Jungle Jumbo
International Vice-Captain
It was? I was referring to the bloke who went on all the time about how poor Bangladesh are. Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough...
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- Thread starter SJS
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SJS
Hall of Fame Member
Obviously anyone who thought Bangladesh were poor was just stating the obvious though.
SJS
Hall of Fame Member
Peter Roebuck's site
A place to go to when you have run through your last cricket book and not bought the next.
A place to go to when you have run through your last cricket book and not bought the next.
SJS
Hall of Fame Member
The Guardian's sports blog is another place where you can come across some wonderful articles. Here is one.
The streets are alive with the sound of sledging -
For many of India's poor, real cricket is played to a deafening soundtrack on the potholed city streets.
Tom Bryant
August 31, 2007 11:25 AM
For many of India's poor, real cricket is played to a deafening soundtrack on the potholed city streets.
Tom Bryant
August 31, 2007 11:25 AM
The wickets on the back streets of the dusty Rajasthan city of Jaipur are hardly a batsman's dream. Erratically Tarmaced, potholed and covered in sharp stones and rubble, this is the sort of track to give even the calmest of blockers a nightmare.
At the other end, coming in off a long run that bends round a corner and past a washing line, is a taxi driver, nicknamed Sheik, who claims he can propel the ball at well over 85mph. His last two deliveries make this a highly believable but unverifiable claim as, with his bent-armed, chest-pivoting, semi-baseball throw of an action, he's never likely to get near a pitch official enough to have a speed gun. It is, however, genuinely terrifying to face.
This is street cricket in India and it's about as a far removed from the serenity of the Headingley pitch that England and India will stride out on Sunday as possible. It's here that, for many of India's poor, real cricket is played. It's on these back roads that fierce local rivalries are acted out, where teams drawn from slum streets battle for the pride - and often the superiority - of their neighbourhood. It's not unknown for games to spill over into mass brawling or fighting.
In India, cricket is more than the national obsession. The state of the international team is of vital importance. When they do well, the country is happy; if they do badly, passion can spill over into rioting. A World Cup defeat to Bangladesh in March was accompanied by vast crowds burning effigies of Sachin Tendulkar and Virender Sehwag.
But, for those without access to TVs, the international game is of far less relevance than their local street-league. Here, neighbourhood land disputes are settled and business deals are struck, while gambling (and match-rigging, alleges one spectator) is rife. And on these craterous wickets the heroes are people like Sheik, the fast-bowling cabbie, not superstars like Rahul Dravid.
Today's tie is a league match between Sheik's team, nearing the top of the 12-strong competition, and a side from across the city. Sheik says that, while the outcome of the match means a few league points, of more importance is the fact that it will also determine who gets an all-important corner pitch in one of Jaipur's food markets.
All around, there's the deafening noise of the weekday traffic blaring from the nearby main road while, elsewhere, there's a constant bustle of people walking past. Just around the corner, there's a busy, colourful marketplace and behind the wicket is a Hindu temple. Neither market nor temple is accessible via this broad street now, since the players have temporarily cordoned it off - something that doesn't cause a moment's complaint by those inconvenienced. Cricket is more important; that's the way it is.
Batsmen wear no protection in these games, though the balls are hard and occasionally made of concrete so as to cope with the rough terrain. Some balls have seams, some don't, while others are half covered in tape to impart swing - as with the beach cricket balls with which Sri Lanka's Lasith Malinga learned his trade. To be hit by a fast one and show pain results in a stern questioning of your manhood and another throat-high bouncer. A slogged six over the houses that mark the boundary, meanwhile, earns you a high-five, ear-piercing screams from the assembled spectators and the eternal hatred of the bowler.
Oddly, given that this is India, there is little respect for the spinner. Sheik's team don't even have one in their ranks. It is, he says, because the ball is likely to shoot off at any angle from the stones on the pitch anyway. Why bowl it slow and hope for turn, when you can bowl fast, sharply cutting seamers?
It's a trick their rivals today haven't worked out. They do have a spinner and he watches with dismay as, during Sheik's team's innings, every ball of his first over is thumped to the square-leg boundary by a batsman charging down the wicket. No one wants to hit singles here; they are met with the shrug of an opportunity wasted by the steadily growing crowd of market-shoppers, housewives and businessmen looking to be entertained. A single also means dropping the team's only bat, baseball-style, as the batsman runs, which often means a stomach-grazing dive along the road to get in to the roughly marked crease at the other end.
It's big hitting that helps Sheik's side to a total of over 250 from 40 or so overs - though it's a tally that causes much hustling and finger-wagging at the umpire (a fruit seller drafted in from the market) who admits to losing count of the balls bowled.
It's a score that Sheik, rightly, is confident will lead to victory. His lethal, but illegal, pace earns him four wickets as he and the team's three other 'seamers' wrap up the opposition's batsmen 75 runs short and with 13 overs to spare. There's only one who offers any resistance - a 16-year-old boy, mercilessly sledged, who deftly knocks the ball into the gaps between fielders. As he walks off at the close though, three runs short of his 50, he's applauded warmly by every member of Sheik's team.
With that, the cordon of bollards and shopping carts that blocked the street for the last few hours are removed and the traffic begins to rattle its way past again. On what - minutes ago - was the boundary, a handshake signals that the market-corner pitch has changed hands. Then Sheikh walks back to his taxi, arms patting his back as he goes, and drives off to tell the day's future fares how his 85mph seamers won the day.
At the other end, coming in off a long run that bends round a corner and past a washing line, is a taxi driver, nicknamed Sheik, who claims he can propel the ball at well over 85mph. His last two deliveries make this a highly believable but unverifiable claim as, with his bent-armed, chest-pivoting, semi-baseball throw of an action, he's never likely to get near a pitch official enough to have a speed gun. It is, however, genuinely terrifying to face.
This is street cricket in India and it's about as a far removed from the serenity of the Headingley pitch that England and India will stride out on Sunday as possible. It's here that, for many of India's poor, real cricket is played. It's on these back roads that fierce local rivalries are acted out, where teams drawn from slum streets battle for the pride - and often the superiority - of their neighbourhood. It's not unknown for games to spill over into mass brawling or fighting.
In India, cricket is more than the national obsession. The state of the international team is of vital importance. When they do well, the country is happy; if they do badly, passion can spill over into rioting. A World Cup defeat to Bangladesh in March was accompanied by vast crowds burning effigies of Sachin Tendulkar and Virender Sehwag.
But, for those without access to TVs, the international game is of far less relevance than their local street-league. Here, neighbourhood land disputes are settled and business deals are struck, while gambling (and match-rigging, alleges one spectator) is rife. And on these craterous wickets the heroes are people like Sheik, the fast-bowling cabbie, not superstars like Rahul Dravid.
Today's tie is a league match between Sheik's team, nearing the top of the 12-strong competition, and a side from across the city. Sheik says that, while the outcome of the match means a few league points, of more importance is the fact that it will also determine who gets an all-important corner pitch in one of Jaipur's food markets.
All around, there's the deafening noise of the weekday traffic blaring from the nearby main road while, elsewhere, there's a constant bustle of people walking past. Just around the corner, there's a busy, colourful marketplace and behind the wicket is a Hindu temple. Neither market nor temple is accessible via this broad street now, since the players have temporarily cordoned it off - something that doesn't cause a moment's complaint by those inconvenienced. Cricket is more important; that's the way it is.
Batsmen wear no protection in these games, though the balls are hard and occasionally made of concrete so as to cope with the rough terrain. Some balls have seams, some don't, while others are half covered in tape to impart swing - as with the beach cricket balls with which Sri Lanka's Lasith Malinga learned his trade. To be hit by a fast one and show pain results in a stern questioning of your manhood and another throat-high bouncer. A slogged six over the houses that mark the boundary, meanwhile, earns you a high-five, ear-piercing screams from the assembled spectators and the eternal hatred of the bowler.
Oddly, given that this is India, there is little respect for the spinner. Sheik's team don't even have one in their ranks. It is, he says, because the ball is likely to shoot off at any angle from the stones on the pitch anyway. Why bowl it slow and hope for turn, when you can bowl fast, sharply cutting seamers?
It's a trick their rivals today haven't worked out. They do have a spinner and he watches with dismay as, during Sheik's team's innings, every ball of his first over is thumped to the square-leg boundary by a batsman charging down the wicket. No one wants to hit singles here; they are met with the shrug of an opportunity wasted by the steadily growing crowd of market-shoppers, housewives and businessmen looking to be entertained. A single also means dropping the team's only bat, baseball-style, as the batsman runs, which often means a stomach-grazing dive along the road to get in to the roughly marked crease at the other end.
It's big hitting that helps Sheik's side to a total of over 250 from 40 or so overs - though it's a tally that causes much hustling and finger-wagging at the umpire (a fruit seller drafted in from the market) who admits to losing count of the balls bowled.
It's a score that Sheik, rightly, is confident will lead to victory. His lethal, but illegal, pace earns him four wickets as he and the team's three other 'seamers' wrap up the opposition's batsmen 75 runs short and with 13 overs to spare. There's only one who offers any resistance - a 16-year-old boy, mercilessly sledged, who deftly knocks the ball into the gaps between fielders. As he walks off at the close though, three runs short of his 50, he's applauded warmly by every member of Sheik's team.
With that, the cordon of bollards and shopping carts that blocked the street for the last few hours are removed and the traffic begins to rattle its way past again. On what - minutes ago - was the boundary, a handshake signals that the market-corner pitch has changed hands. Then Sheikh walks back to his taxi, arms patting his back as he goes, and drives off to tell the day's future fares how his 85mph seamers won the day.
SJS
Hall of Fame Member
Another wonderful piece of writing from Guardian-Obsrver archives.
The Bodyline tour of 1932-33 remains the most controversial in Ashes history.
But in his analysis of the series, the great Neville Cardus found much to praise in England's relentless strategy
The Bodyline tour of 1932-33 remains the most controversial in Ashes history.
But in his analysis of the series, the great Neville Cardus found much to praise in England's relentless strategy
'Nobody will deny the better side won the rubber'
Neville Cardus
5 March 1933
Neville Cardus
5 March 1933
When the English team left these shores last autumn, our hopes and prayers went with them - especially our prayers - but not our unbounded confidence. We had seen the players in action every day during the season of 1932, and though we all knew of the beneficial effects of the sea-voyage, none of us expected sun and ozone to transform good cricketers into great cricketers.
Larwood, in particular, was 'suspect'; we doubted his stamina. We had seen him more or less impotent in the Trial match at Old Trafford, and also during the Duleepsinhji-Pataudi stand at Lord's in the Gentlemen v Players match: on these occasions he was unable to get the ball higher than the stumps, and he languished. When Bowes was rushed into the England side at the last minute, there were people who saw in this a vote of no-confidence in Larwood. Again, the question was asked, 'Why four fast bowlers?' It really did seem a strange notion. Years ago, an England XI could have chosen Lockwood, Kortright, Richardson and Mold - four of the swiftest bowlers that ever lived. But in those days the general idea was that one fast bowler was ample for a Test match combination.
We did not know what we were talking about last September when we questioned the composition of Jardine's attack. We were in the dark. For a deep strategy had been connived to bring about the downfall of Bradman and Woodfull. It was, as Smee might have said, a sort of compliment to these two great batsmen. To cope with genius, you must put forth special and uncommon measures. The fast leg-theory attack had been tried at Trent Bridge - and also in a mild way at Kennington Oval last August. Not everybody who saw it admired it - but it was a likely specific for the Australians, the very thing to solve the Bradman dilemma.
The cricketer who is always scoring double centuries is a pest to the game; he must be done something with, as the Brothers Cheeryble said of Tim Linkinwater. Fast leg-theory has won England the rubber; as Hobbs has said - and he ought to know all about fast leg-theory - it was the strange method and wonderful accuracy of Larwood that reduced Bradman's average from more than 100 to a respectable 50 or so.
We have all praised Larwood's achievement. Yet for many of us it has been a mystery how he 'did it,' and also how Verity and O'Reilly managed to spin the ball on the second day of a great match on an Australian wicket. For years and years the Australian turf in good weather has been all against the rising fast ball and slow bowler's spin. Even McDonald could not bump the ball breast high in Australia, and Cecil Parkin, the cleverest spin bowler of our time, was reduced by Australian turf into a more or less up-and-down bowler. It has usually needed the wrist and the fingers of a Mailey to break the ball at Sydney, Adelaide and Melbourne in recent years. Last summer, when H.W. Taylor, the great South African batsman, told me we could win the rubber this time, by means of a concerted plan based on fast bowling, I replied that the Australian wickets in the past have invariably broken the hearts of fast bowlers. Obviously he knew a secret; he was playing in Test matches in Australia last winter.
The truth had been revealed in an article by J.W. Trumble, which recently appeared in the Melbourne Argus . Australian wickets today are not what they were: different soil is used in preparing them. The new turf does not 'produce the polished glossy surface developed by the old Bulli and Merri Creek soil. The ball now gets a grip on the ground. This enables the spin bowler to turn the ball and also enables the fast bowler to "lift" more than formerly.' Australian turf nowadays is full of 'bounce' at the beginning of a match; then, after a constant pounding away by the fast bowler, the soil becomes loose - and then the spin bowler 'comes in'. If it is a fair question - did H.W. Taylor let our Intelligence Department know that our fast bowlers would find it easier to bump the ball in Australia this winter than in England last summer? Anyhow, the plan of campaign has worked out skilfully; and a strong man was put in charge of it, a captain of cricket with an iron will and a superb disregard of the noise of the Australian crowd.
Jardine's determination was needed to carry out the new fast bowling experiment; had he been a weak man, all the energy of Larwood might have proved as vain a thing as it did in 1930.
It is true that Allen, who did not bowl leg-theory, took 21 wickets in Tests. It is true, too, that Larwood was always hitting the stumps, but it was leg-theory which unsettled the mind of Bradman, and compelled him to readjust his machine. The point I am trying to make is that on the old reliable Australian turf Larwood and Voce would have toiled in vain to bump the ball much higher than the batman's hip. The rubber has been won by a perfect blending of executive and strategical forces; an Intelligence Department must have got to work early in the day, else why the four fast bowler 'brain wave' last autumn? Surely it was not a mere gamble? Larwood and Jardine did the rest, backed up, of course, by capable all-round assistants.
There seems yet some difference of opinion in this country about the way our fast bowlers have exploited leg-theory. Our esteemed and beloved editor of Wisden writes of fast leg-theory as a method of play which has often been practised in the past by Australian as well as by English bowlers. For my part, I have never heard of fast leg-theory being exploited in a Test match until this present series. And by fast leg-theory I mean the sort of bowling described by reliable writers in the Australian newspapers in their accounts of the methods of Larwood and Voce.
The Sydney Referee denies the English view that 'there is nothing new in this kind of bowling,' The Referee says: 'It is new. It has never before been practised in a Test match between England and Australia - Gregory and McDonald never bowled a body attack with a packed leg-side field. The fact is that the present English 'shock' bowler is deliberately bumping short balls.' Again the Referee says: 'Nobody objects to fast bowling and nobody objects to legitimate leg-theory, but the Larwood-Voce attack is a planned attack by means of short pitched kicking balls aimed at the batsmen with a leg-field.'
Hobbs has gone so far as to suggest that Bradman has been reluctant to take chances with the fast leg-theory attack for fear of getting hurt and damaging his career. 'So he took no risk of injury - and in view of his slight physique I do not blame him.' I am not discussing this leg-theory in any vein of moral indignation. I am simply attempting to get to the real cause of Australia's defeat, and at the cause of Bradman's transformation into an ordinarily great batsman. Someday it will be necessary for somebody to write a dispassionate history of the 1932-1933 Test matches.
Have Bradman, Woodfull and thousands of Australian lovers of the game, not all of them 'squealers' and 'hooligans' been the victims all winter of an optical delusion? And, of course, I am not belittling the achievement of Larwood. A bowler needs unfailing accuracy and brilliant pace to pitch anywhere near leg-side and not suffer punishment.
Bradman is reported to have fallen from grace because his average has fallen. His strokeplay has plainly been dazzling. Yet such is the modern conception of batsmanship, that a cricketer is supposed to be playing badly if he takes a chance and cracks the ball in the manner of J.T. Tyldesley. Bradman was the only Australian, I gather, really to counter-attack Larwood. He moved away to the leg-side and hit the ball audaciously to the unprotected off-side. As a consequence of this piece of superb resource, even his best friends accuse him of recklessness; indeed they say he 'ran away'. But how on earth is any batsman going to tackle fast leg-side bowling (to a crowded leg-trap) unless he hits it to the off? And how can you hit leg bowling to the off-side unless you do move away and get on the proper side of it for the stroke?
Against Larwood, Bradman was beginning to reveal his genius in a more gallant light than it has ever been seen before: given a few more innings, he might have mastered it. And for all his pains and imagination he is called 'reckless'. J. T. Tyldesley would be banned from modern Test cricket, evidently.
Nobody will deny that the better side won the rubber, even in Australia, where, despite the 'rumpus' about the fast bowling, the newspapers have, on the whole, been fair and generous to the England cricketers. Paynter has won high praise for his fielding and batsmanship: Verity is already acclaimed the successor to Rhodes as a slow left-handed bowler who can bat. The reputations of Sutcliffe and Hammond have lost nothing of their lustre. Both countries, though, are likely soon to want an amount of new blood; Australia indeed, want it at once. More than anything else they want all-round players. The Australian 'tail-end' in this rubber has been long enough to wag the dog clean off the field.
Larwood, in particular, was 'suspect'; we doubted his stamina. We had seen him more or less impotent in the Trial match at Old Trafford, and also during the Duleepsinhji-Pataudi stand at Lord's in the Gentlemen v Players match: on these occasions he was unable to get the ball higher than the stumps, and he languished. When Bowes was rushed into the England side at the last minute, there were people who saw in this a vote of no-confidence in Larwood. Again, the question was asked, 'Why four fast bowlers?' It really did seem a strange notion. Years ago, an England XI could have chosen Lockwood, Kortright, Richardson and Mold - four of the swiftest bowlers that ever lived. But in those days the general idea was that one fast bowler was ample for a Test match combination.
We did not know what we were talking about last September when we questioned the composition of Jardine's attack. We were in the dark. For a deep strategy had been connived to bring about the downfall of Bradman and Woodfull. It was, as Smee might have said, a sort of compliment to these two great batsmen. To cope with genius, you must put forth special and uncommon measures. The fast leg-theory attack had been tried at Trent Bridge - and also in a mild way at Kennington Oval last August. Not everybody who saw it admired it - but it was a likely specific for the Australians, the very thing to solve the Bradman dilemma.
The cricketer who is always scoring double centuries is a pest to the game; he must be done something with, as the Brothers Cheeryble said of Tim Linkinwater. Fast leg-theory has won England the rubber; as Hobbs has said - and he ought to know all about fast leg-theory - it was the strange method and wonderful accuracy of Larwood that reduced Bradman's average from more than 100 to a respectable 50 or so.
We have all praised Larwood's achievement. Yet for many of us it has been a mystery how he 'did it,' and also how Verity and O'Reilly managed to spin the ball on the second day of a great match on an Australian wicket. For years and years the Australian turf in good weather has been all against the rising fast ball and slow bowler's spin. Even McDonald could not bump the ball breast high in Australia, and Cecil Parkin, the cleverest spin bowler of our time, was reduced by Australian turf into a more or less up-and-down bowler. It has usually needed the wrist and the fingers of a Mailey to break the ball at Sydney, Adelaide and Melbourne in recent years. Last summer, when H.W. Taylor, the great South African batsman, told me we could win the rubber this time, by means of a concerted plan based on fast bowling, I replied that the Australian wickets in the past have invariably broken the hearts of fast bowlers. Obviously he knew a secret; he was playing in Test matches in Australia last winter.
The truth had been revealed in an article by J.W. Trumble, which recently appeared in the Melbourne Argus . Australian wickets today are not what they were: different soil is used in preparing them. The new turf does not 'produce the polished glossy surface developed by the old Bulli and Merri Creek soil. The ball now gets a grip on the ground. This enables the spin bowler to turn the ball and also enables the fast bowler to "lift" more than formerly.' Australian turf nowadays is full of 'bounce' at the beginning of a match; then, after a constant pounding away by the fast bowler, the soil becomes loose - and then the spin bowler 'comes in'. If it is a fair question - did H.W. Taylor let our Intelligence Department know that our fast bowlers would find it easier to bump the ball in Australia this winter than in England last summer? Anyhow, the plan of campaign has worked out skilfully; and a strong man was put in charge of it, a captain of cricket with an iron will and a superb disregard of the noise of the Australian crowd.
Jardine's determination was needed to carry out the new fast bowling experiment; had he been a weak man, all the energy of Larwood might have proved as vain a thing as it did in 1930.
It is true that Allen, who did not bowl leg-theory, took 21 wickets in Tests. It is true, too, that Larwood was always hitting the stumps, but it was leg-theory which unsettled the mind of Bradman, and compelled him to readjust his machine. The point I am trying to make is that on the old reliable Australian turf Larwood and Voce would have toiled in vain to bump the ball much higher than the batman's hip. The rubber has been won by a perfect blending of executive and strategical forces; an Intelligence Department must have got to work early in the day, else why the four fast bowler 'brain wave' last autumn? Surely it was not a mere gamble? Larwood and Jardine did the rest, backed up, of course, by capable all-round assistants.
There seems yet some difference of opinion in this country about the way our fast bowlers have exploited leg-theory. Our esteemed and beloved editor of Wisden writes of fast leg-theory as a method of play which has often been practised in the past by Australian as well as by English bowlers. For my part, I have never heard of fast leg-theory being exploited in a Test match until this present series. And by fast leg-theory I mean the sort of bowling described by reliable writers in the Australian newspapers in their accounts of the methods of Larwood and Voce.
The Sydney Referee denies the English view that 'there is nothing new in this kind of bowling,' The Referee says: 'It is new. It has never before been practised in a Test match between England and Australia - Gregory and McDonald never bowled a body attack with a packed leg-side field. The fact is that the present English 'shock' bowler is deliberately bumping short balls.' Again the Referee says: 'Nobody objects to fast bowling and nobody objects to legitimate leg-theory, but the Larwood-Voce attack is a planned attack by means of short pitched kicking balls aimed at the batsmen with a leg-field.'
Hobbs has gone so far as to suggest that Bradman has been reluctant to take chances with the fast leg-theory attack for fear of getting hurt and damaging his career. 'So he took no risk of injury - and in view of his slight physique I do not blame him.' I am not discussing this leg-theory in any vein of moral indignation. I am simply attempting to get to the real cause of Australia's defeat, and at the cause of Bradman's transformation into an ordinarily great batsman. Someday it will be necessary for somebody to write a dispassionate history of the 1932-1933 Test matches.
Have Bradman, Woodfull and thousands of Australian lovers of the game, not all of them 'squealers' and 'hooligans' been the victims all winter of an optical delusion? And, of course, I am not belittling the achievement of Larwood. A bowler needs unfailing accuracy and brilliant pace to pitch anywhere near leg-side and not suffer punishment.
Bradman is reported to have fallen from grace because his average has fallen. His strokeplay has plainly been dazzling. Yet such is the modern conception of batsmanship, that a cricketer is supposed to be playing badly if he takes a chance and cracks the ball in the manner of J.T. Tyldesley. Bradman was the only Australian, I gather, really to counter-attack Larwood. He moved away to the leg-side and hit the ball audaciously to the unprotected off-side. As a consequence of this piece of superb resource, even his best friends accuse him of recklessness; indeed they say he 'ran away'. But how on earth is any batsman going to tackle fast leg-side bowling (to a crowded leg-trap) unless he hits it to the off? And how can you hit leg bowling to the off-side unless you do move away and get on the proper side of it for the stroke?
Against Larwood, Bradman was beginning to reveal his genius in a more gallant light than it has ever been seen before: given a few more innings, he might have mastered it. And for all his pains and imagination he is called 'reckless'. J. T. Tyldesley would be banned from modern Test cricket, evidently.
Nobody will deny that the better side won the rubber, even in Australia, where, despite the 'rumpus' about the fast bowling, the newspapers have, on the whole, been fair and generous to the England cricketers. Paynter has won high praise for his fielding and batsmanship: Verity is already acclaimed the successor to Rhodes as a slow left-handed bowler who can bat. The reputations of Sutcliffe and Hammond have lost nothing of their lustre. Both countries, though, are likely soon to want an amount of new blood; Australia indeed, want it at once. More than anything else they want all-round players. The Australian 'tail-end' in this rubber has been long enough to wag the dog clean off the field.
shortpitched713
International Captain
This website has some good information relating to Pakistan domestic cricket, for those that are interested.
amokk1
U19 12th Man
Whoa, this forum has a front page?
Raghav
International Vice-Captain
All about NewZealand cricket
andruid
Cricketer Of The Year
Nope never heard of it