dk + jc = j’d’g

One of the reasons Australia waved the zeppelin on its way after all was Dizzy Gillespie’s fierce bowling. He is a fierce looking man at the best of times but today he was WEARING A HEADBAND! The ABC commentators were calling it a little bit Dennis Lillee, a little bit Jesus Christ. There’s no pictures of it available yet but I will post a link as soon as they are made available.

there would have been moments today when the Australians were wishing for a Miyazaki zeppelin to come and carry them right out of Chepauk. A bit like this. Except the dirigible should look more like this.

I know Clarkey would have been wishing for one last night when he dropped that straightforward chance off McGrath in the first over. Clarkey would have learnt a lot about test cricket from that drop. After totally conquering test cricket in his very first innings he probably felt it was all a bit of cake. Now he will have learnt there’s still a whole lot to keep learning. He will reapply himself in Australia’s second innings. It is because of this dropped chance that Australia can afford to concede a considerable lead on the first innings. Look out for Clarkey in the second innings, it should be special.

the dirt in Chepauk is orange. The pitch is big orange rectangle. When the batsmen fan it with their bats the dust that is roused up in explosive puffs turns the air orange. Even the colour of the grass, though utterly green, holds something of the value orange bears.

It is made this way by the hot wind that howls over the ground – a blown dry heat paints in orange on the Indian flag. The Indian players standing around with the word sahara emblazoned over their shirts makes the heat palpable.

Harbhajan was unplayable. The bounce he was extracting from the orange pitch was monstruous, vampiric. Every batsmen fell to an edge coming high off the shoulder of the bat or their gloves. Yet it was Kumble that got the body of the wkts. His length was impeccable. He was eminently playable and the batsmen, unable to play at the other end, were keen to try and join with his line. Kumble bowls with perfection. Precision execution of persistent science. His wkts are somewhat expected. Harbhajan is different, he exuberantly feels every wkt fill & burst his soul. On taking the wkt he enters a wild zone akin to the transformative moment dizzy gillespie experiences on dismissing the english – changing into a stalliongull, tossing his head around. I’d face Brett Lee before Harbhajan any day.

In the field, Katich’s white’s have turned orange.

I think Aamit is my favourite cricket journalist going around at the moment. Here is a link to an article that describes an energy map of the Chidambaram stadium in Chennai the day before the test, with the two teams as red masses training on alternate sides of the ground. He describes how the red turns to white and the other colours, particularly orange (remember when Australia used to be sponsored by orange and they had that fantastic orange square on their chests, just across from the coat of arms) that enter into it when the autograph hunters make their move. It’s a good one.

Aamit also has a cricket blog.

Darren Lehmann has said he may consider stepping down from the Australian team to make way for Michael Clarke upon Ponting’s return for the 3rd test. Lehmann stated his belief that Clarke should play every test for the next 10 years. It is my belief, and I know others share it, that Lehmann should also play every test for the next 10 years, right there alongside little Clarkey. I would be mighty disappointed if Lehmann walks away from the game in this manner, taking with him the fantastic battle – that is so hot right now – in the Australian batting line up. In the Chennai Test Katich, Martyn and Lehmann should all be fighting to retain their Test spots. For Martyn and Lehmann it could be their entire test careers that are at stake. And Lehmann doesn’t even want to fight it out. Its disappointing.

Fantasy Cricket team: Drop Warne and have 8 batsmen

While Australia look to the forces of death to provide them with the power to excel, India are looking to the forces of life and the will to live. India have stated their intention to overcome the death that Australia draws its power from by following the lead of cycling giant and cancer killin’ warrior Lance Armstrong.

Last time Australia were in India an Australian cricketing legend passed away on the eve of the first test. You would have expected Bradman’s death to carry such force of inspiration that it would have put the result of the series beyond doubt. But as Sachin Tendulkar noted at the time- “It really doesn’t matter where he played, it was how he played and everybody felt the death, there is no doubt about it.” History shows the Australians won the first test easily but that the Bradman inspiration then switched allegiances and India won the next two tests to clinch series victory. Perhaps Bradman’s timing was out, leaving home a little early.

Now, just prior to the 2nd test, Keith Miller has followed the Bradman strategy – but with a different sense of timing. It will be interesting to see if Miller’s passing, his gift of inspiration, is more effective than Bradman’s. Even if he can only extract the one Test win in his honour Australia will be in an unassailable position in the series. The best India could hope for would be a draw. It would be just like Keith Miller to upstage Bradman, to undermine his rigorous authority. The tribute in yesterday’s Age recounted a story in which Miller was said to have turned up at Bradman’s door, one night while on tour, in his dinnersuit (a lot of the stories about Miller seem to involve dinnersuits and tuxedos) to do his captain the courtesy of informing him that ‘I was in bed at the time of curfew [as set by Bradman] and now I am going out.’ I’m certainly barracking for the Nugget.

The hottest contest in world cricket currently has to be that between Glenn McGrath’s test runs and Glenn McGrath’s test wickets. He is currently sitting on 453 runs and 446 wkts. Surely, even though wkts are coming from behind, runs must be the underdog.

I spent the good part of saturday in the Charles Dickens Tavern on Collins St. The screen here was all washed out. The cricketers blurred across the screen, their whites stretched thin and without faces. The cricketer’s were transparent faceless ghosts, there was nothing but shadow under their hats, and an occassional glinting tooth or white of the eye. This screen brought an element of horror to the game. Harbhajan would float into the crease soundlessly flapping and spit ferocious lines at the insubstantial batsmen. The hungry figure Aakash Chopra sat virtually upon the batsmen’s necks and sprang about gathering rebounds and deflections with a delirious precision that accounted for at least 95% of all fielding done on the day. I became acutely aware of how incredibly easy it is to be dismissed and the thought was terrifying.

Later that night Ano and i found ourselves outside the Oxford Scholar on Swanston St. It was closed for a private function but through the large untinted windows we had a perfect view of a large screen with perfect contrast and colour. The segment of play we witnessed standing in the street here differed from the first segment in some sort of relation to the screens upon which the play was televised. Now the cricket was all shenanigans. The Indian batting had been destroyed but the Indian crowd was still singing and dancing. Their sadness was evident but they were partying on anyway, all sorts of makeshift banners were springing up with hilarious, good humouredly self-deprecatory couplets scribbled on them. “East or West, India are the best” from earlier in the match had been altered by squeezing a small “2nd” in between ‘the’ & ‘best’ – and was being held aloft no less proudly for it. The Australian fielders were larking about, Warney and Haydos were in competition to see who could wear the most caps on their heads at once. And we were standing in the street watching through a window. During the ads I would become uncomfortable, thinking how desperate I must seem, but each time the telecast resumed I would forget these petty concerns once more and become happily absorbed in the circus.