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| Jimmy and Marlon: they're mates really |
The press conferences at close of play were highly entertaining, too. Ever shy, I made sure I got a question in, asking the “surprisingly tall” Jimmy A (his words) whether his early one-handed grab at third slip was the best catch he has ever taken. As self-deprecating off the field as he is aggro on it, he answered in a round about way that it was a fluke.
His conference followed that of West Indies' centurion Marlon Samuels, who had the press pack in stitches when he realized halfway through an answer about the sledging he got from Jimmy that his antagonist was stood looking at him just outside the squash courts that Trent Bridge uses as a temporary press facility [clip in here somewhere].
1. POLICE CAMERA, ACTION!
Firstly, West Indies and their top-order woes. The opening hour was like an episode of Police, Camera, Action! – the England new ball pair of Anderson and Broad were playing the role of the police (bad cop and not quite as bad cop, respectively), relentlessly pursuing a flashy joyrider until the wheels came off his motor; the press box was both cameraman (we had the best view, despite not being in a chopper) and narrator, an air of almost moral disgust at times peppering the rueful verdicts.
They really do need to sort this out, though, because sooner
or later their Guyanese lynchpin (see below) will not be there to paper over the
cracks. Darren Bravo (‘Two Zero’) looks like he has the tools to succeed; back
in the city where he played a season of club cricket for West Indies Cavaliers
in 2007, Kirk Edwards missed a straight one by as far as it was possible to
miss it without dropping the bat; Powell, doubtless to the despair of his
coach, flashed loosely having got himself in, a capital crime; and Barath was
lucky to get a blob, brilliantly caught one-handed in the slips by Anderson, a
catch he claimed not to know anything about.
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| Cancrine |
A commonplace of hypothetical hypothetical conversations was
heard fluttering across the press box: Who would you want to bat for your life?
Overlooking for now the obvious concerns and anxieties that
being in mortal danger would bring about, who wouldn’t want to live in a parallel universe in which matters of
importance (and we’ll leave it up to the Shanklyists to decide where life and
death rank) were decided out on the square, bat and ball in hand, gladiatorially:
“I hereby sentence you to
possible death, depending as to the innings played by a batsman of your choice.
Court dismissed”.
“But what sort of pitch is it?
What are the overhead conditions? The bowling attack, m’lud?”
“Court dismissed”.
With the retirement of The Wall earlier this year, I suppose
Jacques Kallis would come into the reckoning, and maybe Mahela Jayawardene, but
I’d suggest there are two or three candidates in this game (all three of them
with doctorates in Knowing Where Your Off Peg Is Studies): England’s sweatless
opener, Alistair Cook, and all-rounder number 3, Jonathan Trott, but
above all Shivnarine Chanderpaul. Today, he looked to have booked himself in at
Sir Geoffrey’s bed and breakfast – easing to 46 from 86 balls with nine fours,
even unfurling a weight-back, no-feet calypso drive-slap through mid-off that
provoked Jimmy Anderson into two bouncers and a sledge – before being undone by
an unlikely source and UDRS (see below), perhaps due to the fact that he wore
one in the ‘crown jewels’ earlier in the day, flooring him for several
eye-watering minutes.
So, the long and short of it is that, if you’d chosen Shiv
to bat for your life today, you’d now be dead. Should have gone for Marlon,
obviously…
3. MARVELLOUS MARLON
SAMUELS
There is a school of thought that says the West Indies have
for too long been too laidback, too impassive, to the extent that, even if they
are trying their conkers off on the
inside, it doesn’t get expressed outwardly and therefore comes across to their
supporters as not caring. This seemed true of the team built in the image of
Chris Gayle. The new regime, under the more demonstrative, less self-conscious Darren
Sammy, is explicitly trying to rectify this, to show the proud people of the
Caribbean that, okay, they may not be the dominant force they were, but they
are trying their hardest and it matters deeply to them.
But not Marlon Samuels. It clearly matters a lot to him –
you don’t play innings of such concentration and determination if it doesn’t –
but he isn’t showing it. Inscrutable, like his Jamaican former skipper.
However, perhaps his too-cool-for-skool attitude is precisely what saved him
(and your life, potentially, not to mention his team’s chances in this game)
from being cruelly run out at the non-striker’s end when on just 16 as Stuart
Broad deflected a straight drive onto the stumps that would have left the
Windies on 89 for 5. As it was, Marlon was busy chillaxing (and ting) and
hadn’t backed up one inch. He finished the day on richly deserved and warmly
appreciated 107 not out and was in fighting form afterward, responding to a
question about Jimmy Anderson’s persistent chirping with “[he] should know that
I’m batting for the team and there’s several balls I could hit to the boundary
that I left alone. But when I get that double tomorrow, I’d like James Anderson
to say something to me…”
4. SAMMY, ARE YOU OK,
ARE YOU OK, SAMMY?
The genial St Lucian is among the most likeable men in Test
cricket. Humble, happy, courageous, and able to squeeze the last drop and more
out of his ability. He is also doing a manful job of leading a mediocre,
depleted team as it looks to drag itself slowly back to competitiveness (I do
not share the view that their glory is necessarily
a thing of the past, as is the case with, say, the Hungarian national
football team). But there’s a ‘but’ coming… But he isn’t really good enough at
his primary job to justify his place in the side. Not really. I wish he was –
truly I do – but I have seen many better bowlers in Minor Counties cricket.
However, whether he deserves his place in the team is a
separate question altogether. On balance, I think he does, much like Brearley
did in 1981, his input eluding statistical measure. Even so, there’s no getting
away from the fact that he unbalances the side (particularly with no Dwayne
Bravo): if they want to play a spinner, then Sammy becomes third seamer; if
they want Sammy as second change, they omit a spinner.
So here is my (admittedly radical) solution, one that flies
in the face of the day’s events: promote himself to open the batting. Think
about it: the top order is failing repeatedly and showing little gumption and/or
nous in the process. He could go in and tee off (I said it was radical; stick
with me), looking to disturb one of England ’s strengths: their new ball
bowling. A no-frills Sehwag, if you like. It would send a very strong message
to his team, too – that he’s prepared to be first over the top – and perhaps
serve to shore up his authority. When backed into a corner, it’s better to go
radge.
5. UP THE SWANNY!
Talking of ex-Number 8s (a topic that will appeal to a
Scouse writer sometime of this parish, since he considers them as pivotal to
cricket as they are to rugby union, the bridge between two units), Graeme Swann
did something for the first time today: he took a Test wicket on his home
ground of Trent Bridge, and a prized scalp, too. They say there’s no place like
home, but it’s probably not so true for Swanny (who, it was
revealed, has a darts nickname of ‘The Shoplifter’). Anyway, he’ll probably
enjoy a bat at some stage on Sunday, although it’s a sign of the times that
he’s now down to number 10.
6. BRESNONE-FER*
Finally, sticking with Number 8s, England’s incumbent –
Shiver me Tim Bresnan – could soon be coming under some pressure for his place,
despite his status as something of a lucky charm for England (12 victories in
his 12 Tests). Andy Flower doesn’t strike me as the superstitious type and will
thus be far more interested and cold-blooded about the Yorkshireman’s input to
the side as third seamer, whatever garnish his batting brings. With little
swing available to him, conventional or Irish, he looked laboured, down on
pace, and, frankly, largely ineffective. Warm days and flat pitches are
precisely the times that skippers crave something more than steady containment
(and going at practically 4 runs per over, the burly Tyke didn’t really provide
that), something a little bit extra – either raw pace or mystery spin, and its je ne sais quoi (French for X-Factor). With Steven Finn waiting in
the wings, Bresnan needs to improve.
* I realize he took a wicket,
but that ruins the gag.
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