Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
Published November 22, 2006
There is nothing more comforting than a sizzling, sultry summer's day broken by the sound of a cricket commentator droning away like a fly in the background for hours — or days — on end, only punctuated by the need for work, food, beer, sleep, or a swim or a surf. No such luxuries for the players, though. If you can imagine the torture that these athletes have to go through hour after hour in the hot sun, you get some idea of the patience and stamina required; not to mention the ability to swat away or catch a rock-hard ball coming at you with the speed of an out-of-control Exocet missile.
England has their gang of followers known as the Barmy Army. Their noisy antics and beer-drinking prowess bring both pain and joy to pub licensees near cricket grounds all over Australia, and they will no doubt be more vocal than ever after their side's series victory last year - the first since 1989. My tip is that they will be lulled into sullen silence by the end of the second Test. By the end of the fifth Test of the series, they'll be drowning their sorrows. England will be put in their place, and kept there. The more pain and anguish they suffer in the process the better, which is really what this is all about.
Since Jardine's ill-advised strategy to temporarily cheat the trophy away from Australia with Bodyline those 70-odd years ago, no one should make the mistake of thinking this has anything to do with sport. You don't even have to like the game to enjoy it: it is out and out war; it is about lowering the colours of the red and white English Cross of St George, trampling it in the dust and sending its heathen followers home in misery and disarray. What a great way to spend an Aussie summer, that is.
- Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
- Published: November 22, 2006
- Type: Opinion
- Section: Culture
- Filed Under: Sports: Other, Culture: Society, Culture: History
- Writer: the silver surfer
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Here we are Christopher, with a story dedicated to the sport we both love, where we can go off topic without going off topic, and you haven't even poked your head out of the bloody woodwork.
Not that I'd blame you, though, given the score.
Early doors though ...
Whinging Aussie!
What's the matter, chicken?
Har Har!
Have you been watching? I think your mob are sunk this Test but judging by the ferocity on Freddie's face today, I wouldn't be writing them off for the series just yet.
Problem is, they don't always travel well do they?
BTW, do you get a sports package with cricket in Spain on pay TV? I assumed you must have because you were up with the ICC scores from India.
I think we were done for when Ponting won the toss. Having The Gabba as the venue for the first test, with it's somewhat dodgy pitch, is all part of you convicts' plan to get the Ashes back!
I think the idea is to expose you to thousands of mad Queenslanders first up and unsettle you completely. They even scare us (my wife's one ... she's as mad as a two-bob watch).
It's the heat. It's fried their brains.
I thought Freddie did well today to hold his side together and didn't lose his nerve in a really bad situation for them. We like him here, by the way.
I can't gloat ... I hated it last year when you guys did it.
I must try to behave ... behave ... trying hard.
Bugger it, it's no use: you're goooone!
"she's as mad as a two-bob watch."
lol
Yeah, thanks Donnie ... (I suppose that translates in the US to as mad as a $2 watch ... we don't have shillings (bob) and more but we still use the term)
But mate, she actually is. They all are. And she turns back into back into a mad Queenslander every time we go up there about 3 seconds after we cross the state border.
Life would be a lot less colourful without 'em though. They make the world go round a bit here, and at least know how to have fun.
England all out today (lunchtime Monday, AEST) for 370 in their second innings ... big win to Australia but at least the Poms had a decent dig on Sunday.
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Ah yes, the great clash of cultures: At the end of day one, Australia are firmly in command of the first Test, ending at 3/350, with skipper Ricky Ponting notching up a ton to finish the day on 138. A few glum looking pommies in my office ambled over half way through the day, having become far less noisy as time went on, and one said: "That'll be it for us then for another 17 years." It's early doors, but the writing IS on the wall, especially on this wicket at the Gabba, which is being described as a "belter".