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It’s an odd situation to find
yourself in, that of suddenly winning.
Not just winning either, but
really convincingly being the ones doing the thrashing, rather than the ones
being thrashed.
This Ashes series has been
most bizarre. Surely the most one sided 3-2 scoreline ever. This was far more
one sided than either of England’s 5-0 down-under drubbings in the last decade.
It’s just that it wasn’t always the same side being drubbed.
After Trent Bridge I touched
on that curious suspended limbo a team experiences when staring down the barrel
of an almost certain heavy defeat, and how that detached air of inevitability
robs the game of drama.
It’s extraordinary to have
had that for all five matches in a series. Five Tests between England and
Australia, the conclusion of each not in doubt from early in the piece, and
played out with a total absence of tension.
In club cricket, such
roller-coaster inconsistency is normal. Weekend warriors with more important
things to worry about all week than where their off stump is, can expect to
swing wildly between competence and ineptitude.
But when the very best in the
world meet to battle it out in five games over five days (A five day Test match!
Can you imagine such a thing?!) such reckless profligacy is as disappointing as
it is baffling.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s
great that England won. But it’s hardly as much fun as a proper, competitive,
knife edge, can’t-call-it-till-the-death game of cricket, is it?
As you may have gleaned,
Damerham have been on the receiving end of our share of heavy defeats of late,
to the extent that, with just two games to go, we found ourselves flirting with
relegation.
Last week we self-destructed
from 100-2 to 120 all out. This week, in our own tribute to this Ashes of
ferocious contrasts, we bowled the opposition out for 66 then knocked off the
runs without loss before tea, for a most emphatic maximum-point win. We were
done by 4.30, in the pub by five (five!).
Recently I talked about the
ritual dissection after the game: who did what, the turning points, the
successes and failures. Well, we’ve never really had occasion to find out
before, but it turns out that winning that comprehensively leaves a lot less to
talk about. There weren’t exactly any awkward silences, but once you’ve got
over the initial novelty of being in the pub by five, (five!) it turns out
there’s just less to say. “So. We did pretty well and they did pretty badly,
eh? Mmm.”
Again, don’t get me wrong.
It’s wonderful to be a thrasher rather than a thrashee for once, and I’m
delighted we catapulted ourselves away from the relegation zone with such
unaccustomed panache. But it’s hardly as much fun as a proper, competitive,
knife edge, can’t-call-it-till-the-death game of cricket, is it?
There’s just no pleasing some
people.
- ends 485 words -
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