It’s just not cricket...

The Aussies’ record equalling, last-gasp victory over India in the Sydney test has prompted much comment and controversy, so it would be remiss of me not to add my four penneth. The bad feeling, which one commentator hysterically compared to the Bodyline tour of 1932-33, culminated in India suspending the tour yesterday, only to resume it today apparently, now that the ICC has dropped Steve Bucknor as umpire, and will review Harbhajan’s ban (funny how teams drawing or leading a series generally don’t spit the dummy in quite such fashion – do the defeated only suffer dodgy decisions?). If nothing else, the row has provided much needed media exposure for forgotten heroes and/or bystanders. Greg Matthews, for example, who took 10 wickets in the epic tied test in Mumbai in 1986, and thus is eminently qualified to comment, attempted to defuse the Harbhajan racism row on Monday night, by questioning the Indians’ detailed knowledge of primates – he felt that Andrew Symonds is much more comparable to a silver-backed gorilla than a unspecified “monkey” (allegedly). Symonds was unavailable for comment...

Peter Roebuck, a writer I normally enjoy reading, led the Aussie bashing on Monday, claiming the victory was effectively null and void, given several poor umpiring decisions and the undue pressure the Aussies put on them by over-enthusiastic appealing (a somewhat ironic allegation given that the Indians are some of the most ‘optimistic’ appealers in the game). There haven’t been many ‘proper’ results in the history of cricket by that reckoning. Roebuck seemed affronted that the Aussies wanted the victory more than the Indians, although given the alleged racist comment and persistent time-wasting throughout the game, it is surely disingenuous of Anil Kumble to claim that his side was the only one playing in the ‘spirit of the game’. Ricky Ponting, the mild-mannered Aussie captain who likes nothing more than a quiet night at home knitting, was accused of exhibiting ‘street-fighter instincts’ – dogged tenacity and high intensity that have surely contributed to the Australians’ undisputed domination of the game of the past 15 years, and generally less gifted and weak-kneed opposition around the cricket playing world. Perhaps to Roebuck’s mind, the best shouldn’t have to fight... perhaps he longs for the devil-may-care aura of David Gower’s era, when if not caressing centuries, a chap can fly a Tigermoth over the cricket ground in a jolly jape.

Two issues have rather conveniently been obscured by all the posturing and mud-slinging. Firstly, the ICC’s continuing and inexplicable obstinacy in rejecting new technology – for years, viewers have benefited from replays, hawk-eye, the snickometer and most recently the hot-spot. Why not umpires? How can we expect mortals to keep one eye on the popping crease for no-balls, and then in a split-second re-focus on the batsman’s end, ears peeled, eyes wide open (often in the glaring sun), amidst a flurry of arms, grunts and perspiration. Soccer’s authorities have similarly Luddite tendencies – strange that both codes of rugby, not renowned for their forward thinking, are leading the way and have adopted the video referee, who can be called upon in cricket, but only in run-outs.

Secondly, the role of (abusive) ‘sledging’ as an accepted and acceptable part of the game. Nobody sledges more or ‘better’ (in some instances, but worse in many) than the Aussies – it’s hard to think of a more crushing (and accurate) quip than Steve Waugh’s to Herschelle Gibbs in ‘99: “You’ve just dropped the World Cup, mate”. But is there really much of a difference between calling someone a monkey and abusing their parents and denigrating their girlfriend, wife or children? Matthews was right to say that he didn’t mind being sledged because it showed that he’d got under the skin of his opponents and that they were no longer focussed, but there comes a point when abuse gets out of hand – the Cantona or Zidane moment. Surely both sides could do worse than limiting the verbal exchanges to polite comments on the weather. Then, we might be able to sit back and enjoy a game of cricket again.

The less said about the Aussie's KFC adds the better...

the last leg

Finally, after 13.25 hours on a train and bus from Sydders (you've gotta love track maintenance, which seems to proliferate on the rail networks of the world at this time of year), I'm back in Melbers, tired but quite refreshed after the trip. The epic journey had its amusing moments, as I was the 8th seat in a 'twizzled' set, 7backpackers having rearranged the seats on the train so they could face each other, much to the consternation of CountryLink staff who raised OH&S issues.

It was kind of like watching Big Brother on the Road (I should patent the concept, shouldn't I?!), but they were a pleasant, intelligent, almost innocent, bunch having a carefree time travelling around Oz before the expectations of society and/or financial pressures of being grown-up imposed. In true backpacker fashion, one of the Poms was so hungover, she spent most of the trip crawling to the loo or crashed out in the gap between the back-to-back seats - that suited the other 3 of us who had more leg-room!

It was great to catch up with friends in Sydney, and to see the NYE fireworks and the 1st Day of the NY test vs India. I reckon Symonds should pay me to watch him play, rather than the other way round, since he scored his debut century when I was at the MCG for the 06 Boxing Day test, and he scored his 2nd century this time round...

It's 35 degrees here, and the squeaking fan is doing my head in, so I think I'll head for the supermarket and buy some ice-cream!