|
|
Post by philh on Nov 22, 2017 10:33:57 GMT
Gabba Gabba Gabba – Day Zero
I’m on my way to Brisbane landing approximately 10 hours before the first ball is bowled in anger. I’m assuming, but haven’t checked, that I don’t need to add ‘weather permitting’ to that first sentence in sunny Australia. Indeed, I am on an Emirates plane right now travelling from Singapore to Brisbane over that vast expanse of sea before crossing a vast barren land and arriving sleepily in Brisbane when most readers of this are awake and when I should be asleep.
Two weeks ago, I thought I was mad coming to see England play at a ground where they have no hope of winning. A week ago, I felt roughly the same, but right now, infused, you might argue, by a couple of glasses of Emirates’ finest St Emilion, I am feeling more confident. I still think we’ll lose, but I think we have a bit of a chance
I usually ignore the pre-Ashes drivel, but when a rather ordinary man, whose surname bears no resemblance to that fierce animal of the jungle, starts threatening us, I’m more inclined to take the side of one of our own, who has, if I can continue the surname punning, prior knowledge of seeing them flounder.
I’m sort of recovering from an arduous 10 days rattling around Asia on business having been to Dubai, Thailand, Myanmar and Singapore. It’s been quite a tiring trip so far with little time to think about what lies ahead. I’ve been to these countries a hundred times or more (no exaggeration), but the biggest shock is that my pint of beer last night in Singapore was something close to £10 whereas the same in Myanmar last weekend cost me a few coppers over £1 – and, if you ate at most restaurants in Yangon, you were given a free beer too. I must tell my village publican in England that this is a good idea.
So, I’m off to see ‘proper’ cricket for the first time in Australia and don’t know what to expect. It seemed like a good idea when a friend, whom I shall be meeting, booked tickets by becoming a member of Brisbane Cricket Club, but I have this nagging feeling that whilst the Barmy Army is tiresome, being surrounded by Aussie Pommy-bashers may become somewhat worse if Cook goes with a single figure on the board. But, I was in Australia when we beat the Aussies on our patch and they were somewhat sulky and fully accepting of England being a better side.
Like Sussex, I don’t always know what to think of England’s team. If one of the suspect batsmen has a great series, we might just have enough. I also think the Aussie quicks are being built up beyond their real ability. That’s not to say they aren’t good, particularly on home soil, but if they don’t get their way for a day or so, it could all change.
So, that’s my build up to Brisbane. I’ll aim to post every day with thoughts and news. Of course, if on day three, I am celebrating a win by an innings and a lot, there may be something of a delay before normal service is resumed.
|
|
|
|
Post by philh on Nov 23, 2017 14:14:10 GMT
Gabba Gabba Gabba – Day 1 – Business Commences
I woke up jaded this morning after 5 hours’ sleep in Brisbane, but soon felt fine as I prepared for the battle at The Gabba. I hadn’t realised it was a 10am start. I strode towards the ground in a purposeful and, dare I say, a business-like manner. There was business to do. Indeed, I am reminded of Geoffrey Boycott, who on arriving in Australia for the first time, wrote ‘Business’ in the box on his immigration card for the ‘purpose of visit’. A few hours earlier, I had ticked the tourism box, but it felt like business as I approached The Gabba.
When I heard that England had won the toss, I expected a morning of fearsome deliveries whistling past the ears of our heroes. There was ten minutes of fanfares, National Anthems et al and we were ready to go. The first ball to Cook was delivered to a deafening roar, followed a big ‘ooh’, but the ball past safely past Cook. The second ball was the same. The third ball was a softer ‘ooh’, but the same ball and then we were down to business as usual and a crowd that was less vociferous than I had expected.
The hype about Starc and Hazlewood looked nothing more than, well, hype as the England openers played the first two overs comfortably. Then, Cook became statuesque and an edge meant that we were 2 for 1 (or 1 for 2, if you come from Aussieland). I feared the worst, but there was no need as Vince and Stoneman looked comfortable all the way to lunch. Don’t get me wrong, the Aussies bowled well and very tidily, but I’ve seen scarier stuff from Jofra.
Lunch in Brisbane seems to involve drinking as much beer as you can in 40 minutes. It’s gassy stuff and nowhere as nice as a pint of Harveys at Hove. But, there was no rush as weird rain fell on The Gabba. In every direction, there were blue skies but for an hour a dark cloud sat over the ground and steady drizzle fell. The ground staff looked lackadaisical and the covering of the square looked inadequate, but once the rain stopped we were back playing far more quickly than in England. Perhaps, it’s drier rain than at home.
Vince and Stoneman continued slowly but started to gather some momentum, but it was the last momentum for some time until a six from Mooen Ali late in the day. I learnt from an Aussie sitting next to me that Nathan Lyon is nicknamed Garry as there is a Garry Lyon who plays Aussie Rules Football, but that it’s OK to call him Larry, Barry or Harry as well. And, not only names that rhyme with Garry but anything that ends in -y or -ie. No, I don’t understand either.
Vince survived a dropped straightforward caught behind chance, but Stoneman got a nasty one and was bowled for a resolute 50-odd. Those flashing bails are horrible when it’s your batsmen that is out, but so much fun when an opposition batsmen is out. Paine, behind the stumps for the hosts, obviously loved seeing those flashing bails as he whipped off the bails regularly after his missed chance. His lack of practice at keeping wicket seemed to extend to a memory loss that the batsmen actually had to be out of his ground to be stumped.
Things settled again until Vince needed my body rather than his own. I would never even have considered a single to just wide of cover (assuming I was capable of planting a crisp shot wide of cover), but he thought his youth would see him home. He told Root to go, Root went, but he didn’t make it home and he went – back to the hut. A real waste after an impressive 83 that I had not expected if I’m honest.
Malan and Root then took us through our worst period of the day in my book. It’s a fine line between being sensible/cautious and getting bogged down, but a siege mentality crept in as Malan and Root looked to survive as Frankie Lyon wheeled away for over after over cheaply and the seamers bowled very tidily but no more than that. Nothing was whistling past the ears as I had expected.
Root went LBW thanks the modern technology which brought in Mooen Ali at 163 for 4. I feared another wicket or two in the last hour of play, but Ali scattered the close fielders with a six and a couple of blows and Malan came out of his shell to join him. Malan looked more relaxed without his skipper as partner. England battled back as the Aussies tired a little. Malan got his pads in the way of one going down the legside at the death from Starc and managed to convince the Aussies that it might be LBW – good trick, Dawid – a wasted Decision Review.
Besides the failed Mexican waves and a shouting match between a few Aussies and a few Poms, it was a generally subdued 35000 crowd. Not many runs, but fascinating cricket. The post play verdict from both sets of fans was that they would have liked better. Day two should be interesting.
|
|
|
|
Post by joe on Nov 23, 2017 19:06:12 GMT
These reports are great phil, thanks for posting.
|
|
|
|
Post by moderator1 on Nov 24, 2017 13:14:00 GMT
These reports are great phil, thanks for posting. Hear, hear...looking forward to report of last night's endeavours. Currently working an early-morning shift, which means going off to work with Australia 35-2 and then losing contact until the close of play, which makes things even more fascinating. This is a great addition to the forum philh and many thanks.  |
|
|
|
Post by philh on Nov 24, 2017 14:41:57 GMT
Gabba Gabba Gabba – Day 2 – Sausages and Baked Beans
I’ve been away from home now for just under two weeks. I’m missing two things - my lovely wife and English sausages and baked beans. I’ve been working around Asia and I am now sitting in Queensland’s sunshine watching our boys battle for that small urn. I like a decent breakfast but the sausages and baked beans in Asia are not the same as the ones at home. But, in Queensland the sausages and baked beans are just the same as they are at home, so it was a good start to the day for me as Day 2 of the First Test approaches. I wondered if Ali and Malan felt the same as they tucked into their breakfasts this morning.
It seemed that Ali and Malan enjoyed their baked beans as, full of beans you might say, they comfortably added 50-odd runs to the overnight score of 190-odd. During this period, the Aussies conceded their first extra (or sundry, if you must), which would be a complete culture to Sussex supporters where extras can come often be third or fourth highest scorer.
But, then, Malan, who had struggled at first on the previous day, changed from sensible to erratic for one moment and holed out at deep square leg to one from Starc. Moeen Ali got his legs in the way of one from Harry Lyon, which was just out. England reviewed the decision and it would, according to the technology, have just taken his bails. Moeen Ali was out, but England got their review back as it would only have just hit the stumps and the umpire had given it. I really don’t get that. It’s like saying, you were only just out, Moeen Ali, so we’ll give your team a consolation prize. Maybe, next time Moeen Ali could be invited by a popular games show host to spin the wheel to see if he is a) out b) gets an extra review c) gets ten bonus runs.
The Aussie supporters turned their attention from piling down record amounts of inferior beer to baying for the blood of English batsmen. They didn’t need to bay much as Woakes waved his bat at a straight one with about the same finesse as I try to swat flies. Now, it was 250 for 7 and dreams during the breakfast bacon (that accompanied the rather fine sausages and beans in case I forgot to mention it) of 400+ were gone.
We now had Bairstow and half of a comedy act in the shape of Ball at the crease. Bairstow looked good until he suddenly seemed to think about his current and potential future batting partners. He swished at one and knocked it in the air so that Paine was given the opportunity to catch one that even he couldn’t miss. Ball smashed 13 off one over before he became a loose cannon (geddit?) so it was left to Broad and Anderson to nudge us over 300 before Broad holed out. The Aussies, having booed at Broad’s arrival, cheered at his departure in an overly excited manner as lunch was taken.
Then, the low point of the day for me. Why was I sitting in a seat very close to a boring Englishman who insisted on singing solo “Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Anderson”. Oh, and, by the way, but incessantly. Singing is probably the wrong word to describe the noise that came from him as there was nothing faintly melodic about the racket that came from his mouth. And, so I went on and on and on - even when Broad came into bowl. Thankfully, the Queensland police are quite creative when it comes to making laws and he was led away for being boring – or, something similar. Think of the number of arrests in England there would be if people were being arrested for being boring. Actually, I quite like the idea – as long as I am the judge of what is boring and you, dear reader, are not finding this boring.
Anyhow, back to the cricket. Broad had Bancroft caught behind brilliantly by Bairstow with the score on 7 and Kawaja followed on 30 when Moeen Ali trapped him with a good ball for a LBW. It was looking good and the Barmy Army found their voice as 500+ Richie Benaud impersonators sang merrily.
Ball didn’t bowl particularly well, but out of the blue Warner smacked one from him down the throat – or, more accurately towards the solar plexus – of Malan who just about clung on. I don’t recall leaping out of my seat but I did. I just about managed to stop myself singing (badly) “Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy”, but I did (stop myself, that is). Tea came and went. I don’t know whether Handscomb had an all day breakfast (of sausage and beans, of course) during the tea break but he moved slowly in his crease and was LBW on review to Anderson. I couldn’t stop the words “Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy” rattling round my head, but I still managed to stop singing anything more than “Oh, Ji” before I regained my self control.
It was looking way beyond expectations at 76 for 4. “150 all out would be nice”, I thought, although I tried to stop the thought. And, then, things changed. Smith batted excellently and Marsh, supposedly out of form, looked better and better after a slightly shaky start. The Aussies ended up on 165 for 4.
Frankly, it was disappointing. Our two best quicks looked as good as their three quicks, but the other two looked significantly inferior. Moeen Ali bowled quiet well, but not as well as Lyon. Smith and Marsh dominated whereas our batsmen never dominated even though they fought hard. We fielded well, to be fair, but we suddenly looked vulnerable in the game for the first time.
I retired to the local pub after the game for a pint. My friend ordered an English ale, which tasted just as I remember Watneys Red Barrel but chilled to a sub-zero temperature. They may have learnt how to prepare sausage and beans Down Under, but the beer has room for improvement.
I don’t know what will happen on the third day. If we get quick wickets, we can still win, but if the Aussies start day three as they ended day two, I think we are going to struggle even though we have competed hard.
Let’s just hope that Root insists that Anderson and Broad have an extra sausage and an extra dollop of baked beans in the morning.
|
|
|
|
Post by philh on Nov 25, 2017 22:12:55 GMT
Gabba Gabba Gabba – Day 3 – Down, Up, Down, Down
Rather than Lyon roaring, the crowd roared as Lyon bowled the last ball of the day to Root. Root padded it away safely as a huge “Ooh” raised the roof (not that there is actually a roof) at The Gabba. Root ignored the faint, somewhat pathetic appeals for LBW and headed directly to the changing rooms. He didn’t want to be on the pitch a moment longer and an hour or so earlier had probably hoped that he wouldn’t be needed on the pitch at all on Day 3 after fielding for much of it.
With similar alacrity, I left Block 74 and headed to the exit so that I could get to the unnamed bar that had become the place to compare post-match opinions with Aussies, Brits and bar staff.
Aussies are very positive as a group, but individually they are pessimists. During the last hour, they were getting highly excited and leaping in the air even when Root middled an innocuous ball from Lyon. Individually, in the unnamed bar, they were predicting England to get 250 to 300 and, to quote, a man whose clothing, headgear and face was a mixture of yellow and green “We’ll succumb and lose even when we shouldn’t against you Poms”.
Outside the ground, there are people to who are employed to greet you with “Enjoy the cricket” in the morning and to say “Hope you enjoyed the cricket” on the way out. Perhaps I was being sensitive, but they seemed to be saying “Hope you enjoyed the cricket” with more glee than the previous two days. Getting across the main road outside the ground, you need to wait for the police to stop the traffic so that you can cross. The police are both friendlier and more forceful. They will happily talk and joke with you, but when it comes to crossing the road they bark “Get across the road immediately”.
Before Root’s rapid exit from the pitch, he and Stoneman had survived a shaky 40 minutes. A third wicket looked on the cards as every ball looked more threatening than it had in the first innings. England survived the shaky period and went in at 33 for 2, a mere 7 runs ahead. At 17 for 2, it had looked a lot worse. Vince got a nasty one from Hazlewood which he edged to the Aussie skipper and Cook holed out to the same bowler. What Cook was thinking as he hooked during the fourth over of an innings is beyond me. It led to that horrible last hour or so.
Earlier England had seen Smith and Lyon add 30 for the last wicket. Last wicket partnerships are great fun when it’s your side batting, but wretched when it’s the opposition as Australia gained a lead of 26. Smith, to be fair, batted beautifully. It was one of the best knocks I have ever seen. His 141 not out was arguably the difference between the two teams. He never looked hurried, scored with ease, albeit a little slowly, but rarely looked like losing his wicket.
England had started the day with four Australian wickets down. Smith and Marsh continued where they had left off at the end of Day 2 until Marsh mistimed a shot which Anderson pocketed. Suddenly, English optimism rose as Paine and Starc departed before lunch as they slumped to 209 for 7. Starc had just hit Broad for a huge six, but two balls later Broad caught a sharp chance of his own bowling to send the Aussie quick back to the pavilion. England’s tactic to deal with the Aussie chit chat seems to be to smile rather than get involved in a sharp exchange of words. Broad had smiled at Starc when Starc had hit the six and mouthed a few words. He smiled again as he caught Starc low to his right.
Lunch was an enjoyable moment to savour after the late clatter of wickets in the previous session. Mention should be made of Bairstow’s second excellent catch of the game to dismiss Paine. But pain was what followed lunch as Smith and Cummins looked more and more comfortable as each over passed. Ball and Woakes don’t look anywhere near as dangerous as Anderson and Broad and runs steadily accumulated as hopes of a healthy first innings lead gradually disappeared. The bloke next to me (TBNTM), an Aussie, asked me if I was enjoying Brisbane at a time when the score was 275 for 7. My half-hearted response was about to be “it’s a nice city” as Cook fell rather than dived and caught the very competent Cummins for 42. “I’m enjoying it a bit more now”, I replied to TBNTM, as I tried to hold back from punching the air. “Have you been around the city?”, TBNTM probed as though the wicket hadn’t really fallen. I can’t remember what I replied; I was just glad to see the partnership broken.
Hazlewood hung around for a while but missed one from Moeen Ali, which left Lyon to irritate the visitors. 328 all out was not a disaster for England. A lead of 26 could easily be knocked off. I knew one wicket would fall in the remaining period, but I wasn’t ready for what was ahead.
As for whether I am ready for Day 4. I am flipping between huge pessimism and the thought that when batsmen get in on this wicket, they seem to be able to stay there. Can England bat long enough to draw or, dare I say it, win? I have my doubts and have this feeling that Day 5 might be spent on a beach somewhere outside the city. But, that’s the beauty of cricket. Or, it is, if it’s not too painful today. Time for sausage and baked beans and the day ahead! What will be discussed in the unnamed bar later remains to be seen.
|
|
|
|
Post by philh on Nov 26, 2017 22:45:19 GMT
Gabba Gabba Gabba – Day 4 – Nails in the coffin
“Are you here for all five days, mate?” asked a friendly Aussie soon after I had arrived at The Gabba for Day 4. “That will depend on England’s players”, I retorted. “You guys will get a decent score on this track, I reckon”, he replied. We discussed the day ahead at length as Root and Stoneman started comfortably. It seemed like a different battle from the last overs of Day 3 when the crowd was roaring. The ground looked empty for Day 4. Perhaps, Aussies like or need a lie in on a Sunday.
Runs came reasonably easily and I started to wonder if my friendly neighbour was right – England will get a decent score on this track. I started thinking of how long it would take to score 350 and have time to bowl the Aussies out. As I was imaging Anderson ripping through the Aussie top order, one from Lyon turned a bit more and Stoneman edged to slip. 12 runs later Malan gave the same combination of Smith and Lyon a wicket, which made it 74 for 4.
Root and Moeen Ali set about trying to stage a recovery. Again, this pair looked comfortable. Even though the ground was filling up a little, there was a distinct lack of atmosphere and the Aussies consequently seemed tamer even though two wickets had already fallen. Just as thoughts of recovery were forming in my head, Root, who had played faultlessly, stopped playing what might have been a captain’s innings and missed a straight one that hit his pads. I didn’t like the way Root slouched his way off the field. What message did that send to his team mates? We’re beaten, perhaps.
The afternoon looked better as Moeen Ali and Bairstow made batting look easy. It was enhanced by the discovery of a beer called Iron Jack, sold, it seemed, at just one of many bars in the ground. It wasn’t the best beer I’ve ever consumed, but it was better than the appalling Castlemaine XXXX. Having downed a schooner or two of Iron Jack, I was confronted with my biggest decision of the day. Curiously, the third umpire would be making his biggest decision of the match soon afterwards.
My big decision was whether to put the plastic glass (can you have a plastic glass?) into the bin marked Co-Mingling Recycled or General Waste. An official was standing next to the bins and she didn’t know either. I didn’t want to get it wrong as Australia is a place of rules. Every 10 minutes, there is an announcement telling you what fine you will get in you encroach on the field, behave in a racist manner or throw anything. “If you throw, you go” is the slogan I have heard about 100 times now and it’s a fine of A$706 if you use bad language or threaten any of the players or officials. However, singing “Broad is a w****r” at the top of your voice comes with a tax rebate and an improved pension pay package.
My apologies for my digression. You’re probably still wondering whether I chose the Co-Mingling Recycled or General Waste. Well, I chose Co-Mingling Recycled – or CMR, as I came to call it. An Aussie who had enough plastic glasses to start one of those silly beer snakes then came along and chose the General Waste, but it was too late for me to change my mind.
Back on the square, all was going well until the painful Paine whipped off the bails for the umpteenth time standing up to Lyon. He claimed Moeen Ali as his first victim of the innings and the third umpire was called upon to see if it was a stumping or not. The third umpire watched the video 100 times before making his decision. With each viewing, the Aussies cheered more loudly. In equal measure, it became more and more obvious that it was definitely not out. As the out/not out display on the scoreboard whirled around making it as tense as who would be fired by Lord Sugar, I relaxed as it had to be not out if the third umpire needs so long to make a decision. To my amazement, the word “OUT” came up in big letters. The next few words that came out of my mouth will not be recorded here. Moeen Ali did indeed look like a victim of Paine – and, the third umpire.
Any hopes of recovery now looked slim after the incredulous decision. England succumbed meekly, yet another less crucial decision went against England when painful Paine was the only person in the ground to think that Broad had nicked one from Starc. Unless my eyes deceive me, I couldn’t see anything on hot spot to match the sound on Snicko, but Broad was gone. Painful Paine whipped off the bails yet again when Ball was a foot inside his crease. The English contingent assumed it would be out with mocking “Howzats”. In truth, we were stuffed. The Aussies were on the up and up and we were down and out.
Setting Australia 170 to win never looked enough. The consensus seemed to be that we needed to set a target of 250 or more. As we came out to field, the body language didn’t look good. “We’ll give it a go in Adelaide” was what I read into the English players’ appearance in the field. Anderson bowled well, Broad fairly well, but the rest looked half hearted. I don’t know if Bancroft is a rabbit, but we are clearly trying to play him into the team for the rest of the series – clever tactic if he is a rabbit.
Runs came easily. Warner batted attractively but I felt as though I still might be able to pick off the odd four from Woakes, Ball or Moeen Ali. Day 5 will be a formality as the Aussies need 50-odd to go one up. As for our team, Cook, Ball and Woakes all came up well short of the mark in this game; most of the others need to do a bit better and someone needs to excel. I don’t know if any of this team will be consigned to cricket’s equivalent of the Co-Mingled Recycling, but I think there was some General Waste – Cook’s two bad dismissals, Root not going on to get a ton, inadequate bowling, promising partnerships that floundered and no attempt to dominate at any time. Australia are not a great team, but they look good enough at the moment. Someone needs to do what Smith did and dominate for at least a period of the game.
|
|
|
|
Post by philh on Nov 29, 2017 1:09:18 GMT
(Belatedly) Gabba Gabba Gabba – Day 5 – A pleasant day
If there was the faintest hope of England rattling out the Aussies, I would have walked the 400 yards from my hotel to The Gabba to see the last rites. Indeed, if I had travelled across the world and missed the most amazing comeback of all time, I would have been gutted. However, batting had looked so easy for the Aussie openers the previous evening that there was no chance that we could take 10 wickets before Australia had claimed the 55 runs needed to surpass the paltry target England had set.
As I came out of my hotel, The Barmy Army though were heading towards The Gabba. I admire their fanatical support, but they must be, well, barmy. I did see a few Aussies heading towards the ground and some, who were enjoying a pre-match beer at 9.30 a.m. They would need to hurry though as the 10am start meant that it could all be over before they had downed their second schooner.
I had taken Garry’s advice at the hotel. Garry was an amiable Kiwi who manned the reception at my hotel much of the time. He too was disappointed that England hadn’t put up a better fight. He had suggested a day out to Surfers Paradise and explained how to get there. So, I was on 11.39 train from South Bank to Noreng to see Surfers Paradise – without, I might add, a surfboard. I might have played a lot of different sports in my day, but I have never had the inclination to climb on a surfboard – let alone, fall off one.
Buying a ticket proved quite challenging until I realised that I was using a faulty machine. Once on the train, I had an old English couple sit behind me (that’s old by my standards even). As we passed through several miles of light industry outside Brisbane, they moaned about England’s efforts. The man gave opinion after opinion whilst his wife agreed and agreed. “Once Anderson and Broad get too old, this team will concede 500 every time”, he offered. “Yes”, agreed his wife – at least, I assume she was. “Once Cook retires, we’ll score less runs too”, he continued. His wife agreed. I wanted to turn round and correct him. “Fewer runs”, I kept thinking, “not less runs”. “And Root’s not a proper captain”, he added. “Not like Illingworth”, she added, giving the first hint of any opinions. “Or, Brearley. He knew how to captain”, he added. “No, that’s right”, she replied.
The train stopped briefly at a small station by a school. I noticed several kids playing cricket. These are the ones that will be skittling us out in 15 years’ time. The kids like their cricket here. Do our kids play cricket in the playground? In fact, on Saturday morning, I took a walk from my hotel before breakfast and saw two teams of schoolboys, probably aged around 9, playing each other at 7.45 a.m. in the morning. Would our kids get up that early to play cricket? Is that why we are losing to Australia? I can’t imagine English kids being ready to get up at 6.30 by parents shouting “Come on, you need to get to school to play cricket”. The kid would probably still be thinking about going to bed having played FIFA 17 all night.
The countryside became more beautiful as the train approached Noreng, the station nearest to Surfers Paradise. A short bus journey takes from Noreng to the beach. Surfers Paradise is a strange place. If I could time travel and go back 30 years, I suspect that I would have been standing by an empty beach with nothing else in sight where the bus dropped me. It’s a huge fantastic beach but not very characterful really.
After a wander on the beach, my friend and I headed for some lunchtime refreshments. He was determined to get a Moreton Bay Bug for his lunch. I’d never heard of them, but they are weird things that are worth a quick Google if you’re unfamiliar with them. The bar we found advertised a selection of seafood, but, alas, no Moreton Bay Bugs. It’s a bit strange to sit outside at a street corner bar and see an ibis walk by and two exotically coloured parrots in the tree above. The town was welcoming lots of youngsters to town for ‘Schoolies’. This seems to be some tradition where loads of youngsters go the beach, wander round in groups or ride electric powered bikes that look like motorbikes. They seem good natured and quieter than expected although that might not be the case the evening, I suspect. Surfers Paradise was pleasant enough but I’m not sure I would have wanted to stay there except, perhaps, when I was the age to do the ‘Schoolies’.
The last I had seen Australia were 15 runs short of England’s total without losing any further wickets. I don’t know why I bothered to check the final score. It didn’t really matter. Sure enough, they had cruised home by 10 wickets.
My last evening in Brisbane was a quiet one before heading up to Tokyo to work. We decided to try what looked the least attractive bar near our hotel, but once inside, it was reasonably nice with excellent food. An elderly man, who may have owned the bar, wanted to stand by our table and talk to us. He wanted to tell us how pleased he was that Australia had beaten The Poms. I was relieved when he said “Anyway, nice chatting to you, I need to do something”. I was less pleased when he added “I’ll try and talk to you again later” as he walked away with purpose.
England had lost heavily, but I still can say that I have enjoyed my trip to Brisbane. Whether England ever win again at The Gabba in my lifetime will depend on the quality of youngsters coming through and how long I live. They don’t make captains like Illingworth or Brearley any more or batsmen like Boycott, but hopefully we will come back stronger some time. The series is not yet over, but Cook and Root need to score big soon, so that our bowlers have something decent to bowl at and Australia get put under some pressure. We had two or three opportunities to get on top in this game, but each time we let it slip. Australia are not a great side, but at the moment, they look good enough.
Over and out from Brisbane.
|
|
