with the nothingness of the cricket developing to a high point on day 3, surely day 4 would hold something.

macgill has announced this will be his last test match. his final sally forth attempting to make his name as a hero out of the greatest heros shadow has not proved successful. there is no energy left to keep up the effort. his attempt was always quixotic but without quixote’s faith he was doomed to remain but a substitue.

umpire tief

umpire tief

pow pow pow

three out in 20 minutes

that is no mistake

umpire tief

australia fraid of fire boy

australia fraid of fire boy

when fidel start burning up to brett lee

he goes down

australia fraid of fire boy

teatime is digicel time

teatime is digicel time

digicel the bigger better network

make em play

teatime is digicel time

the antiguan buses are minivans with systems of folding seats to enable the greatest passenger mass to not only ride the bus but move on and off.

rain falls and the cricketers are dissolved then reconstituted into large undifferentiated sheets of white. they lie across the square. at times armys of men in red or yellow coats run onto the ground, dance on the covers, line up along their edge and drag them from the field. the cricketer-sheets billow, ripple, wave and flap in the wind just as they would as regular fielder-cricketers, blown by the movements of the captains arms or the blasting breezes pushed by the batsman’s blade. or like how the batsman is blown away in accordance to the particular way the umpire folds his limbs. the red and yellow army of dancers know how to fold too. they crease the cricketers up into tight packages. the rain falls again and they unfold the cricketers easily and pull them back out onto the ground.

its not so long before the rain stops and the sun shines but the cutting and folding necessary to return the sheets to their earlier forms – bowlers batsman fielders – each individual article able to fold itself in the particular ways necessary for it deliver a unique ball, play in the v, or collect a rolling ball – this folding takes time

sir viv world has poor drainage. it didnt work during the world cup. it was fixed. or wasn’t. either way its still not working. the way the flows of water are folded has not been properly considered, leaves dams in the outfield. the cricketers are reconstituted long before the outfield is fit to play on – the risk of dissolution recurring is too high.

the pitch has a long time to dry out and when the windies finally recommence their innings after tea the pitch holds no demons, they bat on easily. their is no great effort to be found anywhere. the red or yellow groundsmen are the heroes of this test match – this isn’t to denigrate the cricketers. the groundsmen were truly heroic – their work not a substitute to the game but a worthy and important performance in its own right, by its own systems.

sleepiness sloppiness the windies are barely playing.

only waiting to bat i guess – its the only way to get on the scoreboard.

the chance comes late in the day, even ponting is bored of batting here and declares. theres been some rain, there may be some more.

devon smith is a wkt more than a batsman. short and wide outside off stump. for every 4 or 5 boundaries he hits he will hit one straight to gully or point, or edge to slips. he doesnt last long. mitchell johnson has him worked out and bowls short and wide of off stump.

xavier marshall on the other hand – finally the test match has something worthy of being considered a test match. holy shit the way he leaps into his cover drives, his pull shots off one leg. gordon grenidge is mentioned. the west indies are in need of a new hero. given the time to find his place and develop application this guy could be great.

antigua’s air fills everything with sleepiness. lassitude. the cricket ground is in the middle of nowhere. goats n other livestock are herded across the hinterland (carpark) to the west. it makes the stadium seem like a world unto its self. the scoreboard shows no bowling analysis. its all and only about the batting. this is sir viv world.

early jaques leaves a ball outside off stump. i have never seen a delivery in test cricket so insignificant, so close to not exisiting, to not having happened at all. jacques raised his eyes to glance briefly at the bowler as he delivered the ball, shifted his bat out of the way with the knowledge that even this effort was histrionics. he needn’t have moved. the ball passed by. the bowler had forgotten how he’d reached this point – last he recalled he was at the top of his mark. the keeper gloved it i guess.

an over or two later (what’s time anyway?) an almost indentical instance occurs with katich on strike.

nothingness develops

cricket moves slowly through the day. antiguan rum n air has everything under a spell. katich concentrates hard to stay awake. his concerted effort lasts all day and is not to be sniffed at. Jaques gets lazy early. the windies are sleepy n disinterested. wkts occur at times during the day but they come from nowhere and lead nowhere, just strange little obscure moments within the dream. there are a few bams when clarke arrives and the crease he meets the ball hard.