Best band I saw this year was the Mersey Beatles. Ringo had gone to fat. Paul ambidextrous – now played bass right handed. John and George miraculously resurrected.
But they sounded as good as they did 60 years ago on my pocket transistor. Not quite the real thing but as good as you’re going to get these days.
The modern Ashes seems much the same. A few still deserve top billing.
Pat Cummins has the pace and guile of late stage Lillee. Mitchell Starc is Bruce Reid on steroids or Alan Davidson with a longer run up. Hazlewood, Boland, Neser and Doggett the cavalcade of reliable character actors that you recognise on sight in lots of ABC/BBC drama series – but can’t quite put a name to.
Nathan Lyon must gaze wistfully at Shane Warne’s MCG statue with the same regard that Danni Minogue holds for Kylie. Alex Carey bats like Gilchrist on valium and keeps with the soft hands and quick mind of Healy or Grout.
The batsmen less impressive. Head – Hookes with a shorter backlift? Cam Green aspires to become Gary Gilmour one day.
Steve Smith dreamt of becoming Bradman and refuses to go to bed or leave the nets until he gets it right. Labuschagne is in the side for his fielding and as chief spokesman for mental disintegration.
Still – could be worse – we could be the Poms. Ben Duckett is John Edrich with a gambling addiction. Ollie Pope only plays a straight bat when he takes guard.
Crawley and Brook are the kids with the lego set who get the castle half built – but can’t get the red square bit to fit into the green rectangle – so they reverse sweep the whole lot off the table. Jamie Smith as anonymous as his name.
Jacks is the Beatles Hey Jude with no Revolution to back it up – more a Bay City Roller. Graeme Swann and John Emburey must be screaming “give it a spin”.
Trueman and Statham. Willis and Botham. Occasionally Archer and “insert name here”.
Only Stokes has the bearing, talent and determination of Hammond, Hutton or Dexter. English captains have rarely been their best player. He has none of Illingworth or Brearley’s guile. But then again he has none of the raw materials at hand to mould into a masterpiece.
Brearley had Willis. Dexter had Trueman. Hutton had Bedser. The current lot are papier-mâché’ cricketers. Built for 20 overs not 20 hours. They dissolve in a brief shower or self immolate from the faintest spark.
As for Bazball – I wrote the obituary 2&1/2 years ago (https://www.footyalmanac.com.au/almanac-cricket-bazball-brexit-and-buffoons/). As we say in the investment business “never confuse inevitable with imminent”.
Brendon McCullum was a brilliant all-out attack batsman. As a coach he reminds me of Ange Postecoglu – busy trying to smash square pegs into round holes. The players must fit the game plan; because the game plan never adapts. All things must pass.
I haven’t much bothered with watching this series to be truthful. My Day 4 ticket for Perth still mocks me from the dressing table. A day-nighter in Brisbane always promised the longevity of an Elizabeth Taylor or Jennifer Lopez marriage. Adelaide has trapped me inside with the weather too hot and my back too sore for golf.
50,000 turning up to watch this tosh? Had they pre-purchased tickets from CA under false pretences before learning The Sopranos had become The Muppet Show? Are modern spectators the Colosseum crowds baying to see more christians fed to the lions rather than a gladiatorial contest?
The clue is when a milestone beckons – like a hometown century. Commentators marvel as cameras pan across the crowds suddenly assembled on the concourse to briefly witness an outbreak of cricket. We are informed they have emerged from “out the back” where mysterious rituals are more important than watching the game. Sacrificing virgins? Drinking beer?
No matter. Test cricket is now a ritual more than a contest. We are eventers more than spectators. We go because we went with our fathers. And so do our mates so it’s a good opportunity to catch up or to network if you are in business.
This has always been part of big sporting events, but the balance has shifted dramatically. Less watching and more glancing at a screen to catch up on the things we’ve missed while socialising.
The sporting contest has become a commodity. Like the bus – if you missed it – there will be another along soon. The same or similar players wearing different shirts with different badges – probably for more money – in an easier to consume package.
Test cricket – like all modern professional sports – once had scarcity and jeopardy and consequence and meaning.
Mostly I can’t be bothered watching. I’ve got golf to play. Friends to see. Dog to walk. Books to read. Life to live before watching is all I’m reduced to.
Sport, politics and business have merged into an anonymously bland entertainment package. Farm Wants a Farmer / Housewife Can’t Afford a House / The Block used to be part of test cricket.
If you can’t give them bread – give them circuses. Stuff we don’t need at prices we can’t afford.
World Cup soccer ticket prices in the US in June/July have provoked outrage from international fans. The worst seats for premium matches in the knockout rounds (like Australia v USA) are A$400. The best seats are A$1,000. A quarter final is A$1,200 for the worst seat; A$2,000 for the best. The final is A$6,000 in the worst seat; A$12,000 in the best section. A year’s median wage (before tax) for a family of four if your team makes it all the way to the final (without flights or accommodation).
It’s called the K-Shaped economy. The winners take the spoils and the rest can please themselves. The top 10% of Americans are responsible for 50% of the spending in their economy. We follow on a shallower gradient; but our cost of housing guarantees servitude for future generations now we have turned a social good into a tax-preferred investment vehicle.
If China stops buying our minerals the mob will probably elect Peter V’landys as our Nigel Farage wannabe saviour.
Merry Christmas.
Bah humbug.
More from Peter Baulderstone can be read Here
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Fair rant PB. Agree with some bits, disagree with others. Sport, as a learned man once said, is now the people’s heroin. The more you have the more you want. Until it’s dead.
Soccer is a dead sport because it’s not sport anymore, it’s politics and business. And money. And more money. Watching the empty stands in our local A-League is embarrassing. 36 year old European hacks, once earning $300 million a week playing for the Albanian thirds come here to retire. Phewk. Test Cricket has not gone down that road. But 20/20 is the new drug. We need to be wary.
But I take issue with test cricket being dross. Ashes cricket anyway. At its best it is sublime because it can rise higher than most. It is chess played over 5 days (sometimes) with enormous sporting skill included. Day 5 of the MCG Test last year against India was sport at its spine tingling best. Watching day 5 in Adelaide yesterday was intriguing and tense. Until the Poms blew it. But it was great sporting theatre.
In a World Cup 50 over final between Australia and New Zealand some years back McCullum, opening for NZ as their captain played an outrageous shot against Starc and lost his stumps after about 4 balls. NZ lost the final. Then hectea he’s the English to be equally stupid. But it will pass. Fine test cricket will return. The Poms will rise again. Have faith brother.
Dips ditto v well put couldn’t agree more in general