A Day At The Cricket

Conno, Frosty & Davo

A day at the cricket is like no other. Maybe its the time you invest with your fellow travellers as they day unfolds. Maybe it's the size of the crowd. Its rarely the cricket itself.

At the Gabba, this particular day, I was surrounded by memories so warm that I can only smile their rebirth. Here beside me, in front of me, were the planks upon which I built my much of my cricket life time. Some of the cricketers I brag about knowing, about playing with, were within joking distance again. Conno and Frosty and Johnno and Davo sat in a row, talking the game - the good, the bad, the indifferent. The Argus review made the mistake of ignoring their knowledge, their experience and in doing so, fixed nothing. Today, they would offer repairs with only themselves to listen. They would pass jelly snakes along the line and chew as though it were yesterday, secretly wishing it was.

Life was easier.

Beside me, my wife was soaking her first day of Test cricket. She had been before but left after two overs when Steve Waugh was dismissed on his overnight 102, heroics completed on the last ball of the day before. Today it was the full monty. She jumped to her feet to support a no ball that wasn't. Clapped with enthusiasm at almost anything. Asked why. Asked when. Made observations that cause me pride. Lasted a full hour before shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

If there was a way to feel happier about my life at this moment, it escaped me.

Meanwhile, Australia won the toss and batted, losing its first wicket inside fifteen minutes as Rogers failed to manage a rising ball from Broad, steering it as though providing catching practice to Bell in the gully. The next two hours belonged to David Warner. His footwork was decisive and his shots chosen effectively. He and Watson batted Australian to within minutes of a successful first session. When Broad returned just before lunch, the task was to go to lunch without further scathing.

Shane Watson failed the test of Broad's return. Failed it dismally. With minutes left until lunch, he played at a ball well wide of the off stump, perhaps intending to run it down to third man. It was a shot of low potential at best. At worst, he snicked and was well caught by Swann at second slip.

It was a dreadful shot. Friends will be hard to find for Watson if he continues to play so wastefully,

Australia lost four wickets in the second session. Clarke and Bailey hardly did anything worthy of mention before leaving: Clarke to an inability to handle the rising ball. It was right out of the English bowlers play list. Clarke can't handle the bouncing ball any more and England know it. He used to pull viciously or hook but his back, full of suspicion about what comes next, prevents him ducking, prevents him swaying and makes him think twice about what he should do. The result is indecision and today it showed.

Clarke, batting with these limitations is a shot duck.

At lunch, three friends arrived from the outer. James and AJ, wandered across from the members and privileges that they believe they deserve. It seemed superfluous to explain it to them. Another mate who has been been set upon by life and is left wanting for new opportunities, came and gave me a reminder of the hidden nasty seam of life that runs benignly through most of our backyards, but rises like a cobra to strike at some.

The over rate, by tea, was poor but Swann darted through overs in two minutes  in a long spell designed to   keep over rates in reasonable shape.

Mitch Johnson and Brad Haddin took hold of the bowling in a chanceless sixth wicket partnership which restored more than hope, more than pride. They battered sensibly but without denial. When a ball should have been hit, it was sent to the boundary and in Johnson's case, sometime well beyond.

Spider cam died in the afternoon session, suddenly tipping itself on its cables and refusing to play nice. For half an hour, it lay uselessly sideways, trapped on its own halyards, high up above. Its performance mirrored the bound nature of the Australia performance.

Haddin and Johnson took the afternoon session away from the English in the manner the top order should have been able to. There were no demons in the pitch. No prodigious swing, no unplayable deliveries. Some were up to the task, most were not. At every point of the day, Stuart Broad was booed for indiscretions scarcely proved but it made little difference. He still took five wickets and perhaps the best performance of his career. His bowling was accurate and incisive and on the spot without being threatening. It wasn't that sort of wicket. Regardless, the lambasting by the crowd changed to deserved applause when he took his fifth wicket. Australians will always rise to a champion, even ones we don't like.

Throughout, Cook's captaincy was defensive ,,, conservative. It took no risks but with Australia batting like visitors in their own land, it hardly mattered.

The Waratahs boys left knowing that things could have been far worse ... and know they had ticket for Friday.