All posts tagged 'south africa'

Andre Nel is odd - an interesting Saffer. He is a tit, and the pantomime villain act might get a bit tedious for the opposition batsmen, match referee and probably his own team - but it's all part of Nel's idiot charm. He has an alter ego called 'Gunther' -  "who lives in the mountains and doesn't get enough oxygen". He once felled his hero Alan Donald with a bouncer and then burst into tears. He got caught getting stoned in the Windies, and he rugby tackled Matthew Hoggard in the middle of a Test. He also averages under 32.

So, international cricketers are in danger of burn out. The amount of cricket that’s scheduled will result in players taking early retirement and picking and choosing games. Test cricket for sure will fall by the wayside as exhausted sportsmen drag their weary bodies from one high pressure match to the other. Well, call me a miserable old git stuck in the 60’s but am I alone in thinking this international cricketer lark is quite low physical maintenance? Since England arrived in South Africa they’ve played 5 one day games (full days mind you), and a punishing two and three quarter 20/20 matches in 5 weeks. In total they’ve had to endure a back breaking 260 overs in the field. Colin Dredge would get through that many in less than a week at Taunton in the 70’s. In part this is due to the absurdity of attempting to play cricket in South Africa’s so called summer.

You could be fooled for thinking that the land of the rainbow nation was some sort of sub tropical paradise if you’d sat through the promotional videos that accompanied last Friday’s turgid world cup draw. But closer scrutiny of the meteorological facts reveals that half of South Africa (the half where they insist on trying to put on cricket matches incidentally) receives more rain in an average summer than Manchester. Fifteen days in every November and December it rains in Jo’berg and Pretoria. It’s seriously infuriating. Especially when we’ve got the Saffies on the rack. The only comforting consequence being that we have that much longer to marvel at what might be wrong with Anderson’s knee. Scans reveal nothing, but he’s labouring in terrible pain and might not make the first test. As for Sidebottom, he’s bowled about 86 overs in 9 months and has a crocked side. In form then. So whom to England call up? Harmison, a known but mistrusted commodity? No. Mark Davies who has missed half of the last three seasons with the usual smorgasbord of ailments, all no doubt brought on by playing too much cricket.

Maybe, they actually don’t play enough cricket. Is it possible that the niggles, aches and pains that were a regular feature of a fast bowler’s life from the start of cricketing time until the arrival of central contracts, are in fact the natural background noise that accompanies a professional sportsman’s career? Poor old Anderson and Co. are shocked by these pains. Having played less cricket than a more than averagely keen club player over the last 3 years, they are bemused by these sensations of stiffness after a long day in the field. Their knees don’t feel quite right. They can’t bend down with quite the same ease as they could in their youth. Blow me down.

Of course, I’m lashing out in fury at anything, owing to the lack of cricket to report on. It's bad enough spending four months in unemployed, miserable, grey gloom, when sunsets coincide with the Countdown soddin' Conundrum, without my winters being blighted by vicarious rain. And that’s the point. Forget less cricket. If a game is rained off, schedule another one immediately. If necessary do it indoors. The cricket authorities (for whom I have a lot of time by the way. You try navigating your way through numerous cultures, power interests and a game whose laws, yes laws, have been passed down from generation to generation like the sacred non existent tablets that Moses must have mislaid – I mean have you seen them?) have managed to find space for pyjamas, white balls, orange balls next year, limited overs, very limited overs, umpire review systems and Duckworth Lewis. I want cricket. I don’t care how they bring it to me. Have both captains throw 16 sided dice that correspond to dots, runs and wickets, and then computer generate the results. Or, or, just tell us something is happening but say that the grounds are empty 'cos of a nationwide bomb scare and there are no TV pictures. Make it up. Commentate it, and make it up. Something, for chrissake. Just don’t schedule games in South Africa, in November and December, on top of a high plain. And most importantly of all, don’t listen to the preposterous whinging of  people who claim they’re overworked when they actually put in about 100 days of labour a year, half of which is spent in an air conditioned pavilion tweeting about their colleagues’ diabolical taste in music.

Oh, and I just checked the weather forecast for Jo'berg. Thunder storms for four of the next five days. Hmmmmm. Thank God guns are illegal in Tooting. 

Listen to SA v Eng 5th ODI Highlights (and World Cup Draw) Durban.

OK. I haven’t got a clue what’s going on. Friday in Cape Town was a hideous replay of the 2nd 20/20. Sunday at Port Elizabeth and it’s tempting to talk of a finished product, an England team packed with players who know their roles and even space for Flintoff to return in place of Wright resulting in a resounding World Cup win in the last ever 50 over competition (before 20/20 takes over) and we stay champions for eternity. It's like the players have been digitised and are literally composed of a notional on or off. 

So far England have managed to produce sensational victories followed immediately by filth. “Anti momentum” is sofa new boy James’ explanation. Victory in the tests will only be achieved by getting so far ahead that the inevitable comeback from South Africa will just fall short. If so, we’re in for a hairy time. Perhaps Cook, Bell and Onions can bring consistency for the tests (though frankly a more inconsistent trio is hard to imagine – The Police?). But then, who wants dull predictability (apart from semi professional gamblers)? There is something delicious about watching James Anderson not knowing whether he’ll go for 60 or take 5-23. You can tell Trott’s new to the set up. He’s failed just the once in 8 innings, and can expect to stay behind for naughty boy nets as he perfects his “my head’s not quite on it I’m afraid” dab to backward point. Even the fielders are at it. Strauss took a blinder on Sunday having dropped three sitters in the week. 

The same could of course be said of South Africa for whom only Peterson has shone in all three games, though De Villers’ hundred on Friday was frighteningly good. Morkel has been the pick of the bowlers but I maintain he’s just Chris Tremlett without the looks (well, not just without looks; with a whole new set of genetically impossible looks tacked on, and a mouth that screams “half masticated sandwich” gaping open at every ball), and will be soothingly innocuous come the tests. 

At least the current pattern has ensured th at England can’t lose the series, but with Nigel back on the sofa on Friday an England loss by about 237 runs looks inevitable, which will set us up beautifully for the 1st test.

Listen to SA v Eng 4th ODI Highlights Port Elizabeth.

Listen to SA v Eng 3rd ODI Highlights Cape Town.

So I was right all along. England are going to crush South Africa mercilessly over the course of the next two  marvellous months in every department of the game (apart from 20/20). After the rain saved the Saffies from an inevitable 5-0 whitewash in Jo'burg last Friday there was no hiding place once the sun came out.  A massive 7 wicket win with four overs to spare was achieved through tight bowling from Anderson, Wright and the dobbing trundlers  of Trott and Colly against whom the much vaunted middle order of ABD Villiers, JP Duminy, and XYZ Kolpak had no answer. Much will be spoken of Trott's excellent knock at the top of the order (what will they ask him to do next? Keep wicket? Replace Andy Flower? Take over from Gordon Brown?), and "Cum bai" Colly's chanceless ton, but we on the sofa have identified the real reason behind England's rampant superiority.

During the incessant rain at Jo'burg, another thrashing of the hapless Saffie bottlers by England, this time at the Champions Trophy in September, was shown in lieu of live action, and a most tasty morsel of inside info did it reveal. When Albie Morkel was run out by E-O-I-N Morgan's throw, a delighted team huddle ensued. The usual high fiving, hair ruffling and girlish giggles were exchanged but surreptitiously, almost unnoticeably, the right hand of Swann leant across to the pert buttock of Aryan petri dish experiment Stuart Broad, and was pressed lovingly but flat palmed on the apex of the buttock's curve. It stayed there for 2.76 seconds (we timed it) but at no point did the fingers curl up into a squeeze. This was no inappropriate banker's grope of the receptionist at the Xmas party, but rather, a tender expression of profound appreciation. Can we really imagine our hoary skinned opponents showing such unselfconscious metrosexuality? For them the double nipple tweak and yank on the earlobe followed by a brutalist rugby style head lock and nose ruffling is far more the order of the day. One can almost imagine now that Swanny with his crocked side is being brought breakfast of boiled egg and soldiers to his bed by Adil Rashid wearing a motherly, but unarousing pinny. While KP was having his ankle gently kissed better by Ian Bell, one can only blanche in terror at how Jacques Kallis must be trying to fend off the jokey but extremely painful punches to his broken rib administered by the Morkel brothers.

Now that Proto aussie boar Andrew Flintoff has fled the scene with his mercenary loot, masculine matiness and military haircut, perhaps at last the subtle refinements, ever so evident in the all conquering England women's team, are finally being introduced the men. Oh, and the Sofa can exclusively reveal that wasn't the Duckworth Lewis chart that was being brought out to Colly in the 1st 20/20. It was a billet doux from Andrew Strauss telling him how much he liked his new hair do.

Listen to SA v Eng 1st ODI Highlights (commentating on the ICC Champions Trophy back in September cos of rain).

As the South Africa tour looms into view we on the sofa spend more time than usual taking account of our “rivals’” opinions in the more established broadcast media. The current hot topic is the number of South African born players in the England team; Strauss, Pieterson, Trott and Prior making up the quartet. Firstly let’s deal with Strauss and Prior. They’re English. They were born in South Africa. Ted Dexter was born in Italy, Phil Edmonds was born it what was then Rhodesia. Strauss and Prior are irrelevances to the debate. So we come to Trott and Pieterson. Trott is probably a little dodgy. After all, he did cavort with the Saffies at Edgbaston and this is poor form. But his mother is British. He had a straight choice. South Africa, who weren’t picking him or England who did.

Pieterson is the most controversial. Most journalists writing about the great man have implied that he jumped ship, escaping South Africa’s quota system whereby so many players of colour must be picked, and that this in turn implies he is politically untrustworthy; a refugee from social justice if you like. But let’s be clear, he’s one of the top five batsmen in test cricket and top three in ODI’s in the world. Cricket isn’t football. If Man Utd don’t want you, you can get exposure at a host of other high profile clubs. In cricket, if your country, in this case South Africa, shows you no interest, the world of cricket is denied your skills to a wide TV audience. His mother is also British. We have as much right to him as the Saffies do.

I prefer to see Pieterson’s decision to throw in his lot with the England cricket team as an endorsement of the free thinking liberal people of these fine islands. Horrified by the stigma rightly attached to many South Africans for years of fascistic barbarity under apartheid, he had a straight choice between good (England) and evil (South Africa). And what with him being such a cultured type (he has married a singer after all) his heart would always be in the land of Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, The Beatles and Elgar rather than the home of…..erm…..hang on a minute….there must be someone…..oh yes, J.M. Coetzee I suppose, but let’s face it, that’s about it.

What is more baffling is our journos forever bigging up that non tax paying popinjay and all round self publicist Andrew Flintoff, the Phil Collins of cricket. He wants to pull on the three lions but when he is making the most money (his IPL contract is astronomical) and at a time of financial crisis when the people he purports to want to play for are all broke, he takes his cash away and considers setting home in Dubai so he can keep all the dosh to himself. This is preposterous behaviour and I propose now that qualification for playing for England must entail actually paying your taxes to us. I don’t care if he was born in Preston, he may as well play for the United Arab Emirates for all I care.