80 batting at 8 in a one dayer is a good enough for me any time, but with all the shit going on his head, the papers, from the team management, the commentary box, and on twitter, I think the fella deserves some credit.

Top cricket, U KNOB.

Let us hope for your sake that you go on to do better than the cricket equivalent of House of Wax.

*By big fella I am not referring to Tim’s frame, but his presence.

Poor Tim.

Bloke photo shops him looking like Jonah Hill, and Tim says fuck and calls him a KNOB.

Fair enough.

Probably not the sort of behaviour the ECB wants from their cricketers, but it was no worse than what an English cricketer said next to a camera at the end of the win against South Africa.

Swearing on TV is bad, but can be quickly forgotten, and doesn’t even always need an apology.

How many times have we seen a cricketer play and miss and then heard a muffled, “fuck”, from stump cam.

Some of us can lip read too, not every word, but I am pretty sure Freddie and Siddle broke some sort of records for how many times the word fuck was used in one spell this year.

I am not sure that putting knob and fuck in even constitutes a expletive-laden rant.

I found this on twitter:

“Stop fucking yelling into your shitty phone you dumb fucken asshole. People can fucken hear you if you talk normally you wanker.”

That is laden.

Before I broke the exclusive (apparently that doesn’t get you a new car or a latte maker) I wondered if I was doing the right thing.

By airing the story you mean that future cricketers on twitter will be on a short leash, if at all, and that is less fun.

But then I thought it was funny, and funny trumps all.

I would like to say I am angry at the Daily Mail though, not because I wasn’t given proper credit for breaking this all important story, but for **** the word knob.

Remember when the Times featured my site, but wrote bastards as b*******.

**** Must stop.

Have now added the image as a major English newspaper is going to show it tomorrow. But you must admit, that while making a photo of someone being fat and then sending it to them is stupid, the photo shop skills are there to see.

Recently Tim Bresnan started tweeting.

Realising that I know very little about the guy other than the fact he doesn’t tuck his shirt in when he comes in to bowl I decided to follow.

Mostly his tweets are part of a three way conversation with Swanny and Jimmy.

When I say conversation I mean a three way sniping session at each other.

I don’t follow Jimmy, but Swanny can’t go a tweet without bagging Bresnan’s curvy nature, poor Samit Patel.

Bresnan calls Swann and Jimmy the dipshit brothers, and referred to buying a joke book or personality for Jimmy.

It is just three mates taking the piss.

Then people started putting photoshop photos of Tim up.

His favourite was one by Mel who comments here. Tim loved it.

Another one drew this comment:

“@DarranGoulder don’t mind my mates dishing it out but who the fuck are you.Crawl out off your mums basement U KNOB”

The photo in question was one of Tim Bresnan as a slightly larger than life character. It was excellent photoshop work, but Tim probably wasn’t expecting someone to send him a photo of him as a digitally altered fatty.

What I liked about the whole episode was the rage Bresnan showed.

There was no Phil Hughes’ manager and IT worker tweeting, this was Tim being pissed off.

The problem with opening yourself up to this public conversation is that if your mates call you fat, your twitter followers are going to do the same and there is a chance that people will question your overall fitness.

Sure it was an over the line photo, but when you see Swanny tweet after tweet say that Bresnan is fat, you get the feeling that he can handle it.

I’d suggest by the fact the tweet finished with a capitalisation of U KNOB, he can’t. Which is fair enough, but he has opened this up, not Darran Goulder who has too much time on his hands and a better than average grasp of photo shop.

Will be interesting to see if the three are allowed to continue their banter* by the ECB especially if they react badly to criticism of their performance.

Having dealt with the ECB I’d say they frown on the phrase U KNOB, capitalised or not.

*By banter I mean Swanny calling Bresnan a fat cunt, saying he eats a 100 sausages or a whole cake, and that he gets violent when the donuts are all gone.