Ne me quitte pas, Kooka

There are a few lines at the end of Jacques Brel's Ne me quitte pas that set a sort of high/low benchmark in grovelling desperation, a ne plus ultra of dirt-licking, dignity-dashing bargain-striking:

Let me become
the shadow of your shadow
the shadow of your hand
the shadow of your dog

I mean, "Let me become the shadow of your dog" – really? Wow. I'm not sure whether I'm impressed or appalled.

I do believe however that yesterday afternoon at the SCG I saw Nathan Hauritz strike that series of bargains with the ball he took off Mohammad Yousuf. And it worked! I don't think things went so well for Jacques somehow.

I mean, I love an athletic, razor-sharp display of strike-force fielding as much as the next person, and goodness me they worked hard and well in that department yesterday. But I don't think I have ever seen such raw need on the field as that displayed by Haurie wrangling that ball to the ground, with the rest of him scrambling desperately to keep up. "Don't leave me", indeed.

It was gawky, painful, doubtful… wonderful! Is this the story of Haurie all over? That's my girl!

TNT!

I had just been reading up on oxytocin, the "cuddle hormone", and then I saw Adrian Barath make his century. Adorable! The leap of joy, the being swept up and spun around in Dinesh Ramdin's arms, the salute to the crowd and the team, but the clincher of his place in Cricket Love history was his lean into Ramdin's chest—it bordered on a nuzzle—to go in for a second cuddle. I was combing the interwebs for pictures of the cuddles in particular and thought I had found one, but it turns out it was Barath engaged in yet another delightful cuddle in another game entirely. He can't help himself, he's Adrian Boris "Mr Oxytocin" Barath.

Adrian Barath & Lendl Simmo, 29th January 2009 (WI vs England) (AP/AndresLeighton (c))

It was a long way from Peter Roebuck's polite (?) inquiry of Fazeer Mohammed on Day 1 as to whether Barath and Ramdin's background was middle class or, rather, perhaps, "peasant". Oh Peter. Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter. Oh Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter. What will I do with you?

A more palatable moment in Grandstand camp was when Ponting dropped Travis Dowlin off Mitchell Johnson, which yielded this clipped exchange:

Roebuck (I think): Uncharacteristic.
Maxwell: Most.

Quite!

And I was glad to see that Nathan Hauritz has not lost his flair.

A shame about, well, the rest.

Things from the rest of Test #3

So, Michael Clarke's new nickname in my loungeroom is "Rasputin", so many sure-death blows did he uncannily survive on his way to 100. Not able to catch him on a legal delivery or persuade his stumps to dislodge, the English eventually tried to "bore" him out, a strategy that became so tedious that when he hit a ball two-thirds of the way to the boundary rope on 96 I half expected the English fielder running after it to give it a good kick along and get it over with.

***

Earlier on Day 5, Shane Warne was captaining the English bowlers from the commentary box: just be patient, be patient, don't try and force it, don't get ahead of yourself, let it come, it'll all come, it'll come in a hurry, relax…










Sorry, where were we?

I'd heard of the "fog" that Warney was able to create in batsmen's minds, but as much as I love Warney—and I love Warney—I hadn't really extrapolated this to other areas, crediting him with more enthusiasm than sensitivity in such domains… until now. I've said enough. Too much. Area Shane!

Conspiracy theory 1

Not only does Nathan Hauritz's haircut appear to be a DIY job but Brett Lee's blonde is also an unpleasant urine-like shade suggestive of self-administered treatment. Have the English, recalling that Warney only started taking serious wickets once he lost the mullet, set up a secret Julio Embargo blocking professional hairdressers from approaching the Australian team? (Whereas Hilfenhaus appeared to get a proper haircut between the 1st and 2nd Tests, presumably before the embargo set in, and his fitness has—THUS—been preserved.)

Conspiracy theory 2

SBS's music selections have taken a confusing turn. They usually play snatches of uptempo songs from hip young Australian bands, eg. Temper Trap's "Science of Fear", which I haven't read too much into since I've just thought it was SBS being modern and Australian and uptempo—until NOW: these lyrics are the world's worst vote of confidence/terrifyingly prescient/might have a lot to answer for. They seem to describe the experience of a car crash happening in slow motion. Hmmm.

On Day 4 they started playing U2's "I Will Follow" – a little confusing, my brain started projecting follow-on situations that didn't exist and didn't really fit the song anyway. But this was nothing compared to Day 5's WTF multi-trumpet instrumental of "Frère Jacques".

Phil Jaques, obviously, but why? And why trumpets? I've heard the ACB can be less than direct when communicating with players, but... ? Theories welcome.

The Go-To Girl

Because my technical insight into cricket is approximately nil, my appreciation of the game is rather like a pre-Modern worldview that relies on resemblances, resonances and random conjunctions to work out what’s going on. That’s my way of explaining my love of a lookalike.

So, I’ve worked out, probably long after everyone else, the exact element in Hauritz’s bowling action that gives the “girly” impression. It’s that flared left hand as he releases the ball:


It's the full-body equivalent of cocking a pinky finger when lifting a teacup to your mouth, and when it comes to flared hands, these people got there first:

But the Charleston connection was really worth pursuing. I mean, look at this:




Who'da thunk it? Ironically here it’s everything but the left hand that matches, but it made me realise that it’s also the pigeon toes and general Charlestonesque gawkiness that’s part of the overall effect of Hauritz's action. Mind you, a spinner's action is not always pretty: Stuart Magill used to look like a crow with a broken wing trying to take off.

I feel for Hauritz: it’s a game where physiognomy counts for a lot (how much does the squareness of Kumble’s jaw enter into perceptions of his honourable character? not to mention Flintoff, about whom more another time), and in an unusually hairy team he looks like he doesn’t shave yet, and amidst an unusually (for an Australian cricket team) good-looking lot, he’s rather plain—a man-child without being a boy-wonder.

But can he Charleston, or what?

Day 3 Cricket love

Briefly - Greg Matthews on public displays of affection in his time: "Marsh was too big to get your arms around and Greg Chappell wasn't worth the climb."

Test 2, Day 2: cosmic ruckus

Frankly, I'm a little concerned.

Because it would seem that Russell Crowe's ego, already thought to be planet-sized, in fact has the wildly bloated mass of an aging dwarf star whose imminent gravitational collapse threatens to engulf us all in a sucking black hole implosion.

This, however, would presumably resolve the game in a draw. I can see the scene in 100 years time when the Mo-cyborg is rolled out for his "stats" roll card on how the Aussies have always managed to avoid defeat at Lords: "Year X: saved by rain; year Y: saved by rain; year Z: saved by amazing rearguard batting by the bowlers, and then of course the 2009 Ashes when a seemingly inevitable loss was averted by the Russell Crowe Black Hole Catastrophe gobbling up the whole of Lords. There's meteorology and then there's METEOROLOGY, ya know? Terrible tragedy, but it saved the match and thank God Russ himself was also completely sucked up into his own dark, oh so dark Hole (har har)."

I called it a night just after they resumed following tea, when Katich and Hussey were ploddingly picking up the pieces of the first session. But I couldn't sleep and when I got up again and turned on the telly it was clear this was because my lizard brain couldn't find peace with all the cosmic ruckus created by collapsing Australian wickets. Six for 139! I took some pleasure in seeing Johnson bat, but even this was short-lived.

So Australia is on 7/150, it's total disarray, and in the middle of it all Nasser welcomes Russell to the commentary box with him and Warney. What would you do? What would anyone do? Russell Crowe would take the opportunity to launch into a musty and long-winded question about captaining strategy in the LAST GAME — cos Lord knows that's what's on everyone's minds at the moment — which he has clearly been carrying around in his figurative pocket all day like a crumpled acceptance speech and he may as well have decided at that moment to read one of his poems, because that's about how irrelevant and pontificating it was.

The question never got answered — possibly never got finished, it certainly seemed interminable — because then HADDIN fell, because ACTUALLY WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A TUMULTUOUS COLLAPSE. GOD.

There was more. It was horrific. Maybe another time, I don't think I can go through it again right now. Even Warney seemed embarrassed, and Nasser was speechless, but then nothing Russ said was actually designed to draw any response, it was just thud, thud, thud, lob out my cricket kudos, whack down some names, ho ho ho, here I am, baby. In the end Nasser just said: "Well... thanks a lot." Go Russ, please go.

What else?

New Ways to get batsmen out Pt II

Peter Siddle has a real Fee Fi Fo Fum aura when he's up, but clearly the blood of an Englishman doesn't agree with him.

Batting bowlers I

I'm enjoying Jason Gillespie's new career as the Voice of the Batsman. In Monday's Sydney Morning Herald he weighed in on the question of Harmison's recall, speaking, of course, from the batsman's perspective:

"It's just that unnerving bounce. Even when he does pitch it up, as a batter you're not quite sure whether it's there to drive or press forward to because he's so tall and he gets that bounce." (my emphasis)

Then again during the rain delay yesterday he was chatting with the older folk in the BBC commentary box about Andrew Flintoff:

Dizzy: "You always felt you were in with a chance with Andrew Flintoff…"
Other commentators, checking they've got this right: "As… a batter?"
Dizzy (totally blithe): "As a batter, yeah…"

The fact he says "batter" rather than the more orthodox "batsman" makes it even better. He's great.

Batting bowlers II - Hauritz: Orphan Annie?

Hauritz's hapless face under his helmet at the end of the day put me in mind of something, someone, some cartooned someone, and I think this is it:


But more worried. Meanwhile, before I got up again and saw the horrorshow x 2, my only real thought about Day 2 was:

Graham Onions = Ben Hilfenhaus + Reg Mombassa

Test 2 Day 1 Mutter

I struggled to get into the game yesterday evening, what with the comparative excitement of Masterchef and some work distractions, but those aside, could we have lacked any more lustre in that opening session?

Even after we got a couple of wickets, by 1am I was just feeling a bit tired, cold, cranky and ready for bed, but then I came back from cleaning my teeth and found Pietersen walking and it perked me up considerably. Out came the extra cardie and hot cup of tea and I saw it through to stumps while tapping away at a less demanding job on the laptop.

Some things anyway...

New ways to get batsmen out

1. Nathan Hauritz
I could swear I heard Phil Tufnell on the radio say that rather than create drama à la Warne, Hauritz tries to "bore" the batsman out...

Jim Maxwell called Hauritz's bowling style "polite", which I think is probably his polite way of saying "like a big girl's blouse", but hey, Stuart Broad looks like a member of Hanson (ner), and if death by politeness works, it works:

Hauritz (in high voice): "Please sir, would you be so kind as to give me your wicket?"
English batsman (without thinking): "Why of course, little girl, here you... arrrgghh"

2. Mitchell Johnson
I think Warney was up to his old bamboozling of Englishmen when he tried to put the idea to his commentary box colleagues that Johnson's "spraying them all over the place" could be a cover for smuggling in a "jaffa" (or a "peach"), even asking Mike Atherton whether he had ever confronted such a "strategy" during his career, and how he "coped". Poor Johnson. It was so unexpected when he finally got a wicket that when I looked up from the computer at the noise and saw Johnson's jubilation I thought I was watching a montage of "Mitchell Johnson's past glories" rather than something happening live. Has he caught "star fast bowler" curse from Brett Lee?

Cricket Love

1. You could hear the hum of mutual affection between Henry Blofeld and Phil Tufnell on the radio together, their different styles of Englishness (posh/cockney) reverberating nicely. I could imagine the Disney animated feature with them silhouetted against the sunset, Bloers a preposterous cravat-wearing turkey and Tufnell a sly streetwise rat.

2. Warney really purred in the BBC commentary box when he was asked how he felt about Nasser Hussain, sitting next to him: "I love Nasser", he said, "I loved playing with Nasser."

I think Warney probably loves Nasser for much the same reason I love Nasser: because his manifest pain was SO MUCH FUN when he led England on a really wretched Australian tour. I saw them play a one-day game at the SCG where they made all of 112 in their innings, and then Gilchrist and Langer (or Martyn?) came out and smashed so many fours and sixes the crowd started to cheer when they didn't get a boundary.* And the scoreboard kept showing close-ups of Nasser's face as his eyes followed the high, long, trajectory of yet another ball going over the ropes. He did that English-cricket-captain combination of wincing agony and gloomed resignation very well. And literal resignation I think following that tour.

He's also in one of the only pictures in my "cricket love" collection that isn't of the Australian team:


This is Nasser and Andy Caddick, and I should have made a note of exactly what the occasion was, but it was from the "wretched" tour (2001-2?) and may have been from the dead rubber Sydney match that England won.

It was a treat in any case having Warney commentating, even though someone has left the liquid paper within his reach and he has gone and painted his teeth.


*[England's total actually 117, and it was Gilchrist and Hayden batting, but 76 runs of their winning total of 118 was made in boundaries, including 15 from Gilchrist]