One of the very striking things about watching the cricket from England is hearing the incredible noise of the crowd, and the trajectories it takes in moving away from noise and into song. Thinking back to Edgbaston, where the crowd noise was at its most pronounced, there was an exemplary moment. Langer and Clarke were building a solid partnership and things were on the improve for Australia. It was nearing the middle of the Afternoon session, the middle of the cricket day. The crowd was quiet, noises were sporadic and isolated. The crowd had no syntax. Giles came on to bowl and Langer went on the attack – nothing out of hand but the crowd sensed something. The noise built abruptly, the trajectory of the crowd-force intersected with that of the game and it suddenly stopped drifting. The crowd sensed soemthing could be about to happen. Within the space of a few balls, and without any really discernible cause, the crowd noise moved from lonely unintelligent shouts to committed song – the crowd became a unified mass, harmonised and absolutely sensible. They were singing up a wkt. It was still early in Giles’ spell when he produced one of the best balls he’s ever bowled, perfectly pitched and turning fast. Clarke hadn’t a chance. The general metaphor places a value on the crowd = to that of a 12th English player. It seems more complex than that – the crowd is more like an element of the weather. They influence atmopsheric pressure. It wouldn’t be stretching it credit the crowds with the phenomena of reverse swing that we have been seeing the English bowlers use so effectively – the crowd clearly creates the perfect atmopsheric conditions for this. It also wouldn’t be out of the realms of possibility to suggest that the crowd was is some way responsible for the rain that fell on Old Trafford giving Australia the opportunity to escape from inevitable ignominy. Immense, concentrated pockets of atmospheric intensity will always produce unforseeable and at times unwanted effects. The crowd, however passionately united in desire, however tuneful, will always be wildly producing aleatoric effects. The twelfth man provides drinks and equipment changes. Quantitively the value to the team may be similar, but the two qualities are in no way analogous.
Some enjoy silence:
“The most beautiful thing about the finish last night was the absolute silence of the Barmy Army after Harmison bowled a spectacularly easy over for a tailender to bat out. It was so quiet in the ground that you could have heard a ball take Marto’s inside edge. It is a lovely sound, the sound of a shattered Barmy Army.” From my Sydney correspondent.