On losing and losers.
It’s been a miserable winter for cricket fans. The euphoria of last summer to a lesser extent the summer just passed has melted away in the Australian sunshine. I went to bed last night thinking to myself “at least we haven’t had an innings defeat.”
My mobile beeped at 7 am with the latest score thanks to the BBC’s SMS service and I read
"Australia beat England by an innings and 99 runs”.
Bugger. One defeat away from the first Australian whitewash since the early twenties.
I didn’t ever think we were going to win in Melbourne. It’s the biggest cricket ground in the world, full of baying Aussies, it’s Shane Warne’s home field and this would be his last appearance there in the baggy green cap. Back at the start of the month though, I was hoping that the series would be 1-1 or even 1-2 going into Boxing Day. At 3-0, with the Ashes already lost there was only pride to play for. And pride it would appear, is not enough.
As an ‘outsider’ (and one who slipped through the net) I really do not understand how ones chest is not filled with pride each and every time an England shirt is pulled on. I’d give an organ to play for England at any thing.
“You want me to play in the elephant polo World Cup? Superb, should I pack a lunch?”
We know we can beat Australia – we did it 15 months ago. Where was that fire, that passion, that determination to win? I saw not a jot of it. Nothing.
Ricky Ponting has suggested that the Ashes urn should now stay in Australia. I agree. Let them keep the old one. Burn the bails from Melbourne so that a new Ashes trophy can be made. One we can begin fighting for in Sydney next week. One we can scrap for as a team. As England. We're a shaggy mongrel breed. We have no idea of what it means to be English any more. No values, no shared beliefs, no sense of our place in the game of life on this little blue green planet. So we invest our energy in following sport. And for what? A cricket team that wins every now and again. A football team that has redefined the term 'underachievement'. A rugby team – a world champion rugby team – that has forgotten how to play flowing, intelligent rugby and can only fumble around like a shy lover. Wasters the lot of them.
So this is what we should do. Select national sides by lot. Trust me. Imagine your excitement as you wake up, get the post and read…
My mobile beeped at 7 am with the latest score thanks to the BBC’s SMS service and I read
"Australia beat England by an innings and 99 runs”.
Bugger. One defeat away from the first Australian whitewash since the early twenties.
I didn’t ever think we were going to win in Melbourne. It’s the biggest cricket ground in the world, full of baying Aussies, it’s Shane Warne’s home field and this would be his last appearance there in the baggy green cap. Back at the start of the month though, I was hoping that the series would be 1-1 or even 1-2 going into Boxing Day. At 3-0, with the Ashes already lost there was only pride to play for. And pride it would appear, is not enough.
As an ‘outsider’ (and one who slipped through the net) I really do not understand how ones chest is not filled with pride each and every time an England shirt is pulled on. I’d give an organ to play for England at any thing.
“You want me to play in the elephant polo World Cup? Superb, should I pack a lunch?”
We know we can beat Australia – we did it 15 months ago. Where was that fire, that passion, that determination to win? I saw not a jot of it. Nothing.
Ricky Ponting has suggested that the Ashes urn should now stay in Australia. I agree. Let them keep the old one. Burn the bails from Melbourne so that a new Ashes trophy can be made. One we can begin fighting for in Sydney next week. One we can scrap for as a team. As England. We're a shaggy mongrel breed. We have no idea of what it means to be English any more. No values, no shared beliefs, no sense of our place in the game of life on this little blue green planet. So we invest our energy in following sport. And for what? A cricket team that wins every now and again. A football team that has redefined the term 'underachievement'. A rugby team – a world champion rugby team – that has forgotten how to play flowing, intelligent rugby and can only fumble around like a shy lover. Wasters the lot of them.
So this is what we should do. Select national sides by lot. Trust me. Imagine your excitement as you wake up, get the post and read…
Dear phylos
You have been selected to compete for England in the forthcoming European Championship qualifier against Israel. Please be at Wembley (don’t get me started) by 10.00am on the day before the match. Kit will be provided.
Try to shape up a bit fatty.
Hugs.
The FA
What a buzz! So we might not win much, but we don’t win much now do we or I wouldn’t be moaning would I? What you would see though is 11 men playing with everything they have. Playing like it means something. Playing with the pride so lacking amongst the current crop of overpaid, underperforming losers. And that would be good enough for me.
posted by phylos @ 13:02
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