So England won The Ashes, and they did so against all odds after the horrendous defeat in Leeds just over two weeks ago. Amidst all the celebrations and back slapping there has been a general feeling that Andrew Flintoff did not play well in this match. That his younger and fitter colleagues conspired to give the limping old hero a magnificent send off. Not so, not so at all.
Yes, Stuart Broad bowled an immense spell on Friday afternoon, putting the Australians in all sorts of brown water. And yes, captain fantastic Andrew Strauss scored plenty of runs, leading from the front as he has done splendidly for the last 18 months. Add a fine performance from 8 wicket Graeme Swann and a ton on debut for Jonathan Trott and evidence of Flintoff’s fading seems compelling.
Two factors though, must dispel the idea that Freddie played a limited role in this match. Number 1, Ricky Ponting’s run out. I am not the first person to point out the importance of this moment, and I will not be the last, but mention it I must. What does seem to have been overlooked, however, is that Australia’s captain was beginning to look completely invincible, adding 127 runs with Michael Hussey for the third wicket. Without that run out England would probably have still won, but, it would have been a lot closer. And who can say what might have happened if Ponting and Hussey had been together at the crease for two more hours?
The second factor is Flintoff’s sheer presence in the side. Competitive at Lord’s and Edgbaston, the home team arrived in Leeds to find that their number 7 was out of the match. How much impact this had on the psychology of the other players we will not know until the autobiographies start appearing, but one thing is for certain; somehow England turned innings defeat into almost 200 run victory in two weeks.
Stuart Broad will surely become a fine all rounder, as will Graeme Swann, but neither currently has the impact on the team that Flintoff has. All the big man has to do is show up, put his whites on and jog onto the pitch and all around him are uplifted. So yes it was not vintage Freddie, no big wickets, no big runs, but to think England would have won the Ashes without him is foolish, just look back two weeks for the cold hard proof. Thanks for the little urn Freddie and let us all hope that you will be performing in the blue of England for many years to come.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Come on United, don’t take the Michael?!
Some people love spring, the early blossoming of daffodils, the first day of genuine T-shirt weather. Others, they love Christmas, presents, family, good food and drink, terrible television. Me, I love this time of year. The new football season has finally begun, the cricket is exciting, and the new football season has finally begun. The Football League is well under way and the Premier League is 12 days and 16 matches old. Markers have been set down, new signings have been blooded, and pundits have made their predictions.
Liverpool have given us a glimpse of the bad and the nearly beautiful, with Glen ‘Armitage Shanks’ Johnson in particular, looking very impressive. Manchester City look like they have spent more wisely than many had anticipated. Some big names in football, Sir Alex included, rubbished there chances this term, lets just hope someone buys the Scot a hat made from liqueur chocolates this Xmas, he may need it. Ancelotti’s Chelsea, 2 from 2 so far, look like being as strong as ever, if by ever you mean the last five years. Arsenal will in all likelihood, continue to thrash all comers beyond redemption without troubling the engraver and his pencil come May.
The real story of this first week and a half though, is at Old Trafford, and the travails of a certain half-pint sized striker. A substitute on Sunday, as United squeaked past Birmingham, he was on from the start Wednesday night, as Burnley sprang a shock 1-0 victory. The Clarets win does not mean they will stay up, and United’s defeat does not mean they won’t win the league, far too early for predictions of that sort. However, what screams at me from the match at Turf Moor is this. You have lost two major forwards from your side in Ronaldo and Tevez. Your only major signing up front to these vacancies is an ex-England striker, who has failed to score in pre-season and has a point to prove. Late in the first half, 1-0 down, you get a penalty, over to you, fill your boots, get off the mark Michael….. CARRICK???
When Michael Owen appears on the television at the moment, I have to look away. His body language is terrible, shoulders hunched, he looks almost embarrassed to be there. He wears on his tormented face the harrowing memories of every moment of his Newcastle nightmare. Michael Owen, shoulders hunched, failure, relegated, injured too much, dropped from the England squad. An England squad he has been part of since he was 17 years of age. This is Owen’s last chance to fulfil his potential, and he knows it. His last chance to win a League Title, a Champions League, perhaps even a World Cut to sit on the mantle with his golden boots, Ballon d’Or and assorted cups from a glorious heyday at Liverpool.
What should not be forgotten is that officially, Owen is in his prime. Yes, his pace will never come close to that which destroyed the Argentinean rearguard in 1998. Perhaps he will never again feel the love of supporters that greeted his early career at Anfield. But this is Michael Owen. England’s top striker for the last decade, 9 goals short of Sir Bobby Charlton’s record in an England shirt, and this is a World Cup year. Now forgive me for being a sentimentalist, but it all looks set up for Owen to have one last hurrah. Just imagine, the World Cup final, the 90th minute, Argentina and England tied at one apiece, and Owen nips in at the near post to snatch the winner, his 50th for his country. All he needs is a goal to get him started, to wipe that hang-dog expression off his face, put the spring back in his step. So please Manchester United, next time you get a penalty, for everyone’s sake, give it to the right Michael.
Liverpool have given us a glimpse of the bad and the nearly beautiful, with Glen ‘Armitage Shanks’ Johnson in particular, looking very impressive. Manchester City look like they have spent more wisely than many had anticipated. Some big names in football, Sir Alex included, rubbished there chances this term, lets just hope someone buys the Scot a hat made from liqueur chocolates this Xmas, he may need it. Ancelotti’s Chelsea, 2 from 2 so far, look like being as strong as ever, if by ever you mean the last five years. Arsenal will in all likelihood, continue to thrash all comers beyond redemption without troubling the engraver and his pencil come May.
The real story of this first week and a half though, is at Old Trafford, and the travails of a certain half-pint sized striker. A substitute on Sunday, as United squeaked past Birmingham, he was on from the start Wednesday night, as Burnley sprang a shock 1-0 victory. The Clarets win does not mean they will stay up, and United’s defeat does not mean they won’t win the league, far too early for predictions of that sort. However, what screams at me from the match at Turf Moor is this. You have lost two major forwards from your side in Ronaldo and Tevez. Your only major signing up front to these vacancies is an ex-England striker, who has failed to score in pre-season and has a point to prove. Late in the first half, 1-0 down, you get a penalty, over to you, fill your boots, get off the mark Michael….. CARRICK???
When Michael Owen appears on the television at the moment, I have to look away. His body language is terrible, shoulders hunched, he looks almost embarrassed to be there. He wears on his tormented face the harrowing memories of every moment of his Newcastle nightmare. Michael Owen, shoulders hunched, failure, relegated, injured too much, dropped from the England squad. An England squad he has been part of since he was 17 years of age. This is Owen’s last chance to fulfil his potential, and he knows it. His last chance to win a League Title, a Champions League, perhaps even a World Cut to sit on the mantle with his golden boots, Ballon d’Or and assorted cups from a glorious heyday at Liverpool.
What should not be forgotten is that officially, Owen is in his prime. Yes, his pace will never come close to that which destroyed the Argentinean rearguard in 1998. Perhaps he will never again feel the love of supporters that greeted his early career at Anfield. But this is Michael Owen. England’s top striker for the last decade, 9 goals short of Sir Bobby Charlton’s record in an England shirt, and this is a World Cup year. Now forgive me for being a sentimentalist, but it all looks set up for Owen to have one last hurrah. Just imagine, the World Cup final, the 90th minute, Argentina and England tied at one apiece, and Owen nips in at the near post to snatch the winner, his 50th for his country. All he needs is a goal to get him started, to wipe that hang-dog expression off his face, put the spring back in his step. So please Manchester United, next time you get a penalty, for everyone’s sake, give it to the right Michael.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Fifth Test? I can’t wait but hopes are not high.
Last night I had a dream, and it most definitely was not a good one. In it, and I do not remember how, England captain Andrew Strauss became unfortunately deceased just a few days before a deciding Ashes Test match. Thankfully I awoke, in a cold sweat I might add, to realise that this awful vision was just a bad dream. To lose Strauss to injury now, let alone anything else, would be an unmitigated disaster, akin to losing your premier all-rounder a few hours before a big match in Leeds.
Hope was high after Cardiff escape, was followed by Lord’s victory, but since then expectation levels have dramatically collapsed. If the draw in Wales was a miracle, then there is no biblical equivalent to what is required in South London this week, especially after the debacle at Headingley. And to achieve anything, even pride in defeat, without the skipper, top run scorer, and only English centurion of the series would surely be impossible.
Strauss stands alone among the home batsmen this series, against an attack that is apparently not all that good. Which begs the question, was the Australian revival in Leeds merely a mirage in the desert of Test cricket? Were Ponting’s men really that good or did England’s boys just play so poorly that Johnson, Hilfenhaus, Siddle and Clark were made to appear world beaters? English cricket has a tendency to implode once in a while, only to return looking stronger, having learned from its mistakes. We all remember the 51 all out in Jamaica just a few short months ago, and the swift improvements that followed.
At the Oval, international reputations are at stake, as England try once again to rise phoenix-like from the, ahem, ashes of disaster. Ian Bell, brought in to replace the injured Kevin Pietersen has so far belied the myth that he can be a test cricketer of the highest quality. Left out after the mauling at Sabina Park, he was supposed to have rediscovered his form, proved himself once again a top notch cricketer. If he fails this week then I am afraid that should be the end of the line for Bell, three series of failure against the Aussies is quite enough, thank you. Players are needed who can compete against the best; after all, it is only 15 months until the beginning of a certain series down under.
Paul Collingwood is another of England’s top order that looks to be drinking in the bar, next door to the last chance saloon. A quick glance at Michael Clarke’s figures this series, show what a genuine Test match number 5 should be doing. One gritty knock at Sofia Gardens, plus a couple of quick fire half tons are insufficient from that position, if you are hoping to compete against the world’s finest. And as for Ravi Bopara, well perhaps Ravi should be given some time off and then dropped down the order, everyone deserves a second chance, after all.
England’s selectors however deserve praise for not making wholesale changes before such a big match. People talk of Jonathan Trott being under immense pressure, making debut in the Ashes decider, I disagree. For me he is in a win-win situation. Score runs and his place in the side will be assured for the winter’s tour to South Africa, fail and any fingers pointing, will not be doing so in his direction. This should allow him to bat with freedom and with any luck patience too, the one thing England’s batters, Strauss and to a lesser extent Cook aside, have lacked all summer. The bowlers too, need to learn this most important of virtues, put the ball in the right area over and over again and you will create pressure. A Test match is five days long, not two and a half. We can only hope England have learned from their hefty mistakes a fortnight ago, and that this match is still exciting come Monday afternoon. Although on recent evidence, an England victory may just be too much to dream of.
Hope was high after Cardiff escape, was followed by Lord’s victory, but since then expectation levels have dramatically collapsed. If the draw in Wales was a miracle, then there is no biblical equivalent to what is required in South London this week, especially after the debacle at Headingley. And to achieve anything, even pride in defeat, without the skipper, top run scorer, and only English centurion of the series would surely be impossible.
Strauss stands alone among the home batsmen this series, against an attack that is apparently not all that good. Which begs the question, was the Australian revival in Leeds merely a mirage in the desert of Test cricket? Were Ponting’s men really that good or did England’s boys just play so poorly that Johnson, Hilfenhaus, Siddle and Clark were made to appear world beaters? English cricket has a tendency to implode once in a while, only to return looking stronger, having learned from its mistakes. We all remember the 51 all out in Jamaica just a few short months ago, and the swift improvements that followed.
At the Oval, international reputations are at stake, as England try once again to rise phoenix-like from the, ahem, ashes of disaster. Ian Bell, brought in to replace the injured Kevin Pietersen has so far belied the myth that he can be a test cricketer of the highest quality. Left out after the mauling at Sabina Park, he was supposed to have rediscovered his form, proved himself once again a top notch cricketer. If he fails this week then I am afraid that should be the end of the line for Bell, three series of failure against the Aussies is quite enough, thank you. Players are needed who can compete against the best; after all, it is only 15 months until the beginning of a certain series down under.
Paul Collingwood is another of England’s top order that looks to be drinking in the bar, next door to the last chance saloon. A quick glance at Michael Clarke’s figures this series, show what a genuine Test match number 5 should be doing. One gritty knock at Sofia Gardens, plus a couple of quick fire half tons are insufficient from that position, if you are hoping to compete against the world’s finest. And as for Ravi Bopara, well perhaps Ravi should be given some time off and then dropped down the order, everyone deserves a second chance, after all.
England’s selectors however deserve praise for not making wholesale changes before such a big match. People talk of Jonathan Trott being under immense pressure, making debut in the Ashes decider, I disagree. For me he is in a win-win situation. Score runs and his place in the side will be assured for the winter’s tour to South Africa, fail and any fingers pointing, will not be doing so in his direction. This should allow him to bat with freedom and with any luck patience too, the one thing England’s batters, Strauss and to a lesser extent Cook aside, have lacked all summer. The bowlers too, need to learn this most important of virtues, put the ball in the right area over and over again and you will create pressure. A Test match is five days long, not two and a half. We can only hope England have learned from their hefty mistakes a fortnight ago, and that this match is still exciting come Monday afternoon. Although on recent evidence, an England victory may just be too much to dream of.
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