A boom and a whimper

It's the beginning of the 43rd over of the third and deciding ODI between Pakistan and New Zealand, and they're currently 196 for 8. And I've reached the unwelcome but unavoidable conclusion that New Zealand probably don't deserve to win this tonight. I'm still a fan, don't get me wrong, and I do think that Brendon McCullum and Ross Taylor did a good job today - Taylor's circumspection was understandable given that he came in off two consecutive ducks in previous games, and he did get out at just about the point he would have started to accelerate the scoring rate. And, needless to say, my love for SuperDan Vettori continues to glow with the brilliance of a thousand suns, but as nice as it would be to see him rewarded for his herculean efforts with this side, New Zealand maybe need a bit of a boot up the arse to let them know they can't rely on him and one or two other players to carry them. Again, I should stress, there are a lot of positives about this team: they have an excellent bowling attack, especially as Shane Bond settles into the groove again after his long absence, and their fielding is superb.

Jonty Rhodes, eat yer bleedin' Saffie heart out.

As for their batting...yeah, not so much. McCullum, having found his form spectacularly in the last game, seems to be clinging to it like grim death, and he gave his team the best start they could have probably asked for. Which they then promptly flung away with both hands, playing as though with stalks of limp celery and displaying a bewilderment with Pakistan's admittedly effective (but hardly magical) spin attack that was frankly baffling. Pakistan's bowlers deserve full credit for their performance, but New Zealand did everything short of uprooting the stumps themselves, tying them up with a festive bow and then handing them over to the keeper to give their wickets away. Having got to 164 for the loss of just 3 thanks to McCullum's pyrotechnics and the steady presence of Aaron Redmond, New Zealand's middle and lower order collapsed to 211 all out.

The other walk of shame - back to the pavilion, for a duck, ten minutes after you left it.

Pakistan, it must be said, are just as capable as New Zealand of a catastrophic batting collapse, but 211 is only really a formidable total if you happen to be, say, Namibia playing Australia, or maybe if half your lineup are suffering from agonizing gastroenteritis brought on by dodgy room service. Making predictions in cricket is, as I've already said, a fool's game, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that Pakistan should walk this.

...or will SuperDan and his crack bowling attack pull something special out of their collective hat and amaze us all?

Maybe. I just really wanted to use this picture.

The end of an innings

A lot of other people have done this already, and have probably said all that's worth saying about the late, great David Shepherd (here's a partial list of tributes, collected by Cricinfo). His death was sudden, but not entirely unexpected (he was 68, but had been fighting lung cancer for years). He'd been out of the public eye for a long time, having stood in his final match in July of 2005 before retreating into a comfortable and richly-deserved retirement, but it was impossible to forget Shep. He was larger than life (literally as well as figuratively, although his less-than-svelte figure impeded neither his playing nor his much more high-profile umpiring career) and one of the few elite umpires who was not only known by just about everyone but universally loved. Players adored him, even if his decisions went against them; it was not uncommon to see Shep walking off the field at the end of play with a member of the fielding side accompanying him, one arm slung companionably over his shoulders, talking and laughing. Almost more importantly, he was respected; possibly more than any other umpire except the venerable Dickie Bird, who was one of his closest friends. There were never doubts about Shep's integrity.

As spectators, it was impossible not to share the love. I was far more affected than I thought I would be by his death, especially since it seems to mark the passing of an era. Some of the best-loved figures in the game have retired or, sadly, passed away, and replacements of the same calibre don't seem to be readily forthcoming. Or maybe it just feels that way. In any case, there won't be another one like Shep anytime soon. He really was that special.

David Robert 'Shep' Shepherd (27 December 1940 – 27 October 2009)

Bucking the trend, and the evolution of Boom-Boom

It's tempting, while a fairly tense match is still in progress, to try and come up with some scintillating commentary, or penetrating analysis of field settings, bowling figures, etc., or sage advice, armchair-expert style, on what the batsmen and bowlers ought to do next, as if it were that simple. Or, for that matter, that easy to implement, like flicking a switch to the 'wicket-taking' or 'one four and a few singles per over, nothing crazy' setting. So I'm going to resist the urge, and do something else - I'm going to talk about the teams.

In the world of test cricket, it's pretty easy for certain clichés to attach themselves with limpet-like tenacity to the national sides, remaining stubbornly in place long after they've ceased to be relevant. New Zealanders are meant to be boring, slightly colourless (guess no-one told Adam Parore); Pakistanis prickly and volatile (remember Sarfraz Nawaz?). The more these ridiculous cachets are belied, the happier I am, which is why the current Pakistani team gives me the warm-and-fuzzies. Their latest lineup is by far the most endearing they've fielded in ages, with one of the most appealing and charismatic captains of any side, ever. Younis Khan's bouncy effervescence and wide, disarming grin were on constant display throughout the Champions' Trophy, regardless of whether his side were winning or losing. And when they finally lost, wrenchingly, to New Zealand in the semifinals, he was the image of the gracious loser, effusive in his praise of both his own team and the opposition. When he said that he had no regrets, it was hard to doubt his sincerity.

Younis Khan wonders for the millionth time when Colgate will get the hint and drop him a sponsorship already.

If you need further proof of the new, unprecedentedly healthy attitude pervading in the Pakistani side, look no further than Shahid Afridi. The Afridi of old seemed to almost pride himself on his inconsistency - would he score a century? Flail wildly and get himself out for a duck? Run himself out, or his partner? Anything's possible with old Boom-Boom! He had seemed at one point to be priming himself to take on the role of cocky douchebag for times when Shoaib Akhtar was unavailable. But today, having just watched Brendon McCullum hit his bowling to the fence to bring up a century for which he was palpably desperate, Afridi applauded graciously as the batsman ran past him, pumping fists in a heady combination of joy and incredulous relief. The nickname has stayed, but Afridi himself has undergone a near-total metamorphosis, having contrived to make himself invaluable to the side as both batsman and bowler and embraced the additional responsibility of T20 captaincy. At post-match interviews, he beamed instead of glowering, and gabbled enthusiastically and endearingly in rapidfire broken English. His team-mates have been infected with the same spirit. After Vettori was set reeling, staggering back out of his crease by a bouncer that smacked into his helmet, he was instantly surrounded by a gaggle of concerned Pakistanis - including his IPL team-mate Shoaib Malik, who came running to give his fellow DareDevil a hug and check his hairline minutely for bleeding or bruising.

"Dude. Seriously. Duck next time, yeah?"

It's always been difficult to root for the Pakistanis - they've at varying times been mercurial, abrasive, choke-happy - but their talent and competitiveness has almost never been in doubt. It would have been a shame to see one of the most fascinating sides in the game neutered of their aggression and fire, but happily for them and for us, they've managed to add a bit of zen and a dash of smiley cuddliness to the mix without sacrificing their spirit. Good going, boys. I might be rooting for New Zealand in this particular clash, but if Pakistan do win, it couldn't happen to a nicer team.

Return of the Mac (and the Adventures of SuperDan and Guppy Two-Toes)

At the time of writing, Brendon McCullum is on 66 from 64, ably supported by Martin Guptill, who has just reached his 50. It's heartening to see McCullum, who is clearly talented, overcome the slump he's been in for what feels like forever. And he's not playing a lone hand, either - Martin 'Square-Jaw' Guptill continues to impress, making it easy to forget how flippin' young he is - the boy is 23, and has been playing international cricket for less than a year now. Also, he apparently has only 7 toes total, having lost three in an accident at the age of 13. With that little factoid plus his splendidly odd last name, he is in the running for what must be the most awesome nickname ever - 'Guppy 2-Toes.'

And now I want to see him and Daniel Vettori film a TV show. By day they play cricket with set jaw and steely intent - by night, they fight crime as the incredible duo of SuperDan and his amazing sidekick, Guppy Two-Toes. Tell me that doesn't have a ring to it.

In which an old cliché proves remarkably accurate

All right, so I may have intimated in my last post that there wasn't anything particularly stormy about a match that a lot of people were talking about using words like 'revenge' and 'explosive' before the teams had even landed in the U.A.E. This, of course, because New Zealand beat Pakistan in the semifinals of the Champions' Trophy exactly a month ago today, and the press do love a good grudge match, especially when it involves Pakistan, those tempestuous, volatile firebrands who are always ready to oblige with some kind of drama on a slow news day. Besides, as it turned out, New Zealand came close to matching them for pre-series ructions this time, countering Pakistan's resigned-then-reinstated captain with one abruptly resigned coach and a captain now juggling yet another addition to an already outsize list of responsibilities. For the record, Daniel Vettori is now national selector, 'unofficial' head coach, captain, leading spin bowler and lower-order bailer-out when his specialist batsmen implode spectacularly, which these days seems to be just about every time they play.

Meet Dan. He looks like this a lot. I imagine he is also very tired a lot. Just a guess.

And this, bearing in mind that most players can't take on, say, wicketkeeping without their batting going down the crapper, and all-rounders are practically mythical in the modern game. It seems only logical that his name lends itself so neatly to the nickname 'SuperDan.'

But when he saves the day, the glasses stay on.

In New Zealand's defense, they have a long and honourable tradition of setting low expectations and then promptly exceeding them when it really matters. Case-in-point: the Champions' Trophy, where their stellar performance almost managed to make everyone forget about the dire tour of Sri Lanka that immediately preceded it. So it was a bit of a shock, but not entirely unexpected, when Shane Bond, the reinstated prodigal son (and a legend in his own right) had the first two Pakistani batsmen caught behind for no score, followed swiftly by relative unknown Martin Guptill engineering the runout of the dangerous Mohammad Yousef off a direct hit. Pakistan's run-rate had slowed to a crawl to boot, and suddenly Younis Khan's confident assertion at the toss that his team would consider 280 a satisfactory score looked faintly ludicrous.

Silly me. I should have remembered.

My father says it constantly, and he's hardly the only one. It's said so often that it's actually incredibly easy to forget how true it is: 'In cricket, anything can happen.'

Fast-forward to the 30-over mark, and Boom-Boom Afridi was doing what he does best, which is to hit cricket balls very high and very far. When he went, miscuing an improvised paddle-type shot to Jacob Oram at short fine-leg, he had scored 70 off just 50 deliveries and kicked the floodgates wide open.

Skip ahead a bit more to the end of the innings, and Pakistan had in fact scored 287, not 280.

...yeah.

Desert Storm?

Well, not quite.

Pakistan v. New Zealand. I do have actual things to say about this match, especially since New Zealand are one of my favourite teams and their captain, Daniel Vettori, my favourite cricketer by a distance, but I'm going to save that for later. Instead, as a favour to S, who will be checking this blog out every now and then purely to ogle the pictures of the beautiful men, I will simply display a brief but comprehensive analysis of the game so far in the form of a mini photo-essay.

First blood to New Zealand: 2 Pakistani wickets taken for no runs by Kiwi paceman Shane Bond.


That's him.

One runout, orchestrated shortly afterwards by Martin 'Square-Jaw' Guptill (who looks nothing like a guppy, but that shouldn't stop his teammates making it his official nickname, because, well, come on)


That guy.

And one more taken by Daniel 'SuperDan' Vettori


...who looks like this.

Pakistan's revival was started by this man, Shahid 'Boom-Boom' Afridi:



...and with that, I think I've pandered to S enough. I hope she appreciates it.