If I’m honest, I got a bit bored reading back my ‘report’ on Day 1. I’d hardly be deserving of the label ‘Alternative’ if all I did was report on the day’s action. I’m certainly up for a bit of reflection on our performance but I’ll follow it with a Second Test related story that sounds great in my head and will hopefully transfer well to the page.
Some drawn matches feel like victories whilst others have a tiresome sense of inevitability about them. Cardiff in 2009 was like a resounding victory as battling Monty Panesar and Jimmy ‘The Wall’ Anderson saw off the Aussie’s final 69 balls. The result was as crucial as any win and helped to set up our eventual 2-1 series victory. Other high scoring affairs, like 4 out of the 5 Tests on our dull tour of the Caribbean in 2009, disappear up their own arses in boring run- fests. This Test match is the first that I can remember that had both. With a 221 run deficit to overhaul, the feeling of victory snatched from the jaws of crushing defeat occurred on Day 4. Strauss and Cook played gloriously and most, if not all, of the hard work was done. By Day 5 the Australian bowling attack looked like a pub team and the pitch was never going to give them the help they desperately needed. Mitchell ‘Slugger’ Johnson looked so comically bad that we can only hope he keeps his place in Adelaide and turns in a similar performance. (STOP PRESS: Punter has just confirmed Big Mitch has been dropped – damn!)
There were two crucial turning points from the purely partisan English perspective:
Firstly, Pretty Peter Siddle’s hat trick meant that our probable first innings score of a below par 350 was reduced to a very below par 260. No arguments, it was a brilliant spell of bowling but there was more than a little luck involved. Siddle is an angry, aggressive and useful bowler but he’ll never be one the greats. Unfortunately he had his greatest ever day on Day 1 of this Test Match with a little help from Matty Prior's shot selection. By days 4 and 5 he'd returned to his normal average standard.
Secondly, England came out and bowled beautifully with the new ball on the Day 3. Jimmy had an LBW against Hussey correctly overturned by a whisker on review. A couple of balls later, he had him plumb. It was so good he got him out twice: Once on each pad. Umpire Dar gave it not out in a decision mainly influenced by not wanting to be proved wrong on appeal twice in two overs. Hussey went on to make 195. If that decision had gone our way I believe we would have bowled Australia out for around 320 max, cosidering the way we riped through their top and lower order.
So we move on to Adelaide knowing that our top three are in good form and that the Oval down there in South Australia should mean your hero, and mine, Graham Swann comes into things on days 4 and 5 after a batsmen friendly start to the Test Match. Winning the toss will be very useful.
My promised story relates to the Second Test in 2005 (a tenuous link, but one I'm prepared to exploit). I’d handed my notice in at work that summer so I could watch every ball of the series before setting out on a round- the- world trip of a life time. The First Test had provided a reality check but, with the Second Test going our way, my flat mate Perksy and I had started to step up the pace. We spent Friday watching every ball and drinking our way through one or two crates of whatever was on offer in Tesco’s whilst enjoying various other indulgences. Saturday kicked off like every other day of that series would. One of us did the beer run whilst the other made a fry up. Our bodies were simply temples of cricket watching and excessive consumption. With England progressing to what looked like a comfortable victory, Perksy went off to join his then Girlfriend (now wife) and another couple for a romantic picnic by the river (there are some things I'll never understand about him)! I spent the evening baiting Australian tourists around Stratford upon Avon with my repertoire of Barmy Army standards learnt at Edgbaston over the previous couple of years. The next morning I woke up fully clothed on top of my bed with a pizza box stuck to the side of my face and went into the living room to see that The Aussie’s had rallied and were on the brink of victory but with just one wicket in hand. I frantically called Perksy around 100 times or more only for it to go straight to answer phone. I eventually threw myself to the floor in a dramatic dive that Christiano Ronaldo would have been proud of and watched the rest from ground level. I was really very upset at the time that my partner in crime had let me down so badly.
My promised story relates to the Second Test in 2005 (a tenuous link, but one I'm prepared to exploit). I’d handed my notice in at work that summer so I could watch every ball of the series before setting out on a round- the- world trip of a life time. The First Test had provided a reality check but, with the Second Test going our way, my flat mate Perksy and I had started to step up the pace. We spent Friday watching every ball and drinking our way through one or two crates of whatever was on offer in Tesco’s whilst enjoying various other indulgences. Saturday kicked off like every other day of that series would. One of us did the beer run whilst the other made a fry up. Our bodies were simply temples of cricket watching and excessive consumption. With England progressing to what looked like a comfortable victory, Perksy went off to join his then Girlfriend (now wife) and another couple for a romantic picnic by the river (there are some things I'll never understand about him)! I spent the evening baiting Australian tourists around Stratford upon Avon with my repertoire of Barmy Army standards learnt at Edgbaston over the previous couple of years. The next morning I woke up fully clothed on top of my bed with a pizza box stuck to the side of my face and went into the living room to see that The Aussie’s had rallied and were on the brink of victory but with just one wicket in hand. I frantically called Perksy around 100 times or more only for it to go straight to answer phone. I eventually threw myself to the floor in a dramatic dive that Christiano Ronaldo would have been proud of and watched the rest from ground level. I was really very upset at the time that my partner in crime had let me down so badly.
Meanwhile Perksy’s night had gone ‘something’ like this... The romantic picnic hadn’t gone as planned. With a belly full of Ale, the poor lad had done himself a mischief and ended up skinny dipping in the river Avon. Later he'd tried to enter a number of public houses only to be refused entry. Recognising the injustice of the situation Perksy had enthusiastically rapped on the 15 foot Oak door of one of the pubs with his knuckles. It was nothing more than a polite gesture designed to capture the publican’s attention. However, the rest of the night and the following morning was spent in A&E having his broken hand fixed where he, evidentially... had no phone reception.
When Michael Kasprowicz nurdled a leg side glance into the hands of Geraint Jones I was crying with joy whilst Perksy was just leaving the hospital unaware of the drama that had played out at Edgbaston or in our front room. However the cloud had a very silver lining as Perksy was signed off work for the remainder of the series, unable to carry out his duties as the UK’s least successful Travelling Photo Copier Sales Man. Hence our routine was cemented for the entire Summer. That wonderful Summer of 2005.
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| Perksy: Legendary England Cricket Supporter |
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