McBain
Player Valuation: £80m
English Cricket had died, and the body will be cremated, and the ashes taken to Australia.
And so, here we are again. 31 all. All Square.
Two brothers bound by blood set to white it up, take hold of the cherry on the lush green oval and stuff it down each others throats as elegantly and brutally as possible. Bragging rights. Fist Pumping. Out Swingers. Googlies. Beer Snakes being shut down by over zealous officials and don't even try to get the old inflatable beach ball out.
It's Summer in the Land Down Under. Warm breezes have replaced the icy winds coming over the mountains, salad had replaced Veg, and the supple young ladies of the continent have replaced clothing for not much else. Soaked in Sun and populated with Bronzed Gods striding the beaches flicking bleached tussles over perfectly sloping brows, Australia is probably everything that's great about the World. Hidden from the prying eyes of the marauding European City States until the Dutch spied Western Australia after straying off course, it took a little while for anyone to figure out what to do with the place. After the Portuguese, the Dutch, the Spanish and the French had all controlled the Indian Ocean and it's precious Spice, last but not least out of the blocks, the English, revolutionised and wearing hip clobber, decided that the best place to send all it's criminals was not the frozen wastes of Siberia or the barren deserts of Mongolia...but the idylic shores of the Great Undiscovered Land. New Holland. Van Diemens Land. Let's send them to Bondi Beach. That'll teach 'em.
Terra Australis. Bloody Oz mate, you bloody little Ripper. Dingoes got your Baby mate.
Enough History. You know it. On to the Cricket. You may have been brought up on Benaud, Greg, Lillie, Boycott, Willis, Sobers, Chappelli, and a host of other real men from back in the day, but me, I was brought up on Beefy. On Viv and Tubby. Boonie. The Australians in that clammy summer of 1981, my first, were the cold sores on the lips of the English, until Sir Botham, fresh from a humble de-boning from the Captaincy, drew his lance from its scabbard and lanced thusly, and justly and dispatched the fervent tourists with a bravado not seen since that boy Bradman wielded the willow with utter silky contempt. Next up it was the Windies, after emigrating, and in the barmy Summer of '88 fielding a group of individuals so talented they would have beaten any team in any Sport in any event ever. Spit out the Freshmint and pop on the shinnies and they would have pissed Italia '90 if they'd even been arsed.
Digressing aside. They were Boss. But this is about the old enemy and the new guard. Fathers verses Sons. Darth v Luke. Brookside versus Neighbours. Cold v Warm. Hard v Soft. X-Box v Playstation and so on. The Pommies are hitting their sporting strides after many, many years in the wilderness. As the Butt of the International Sporting Joke. Flush with Lottery money, the powers that be decided rather than fixing the multitude of social ills on an Island the size of Luxemburg they would pump it into Sport. Lets try to look good for a change. And they do.
Captain again, Alistair Cook has lived up to expectations so far after plundering 766 runs when last here. A lean outing in the last series with a top score of 66, the Aussies must look to deliver to Cook on the back of the length, and make him play every ball. Joe Root, fresh from poking the bear David Warner with a stick after a skinful looks every inch the baby faced assassin and there's a theory he's a nicker. Pitch it up boys. Get him driving. First of the 'naturalised' imports, Trott is going through a skinny spell, no centuries in 16 outings will be pressing on the African's mind. African Import Numero Uno, KP, Mr. Bums on Seats is on compassionate leave and will join the tour soon. Huge ego, Huge player, the questions will be about his temperament with his team mates. Lip Service boys. Build him up gently and then rip him a new one. Get into his Mar and his Dar. Get medieval on that bulb. Ian Bell, the man who put together the platform for victory in the last series is a lovely player. Word on the street is play a third man. Swann is currently the best spinner in the World according to most while Warney is off sticking it to Hurley for fun and retired ten years ago. Will he find wickets suitable for his pies? Maybe. Maybe Not. Tremlett is going through some tough times and will need to ice up that spine if he wants to go the distance and get results. Finn doesn't like aggressive batsmen so the key will be to get onto him quickly. Stamp him out.
Panesar will be a back up to Swann. Boyd Rankin, yet another import to the Great British World Eleven could be the suprise of the tour. Ben Stokes beat Chris Woakes to the table despite inferior stats but hits the deck hard. Gary Ballance (Zimbabwe) has had absolute stormer in County cricket averaging 63 and has barged into the team. Inexperienced at this level, sink or swim stuff. Michael Carberry is at the wrong end of the age spectrum but why not give the geezer a go. With Cook and Root at the top of the order he may not even get a run, but will be happy jogging the drinks out in anycase. Johnny Bairstow will need a big innings to keep out balance in the middle order. Matt Prior is one of those players with a rock solid mentality England haven't produced in the last 25 years, and can take any game by the scruff of the neck. He's like our old keeper Heals. Sticks to you like a canker sore. Stuart Broad is going to cop dogs abuse so anything he does has to be amazing. We just don't like him. He's a really good Bowler, yet goes right against the spirit of the game by cheating. Not bitter, promise. And so to the talismanic James 'Jimmy' Anderson. 31. His last series most likely, and spearhead of the Pommie Pace. Nice guy, fantastic cricketer and has such a beautiful delivery, perfect line and length, and everything mentaslly and physically Stuart broad isn't.
Australia have been facing a tough old time of late. Sure, we've had a woman Prime Minister and have just elected George Bush Junior Junior, but you can't write us off just yet. The Pick and Stick selection technique will right under the microscope this series. The big news is the return of the wayward flinger, Mitchell Johnson. New tattoos, new missus, new attitude, Mitchell will be keen to get back into the fold after falling spectacularily off the wagon. Mentally fragile, can he keep a lid on his glass case of emotion long enough. George Bailey at the age of 31 is set to make his debut after success chasing the white ball on the subcontinent. Brad Haddin at 36 could be the fly in the World Eleven ointment for a few minutes but is a top keeper. Michael Clarke, El Capitain and the only World Class player in the line up will score some runs, point effectively, and will be perfecting his after match excuses in the mirror as I type. Faulkner, Harris, Lyon, Old Man Rogers, Super Siddle, Steve Smith, Warner and Watson make up the rest of the team for Test One and boy does it look middle of the road. Age, experience, quality and mental fortitude are all lacking in spades in this team.
Game on. Come at us, Eng-er-land.
Last edited:
