Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Monday, March 9, 2015
Don't underestimate Sri Lanka.
Yes, they lost to Australia, last night. Yes, they lost by sixty-four runs. Which on the face of it sounds comprehensive. But any team would struggle to rein in a total of three hundred and seventy-six. Bat first and win a match.
Today's one dayer's are tailor made for batsmen batting first. Flat pitches, power plays, bigger bats, the opportunity to bat without the pressure of chasing, you name it, they've got it. The flick of a coin effectively decides eighty per cent of matches.
And yet, with all this against them, Sri Lanka gave this chase as good a shake as any could or would have. In reality, these are two evenly matched sides. There were mitigating factors, too, in Sri Lanka's favour. Kumar Sangakkara was given out caught. That was fine until the review showed him to be the victim of a no-ball. At least most of us could see no part of James Faulkner's foot behind the popping crease. Apparently the bowler gets the benefit of the doubt. Bizarre.
And then, just when Dinesh Chandimal was blasting away at a strike rate of well over two hundred, his gluteus maximus gets notions of seizing up. It seems maximus successfully separated gluteus from victory. For, if Chandimal had been able to stick around, this contest could have been oh so different.
Sure, could've, would've, should've. So many variables.
What it does do though is shine some light on the chances of Sri Lanka going forward. Only two months ago Sri Lanka were being written off, having suffered a thumping series loss to New Zealand. The World Cup was not two months ago. It is in the now. And Sri Lanka appear to be peaking nicely.
They are served well by any number of World class batsmen such as Kumar Sankakara, Tillikaratne Dilshan and Mahele Jayewardene. They have a middle order that can score rapidly in the form of Angelo Matthews and Chandimal. They handle world class attacks as well, if not better, than any other. And they'll have to.
For the likes of Australia have a superior set of leather lovers to fling ferocious missiles from awkward angles and heights each and every delivery.
The Sri Lankan bowling attack may not be as strong as Australia or South Africa's, but they do have Lasith Malinga and Rangana Herath. One of the best one day bowlers in Malinga, whether it be at the beginning of an inning or at the death, he is potent. In fact, if anyone in the World deserves the moniker of doctor death, it is Malinga.
No one in the game can deliver an in-swinging yorker with the express aim of crushing a batsman's aspirations better than Malinga. No one can deliver a slower ball better than Malinga. His ten over's are worth the price of any two bowlers in the game.
Herath is a spinner of class. Out injured with a hand injury at this moment, if he recovers in time for the quarter-finals, an essential element will have been added to Sri Lanka's ability to cook up a storm.
Their likely quarterfinal opponent is South Africa. A team not known for handling pressure well, a choke, for them, is always a possibility. Loaded with talent South Africa may be, but nevertheless, they have already lost to India and Pakistan in this World Cup. Confidence cannot be on a highveld at present.
If Sri Lanka win that, a semi-final against New Zealand, at Eden Park, beckons. And, outside of Kane Williamson, New Zealand's batsmen should not be trusted to perform under pressure and even more so the scrutiny of Malinga, a bowler they are notoriously fragile against.
Don't be surprised to see a final between Sri Lanka and India, two teams not mentioned at the start of this World Cup as potential winners.
Yes, they lost to Australia, last night. Yes, they lost by sixty-four runs. Which on the face of it sounds comprehensive. But any team would struggle to rein in a total of three hundred and seventy-six. Bat first and win a match.
Today's one dayer's are tailor made for batsmen batting first. Flat pitches, power plays, bigger bats, the opportunity to bat without the pressure of chasing, you name it, they've got it. The flick of a coin effectively decides eighty per cent of matches.
And yet, with all this against them, Sri Lanka gave this chase as good a shake as any could or would have. In reality, these are two evenly matched sides. There were mitigating factors, too, in Sri Lanka's favour. Kumar Sangakkara was given out caught. That was fine until the review showed him to be the victim of a no-ball. At least most of us could see no part of James Faulkner's foot behind the popping crease. Apparently the bowler gets the benefit of the doubt. Bizarre.
And then, just when Dinesh Chandimal was blasting away at a strike rate of well over two hundred, his gluteus maximus gets notions of seizing up. It seems maximus successfully separated gluteus from victory. For, if Chandimal had been able to stick around, this contest could have been oh so different.
Sure, could've, would've, should've. So many variables.
What it does do though is shine some light on the chances of Sri Lanka going forward. Only two months ago Sri Lanka were being written off, having suffered a thumping series loss to New Zealand. The World Cup was not two months ago. It is in the now. And Sri Lanka appear to be peaking nicely.
They are served well by any number of World class batsmen such as Kumar Sankakara, Tillikaratne Dilshan and Mahele Jayewardene. They have a middle order that can score rapidly in the form of Angelo Matthews and Chandimal. They handle world class attacks as well, if not better, than any other. And they'll have to.
For the likes of Australia have a superior set of leather lovers to fling ferocious missiles from awkward angles and heights each and every delivery.
The Sri Lankan bowling attack may not be as strong as Australia or South Africa's, but they do have Lasith Malinga and Rangana Herath. One of the best one day bowlers in Malinga, whether it be at the beginning of an inning or at the death, he is potent. In fact, if anyone in the World deserves the moniker of doctor death, it is Malinga.
No one in the game can deliver an in-swinging yorker with the express aim of crushing a batsman's aspirations better than Malinga. No one can deliver a slower ball better than Malinga. His ten over's are worth the price of any two bowlers in the game.
Herath is a spinner of class. Out injured with a hand injury at this moment, if he recovers in time for the quarter-finals, an essential element will have been added to Sri Lanka's ability to cook up a storm.
Their likely quarterfinal opponent is South Africa. A team not known for handling pressure well, a choke, for them, is always a possibility. Loaded with talent South Africa may be, but nevertheless, they have already lost to India and Pakistan in this World Cup. Confidence cannot be on a highveld at present.
If Sri Lanka win that, a semi-final against New Zealand, at Eden Park, beckons. And, outside of Kane Williamson, New Zealand's batsmen should not be trusted to perform under pressure and even more so the scrutiny of Malinga, a bowler they are notoriously fragile against.
Don't be surprised to see a final between Sri Lanka and India, two teams not mentioned at the start of this World Cup as potential winners.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
A rather uncommon occurrence occurred in the world of sport today: An Australian admitted to his team suffering from mental frailties.
Yes, you heard it right, an Australian. They who know no weakness, or at least pretend so. And no less a competitor than Mitchell Johnson. The same Mitchell Johnson whose Neanderthal tendencies can be as expedite as his one hundred and fifty kilometre per hour missiles that he passes off as bowling. The same Mitchell Johnson who thinks nothing of attempting to maim a foe with those callous missiles and spends inordinately large amounts of his playing days on a grassy expanse over-indulging in the dubious art of sledging. The one you always suspected that any intellectual point made would be too acute for the bluntness of his grey matter to feel that said point.
And yet, yet, here he is announcing to the cricketing world that the Australian batsmen didn't handle the pressure and atmosphere during the middle stages of their inning last Saturday against the kiwis.
Who knew Johnson had it in him to act in slightly more refined manner than normal? Not many.
Whether it be by design of team management, whether it be an honest observation off the cuff, it is to be commended.
For to admit is to accept which augers well for their future. To accept a negative is the only way one can turn a negative into a positive. The Australians, if they are been genuine, have taken the first step towards learning to handle such situations in a superior mode to which they did on Saturday.
To be fair to all concerned this was an atmosphere of such hostility for which the like has rarely been seen in this part of the sporting world. That most of the Australian batsmen failed to cope with this situation is of no real surprise.
Realising that they are not alone should follow close behind. There is not a team in the game that could have withstood the ferocity of this braying mass of unadulterated human jingoism.
No man nor woman is without fault, no man nor woman is without frailties. Many may convince themselves into thinking otherwise, afraid to show any sign of weakness, cajoling themselves into believing that all is okay, but only the truly weak do streak through life unaware of the absurdities of their stripped down propaganda.
So the lessons must be heeded and they needed to be after such an abject display, for the result of this match was nowhere near as close as the scores suggest. Take out Tim Southee's meltdown under the pressure of local expectations and the Australian's would surely have been harassed out for thirty runs less.
For once, though, we are seeing those from across the ditch displaying the humility required to expand their mental horizons, to explore the realms of higher achievement. And life will undoubtedly become easier not just for admitting a weakness, but also, if they do qualify for the final, it will be in Melbourne.
Then let's see how mentally tough their foe is.
Yes, you heard it right, an Australian. They who know no weakness, or at least pretend so. And no less a competitor than Mitchell Johnson. The same Mitchell Johnson whose Neanderthal tendencies can be as expedite as his one hundred and fifty kilometre per hour missiles that he passes off as bowling. The same Mitchell Johnson who thinks nothing of attempting to maim a foe with those callous missiles and spends inordinately large amounts of his playing days on a grassy expanse over-indulging in the dubious art of sledging. The one you always suspected that any intellectual point made would be too acute for the bluntness of his grey matter to feel that said point.
And yet, yet, here he is announcing to the cricketing world that the Australian batsmen didn't handle the pressure and atmosphere during the middle stages of their inning last Saturday against the kiwis.
Who knew Johnson had it in him to act in slightly more refined manner than normal? Not many.
Whether it be by design of team management, whether it be an honest observation off the cuff, it is to be commended.
For to admit is to accept which augers well for their future. To accept a negative is the only way one can turn a negative into a positive. The Australians, if they are been genuine, have taken the first step towards learning to handle such situations in a superior mode to which they did on Saturday.
To be fair to all concerned this was an atmosphere of such hostility for which the like has rarely been seen in this part of the sporting world. That most of the Australian batsmen failed to cope with this situation is of no real surprise.
Realising that they are not alone should follow close behind. There is not a team in the game that could have withstood the ferocity of this braying mass of unadulterated human jingoism.
No man nor woman is without fault, no man nor woman is without frailties. Many may convince themselves into thinking otherwise, afraid to show any sign of weakness, cajoling themselves into believing that all is okay, but only the truly weak do streak through life unaware of the absurdities of their stripped down propaganda.
So the lessons must be heeded and they needed to be after such an abject display, for the result of this match was nowhere near as close as the scores suggest. Take out Tim Southee's meltdown under the pressure of local expectations and the Australian's would surely have been harassed out for thirty runs less.
For once, though, we are seeing those from across the ditch displaying the humility required to expand their mental horizons, to explore the realms of higher achievement. And life will undoubtedly become easier not just for admitting a weakness, but also, if they do qualify for the final, it will be in Melbourne.
Then let's see how mentally tough their foe is.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
One small inning and an old lesson was there to ponder over. For extreme pressure prefers no peer. It will beat you down and hand out the harshest of lessons. It cares not for reputations, it cares not for form. It's a stubborn creature that craves the consistency of others failures.
No better example is there than Tim Southee.
For so long now he has been the spearhead of this New Zealand attack in unison with the outstanding Trent Boult. A demon in the art of swing bowling, the Northlander tore the English batting line-up to shreds one week ago. On top of the World, he could do no wrong. Bowling from wide of the crease on occasion, at other times, close to the stumps, that variety of angle enough to flummox a foe. Just the slightest of swing and dealing in the minutest of degrees, seven wickets blew in with the breeze. Swing delivered at one hundred and forty clicks - What a combination.
Yet one week later and Eden Park introduces Australia to this concourse. Forty thousand braying fans brandishing banners and erecting quite the atmosphere, that atmosphere in mix with seven days of thundering expectations that built to cataclysmic proportions and his nerves ran riot over clear minded thinking. And this was his home crowd.
From his first delivery, wide's were the order of the day, whether that be to the off side or down leg. What wasn't wide was whistled off to the boundary rope with ease by Aaron Finch and David Warner. After just three over's Australia had thirty-six on the board, mainly due to Southee. Yes, he did remove both openers with beautiful deliveries, Finch with a ball that seamed back in to knock out middle stump and Warner by way of LBW.
But Southee hadn't controlled his nerves, that extreme pressure had delighted in rampaging through his psyche with the runs coming thick and fast and enough was enough.
Nine over's and sixty-three runs later, the time had come to introduce Daniel Vettori to stem the tide and bid Australia's fast start adieu. He of varying lengths and speeds that deceive, pressure came and pressure was tamed. The roar of the crowd he did not shame, for so calm he remained. No matter the batter's approach, every delivery was mimicked with the same demeanour. When a wicket was got, only the slightest of celebrations were to be had, for this thirty-six year old knows that there is a long road to hoe. Extreme pressure was forced to make his acquaintance, non negotiable were his terms.
And as Vettori tightened the screws the runs dried up for Australia. Slowly but surely the run rate lowered incrementally until - Snap - all number of wielders of two by fours panicked. The wickets tumbled, with Boult cashing in on the pressure building antics of Vettori with a spell of five wickets for two runs.
Pressure, that's all it was, pressure on the back of one of the most red hot cauldrons ever seen in this Country. For all the Australian team's big talk on the field over the last couple of years; the constant sledging, warning a foe to watch out for a broken arm, when the time came to up the ante in this most hostile of environments, they showed themselves to be as meek and weak of mind as any under extreme pressure.
It's what sorts the men from the boys. Southee didn't have it, Vettori did and Australia's batsmen will be buying marshmallow eggs for Easter.
Conquer that extreme pressure and win a World Cup.
No better example is there than Tim Southee.
For so long now he has been the spearhead of this New Zealand attack in unison with the outstanding Trent Boult. A demon in the art of swing bowling, the Northlander tore the English batting line-up to shreds one week ago. On top of the World, he could do no wrong. Bowling from wide of the crease on occasion, at other times, close to the stumps, that variety of angle enough to flummox a foe. Just the slightest of swing and dealing in the minutest of degrees, seven wickets blew in with the breeze. Swing delivered at one hundred and forty clicks - What a combination.
Yet one week later and Eden Park introduces Australia to this concourse. Forty thousand braying fans brandishing banners and erecting quite the atmosphere, that atmosphere in mix with seven days of thundering expectations that built to cataclysmic proportions and his nerves ran riot over clear minded thinking. And this was his home crowd.
From his first delivery, wide's were the order of the day, whether that be to the off side or down leg. What wasn't wide was whistled off to the boundary rope with ease by Aaron Finch and David Warner. After just three over's Australia had thirty-six on the board, mainly due to Southee. Yes, he did remove both openers with beautiful deliveries, Finch with a ball that seamed back in to knock out middle stump and Warner by way of LBW.
But Southee hadn't controlled his nerves, that extreme pressure had delighted in rampaging through his psyche with the runs coming thick and fast and enough was enough.
Nine over's and sixty-three runs later, the time had come to introduce Daniel Vettori to stem the tide and bid Australia's fast start adieu. He of varying lengths and speeds that deceive, pressure came and pressure was tamed. The roar of the crowd he did not shame, for so calm he remained. No matter the batter's approach, every delivery was mimicked with the same demeanour. When a wicket was got, only the slightest of celebrations were to be had, for this thirty-six year old knows that there is a long road to hoe. Extreme pressure was forced to make his acquaintance, non negotiable were his terms.
And as Vettori tightened the screws the runs dried up for Australia. Slowly but surely the run rate lowered incrementally until - Snap - all number of wielders of two by fours panicked. The wickets tumbled, with Boult cashing in on the pressure building antics of Vettori with a spell of five wickets for two runs.
Pressure, that's all it was, pressure on the back of one of the most red hot cauldrons ever seen in this Country. For all the Australian team's big talk on the field over the last couple of years; the constant sledging, warning a foe to watch out for a broken arm, when the time came to up the ante in this most hostile of environments, they showed themselves to be as meek and weak of mind as any under extreme pressure.
It's what sorts the men from the boys. Southee didn't have it, Vettori did and Australia's batsmen will be buying marshmallow eggs for Easter.
Conquer that extreme pressure and win a World Cup.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Okay, pet hate number one: Captains spreading their slips fieldsmen wider to cover more ground.
Only three slips, let's cover the area of four. It's like trying to cover every possible permutation of lottery numbers available each draw; You'll be there for an eternity attempting to serenade success. Can't be done. Surely it is preferable to cut one's losses and concentrate on plugging gaps where the ball is most likely to travel.
For there is not a lot worse than seeing said duke sniggering its way between slippers on the way to a preventable four runs and viewing a potential wicket going down the drain. Maybe it could be said that the duke will conjure up a good tummy rumbling laugh when it escapes down the alley way between a conventional third slip and gully. If that be the case, so be it. After all, no Captain can cover all on this field of dreams.
Thoughtful it may be of the skipper to give his slips a change of scenery every so often - variety is the spice of life, and all that - but it only puts pressure on slippers to cover more ground. It could be the difference between standing stationary or diving desperately. One, allowing the catcher the balance to attribute his talents to snaring an easily attained catch, or the other, a Hail Mary dive into the sphere of the desolation of what could have been.
Which means there simply has to be more risk of a dropped catch. Better to be certain and take a little than the possibility of losing a lot.
Spare a thought for the bowler, too. Toiling away endlessly over by over, sweat pouring off his furrowed brow only to look up and see an unnecessary abundance of oversized nooks behind the wickets. Already the heat of the day is tiring the mind and body, not to mention the heat of a Captains stare if by chance the duke isn't delivered to the precise address requested.
And then they have to suffer the distress of witnessing catches dropped off their bowling. How disheartening. Imagine the Captains thoughts if said bowler takes a wicket off a no-ball delivery. No wicket. Your choice of a plethora of pickets to lean against, though.
So how is the bowler meant to feel when he spies his Captain captaining poorly?
Only three slips, let's cover the area of four. It's like trying to cover every possible permutation of lottery numbers available each draw; You'll be there for an eternity attempting to serenade success. Can't be done. Surely it is preferable to cut one's losses and concentrate on plugging gaps where the ball is most likely to travel.
For there is not a lot worse than seeing said duke sniggering its way between slippers on the way to a preventable four runs and viewing a potential wicket going down the drain. Maybe it could be said that the duke will conjure up a good tummy rumbling laugh when it escapes down the alley way between a conventional third slip and gully. If that be the case, so be it. After all, no Captain can cover all on this field of dreams.
Thoughtful it may be of the skipper to give his slips a change of scenery every so often - variety is the spice of life, and all that - but it only puts pressure on slippers to cover more ground. It could be the difference between standing stationary or diving desperately. One, allowing the catcher the balance to attribute his talents to snaring an easily attained catch, or the other, a Hail Mary dive into the sphere of the desolation of what could have been.
Which means there simply has to be more risk of a dropped catch. Better to be certain and take a little than the possibility of losing a lot.
Spare a thought for the bowler, too. Toiling away endlessly over by over, sweat pouring off his furrowed brow only to look up and see an unnecessary abundance of oversized nooks behind the wickets. Already the heat of the day is tiring the mind and body, not to mention the heat of a Captains stare if by chance the duke isn't delivered to the precise address requested.
And then they have to suffer the distress of witnessing catches dropped off their bowling. How disheartening. Imagine the Captains thoughts if said bowler takes a wicket off a no-ball delivery. No wicket. Your choice of a plethora of pickets to lean against, though.
So how is the bowler meant to feel when he spies his Captain captaining poorly?
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Most people on this fine planet of ours try their darndest at all they set their mind to. No matter the level of their ability they strive and hope that one day they will arrive at their potential.
International Cricketers are no different. They will tether their minds to high performance with all their might. Not always do they get it right. That goes without saying. After all, none of us are perfect.
But each individual will go out of his way to garner desirable results for the greater good of the team and, also, his own personal goals. Batsmen, bowlers, Captains - They're all in it together.
Ah yes, the Captain, that leader of a team's industrious efforts to soar to the heights of their capacity, and with the ultimate responsibility to come up trumps tactically.
That being the case, for those of us laymen out there, could someone - Possibly Steve Smith - explain why when your team has scored five hundred and thirty runs in their first inning and has India 250 for three in reply, with two hundred and eighty runs to play with, a spinner is on, bowling deliveries of a low trajectory fast and flat at ninety-five kilometres per hour.
There are no demons in the pitch. Indian batsmen, who generally play spin well, having been brought up on dry sub-continent wickets, ease on to the back foot and push the ball into one of those many gaps on the on-side for an easy single.
The field, spread to all corners of this scenic and stately stadium, put absolutely no pressure on the batsmen.
Said batsmen are loving their freedom. Nothing of interest is occurring - Except for those run gatherers gathering easy runs, which is just the way they like it.
So why not bring the fielders in closer, get in the bowler's ear suggesting (demanding) he take ten to twenty kph off his delivery speed and entice the batsmen to take the risk of hitting over the in-field?
What is there possibly to lose? You still have ten over's to go until the new ball becomes available, copious amounts of runs to play with and you give yourselves a chance to attack in an otherwise slow period of play.
You may go for a few runs. Then again, you may grab an unlikely wicket.
Or is that a likely wicket.
International Cricketers are no different. They will tether their minds to high performance with all their might. Not always do they get it right. That goes without saying. After all, none of us are perfect.
But each individual will go out of his way to garner desirable results for the greater good of the team and, also, his own personal goals. Batsmen, bowlers, Captains - They're all in it together.
Ah yes, the Captain, that leader of a team's industrious efforts to soar to the heights of their capacity, and with the ultimate responsibility to come up trumps tactically.
That being the case, for those of us laymen out there, could someone - Possibly Steve Smith - explain why when your team has scored five hundred and thirty runs in their first inning and has India 250 for three in reply, with two hundred and eighty runs to play with, a spinner is on, bowling deliveries of a low trajectory fast and flat at ninety-five kilometres per hour.
There are no demons in the pitch. Indian batsmen, who generally play spin well, having been brought up on dry sub-continent wickets, ease on to the back foot and push the ball into one of those many gaps on the on-side for an easy single.
The field, spread to all corners of this scenic and stately stadium, put absolutely no pressure on the batsmen.
Said batsmen are loving their freedom. Nothing of interest is occurring - Except for those run gatherers gathering easy runs, which is just the way they like it.
So why not bring the fielders in closer, get in the bowler's ear suggesting (demanding) he take ten to twenty kph off his delivery speed and entice the batsmen to take the risk of hitting over the in-field?
What is there possibly to lose? You still have ten over's to go until the new ball becomes available, copious amounts of runs to play with and you give yourselves a chance to attack in an otherwise slow period of play.
You may go for a few runs. Then again, you may grab an unlikely wicket.
Or is that a likely wicket.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Within the depths of one's thunder
With one's sheen torn asunder.
Weighed down within a goal lost,
Rolling along the dales of cost.
Searching for that elusive heed
A mind aches to succeed
As desire raises an elite trip
On the precipice's tip.
Tumbling aloft the dreams of now,
Life's breathe lowering thou.
Futures lost in uncertainty,
For hell works tirelessly
While hope reflects upon itself
As another chance atop a stately mountain peak
emanates honour upon such humble hope.
With one's sheen torn asunder.
Weighed down within a goal lost,
Rolling along the dales of cost.
Searching for that elusive heed
A mind aches to succeed
As desire raises an elite trip
On the precipice's tip.
Tumbling aloft the dreams of now,
Life's breathe lowering thou.
Futures lost in uncertainty,
For hell works tirelessly
While hope reflects upon itself
As another chance atop a stately mountain peak
emanates honour upon such humble hope.
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