The Ashes - A family affair

Well, as it turns out, having a national cricket team that is terrible to the point of abject embarrassment, actually sucks big time. Our display in the Lords Test was about as poor a display from an Australian cricket team as I have ever seen. In fact, it was only rivalled by some of our work during the mid eighties against the might of the great West Indian team. But, as Bob Bentley (curator of the wonderful fishing blog The Nervous Mullet) has today said:

"The problem though is the West Indies were a great side. England are just a good side. Therefore this Aussie team is a bunch of" gentlemen who prefer baking cakes and fixing their hair just right (not that there is anything wrong with that).

Too right. So, that might mean, for all my protests before the series began, that this may indeed be the worst Australian side ever. I can't believe it has come to this but it requires some serious consideration at the very least. The final three Tests will show us where are. At this rate, 5-0 really is on the cards.

But that particular wallow in despair and self-pity is for another day. For instead today, we turn our attention to the impact that the Ashes has on family. And, we will do this by looking at some of my very own family; my father and my father-in-law to be exact. Both sent me some correspondence regarding the cricket today and both sum up quite nicely the thoughts of their respective countries. So, to the victor goes the spoils: let's review my father-in-law's thoughts first, for he writes:

"Sally and I watched the cricket over the last two days - only I am afraid your lot were a bunch of big girls playing rounders. Hopefully they'll get it together a bit better for Old Trafford and make a match of it. We are now full converts and are really looking forward to the rest of the series!"

England: happy and looking forward to the rest of the series.

I have to agree with almost everything here, although us being a bunch of ladies playing rounders is probably talking up our skill and resolve a touch too much. Its very nice of him to try and pep me up a little though.

And from the vanquished, my father writes:

"IS PUP DOGGING IT?

 Is Pup the best batsman in the Australian cricket side? Does he possess superior technical batting skills compared to the others in the team? Does he handle both the quicks and the spinners better than anyone else in the side? Is he an excellent runner between the wickets? Does he have a very good cricket brain – after all, he is the Australian skipper? I suspect that these questions would be answered in the affirmative by most cricket followers, even though the batting skills displayed by our recognised batsmen so far in this Ashes series have not really been anything to brag about – to say the least.

 Ok then. Let’s agree that Michael Clarke is the best batsman in the Australian team. His record confirms that doesn’t it?

 SO WHY DOES HE HIDE HIMSELF AT NUMBER FIVE? The Puppy tucks himself down in the middle of the batting order. I have been long under the impression that the best batsman in the team should be at number three, if he isn’t already an opener. Is Michael Clarke trying to preserve his record I wonder? Or is there another reason that I can’t come up with?

 Michael! You are the captain of the Australian cricket team. Show some leadership skills for once instead of coming up with those nicely sculptured lines in front of the microphones. Your team and your country need you to show some Pup mongrel. Surely you have it! Surely! You are a product of western Sydney where they breed them with mongrel in them. Show the cricket the world that you are deservedly the captain. In effect, say to us all, “I’m going to take the hard stuff. I’m going to lead from the front not down where the stuff is, theoretically, easier. I’m going in at three. I’m going to send a message to my team that I am a real leader and that I’ll lead them into battle regardless of the outcome for myself. Follow me you blokes. Follow me my country. I may not succeed but I’ll go down fighting. It’s the Aussie way you know”.

 Show us all Pup. Show us. I hope that you score buckets of runs but, if you don’t, I won’t be criticising you. That is providing that you lead the team as you should. I am waiting.

"

Australia: disappointed and searching for answers.

Again, I agree with most of these thoughts. I have never liked Clarke, never thought he had any man management skills and can't believe he is our captain. He is our best batsman but I not totally convinced he should bat at three. Steve Waugh batted and 5 or 6 and he was pretty tough. Still, the gulf between Clarke and the next best batsman is miles and miles and miles and miles and, yet more, miles larger than the gap between Steve Waugh and the next best batsman in the sides he played in. So, there probably is a strong case for the king of the metro girlymen to bat at 3 after all.

Speaking of families, Dave Warner's brother Steve was in the news today. Steve has a twitter account and it has always been set to private (only his followers can see his messages). But, for some reason known only to Steve, very recently he made his account public and started sending angry messages to various members of the twitter community (including the pretty hilarious @notdavidwarner). So, predictably (well, to everyone else except Steve), these people then sledged him back, made him look silly and then looked through all of his previous messages ... and in two minutes flat found comedy GOLD. A selection are presented below for the education of young children about the risks of social media (via @fwildecricket)

A selection of what the telegraph.co.uk somewhat called charitably "a series of misguided and illiterate tweets"

Note, the rather expert use of the new phrase "escape goat" in the last message. Sledging Cricket Australia and demanding a business class seat for his brother in the second message, who recently got into trouble for twitter sledging of a journalist, is a particularly nice touch. Calling Watson selfish and a pretender in the first one is obviously completely understandable.

In no time at all, "#escapegoat" was trending on Twitter all over the country. This forced Cricket Australia to put out a statement in which David Warner stated that he was not associated with his brother's tweets, although he had every right to his opinion. By this stage Steve had already claimed he had no idea how the tweets were sent from his account, had set his account back to private and then completely deleted his account. Just what Dave Warner needs after scoring 6 and 11 against a Zimbabwean second eleven as he tries to force his way back onto the Ashes tour and into the team for the third Test. It take son hell of an effort to make David Warner look like Einstein but his brother Steve has done what previously seemed impossible. Well done Steve and well done to the entire Warner clan for their ongoing contribution to cricket related comedy.

The Ashes: bringing families together since 1882

David Warner, as seen when you read Steve Warner's tweets and then squint real, real hard

On Broad, walking and catches down the legside

Who was I kidding with all this "too busy for the blog" business? OK, I am probably too busy but Ashes love has compelled me to pull out the laptop and get typing while watching the first morning at Lords.

Let's get straight to it: Stuart Broad is a rotten stinking cheat who refuses to walk; at least that's what my local news outlets tell me. One paper even printed his face on a dart board and named it the "Stuart Dart Broad". Classy stuff Mr Murdoch, if you please. We are already plotting what sort of insults will be hurled his way during the upcoming series in our summer and are encouraging him to improve his slips fielding so that he can stay away from our rapid supporters in the concourse seats. In short, he is a marked man (well, boy-man). But, is what he did so wrong? Probably not, if we are honest

I walked once. Once. In all the cricket I played, I walked once

And no, it wasn't in a World Cup Semi Final. I was playing in a local game against a team with three guys in it that I, to different degrees, grew up with. In fact, there was a fourth guy I went to school with watching the same team from the stand (OK, small grassy bank where everyone had placed their bags).

On the first morning of the game, I opened and was feeling great. It was my favourite ground that we played on that year; a huge oval but with little grass so you got full value for your shots. I had started pretty well and had skipped along to something decent, I seem to remember getting something like 47 or possibly something in the 60s, and I felt that I was on my way to a big one. One of the guys I grew up with was bowling, another was keeping and the other one was at first slip. The bowler threw one up outside off and I lined up another one of my booming (well, I swung hard anyway) cover drives and was pretty sure I got a thin edge through to the keeper. Now, I wasn't completely sure as I definitely hit the ground at the same time. A huge appeal went up and the umpire deliberated for sometime before shaking his head. 

And time stood still

I remembered playing cricket with these guys in the street they lived in on a 6 metre pitch with a tennis ball with one side taped up. I clearly (really, really clearly)  recalled launching one of them back over their head for six into a neighbours front yard. I remember stealing home brew from the guy keeping, with his younger brother. I remembered helping out the guy bowling by breaking up a fight he was in at school, and was in the process of losing badly

I had history with these guys. They were my friends and we had dragged each other up on the mean streets of West Ryde and Rydalmere. After everything we had been through, I couldn't turn my back on them now, I couldn't betray them. I owed them. On this day, at this time, we were brothers; brothers in cricket. I burned with the spirit of cricket. So I turned and, without a word, walked off.

Sure, my teammates weren't exactly happy with me, and sure I had thrown away a certain triple century (note, triple century was highly unlikely). But I felt good about myself and sat back and quietly, ever so quietly, basked in self congratulatory warmth. Today was a good day and I was a good guy. I spent the next week telling myself what a gentleman I was. That feeling of self wonder lasted all week, right up until the other team batted the following week.

The guy who had taken the catch off me opened the batting and truth be told, wasn't much of a batsman. But, he was their skipper so I guess he got to choose (Hello Andrew, if you are reading). He scratched around for a while before we slipped one down leg side, he got a massive glove to it and a huge deflection and he started to take off for a run. It's about then when he saw what he must have presumed was Ian Healy flying down leg and taking quite simply the best leg side catch ever witnessed (modesty prevents me describing just how fulfilling a catch it was). When I came to ground and stopped rolling around for extra effect, I looked down into my gloves to check that the ball was still there and then let out a huge yelp before starting to jump up and down in pure cricket ecstasy

My celebration was cut a little short when I couldn't help but notice the umpire was unmoved. After a few short, rapid fire checks with said official, it was clear that the decision would not be changed. Not a problem, I thought, my old mate would do for me what I did for him the week before: he would walk, one keeper to another and gentlemanly nods of the head all round. Except he didn't. He stood there and looked grumpy. When I was moved to enquire as to the reason for his lack of walking he simply said:

"Umpire said not out"

Somewhat surprised, I replied

"But Andrew, I walked for you last week, surely you will walk for me. We both know it hit your glove"

I'll never forget Andrew's next words, for they were as potty like as they were firm:

"You c*nts cheated all last week so you can f*ck off"

Hmm, not walking then hey? 

I never got to ask how we had cheated during the previous week but I did I sledge him every 
second of every ball he faced for the rest of his innings, and quite a few seconds of quite a few balls when he wasn't even facing and a few more when he came out to umpire at square leg and, from memory, a couple as he walked to his car at the end of the day, but it didn't matter by then. The magic spell of walking was broken. 

I learnt a valuable lesson that day. Actually, I learnt two. The first was that people are disgraceful things who should never be trusted under any circumstances and should be given exactly no legs up in any fields ever and have no more loyalty than a stray cat, roaming from home to home to see who has the biggest fire and largest stock of un-eaten fish heads.

The second lesson was that walking as a batsman is a fool's game. Not only is there very little chance that one good deed will generate another, but for all the times you are given not out when you are, there are just as many times when you are given out when you are not. The umpire isn't there just to hold the coats and spot ball tampering. They are there to make decisions. Respect their decision at all times and let them do their job. To do otherwise, is a slippery slope indeed.

Which is probably what Stuart Broad thought when he absolutely smashed a square cut to first slip in the first Test. OK, cutting one to slip and standing there is as shameless as a man born with a genetic inability to feel shame taking a shirt with a huge "Shame Stuart, Shame" printed on it off and throwing it in the bin whilst all the time yelling "Out damn shame, out I say", but the point is it is his right. It's the petulant act of a spoilt man-child who has a sense of privilege like almost no other; but it certainly is not cheating. In the same way it wasn't cheating when Haddin stood his ground, even knowing he had edged his eventual dismissal in the final innings at Trent Bridge. 

So kids remember: walking might be good for getting home from school but it aint no good for cricket. 

These rather scruffy club cricketers might have walked a bit but I never did ... and Broad didn't need to either

Victory on a knife edge

So, having turned TMS off with Australia needing 20 runs to win I headed off on a family day out too stressed to listen any further.  On a pitch most pundits said Australia would struggle to post more than 250 runs they rattled along on Sunday morning imperious to the supposed gremlins that lurked in the pitch.  With only the outstanding Anderson posing a threat Brad Haddin accumulated runs in an alarming fashion causing the panic stricken England captain to start setting ODI type fields to try and prevent the flow of runs.  Steven Finn, almost a hat trick hero in the first innings froze in the bubble of Australian pressure and his confidence visibly crumbled as did his Skippers confidence in him.  Yet, England were fortunate.  Anderson was there.  I remember telling Brownie years ago that Anderson wouldn't amount to anything in test cricket.  How wrong I was.  I can honestly say I don't think I've ever seen a finer swing bowler in test cricket.  I think he's even better than Akram or Younis.

So what have we learned from this first game in the series?  I think England have really had an escape here.  Were they just slightly starting to believe their own hype?  Really this game should have been out of sight when Australia were 117-9.  When Aghar walked to the crease the England bowlers all decided to remove the brains and bowl utter dross at him.  It was only with the introduction of Broad they finally resorted to some short stuff.  As brilliant as Aghar's debut innings was it has only highlighted was complete rubbish is being written and talked about in the game of cricket at the moment.  Geoff Boycott said his name in the same sentence as Gary Sobers, Damian Martyn said he should be batting in the top six and numerous pundits kept referring to him as the Boy Wonder.  Talk about building some unrealistic expectations on the lad.  I watched the Sky coverage the other day and found myself becoming increasingly irritated with the bland platitudes of Sir Ian Botham and then switching to TMS I had to put up with everyone's friend Phil Tufnell.  Boy, do I miss the insight and thinking of Christopher Martin Jenkins.  One pleasant surprise this week on TMS has been the commentary of Glenn McGrath.  On a personal level I can't stand McGrath.  I hated him for all the times he kept getting England batsman out and then running down the pitch shouting 'Woohoo'.  It happened a lot you see.  On the Radio though I couldn't help warm to him, he actually talked about mindsets, he gave some insight.  Something Phil Tufnell can't even achieve on Question of Sport.

TMS Charm Offensive

Phil Tufnell amuses himself

Further ticks in the McGrath column post career is that he isn't endlessly jumping up and down on Twitter like a hyper active school boy telling the world how he would restructure Australian cricket like everyone's favorite botox junkie Shane Warne.  Thankfully he's off somewhere playing Poker so we've been spared is self satisfying smugness for the time being.   Off course he's just waiting for Darren Lehman to call him anytime now.............

Hats off to Ian Bell for a rather classy century.  Hopefully he's got the 'only scores when it doesn't matter' monkey off his bat.  When Bell bats like he did in this game you really do wonder why he's not a really dominant force in test cricket.  Saying that, you look at his test stats and you have to say they are not too shabby:

Mat	Inns	NO	Runs	HS	Ave	BF	SR	100	50	4s	6s	Ct	St
Tests	89	152	20	6059	235	45.90	12284	49.32	18	35	712	24	73	0

The vilification of Stuart Broad has annoyed me this weekend.  I know, I am getting grumpier as I get older but hear me out.  International cricket is a professional sport, its not a game of moral dilemmas.  There is nothing in the laws of the game to say a batsman must walk.  That is what the Umpire is there to do.  He decides.  Ok, sometimes they get it wrong, that's what DRS is for.  Clarke has learned a valuable lesson about using DRS.  Something he has openly conceded post test.  In an ideal world of fluffy bunnies and fairies it would be great if every professional sportsman played with heart bleeding honesty but on planet earth that his just not going to happen.  Let's not crucify someone for doing what the vast majority of his peers do all of the time.  In this game we had Clarke and Haddin nicking the ball and then standing their ground.  I don't have a problem with this.  Geoff Boycott said, '...the Aussies invented not walking' well they didn't Geoff and that's a mute point anyway.  It's not an eye for eye.  WG Grace famously refused to walk nearly all of the time.  So goody two shoes Adam Gilchrist decided to walk, good for him.  Matt Hayden is a self purported man of God but was apparently one of the nastiest sledgers in world cricket.  The moral compasses are all over the place here.  Cricket is not a moral game.  It has laws and umpires that enforce them, end of.

Moving on to Lords next Thursday England have stuck with the same 13.  It will be interesting to see if they stick with Finn on his home ground or bring in Bresnan.  Looking at the England team there are some concerns going forward.  I though Swann bowled well below par in this test and the expected disintergration of Australia at his hands in the fourth innings just did not happen.  The way Pattinson dismissed for six was very telling.  Root and Bairstow despite their obvious talents are yet to establish themselves in the side so are potentially vulnerable and under greater pressure than the other batsman.  We all know that the Australian top order is vulnerable and surely Clarke has to come up to number three?  Poor Phil Hughes played the best innings I've seen in play in England and it gets completely overlooked by the world in general as Wonder Boy Aghar stole the headlines.  

On a different note, spare a though for Yorkshire coach Jason Gillespie who's father died very suddenly this week.  Gillespie has being quietly doing a rather brilliant job at Yorkshire and has been granted compassionate leave.

England complete the humiliation

I have a confession to make: once The Ashes had been lost in Melbourne, I wanted Australia to lose the Sydney Test. OK, not by an innings, completing possibly the worst humiliation in our relatively proud sporting history, but I did want to see another England victory. No, I haven't turned double agent, the time I have spent with my English in-laws hasn't caused my brain to malfunction. I just simply thought that a 3-1 score line would not only reflect the reality of the difference between the teams but would make sure we couldn't weasel our way out of taking a long trip into Roy and HG's room full of mirrors for a good, hard look at ourselves. Luckily, England's quality and our Insipid 11 meant I didn't have to wish too hard at all.

I went to the 4th day. As a member of the SCG, I did the traditional wake up at 5:20am, rush to the ground, queue from 6:30am, be horrified just how many people were ahead of me even at that time, told off a young kid trying to sneak past me in the line, burst through the gates at 8:01am and sprint (Dave wasn't exaggerating in his 2003 post) all the way from the gate, up 6 flights of stairs and to my favourite set of seats at the top of the Noble Stand. I suppose it is all part of the day.

Not long this after I got to watch the strange spectacle of the two umpires giving each other catching practise with a 20 20 mongoose bat. Umpire Aleem Dar started with about 40 close in catches provided by New Zealand umpire Billy Bowden, of which he caught almost all. Then he ran about 50 metres away and Billy gave him high outfield catches of which he caught approximately 0. The day was always going to be a bit odd after that.

Without taking you through the full and detailed horror of the day, from an Australian point of view, basically I feel I watched Australia hit rock bottom. If our cricket team was a crack addict, this would be the time they woke up in a pool of their own wee after having sold Grandma's false teeth for a hit and realised that they probably had lost control of what was once a controlled social lubricant and called home for the first time in 9 months, crying and begging for help.

You probably followed the progress of the game but essentially England tonked us all round the park in a thoroughly professional display of lower order batting whilst we bowled a bag mixed with horse dung and rotten eggs. The pitch was a road. A particular low light was the man with the kitty cat tattoo, Mitchell Johnson, after being lambasted by the Barmy Army and then having an over taken for 20 by English off spinner Graeme Swann, being so spooked that Peter Siddle needed to take his place on the fence in front of the English supporters. What a total girlyman. Has this ever happened in the history of Australian fast bowlers? Almost certainly not. Richard Hadlee spent a summer here once with all the crowds chanting that he was a "wanker" and he kept standing in front of them. English bowler Gladstone Small once had the honour of a Melbourne crowd amusing themselves by making monkey noises at him and throwing bananas but he stood his ground. The Army chant that Mitch bowls shite and rows with his mum and he runs a mile. He should never represent his country again.

Then we batted and all of a sudden the pitch was full of venom and the ball was swinging all over the place, whilst often landing on the same, pretty difficult to play spot, time after time. As good as the bowling was, our batting was dreadful. We prodded at wide ones, ran ourselves out and generally let the pressure of consistent bowling destroy us. By the time I got in the car to drive home, we were a laughing stock and the game, barring rain, would be over early the next morning. I would get my 3-1 wish but at the cost of our sporting dignity.

Well done England. You out-played, out-thought, out-supported and out-planned us. Except for a 300 run partnership and the brief roar of a man with, on that day, a Lion tattoo, you might well have won 5-0. You were by far the better team and deserved your moment in the sun. You have the ability to become the best Test team in the world, I am convinced of it. Don't piss it away like Flintoff and co. did after 2005.

Ricky Ponting may not have been much of a tactician, but he would never have let the Hoff in the building. During the 5th Test, Australia got a peek at the celebrity future of the game in this country under Gen Y skipper, Michael Clarke

And so the 3-1 score line has brought the level of disgust and hand wringing that I had hoped it might. Let's see whether we really do anything intelligent with it. Everyone from Shane Warne to Will Brodie seems to have a 10 point plan for the recovery of Australian cricket so it would be a shame not to add mine. I have no idea how many points there are as I am yet to distill my anger and shock but here it is. It ain't rocket science but it just might work.

New Leadership at all levels

In the commercial world, when there is a disaster of this magnitude usually there are consequences for those that piloted the ship into the iceberg. There must be here as well.

The captain needs to change (no one can tell me we were a team this series) and it cannot be Clarke. He seems to live in a world of illusion and X-boxes. I actually don't claim to know who it might be but it can't be either of them. Cameron White possibly or Katich if he gets back in.

The selectors need to go also. After the farce of the last year or two, to hear Chairman of Selectors, Andrew Hilditch, say that "I think we've done a very good job as a selection panel" makes we want to vomit. We won't get any better until we stop kidding ourselves. 10 spinners in 4 years including Smith (now playing as a specialist batsman), Cameron White (was always a specialist batsman), Beau Casson (now not playing State cricket), Hauritz (killing State cricket but unable to get a game), etc, etc, etc, etc, etc isn't doing a good job, plain and simple. This is but one small sample of the madness of Hilditch. Nope, he, and the rest of his team, need to go as well.

The CEO of Cricket Australia must go as well. Whilst Rome burns, James Sutherland fiddles. State cricket isn't producing enough Test players but he is planning an expanded 20 20 league at the expense of first class cricket. Not good enough so gone.

Coach Tim Nielson claims that "We did everything we thought we could do and we tried everything we could have". True, with the exception of having any sort of plan whatsoever. Tim needs to go immediately.

I have no doubt that batting coach Justin Langer might yell at people nicely and tell a great yarn about his "big mate Matty Hayden" but we cannot leave balls that don't need to be played at, can't build innings, saw none of the top 4 make a hundred and can't play the swinging ball. Justin needs to be escorted out of the camp straight away.

Does Troy Cooley actually know anything about bowling? By and large, we couldn't build any pressure at all, hardly swung the ball and struggled to bowl the thing in the same place twice. I think his success for England in 2005 might have had a little more to do with the quality of the bowlers than his brilliance. I never want to see this bloke again. He is a myth

That American fielding coach? I never want to even hear his name mentioned again. This was our worse year of fielding for 25 years, an embarrassment.

All over the country, bowlers are breaking down so I want the medical staff fired as well. If I knew the name of the bloke that carries the bags, I would have his performance examined in detail also.

No one says it better than Peter Roebuck, who writes today,

"Clearly the time has come to hold those responsible to account. Let's start at the top. Substantial changes are required across the board"

Here, here Peter, here, here.

Pick based on youth, character, form and technique

All four at all times please. Youth to build for the future, character so you don't quit when the going gets tough, form at time of selection so that you maximise the chance of success and technique because Test cricket is hard and finds you out more than any other level of the game.

For example, someone may love Phil Hughes and he might be as tough as nails but he had a terrible season before his promotion and his technique is not up to it. It was never going to work.

My pick for the future, Usman Khawaja, looked wonderful despite not getting a huge score and is an automatic pick. Ed Cowan, Callum Ferguson, James Pattinson, Josh Hazlewood all need to be fast tracked. Even blokes with slightly wonky techniques like Cameron White (as skipper no less) and Shaun Marsh need to be looked at with new eyes. Hilfenhaus needs a rest, Phil Hughes should be discarded and Johnson needs to be put out of his misery and become a gay tattoo fetish model or something.

If Steve Smith thinks the way to bat two days for a draw is backing away to leg and slicing over gully or playing front footed hook shots over mid on then he should never play again. The reasons for his final innings batting display must be uncovered. If girlyman Clarke's captaincy had anything to do with it, then Clarke must never captain again. Batting like that simply says "We are gone, so let's try to make some runs while we can". It doesn't say "I am going to guts it out and do everything I can to keep my wicket". Someone might want to escort David Boon into the dressing room and have him pass comment on Smith's ideas. Someone else might want to stand by with a rather full box of band aids.

Final point on this: character also means cutting out all distractions and shunning the limelight to make sure that you succeed at this level; "Rein in the show ponies" as former Cricket Australia chairman Malcolm Gray says. Anyone turning up at events during the season or the lead up to it, especially on match days, must be sacked immediately.

Batting basics

We need to figure out why we have lost the basics so badly. England showed us how it was done: leave ones you don't need to play, make the bowler bowl to you, minimise risk and put the bad ones away. Basically, the same stuff that has been successful for 150 years.

We also need to figure out how to play the swinging ball. We have turned into flat track bullies whose batsmen commit themselves too early and can't leave it alone when it swings.

If you need to be told this stuff when you get into the Test team by batting coach Langer, then you should never have been picked. We need to pick blokes who know how to do these things, have a good captain and coach to reinforce the ideas and bring in specialist batting coaches from time to time when needed. We do not need a full time spiritual batting adviser and certainly not one that still sleeps in his baggy green.

Bowling basics

Guess what? We need to be able to build pressure, put it in the right spot for a long time and do something with the ball. Again, the same stuff that England did and has worked for 150 years.

We need to figure out how to consistently swing the ball. Like batting basics, if you can't do it when you are picked to play Test cricket, you shouldn't be picked. I agree with Mark Waugh on why England swing the ball and we don't,

"It's really simple - they get the seam straight, our bowlers don't. It's a simple method of bowling, but for some reason our bowlers cannot stand the seam up. I just don't understand it. I could go in the nets now and bowl and get the seam straight"

I have previously heard him say that he was shown how to do this in the under 12s (as was I and everyone else). Why can't our Test bowlers do it? And how have they got this far up the chain without being able to do it?

Fielding basics

We used to be the best catching team in the world but, alas, no more. And the reason for our previous success? Practise. According to Dean Jones in another surprisingly good article, 80s coach Bob Simpson:

"trained us so hard at fielding our hands bled. Three-hour fielding sessions were the norm. Players consistently vomited on the fielding track, but he made us the best fielding team in the world"

Not that our current crop of girlymen could take that of course, but how about we start by getting a guy who has actually caught a ball with his hands, not a baseball glove, to show us how to do it? Out with American baseball fielding coaches, in with cricketers that are really good at catching. Again though, have them come in, design the training regimes and drills and then the captain and coach to execute them. The specialist can come back in from time to time and tweak things or make sure we are doing what we should be doing but we don't need a full time fielding coach. We could again make some solid inroads by making sure that the system is doing this before they become State players, let alone Test ones.

***********

So, basically we sack everyone, start again and get the basics right. If we do it right, we can be back on top in 5 years. Do it wrong or worse, pretend things aren't all that bad, and we can be at the bottom for decades.

England captain Andrew Strauss presents now retired Paul Collingwood with a small memento of his final Test match

Well done again to England. They thoroughly deserved their win.

Yours sincerely,

In Test cricket,

Stewart Robertson

Enough about me, let's talk about you for a while

Sensing my melancholy, my English father in law showed some support for the Australian team prior to our trip to the upcoming Sydney Test

And so the Ashes are decided for another couple of years.

As I predicted England would win this series 2-1 quite a while ago, I have had a long time to get ready for the pain. Even so, I admit to feeling a pang of depression when I read the words "....AND ENGLAND HAVE RETAINED THE ASHES" upon the dismissal of Ben Hilfenhaus. Reading the last rites on my mobile phone whilst exploring Dangar Island with my in-laws and family provided some distraction, but it was all I could do to stop myself tearing down some of the multi-coloured hand-knitted woollen scarves that the island dwelling aged hippies had wrapped around each of the roughly 10 street signs on the island in an attempt to make myself feel a little better. Thankfully, the thought of my in-laws reporting back on the crazed Australian son-in-law's run in with a posse of 75 year old hippies made me see sense and I maintained a silent, brooding rage instead, stopping occasionally to kick a small yappy dog when the opportunity occasionally arose.

For all of our posturing before this series, it might be worth remembering that England have now won three of the last four Ashes contests. If they are the 4th best Test team in the world at the moment then either the top three are very, very good indeed or there is a huge amount of daylight between 4th and Australians in 5th.

English wicketkeeper Matt Prior takes the catch that almost launched a hippie posse attack

I have come to the conclusion that some of my darker moments of angst and anger about the Australian performance may, at times, come across as though I believe that the only reason we have lost is our own incompetence. This is not true, I think England are a very good team. So, in the spirit of being outplayed rather than simply under-performing, I thought it might be useful to touch on the reasons England won.

How did England beat us? Let me count the ways.

Management

England arrived weeks early and played three serious matches and played them to win. We recovered from a 2 Test series, plus a few meaningless one dayers, against India in India in conditions about as far removed from Australian as possible.

Whilst England plotted well and selected an excellent team for Australian conditions, including a very tall bowling line up, we recovered from injuries to just about everyone. We then sacked our number 1 spinner based on two poor matches against India (which every foreign spinner to play there has also experienced), decided our best bowler was unfit for the first Test and picked Michael Clarke despite a back injury that rendered him almost unable to walk.

In short, England were prepared and we were in disarray. Almost all of these things were choices, things within each team's control. This wasn't luck, it was just good work from England and bad work from us. Their preparation was so good in fact that they didn't miss a beat with the loss of two first choice bowlers. I have a suspicion that England could have lost all four front line bowlers and still beaten us with four replacements that performed when called upon.

In addition to the general management of the team, the specialist coaching of the English team produced great results. Their bowlers were a cut above ours and built pressure. They also got the ball to swing far more than us. This isn't black magic, it is just teachable technique. Is Troy Cooley still our bowling coach? If so, I here and now declare him a total myth. David Saker did a great job for the English, we got one good innings out of Mitchell Johnson and one or two good bowling performances from others and that is about it.

Speaking of coaches, the sooner we get rid of Justin Langer as our batting coach, the better. Graeme Gooch has done an excellent job with the English team. They seem to have focused on concentration, shot selection and making the bowlers bowl to them. No catches in the slips to wide half volleys off Johnson for them. Meanwhile, Langer seems to have concentrated on overly emotional man love. From misdirected rubbish such as wanting Philip Hughes to "dance" when he received short stuff from the English (I thought not missing straight ones or flashing at wide ones might have been better advice) to the simply bizarre like

"Like yin and yang, black and white, love and hate, there are always two sides to every story.

As England walked their lap of honour I put my arm around my besieged captain and friend Ricky Ponting and reminded him that winning is so much more fun than losing"

Umm, thanks Justin, insightful. I hoped you mentioned the value of throwing out the cream cakes after poor batting displays at some point also.

Anyway, Gooch: fantastic coach. Langer: figure of fun

Leadership

This one is simple. On the field, England looked at ease with each other and happy. They also rarely dropped their heads and recovered well from the Perth defeat. This can only be down to the leadership team of Strauss and Flower. I long said Strauss should be captain, before the KP affair in fact. He holds his place in the team easily as a batsman alone and is a calm figure, with enough ego to be successful but not enough to render him unable to lead effectively.

As for Flower: Look, anyone who takes his life into his hands by protesting against his own government is made of strong stuff. Running a tour to Australia probably seems easing compared to some of the the things that came earlier in his life. He seemed organised and in control throughout.

In contrast, Ponting argued with umpires, struggled with the bat and clearly had lost control of both the team and its morale a number of times. Our coach, Tim Neilson, well, I dunno. Did anyone see him? Did he do anything? He seems like the sort of bloke that hung out against the wall during his High School dance whilst the cool kids swept in and whisked the ladies away into the night.

Partnerships

In both batting and bowling England worked in partnerships and created pressure. Again, this isn't magic, it is practise and application. This showed a little bit of mental fragility on our part and we cracked both when fielding and when batting.

Fielding

This deserves a special mention. For the first time since, well, ever, England out-fielded and out caught the Australians. Both wicket-keepers were surprisingly good, and were probably even gloves wise, but England's fielding, and catching in particular, far and away outshone the Australians. I don't know who the fielding coach for England is but they have done a wonderful job to move them from the days when England blamed "too much blue sky" for dropping catches (Brisbane, 2002 / 2003 if memory serves) to the display in this series.

Maybe Australia might want to move away from a fielding coach who has never caught a ball without a glove. I am sure a baseball bloke was useful 10 years ago in helping us improve our throwing but surely, surely, surely, we need someone who can help us get our catching levels up to scratch again. Bob Simpson hit about 85,000 balls into the air and got us up to scratch in the 80s through sheer hard work. Perhaps we employ an excellent catcher like Mark Taylor to do the same from 2011 onwards.

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There are no doubt many more reasons that could be nominated but they are my main ones. England outplayed Australia in all facets of the game and must be congratulated. Well done to them.

The Graeme Swann lead English Haka did the trick on the morning of the 4th day of the Melbourne Test match

As for Sydney, well at least my pick, Usman Khawaja, gets a go in the 5th Test. This guy is class, lets just make sure we set him up to succeed. He could be the beginning of our resurgence if we manage him correctly.

Dark clouds gather over Australian cricket

Well, no sooner had we started thinking about what to do with all of that left over turkey (turkey curry at our house with 4 finely chopped home ground chillies in the men's portion) did normal service resume. Australia were bowled out for a pitiful 98 and England are firmly in control at 0/157.

England bowled tightly and built pressure but we were woeful in both our commitment and our shot selection. Philip Hughes again looked lost at this level and needs to go. Whilst I still believe in investing in Steven Smith, we need to take a little bit more care of him than throwing him to the wolves at number 6 in a crucial Ashes Test. He is not a number 6 right now, may never be, and if we want him to be winning games for us in a few years then we need to make sure we haven't crushed his confidence before that day comes.

Ponting is fast becoming a worry of monumental proportions. Remember, the end comes very quickly at this level. When people lose than one or two percent that is needed to perform well for a long period of time at Test level, it is incredibly hard to find anything like your best ever again. Ricky is 36 now, we have to accept that he isn't going to be able to win match after match for us ever again. We might need to consider moving on from the man with wig envy. Either he needs to give up the captaincy or the number 3 spot or both but you can't lose three Ashes series, average 30 or so for 12 months and expect to just carry on like nothing has changed. You wouldn't in any other line of work, you shouldn't in big time cricket either.

But who to give up the captaincy to? Judging by this cricinfo article, not Michael Clarke who is the quintessential metro girlyman with no opinion other than those drummed into him by media training.

"What can you do?", opined team motivator in waiting, Clarke. I can see the team lining up to do his bidding now.

"We had to work hard and be disciplined with our shot selection, we had to leave the ball well and stick to our plans" followed on Michael.

Really, he could have just said "Batted sh*t, needed to do better". This bloody "stick to our plans" garbage has to stop. It is the refuge for kids that stopped going to school at 13 to concentrate on professional sport, never formed thoughts of their own and feel smart by sprouting a bit of physcobabble they learnt at the University of Cricket Academy. Again, "batted sh*t" just feels more honest and basically says the same thing anyway.

Mike doesn't stop there of course, he has loads more to give such as:

"We weren't at our best today"

Umm, thanks Mikey, I feel much more optimistic about the future. Of course he takes full responsibility by making clear that:

"We certainly have no excuses", before in the very next sentence going through the excuse for our demise: the pitch

"As we've seen, when the sun came out, it's a really nice wicket to bat on"

Arh yes, the England batting had nothing to do with their precise shot selection, sensible batting, good form and relatively poor bowling by us, it was all the pitch; only the first 3 hours of the same pitch of course, as soon as it got 5 minutes of sun on it, it went from minefield to road. Just a bit of bad luck I guess Michael.

Border would have said: "I am sick of being the only bloke trying. Either they perform in the next innings or they are all out"

Taylor would have said: "Full credit to England, they outplayed us today. There are 4 days left and I would like to think we had a chance of making a comeback later in the match"

Steve Waugh would have said: "Terrible display. We will bowl them out quickly in the morning, set them a target and have a go at them on the last day"

In his audition for leader of Australian sport, Clarke trotted out some memorised clichés and offered some limp excuses about the pitch.

As for England, well Perth was a blip and they again showed us that they are far more disciplined and much better lead and prepared than us. They are probably just better than us at the moment as well.

Michael Clarke rushed off the ground once dismissed to re-read his Cricket Australia book of meaningless clichés

As I let the full impact of the day settle in with me, I started to remember some of the gutsy stuff of Australian cricketers of the past.

I think of Alan Border and Bob Simpson dragging us back from embarrassment by the scruff of the neck, never wavering in their commitment despite the setbacks.

I remember Mark Taylor standing in quiet dignity as Richie Richardson said that the team that had just beaten the West Indies at home, and become probably the best team in the world, in 1995 was the "worst Australian team" he had ever played against in the presentation formalities of the 4th and last Test in the series, and then giving a positive, pleasant victor's speech anyway. I think of Tubby declaring with his personal score on 334 not out, even with, at the time, the best Test score ever by an Australian, to push for the victory for the team.

I still can see Merv Hughes wiping tears out of his eyes after being hit literally everywhere by the West Indies quick bowlers in 1988 / 89, but never taking a backward step, never giving his wicket away easily on his way to 72.

And, despite his issues with autograph giving, I can remember Steve Waugh scampering a 150th run, about 10 days after he tore his calf and then had physio 24 hours a day to be fit. I see Steve smashing a last ball of the day boundary to bring up his hundred, never for once doubting that he would finish the day with a ton.

I cast my mind back to dozens of world class international players who were born Australian at the wrong time, but never gave up their dream of playing for their country and who continued to churn out the results at first class level, year after year, often long past the time when they were going to finally, finally be given a baggy green. They kept going anyway, just in case.

I recall Rick McCosker batting with a broken jaw in Centenary Test and hooking bouncers from Bob Willis.

I remember Thommo and Border taking us to within a whisker of a famous victory against England, never once ceasing to strive for the win. I remember Brett Lee and Warnie, and then Michael Kasprowicz, doing the same in 2005.

I think of Dean Jones stroking his way to a double century in India, being pushed by Allan Border to keep going so hard that he lost control of his bladder and bowels, vomited many times and ended up in hospital on a life saving drip. He was never physically the same again after that and he did it because he had pride in his team, cared about his personal performance and because his captain told him to.

And then I think of the dedication shown today. 98 all out against some good, controlled bowling by England but certainly nothing unplayable. Some of these people don't deserve the cap. They are over-rated, pampered, metro girlymen who are more interested in image than application. We are a people who are proud of their physicality and of their ability to overcome. We love being the little engine that could. We care less about how well one does, than how hard one tries when doing it.

Today the Australian cricket team failed both at the outcome and at the trying hard. It is not so much the 98 but the weakness of the way in which we got there. They dishonour those that have come before them and those that will replace them. Where to next is tomorrow's riddle. Tonight's is simply how to salvage a tiny bit of dignity from the next 4 days.

As he was dismissed, the boy that looked sad simply looked at a loss; Elmer Fudd like, some would say. It might be time to exit with a little grace while there is still time Ricky

Sydney 2003

When Stewart suggested that we wrote some retro blog entries my first instinct was to get onto cricinfo.com and check out the score card of the 2003 test match against England.  Then I sat back and thought to myself that this blog should be purely driven by my memories of that test.  The stand out moments that if I was stood next to you in a pub shouting rather to loudly into your ear after a few beers these are the moments that I'd be going on about.  Not driven by a comprehensive review of the stats, not a day to day account of the test match but a summary of stand out moments.  Things that are popping into my mind as I type on the early hours of Christmas morning while the house around me sleeps.  There's no timeline here or order.  It's my drunken conversation translated into text. The best bits.

Gilchrist

Gilchrist was an awesome player, we all know that.  But on one of days as he hurtled towards another century against England(ahhhhhhhh) we were sat side on to wicket when he hit a pull shot and the ball crashed into the advertising hoarding in front of us.  Two things that stand out was the noise of the bat hitting the ball and speed at which it reached the fence.  It was like the crack of a rifle going off.  It literally took my breath away.  I sat in shock as my brain struggled to process the power of that shout.  I marvelled at Gilchrist nonchalance, the roar of the Australian crowd, the sheer quality of the timing.  In one shot I realised that all that was said about Gilchrist was true.  He was world class.  He was awesome.  He was a threat.

Radio

After crashing some one's apartment at the harbour on New Year's eve Stewart was becoming agitated by the fact that we did not have a radio.  If we were all going to the test then we all had to listen to Test Match commentary.  Stewart had a radio, we didn't.  That wasn't good enough.  On New Years Day even as our heads were still cloudy from the previous night there was an impetuous to get into Sydney to get a radio.  We found a retailer, the name escapes me that was open and we bought a fairly rudimentary radio that would do the job.  Stewart relaxed, I relaxed, we were prepared.  D-day the next day.

Lee

In what was a fairly dismal series for England we had one bright light and that was the batting of Michael Vaughan.  Even the great mind manipulator that was Shane Warne conceded that the man had no weakness and that all the Australians could do was aim for off stump.  Vaughan was imperious in that series.  Steve Waugh described his performance with the bat as one of the all time great Ashes performances.  Who am I to disagree with Sir Steve of Waugh?

In the first innings however Brett Lee bowled a spell of such venom, such pace, such menace that in my minds eye I can see it now.  Bowling at 150 kph he swung the new ball and made Vaughan grope outside off stump like a fumbling teenager in the dark with his first girlfriend.  After beating the batting consistently with the swing ball, Lee finally induced the edge and England's pillar of strength returned to the pavilion cowed by this great athlete.  One of the best five over bursts I've ever seen.

Tommo

On the 4th day I spotted Jeff Thomson queuing for some coffee behind the old pavilion at the SCG.  Here was the man that struck fear into the hearts of the English batsman and to be honest totally intimidated me.  Here was a bona fide Australian legend who had a proven track record of disliking Poms and whose autograph I was desperate to get.  The obvious option here was to deploy my good looking wife.  I though Tommo would be a sucker for a good looking English girl so I sent her in to get Tommo's autograph.  Sure enough while he waited for his coffee he obliged.  Good man, well done Lou.

Members Only

Stewart is a member at the MCG and as such he and guests can get seats in the members area.  You have to queue early then you literally sprint in past the old boys with the walking frames up the stairs.  You find a seat then sign your name on a sticker that is allocated to your seat.  The rules are you can leave you seat for an hour and by then another member can quite rightfully take it.  At lunch on the fourth day Stewart's rather excellent and adorable wife Vicky decided that pace of test cricket was too much for her and decided to go shopping during the lunch interval.

'If you're not back in an hour then I'll have to give your seat up' said Stewart.

Vicky flashed Stewart a smile that only wives can to their husbands when they know they are joking and she walked off.

We watched her descend the steps with an amazing elegance and before she disappeared from view threw us a casual wave as she tossed her hair our of her eyes.

'Seriously, if she's not back in an hour and somebody wants to sit there I'll have to give her seat away'  said Stewart.

I nodded my approval.

'Is he serious?' said Lou, my wife.

'Oh yes' I said.

Lingering

and Lou not really wanting to leave the SCG.  It was the end of the dream and as the sun lowered over Sydney the inevitable move to the exits was painful and I wanted to linger for hours if not days.  It was a wrench to leave this hallowed ground, the history and the occasion and as we sauntered out I knew it would be a long time before I returned and despite the victory by England I grieved as we walked out onto the sidewalk.

Merry Christmas everyone, here's looking forward to the boxing day test.

Ashes flashback - Edgbaston, 1997 and Steve Waugh the program seller

In the lead up to the 4th Test in this year's Ashes series, we thought it might be interesting if we relived watching an Ashes Test on opposition soil. I thought I would share a story I have told once or twice over the years: the day Steve Waugh swore at me.

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In early 1997, I decided that I would try and watch a Test in England as part of that year's Ashes. Now unfortunately, I was in the middle of my first year of full time work and was fairly social at that stage so I wasn't putting an enormous amount of money away for my trip. I think I actually started saving with only a few months to go so whilst I had enough money for the airfare and the tickets, I didn't have a great deal else. I made the decision that it was better to go and be hungry than not, so for the entire 4 weeks I ate a maximum of two meals a day, and often only one. That, combined with all the walking I did, meant I lost something close to 10kg in the time I was away. When I got back, a friend at work told me that I looked like the singer of Talking Heads, David Byrne, who often used to wear massively oversized suits. Being a little bit of a fan, especially of Little Creatures, I took it as a compliment but I think he may have meant it a little differently.

Anyway, all that was in the future as I first needed to buy the tickets. In the mid 90s, this was much more difficult than it might be today. From memory, I rang the Sydney Cricket Ground, of which I had just become a member, and asked how I could do it. They gave me a UK phone number which I called and the person I spoke to gave me the dates of each Test and the phone number of each Test venue. I picked the 1st Test at Edgbaston in simply because it fitted in best with my schedule. I then called the phone number of Edgbaston and the lady there faxed me a list of ticket prices for each different part of the ground. I remember faxing her back asking her to mark where the sun rose and set so that I can factor that into my seat picking. Unbelievably, in retrospect, she actually did this and after several more faxes back and forth, I had tickets for each day (I think maybe I could only buy tickets to the first 4 days just in case it didn't last the distance). I was ready; no money to eat but ready.

Just before I left, something happened which changed the course of my life and some say, changed the course of cricket history itself. A work colleague, Matty "The Bear" Ford, joked that I should try and get Steve Waugh to give me an autograph which included his middle name of "Rodney".

As a quick aside, Matt was the only man I ever saw bat through the innings at work. One evening, he went to the pub straight after work, drank all night and, with no sleep, came back into work the next morning at 8:30am, straight from the pub wearing the same clothes and worked all the way through the next day. Not many Test openers could bat through an innings as tough as this one. By about 4pm on the second day, Matt was stating that he was in the middle of "the worst day of his life" but he got through it and was no doubt much the better for it.

Anyway, as I am sure everyone knows, Steve Waugh's middle name was "Roger" and not "Rodney" but no matter how much I argued, Matt would not agree. To show him how right I was, I agreed to find Steve, get his autograph and have him include "Roger" in it. Matt agreed also and we wagered a case of beer on the outcome. Despite not having any idea how I would ever meet Steve, I felt the bet was mine and hastened to the airport to catch my flight. I was excited. Despite being in my early twenties, I still had a Steve Waugh poster on my wall and he was a firm hero of mine. The fateful die was cast.

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I arrived in London, caught a train to Birmingham and spent 2 or 3 hours wondering around trying to find a youth hostel. Finally, I happened upon what looked like a block of flats with a "For Rent" sign, in a very friendly area of town where people kept greeting me on the street with a smile and a "How are you?". They all kept asking me whether I was looking for something. My explanation of "somewhere to stay" seemed to cause confusion. I booked myself a bedsit for 8 days (it had a basin and a shower but no windows and the toilet was downstairs in the hall). I was very happy to have found somewhere so good and cheap. When I eventually left, the taxi driver told me that I was actually staying in a notorious red light area and all the people enquiring as to my well being on the street were actually pimps and prostitutes touting for business. The room I was staying in could apparently be rented for much shorter stays than my 8 days.

I arrived with 2 full days to fill before the Test started. So the very next day I made my way down to the ground to try and take in some of the team's training. Now, this wasn't as easy as it sounds because being absolutely determined to stick to my budget, I wouldn't pay for the bus so had a walk for a bit over an hour each way. One day I decided to head into Birmingham on the way home from the ground and made the entire walk-a-thon a 3 hour round trip. Again, when I left I actually stopped a bus and ask how much it was. It turned out it was something like 40 pence. Sometimes a small investment may reap large returns !

Edgbaston turned out to be both a wonderful Test match and the end of an innocence

When I finally reached the ground, I was surprised at how easily I walked into the members area and straight up to the nets where the Australian team was practising. I remember feeling that the ground was very small; much smaller than the SCG or MCG but it was extremely exciting none the less. I was about to watch an Ashes Test in England, the fulfilment of a lifetime dream. What shocked me though was the behaviour of the team I had come to support.

First I found Mark Waugh bowling in the nets to Brendon Julian. Now, these days Mark and Brendon commentate the cricket on Foxtel and appear good buddies but on this day they were anything but. Mark followed up each one of his gentle offspinners with lines like

"You're f*cking sh*t"

and

"You can't hit sh*t"

In the end, Brendon had to gesture at the 30 or so ten years olds that were standing behind the nets open mouthed and ask Mark to tone down the language a bit.

In another net, Michael Slater was facing some local net bowlers. One quick bowler, who looked like a heavy weight boxer, bowled one too many bouncers and Slater advanced on him and, in full batting gear, trying to fight him. Someone saw sense because Slater was escorted back to the batting crease where he batted on, albeit muttering darkly to himself for the rest of the session.

I then went and sat in the member's stand for a while and watched Ian Healy signing autographs. Well, he might have been signing anything actually because Ian never even looked at what he was writing on, let alone the people asking for his autograph. He stood facing some bloke he was talking to and bits of paper and pens were shoved over his left shoulder. He signed then and handed them back over his shoulder without ever turning around. He finished and about 12 seconds later an English father come over with his son and asked Ian for an autograph. Ian launched into him, saying

"I can't believe this. You have watched me sign loads of autographs and now when I am finished, you come over and want one ? Well, you can't have one. What I suggest you do is go out behind the pavilion and when we leave for the day, if I see you, I might give you an autograph then. Now go"

Heals then stormed off into the change rooms. Nice.

Next, Mark Waugh appeared again after a bit of pre-game soccer on the oval. He threw his arms up in the air and loudly declared,

"I'm having an autograph signing free day today"

Undeterred, two Australian guys stood in front of him in the aisle and asked for an autograph. Hardly missing a beat, Mark again yelled out

"I'm having an autograph signing free day today"

He then barged through these two fans with his shoulder and disappeared into the dressing rooms. My temperature had been rising through all of this. All I could think of was how hungry I was, how I had no money in the bank any more because I wanted to see these guys play cricket in England and how incredibly awful they were. But then my spirits soared: I was Steven Roger Waugh walking back form the oval and beginning to walk up the steps in my direction. My hero was on his way. Now was my chance.

I stood in the aisle in front of him, a bit side on to repel any shoulder charges, after watching his brother's work and waited. A second later he was with me and my dream was realised.

"Hi Steve", I began, "could I have your autograph please?"

Steve couldn't be bothered making eye contact with me and gave me a look as though I was a bit of hair he found in his soup.

"Urgahugamurmur" Steve said

"Um, pardon me Steve?" I replied, smiling.

"Wyzzmsrtmfs pen" said Steve, slightly crankier than before, although I am not sure to this day why exactly.

"Pardon Steve" I said, a bit cranky myself now.

"Pen, gotta f*ckin pen?" drawled the iconic one.

"Oh, a pen. Sorry about that, my mistake. Of course, a pen. Here you go" and I handed him a four colour pen, one of the ones where you need to select which colour you need at the top by pushing either blue, black, red or green.

The Australian cricket team must live a very sheltered life because Steve didn't think it was part of the implied contract we now had between us to actually click the pen into life, so he started writing with only the plastic shell and no biro. He did this for a second or two and then said:

"Wisamyhtssrata pen!" and, for the first time looked at me.

I was a bit dumbfounded at this point, so I just stared into the Australian cricket legend's eyes for what seemed like, well, long enough for steam to start coming out of his ears. Finally a I figured out his problem.

"Aha, sorry about that, my mistake again. You forgot to click one of the colours on. Let me do it for you" and I reached out, took the pen out of his hand, clicked on a colour and handed it back to him.

He grunted and started writing .... with the green. Oh my goodness, I had selected green. No one selects green. It never works. I sensed problems.

Steve started writing in the pad and quickly noticed that no ink was coming out. This made Steve angry. Steve big angry. Angry enough to rub the pen so hard into the paper, in an attempt to get it to write, that he tore a hole through the page and several pages after it.

"Roostafurgen pen" he shouted, holding it up to me.

Oh goodness, that green. I snatched it out of his hand, selected red instead and wrote on the page until it worked. I handed it back to the future Australian cricket captain and said:

"There you go, all fixed".

By now, Steve just wanted to get out of there. He quickly signed his autograph, shoved the pen and pad into my stomach and, without any eye contact, started trying to walk past me. The combination of anger and a strong desire to win my case of beer gave me courage and I stood my ground and said:

"Um, just a minute please. I would like you to do another one"

I am not sure many people had challenged Steve in the previous 15 years or so and he was so surprised he stopped in his tracks

"and this time .... I want you to include your middle name", I added.

Now, this got me some eye contact. OK, eye contact through a Steve Waugh frown and a haze of disgust, but a bit of eye contact none the less.

"Well you see", I explained, "the thing is I have this bet with Matty the Bear that your middle name is Roger. Now I know it's Roger, and everyone knows its Roger, but Matt thinks it is Rodney and if I get your autograph with your middle name, I win a case of beer"

Steve didn't take long to reply. He had probably been working his reply up since his issues with the green pen. He whispered:

"If you want to know what my middle name is, go buy a program mate"

Then he looked me dead in the eyes, the man Australian has just about cannonised, and finished with

"Go buy a f*cking program"

And with that, he took a leaf out of his twin's playbook and he barged through me, pushing me aside and almost ran up into the dressing room. I had my autograph but a broken heart to go with it. My idol was a bounder.

Steve Waugh strongly advised me to purchase a program before the 1st Test of the 1997 campaign

I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a haze. My hero had sworn at me, refused to make eye contact with me and then knocked me aside. I just couldn't stop thinking about how I had spent all that money to come and watch the guys play and then found them to be thoroughly disgraceful. I felt silly. Later, when I returned home, I threw my Steve Waugh poster in the bin and didn't watch much cricket for a year or so. To this day, I have never forgotten the incident. Call me a cricket tragic but it was the end of my innocence. Never meet your heros, they disappoint you. Just because someone is good at sport, it doesn't make them a good bloke. Often in fact, it almost guarantees the opposite.

The next day, I went to the England training session and they were awfully polite; a massive contrast. The next day the Test commenced. I sat in a different part of the ground each day and silently, secretly, booed Steve Waugh.

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The 1st Test in 1997 itself was excellent. Although we lost, it had so much: a total Australian collapse on day one, Tubby Taylor's comeback hundred and a Greg Blewett century, some English hundreds, an English grandfather who kept elbowing me in the ribs as we were tumbling to defeat on the final afternoon and, of course, meeting the excellent Steve Parkin and, if memory serves, three of his very hospitable friends who escorted me to the pub after Day 3 and allowed me to talk much cricket related rubbish with them for an extended period of time.

Cricket brings people together like almost no other sport and Steve and his friends were a great example of this. The only thing we did was sit next to each other and swap the occasional comment throughout the day. That was enough to go to the pub together and, in turn, that was enough to stay in contact with Steve. Cricket supporters almost never feel the need to fight or move much further along than good natured baiting. England / Australia clashes allow old friends to get reacquainted and new friends to meet. Often, these friendships last a very long time. I am happy to say that Steve, almost 14 years later, posts the odd comment on this blog and it all makes me very happy indeed.

Following on in that vein, the very first words my fellow blogger Dave said to me upon being introduced at work in Wakefield, Yorkshire during October 1998 and hearing my accent were:

"You don't follow cricket do you Stewart?"

The rest, as they say, is history. Many years of great friendship has followed and I have our mutual interest in cricket to thank for getting it all started. Despite being on the other side of the world and seeing each other seldom, Dave is one of my truly strongest friends. We can support our own countries yet still celebrate the other's success. I am absolutely convinced that this builds empathy and ultimately makes us better people, as well as further strengthens the bonds of friendship. You never realise how much of a friend you have until you are despondent about the day's play for your country and your mate sends you a text to pep you up, despite them rejoicing quietly at the same time.

So, Steven Waugh, despite your request for me to buy a program devastating me and causing a year long hissy fit on my part, the game you did so much for has in actuality done so much for me also. Therefore, I salute you, and your lack of eye contact and ability to click a pen colour on. So much so in fact, that when I watched you score your last ball of the day hundred against England in January 2003 at the SCG with Dave, and his lovely wife Lou, that I cheered like a 15 year old kid. All was forgiven. The benefits of the international cricket fellowship far, far, far outweighed the negatives.

For this, I thank you.

But gee wizz man, you could have added your middle name.

No middle name, but an autograph none the less. Note tear in page at top right