|Posted on Saturday, September 10, 2005 - 06:40 pm: |
The most beautiful sport in the English language. And this year it's worth watching, too.
Googly, grubber, gardening, tonk, yip...
|Posted on Tuesday, September 13, 2005 - 06:42 pm: |
Regarding the glossary of cricketing terms, it reminded me of a competition The Spectator magazine once had where contestants were asked
to incorporate 11 cricketing terms into an entertaining piece of prose, using them in a non-cricketing sense. You might find the below amusing.
“ Why don’t people pull down the blinds? It stumps me, says Bosie. His job gives him perfect cover for his voyeurism: he’s a nightwatchman.”
The Winning entry:
“The twelfth man I married”, said the old lady, “was far older than any of the first eleven. It is true that I was not exactly a maiden, but I still had a pair of fine legs and he obviously thought me a good catch. The first thing I did on my honeymoon, of course, was to add some extra cover to his life insurance, as what I liked best about him was that he would not, I thought, have a long stop in this world. But the old fool was determined to see in the next century until, last Tuesday, he tripped up on a crease I had sneakily sewn into the bath mat and perished when his head hit the taps. However, the silly point that still upsets me is that on his way down he” – she let out a wail of despair – “broke my duck”
The Spectator – 8 November 1997
|Posted on Tuesday, September 13, 2005 - 08:52 pm: |
It was worth watching. *sigh*
|Posted on Tuesday, September 13, 2005 - 10:35 pm: |
Anne, this is delightful! And Jay, even I got caught up in wanting to watch, but didn't. Did the good sportsmanship last? And the best moment of all? As the last wicket fell and the England fielders began their celebrations, Flintoff crouched alongside Lee, put his arm around him and spoke only words of encouragement and consolation. Here was sportsmanship at its finest. Play hard, play to win, but play with courtesy, respect and fellow feeling.-The Gentleman's Game Reading this made me (almost) want to learn the game, the only one you can watch, nap, and watch again, and it doesn't matter (from same article: Throughout that long Saturday afternoon and into the early evening the England bowlers were once again dominant
|Posted on Wednesday, September 14, 2005 - 03:53 am: |
Now you need to read Maurice Richardson's story, 'Engelbrecht and the Demon Bowler', in which a real demon bowls against a team of surrealists (Salvador Dali uses a chest of drawers instead of a bat!)
|Posted on Wednesday, September 14, 2005 - 08:39 pm: |
Indeed the sportmanship lasted. In between the sledging and the snipes, there was true respect, though the sledging was at a minimum this time. Only as evidence of the battle between bowler and batsman. Lee, for example walked up to Giles and shook his hand when he made his fifty.
|Posted on Thursday, September 15, 2005 - 04:12 pm: |
Rhys, thanks for telling about Richardson's Engelbrecht--all news to me. And lo! Here it is, kept alive by Savoy Books in what looks like a beaut edition, what they call A cult book if ever there was one.
The Exploits of Engelbrecht
Jay, aaahhhhh. The romance of sportsmanship. It was proclaimed dead, so this is such a kick in the crease to cynics. I just finished reading a very strange and moving book.
Silence of the Heart: Cricket Suicides by Mike Brearley. Cricket, he reports, has the highest rate of suicide of any sport. Brearley, who has been studying this sad statistic for 30 years, examines the various theories as to why, amongst which is this one: Or is it that this summer game attracts people of a melancholic and over-sensitive nature?
|Posted on Thursday, September 15, 2005 - 11:47 pm: |
Perhaps I shall have to seek you out a copy of Stephen Potter's "Theory and Practice of Gamesmanship". I know where to get a lovely little edition of it cheap and will bring it along to Sydney.
It's a classic in old-style British wit.
|Posted on Saturday, September 17, 2005 - 05:54 pm: |
Oooh, how can I say No? I've read about this book for years, and never seen it. This reminds me of Diary of a Nobody, another classic that reads oddly fresh again--the original livejournal blogger.
I make two good jokes...Have to speak to Sarah.
January 1. -- I had intended concluding my diary last week; but...