A Win At Last?

Well, we beat New Zealand. Good. Brendan McCullum said before the start of the match that it was a good time to play Australia. By the end of the first day that looked to be true, but if we're honest, it was really a good time for Australia to play New Zealand. We needed a win, and they were just the team to provide it.

New Zealand frustrate me at times. They really should be better than they are! By and large, they are a team with some talent, but for some reason they can't ever seem to get it together when it counts. Don't get me wrong, I didn't say BRIMMING with talent, they do have Aaron Redmund opening the batting after all, and the seam attack is ok but not fantastic - but in Ryder, Taylor, McCullum, Vettori, Southee, Flynn and even How on his day, they definitely have some good players. Gone are the days when you had the idea that the NZ side were park cricketers with the odd Hadlee or Crowe thrown in - these days, by and large, they have the look of good, solid, first-class cricketers. Throw in Oram when he's fit and you've definitely got a side that can make runs and take wickets.

And yet no matter what happens, they always, somehow, contrive to lose. They should have beaten England at home earlier in the year. They should have beaten them in England last summer, too. But ended up losing both series at a canter - 1-2 and 2-0. It was the Manchester test that really frustrated me, and pretty much sums up what I'm talking about. 381 in the first innings with a cracking knock from Ross Taylor, and then bowled out England for 202. Great! 179-run lead, thanks very much! Fait d'accompli, I hear you cry. But no. They slump to 114 all out in the second dig, which still leaves England with a still tricky-looking chase of 293, but they never look like threatening and England get there with six wickets to spare. An AWFUL result. I was appalled, and appalled in much the same way that I was (genuinely) after THAT result in Adelaide in 2006. Yes, it's great to beat England. It's good to humiliate England, too. But, dammit, isn't it better to beat a side when they're actually playing well, as opposed to having brain explosions in un-losable situations? I want to see GOOD cricket, not bad.

And this is why New Zealand disappoint me. They dine out on the under-estimate-us-at-your-peril-we'll-always-punch-above-our-weight thing, and sure it sometimes means that they'll do something unexpected, but nothing that's ever enough to win a Test match, or, heaven forbid, an actual series. It seems as though they enjoy annoying sides rather than actually beating them. And the recent test at the 'Gabba seemed to me to be a prime example - yes, the result was convincing in the end, and they did provide us with a pretty stern test, but how many times was Clarke dropped in the first innings? And the same with Katich in the second? It should have been so much closer, and therefore much more interesting, than it was.

What really irks me above all about this result is that every Kiwi cricket fan, and probably pundit, on the face of the planet will now be saying "oh well, we gave them a run for their money, we were never expected to win, anyway, well done, lads." Not good enough! What they should be saying is that they cannot be content with marks for effort, a loss is a loss no matter how wide the margin, and if they'd believed in themselves more they would have won. Nothing annoys me more than an inferiority complexes, and it seems that as a cricketing nation, New Zealand have one in spades.

In other breaking news, the Zimbos just lost to the Shrees in a thriller. Bad luck, fellahs - and I'm allowing myself to say that, because these guys really ARE park cricketers.

Everything I know about singing I learnt from cricket.

Or..... everything I know about cricket I learnt from singing.

Isn't this exciting? A post involving cricket AND Life, Love and Art. How post-modern of me. I shall have to try to make it a recurring theme.

OK. So. Cricket and singing. Might seem a bridge too far. But bear with me, 'cos all of this is true.

There are various elements of the game and the artform that are inextricably linked, as far as I'm concerned. All those fat blokes singing the same thing over and over? Cricket. Same with the sheilas with horns. All those funny little men in white with the cucumber sandwiches on the village green on British summer afternoons? Singing. And ergo with the hard, Australian men trying to kill each other in 40-degree heat. They might not know it, but it's ALL THE SAME THING. I don't think it was an accident. Pavarotti wasn't a Juventus fan - he supported Middlesex and the Bangalore Royal Challengers.

Here's why.

Cricket is a stage.

I'm not a singer that often takes a tremendous amount of inspiration from singers themselves. My knowledge of the great tenors (let alone the sopranos, mezzos and bass-baritones) is pretty lamentable, if I'm being kind. I get more of my inspiration from the the abstract. Sport. Business. Stand-up comedy (yes, really - but more on that later). And cricket is perfect to draw from, because it is often so focussed on the individual. When you've seen the likes of Sachin Tendulkar, Viv Richards and Shane Warne play the game you've seen theatre of the highest calibre. They don't just walk onto the ground, they OWN it. Having long since convinced themselves and others of their genius, they exude self-belief, pride, ability. They take the focus, they take the momentum, they carry all before them and they take charge. Just like a great character actor, or singer. It is so often this quality that makes a stage performer great - and sometimes all the ability in the world just isn't enough without it.

They both require discipline, technique and mental strength.

From the cricketing side of the argument, I have four words and a date. Steve Waugh, West Indies, 1995. When you are carrying the hopes of a nation and a 6 foot 7-inch Antiguan is LITERALLY TRYING TO KILL YOU you've got to have all these things. And it's got to be instinctive. There's no time to think when Curtly Ambrose is bowling at 95 miles an hour at your throat. It's exactly the same with singing - there is no time to think when you walk onto a stage and strip yourself bare in front of several thousand people, either. There is no turning back - you're either up for it, or you're not. An old singing teacher once said to me that singing is a blood sport. He's dead right.

They both mess with your head.

Oh boy, this one's my favourite. How many fabulously talented cricketers are there that didn't ever make the most of their potential? Ramprakash. Hick. Hooper. How many times has that talented player worried himself out before he's even faced a ball? Got the yips and started bowling wides when yesterday he had it on a string? Doubt, and fear of failure are insiduous things. They creep up on you when you least expect it. I'm not good enough/I don't deserve to be here/Do I really want it after all? has gone through everyone's head at some point. It's what you do when you're there that makes the difference - and that doesn't often have much to do with ability.

You've got to have a ruthless, combative streak to succeed.

This is the easiest one of the lot. Any sport is like this - you're consistently required to perform in the face of any number of opposition whose very presence by definition is to make you fail, and sometimes in front of audiences of billions who want the same. Singing requires you to sacrifice everything. Leave your family. Friends. Move to the other side of the world. End relationships if they're not compatible with it. Maybe even give up on the idea of having children, if you're female. It's just something that you HAVE to do. Why do I sing? I have no choice but to. It's that simple. I can't not. Nothing else that matters matters as much as that, and no sacrifice is too great.

You're never bigger than the game.

Another personal favourite. All the Shane Warnes and Viv Richards and Don Bradmans in the world are never bigger than the game. None of the Roberto Alagnas, Angela Georghius or Luciano Pavarottis are, either. At every concievable level, you are part of something bigger than you. If you don't respect that, and those around you, ultimately it comes back to bite you. Be a force for the good, not the bad. Create, don't destroy. I try to keep these at the fore-front of my mind at all times. Will I be proven right? Who knows. But I'm convinced that I will be.

You've got to really want it.

Duh. This barely needs explaining. No-one made it to La Scala or a Lord's Test by just being good. Unless they were queuing up outside for tickets.



And - well, that's it, basically. I may think of more, there's bound to be a few out there. The trouble is that I don't know that many singers that are cricketers - and even fewer cricketers that are singers, so I can't really ask anyone else! I guess you'll just have to take my word for the fact that I'm right, and I really am the world's leading opinion on Love, Life, Art and Cricket.

And after all, what did you expect? Humility??? Pah - you're reading the wrong blog!

The Matrix Runs On Windows

Hahahahaha!! The guys at College Humour don't always get it right, but this is great.



And for all you Minesweeper fans - this one's for you!

- Why are you really here?
- I want to make this ledge safe!
- Why are you here, soldier???
- I'm here because I'm bored!!!

Priceless! It's just a pity no-one's done anything for Hearts - which if anyone's interested, is what I get up to when Clancy of The Overflow disappears without re-setting his modem.

And yes, I do get out from time-to-time, just in case you were wondering!

And now on a slightly lighter note....

Continuing my recent Youtube theme, I found this the other day.



"The Contest" has to be one of the funniest and most cleverly-written pieces of television I have ever seen, or am likely to ever see for that matter. It's pure genius from start to finish. The script, timing and concept are just pure gold.

You can read more about it here, although bear in mind my usual Wikipedia disclaimer - not everything from Wikipedia can be trusted, the sources are dubious and it's not written, vetted or edited by experts, etc, etc, etc.

I must admit that until recently I had sort've forgotten that Seinfeld existed. I know that probably sounds utterly incomprehensible to many, but the thing is that neither he nor the show are popular in the UK at all, and so hadn't been on my radar for quite some time. I quite often search for comedians on Youtube though, and the other day I recalled Seinfeld and his stand-up routines and tried to find some. Typed "Seinfeld" into the search bar and came up with about a thousand bits of episodes, and amongst them that clip. Watched it about a hundred times, rolled around on the floor laughing, watched it about a hundred more. I wish I had access to the full episode.

Can you remember where you were when Kennedy got shot? When the Twin Towers fell? When Australia and South Africa tied in the '99 Cricket World Cup semi-final? Well - I can remember where I was when I first saw this episode.

I used to attend a performing arts high-school in Sydney. Given that I was from Perth, I lived in the boarding house. Not your usual boarding-house you understand - this was not the domain of your inbred country boy with the two-word vocabulary and hobbies that included thumping the red-haired kid whenever he spoke, moved or breathed, oh no - that was my FIRST boarding school. This place was entirely different. There were only twenty-five or so students, and at the time, the end of Year 10, I was one of only four boys. All the students were either ballet dancers, contemporary dancers, actors, musicians, emotional misfits, junkies, or sometimes a heady cocktail of all of them at once.

In December each year when exams were over and preperation for the end-of-year performances began, the no-tv-on-weeknights rule was rescinded. Which meant that at 7pm every evening, Seinfeld ruled the roost. I had gathered with half-a-dozen or so of the Year 11 and 12 ladies, several of whom were actually decent human beings without eating disorders or drug habits, and in walks George into the diner, and utters those four little words. "My mother caught me". From that moment until the end of the show I was in absolute hysterics. And the thing is that none of my fellow audience-members understood. Through my tears I had to explain it to them - these aloof, supposedly worldy young women, who as a rule tolerated my 15-year old nerdiness but made it pretty clear who was in charge. I turned the tables on them that night, though. Maybe it was because like every 15 year-old boy, I knew a thing or two about the subject at hand (so to speak!)!

Just found the following, too, which isn't included in the first clip.



Try and find a better-written and delivered line than the one at 0:37. I think you'll be looking awhile!

I can't take it any more! She's drivin' my crazy, I can't sleep, I can't leave the house, and I'm here climbin' the walls - meanwhile I'm datin' a virgin and I'm in this contest, somethin's gotta give!

And they don't mention "the word" at any stage throughout the episode. Gold. Class. Genius.

This is for a friend.

I hope she's doing ok.

Maestro, a little break-up music, if you please....

It occurs to me that I need to even the balance of cricket versus love, life and art if I am to remain true to my mission statement.

So, if you will, please turn your attention to the below - if you have the time, all 9 minutes 35 seconds of it.



If you finish it, here's the album version.



I can remember listening to this song with my Dad in the car when I was little, and liking it, but not understanding it - I recall asking how wind can be stupid, but how do you explain what the song is about to a seven-year-old?

I think it's a remarkable song. It comes from my favourite Dylan period, from Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid (1973) through Infidels (1980). In the sixties there was genius, but in the mid-seventies through early eighties we got that plus humanity, confusion, and pain, which is much more interesting. Later this gave way in the 1980s to a treadmill of slightly laboured material that began with Empire Burlesque (1985) and finished with Under The Red Sky (1990), and since 1997 we've had this old bluesman who I have to admit I can't really relate to - maybe I'm just too young to understand what he's on about.

What stands out for me in both these versions of "Idiot Wind" is the energy he generates. The album version in particular just seems to spit with hatred, rage and self-loathing. Go to 2:40 and have a listen.

You hurt the ones that I love best
And cover up the truth with lies.
One day you'll be in the ditch,
Flies buzzin' around your eyes,
Blood on your saddle....

and at 4:11

I noticed at the ceremony,
Your corrupt ways had finally made you blind.
I can't remember your face anymore,
You mouth has changed, your eyes don't look into mine.

Pretty evocative lines it's true, but it's the vocal delivery that really gets me. Anyone who tells me that Dylan couldn't sing (I'm not going to dispute the fact that he can't anymore) needs to listen to this song. It's a remarkable performance - all of it is just so committed, so much so that it's a little confronting. It's just so raw, you know? Dylan has apparently denied that the songs in the album are auto-biographical but popular opinion goes against this - he wrote it during a seperation from his wife, Sara, who later divorced him, and as far as I'm concerned I don't think that you could really write something like this objectively, anyway. He is alleged to have said something else that rings pretty true, though, in a radio interview with Mary Travers:

A lot of people tell me they enjoy that album. It's hard for me to relate to that. I mean, it, you know, people enjoying the type of pain, you know?

Hear, hear!

(NB - I say "alleged" because I'm getting a lot of this from Wikipedia, which as we all know isn't always reliable. This particular quote wasn't referenced or even dated.)

The live performance is also fantastic version, and shows up all those who think that he isn't a good musician, too. I particularly like the punchy, rhythmic riff he uses earlier on and then after each stanza. I always like it when artists quote themselves, and this is taken verbatim from Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid, where it is sung with a "Nah nah, nah-nah, nah", and is also reminiscent of material in Desire, which uses the same sort of Latin/Gypsy feel.

Speaking of the gypsy feel - I think it's really funny how assurred he looks in that headscarf in the live version, and yet the bandmembers that are wearing the same thing all look vaguely ridiculous. Is "gypsy" the right word, though? What are those things? They could just as easily be Arabian keffiyehs, which would be pretty funny given the fact that Dylan is Jewish. Either way, it's clear that style is not something that everything can do!

Where would we be without Dylan? It almost seems at times that anything I can feel he's felt ten times more, and expresses it in the most perfect manner imaginable. Usually people just say that he does this with his lyrics. I like the above because he does it musically, vocally, AND in line. That's pretty extraordinary. For his ability to do this (and he doesn't only do it with this song) he's got to go down as one of the most accomplished Artists we've known. And no, I'm not restricting that to pop artists.

And somewhat more flippantly - where would we be without Youtube? Every day I seem to find something on it I'd long since forgotten about. It's great.

Next up - just what are we going to do with Ricky Ponting? Stay tuned....

Gautem's Gambit

You've just got to love Inja versus 'Stra, don't you? Never a match goes by without some sort of Controversy. Someone says something in the heat of the moment, someone else gets upset, someone gets a ban..... And just when you already thought it was loads of fun as it was, the BCCI make it genuine theatre by dusting off their Sunday-best siege-mentality, their favourite dummy-spit, and calling everyone a racist. And once Spanky Roebuck gets involved you know you're REALLY in for a show. Get some popcorn, subscribe to Tony's comments, and laugh yourself stupid, it's great stuff. Not that that's QUITE happened quite yet, though - but just give it time.

Not seen the footage yet? Some bright spark has put it on Youtube. You'll find the incident in question at around the 1:30 mark.



Is it just me, or is there really nothing to it? He runs past Watson, and sort of leaves his elbow trailing. Was it deliberate? You betcha. Was there any weight behind it? Not much. Was it hard? Please. When placed next to incidents involving Lillee, Thomson, Croft - even McGrath, it barely seems worth talking about.

If anything, all it points out is what a bunch of schoolboys cricketers can be - and that ultimately they're all as bad as each other. Katich and Gambir getting all hot under the collar is just priceless - you can almost, but not quite, lip-read the "Yeah? So's your Mum!" remarks. In fact, in the comments - oh the comments, find it and read the comments, they're GOLD - someone's had a go at doing just that.

Naturally, Gambir's tried to play the role of the injured party, and the Ugly Australians card. All the way through the transcript of the appeal it comes up again and again - "I was sworn at," "but he was bigger than me!" "but it's not FAIR!", and inevitably, "they started it!!" What seems more likely to me, however, is that it's probably just as likely that it WASN'T the Australians that began the exchanges - you can see from Watson that somewhere along the line Gambir has well-and-truly got under his skin, and the same can be said for Katich.

To that end, going back to the transcript, second last paragraph - to whom should this remark really be applied?

Constant verbal assaults are also unbecoming, and also bring the game into disrepute, the more so if their intention is to break the player's concentration and provoke a loss of temper.

Not that I'm defending the Australians at all - if anything, they definitely come off second-best in that video. They take the tack of a team that has used all its cards and is now resorting to petty abuse. Hardly the approach of the seasoned professional. Gambir had them exactly where he wanted, and should have recognised it.

One thing's for sure, it's going to make the 4th Test an interesting one. India are without their player of the series so far, and yet another bad-tempered incident has marred an Indian-Australian series. I hadn't been enjoying it so far - now I'm glued to it.

Naturally though, given the nationalities involved in the disciplinary hearing, you can draw now other conclusion from this other that Gambir's suspension is the result of an Australian, English and South African plot to destroy Indian cricket. Racists. Racists! One and all.

You read it here first....

3rd Test 4th day report

OK, interesting.

Australia made 577 in respone to India's 613/7 declared, India are 43/2 at stumps on the 4th day and lead by 79 with a day to play.

This has been a massive couple of days for Australian cricket. And I have to say that I'm impressed. We got done in Mohali - absolutely destroyed, if truth be told - and after conceding 613 in the first innings every non-Australian cricket journalist was pulling out the old "end of an era for Australian dominance" chestnut.

But we stood up. We not only avoided the follow-on, but we actually challenged the Indian total - were it not for my mozz in Tony's comments (scroll down to about a third of the way down), we could have passed it. And we did it not by dominating, but by grinding out a total. We batted as a team, no-one came to our rescue particularly (there's an argument for Michael Clarke there, but he didn't score that many more than Ponting or Hayden), we made good partnerships, and everyone contributed. What more can you ask for? Now we're actually in a position where we have not only saved the game, but we're the only team that can win it, too. At the end of Day 2 no-one would have expected that to happen. This is a fantastic result for a side that have been on the back foot for just about nine straight days of Test cricket, and a massive psychological achievement in the context of the rest of the series. Save this one? We can still draw the series and retain the trophy. Even if we only draw the next match, a series loss of 1-0 to India on their own turf for a side without a full-time spinner is pretty decent going.

There's no question that we are not as good a side as we were a few years ago. The likes of White, Haddin, Johnson and Watson just do not stack up against names like McGrath, Warne, Gilchrist and Langer. But performances like this show that there's no reason to expect it all to come crashing down any time soon. I have every confidence that we will continue to be very hard to beat, and a very tough, professional unit. We will continue to win matches any other side would draw, and we will continue to draw matches we should really be losing. We're not going to be as spectacular, but we're still going to win more often than not, have no doubt.

And that's the way I like it.