Ashraful of it

Making your own luck

Riding your luck

We had a bit of luck

My luck is in

Strokes of luck

Cricket and fate have always sat in an intricate realtionship with each other. Which isn’t saying much as I guess fate, being one of those big cosmic concepts, kind of sits in an intricate relationship with everything, and it’s obvious that cricket, through endless series of intricacies is everything. But Mohammad Ashraful’s innings yesterday dealt deeply with such problems. The chance that he harnessed, the errant bundle of luck that he formed himself into (it wasn’t form, his was a misshapen innings to say the least). I think it was practically the first over that Ashraful faced when he lauched Brett Lee for 20 runs. A top edged six off a short ball – no control, could have gone anywhere, lucky to be alive. Caught at mid off, a wild slash making room for himself outside off stump – no ball called, dismissal stared in the face. Another top edge for six off a short ball. An awful flat bat thwack over mid-on with no timing and only just enough power to clear field and run away for 2 runs. On the last ball he actually played a good standard shot through the leg side for four. Only Lee could have bowled such an over. The luckish Ashraful had absorbed Lee’s power and and it fed the luck that he was allowing to consume him. With each delivery Ashraful intensified himself as luck. A mass of chance. Chance is perhaps a better word than luck here. I’m not even really sure if luck, as such, exists – I think cricket shows this. You can make luck, but then if you’re making it its not lucky anymore, its planned, its good play (this is why a cricketer being given not out by an umpire when they are clearly, technically, out does not trouble me – either it was part of their plan already or they will now have the chance to make something of it, which can be a very exciting prospect). Chance you take. At times, it is there for the taking. Ashraful took his chances, playing strokes of luck. Ashraful is interesting because what he actually does is bring chance with him to the crease, he doesn’t try and build a form from which to launch attacks and from there collect the vestiges of chance to ride upon. Ashraful bats backwards (he moves way outside off and plays Gillespie backwardly over leg stump). He brings chance with him to the crease, unleashes it, takes it, unleashes it, strokes of luck. And slowly settles down into something more solid. His is an acute understanding of fate. In terms of cricket shots he is all imprecision, but in terms of dealing abuses out upon fate and making luck his own (he is luck in a vaguely human form – perhaps he even looks more like luck than a human, he twitches, his head shakes) he is all precision – timing. He understands that there is a forecful element in Brett Lee’s bowling that also carries with it some chance for the batsmen who has the application to take it upon himself. Ashraful picks his moments. Chance & fate is a time thing. Ashraful is in his own time, a cosmic time, or he is the time of the cosmos, the future – he is the future of Bangladesh cricket. He needs to teach them how to find and take their chances. At the moment they are looking in all the wrong areas.

Chester-Lee-Street

The game Australia are playing is a game of extreme measure and control. In the past week a lot has been said, jokingly, in desperate search for an answer to the strange problem that had arisen, about Australia lulling the English into a false sense of security. While I don’t buy this, and don’t believe for one moment that any of last weeks shananigans were planned, it is incontestable that there was something very lulling about the way Australia went about building its innings last night. It was careful, considered and patient batting. None of the brute domination that we are used to seeing, the beligerent power. Australia are starting from degree zero, slowly working up, making minor adjustments here and there – fitting their rhythms in with the rhythms of English conditions and English wickets. The total lack of panic that they have shown, the calmness they’ve presented must be worrying to the English camp. On last night’s performance they are getting close to tuned. Once the final, fine alterations are made Australia will be playing from a base that is already practically invincible, in full command with a total understanding of the environment and the forces that it is operating with. From here, at various points in time, timed with precision, we will see them launch back into the old intimidating style of abuse we are accustomed to. A carefully plotted route of drilling and launching. It will be phenomenal to watch. Lulling, and then a sudden sharp violence. A Kitano film.

reassurance

Personally I don’t buy into the hysteria being spread by the likes of David Koch on Sunrise or in the faithless press. (The loss to Bangladesh was far from embarrassing – it was fantastic, couldn’t have been better. It was, surely, an aberration and an aberration in a truly irregular series of aberrations, but frankly it was just great). When it comes to cricket one should never let faith desert oneself with any degree of rapidity. Faith must be eroded away like a rock. The work the Australian team has put in over the last 20 years has lead to an immense form, the belief in which can not be let go of lightly. Still, I am well aware there are times when reassurance is required.

In the Epic of Gilgamesh, in the lead up to his tour of the Forest of Cedar to battle the ogre Humbaba, Gilgamesh has a series of 5 terrible nightmares – mountains rise up and fall upon him, and pin him down. On waking from each he is comforted by Enkidu who convinces him to go on and to rid himself of the fear that has been set in him. I have no doubt that Jason Dizzy Gilgamesh Gillespie’s nightmares are about to come to end, his Enkidu has been working hard and Dizzy will smite Humbaba in the neck. Dizzy will no longer be restrained by the weight of the mountain or the difficulty of moving underground, he will lead the Australian team to the usual glorious victory.

toward the furthering of our emotional education

at one level cricket is basically all about sensation – the modulations & articulations of emotion it makes you feel. Its a long time since we Australian followers or the Australian players have eperienced this dull morbid pain and the intesnity of the long face. Andrew Symonds and Dizzy Gillespie – as they have been with their haircuts – are our torch bearers in bringing this to the world. Symonds is the little boy made to sit outside at a childrens birthday party, Dizzy simply doesn’t understand why the powers of his epic legend have suddenly deserted him – there is probably the work of rival gods afoot here.

cmon bangladesh!

ah the extraordinary events keep coming! The excitement builds and builds each time Australia slump to another embarrassing defeat.

They played a strange game against Bangladesh last night. They batted like the air was too thick to make the ball move through. Maybe it was humid but Cardiff isn’t exactly tropical. At times it looked as though Bangladesh had 22 players on the field, every shot went straight to a fielder. And Bangladesh were tight, they didn’t let things slip. Still, 249 should have been plenty to defend. Australia’s bowling, though, was even stranger than their batting. Due to tiredness and the frustration that comes with trying to watch cricket when one is tired and can’t apply oneself as rigorously to the task as one would like I only managed to watch Australia’s first 12 overs. But it was plodding stuff. Gillespie seems to be almost walking in and trying to bowl a good stock ball every single ball – there’s no variation and no zip, and none of the brutal incisive heroic lines that usually accompany the legendary hair so well. It was almost as though Australia had reverted to trying to play some sort of base game, some sort of ascetic drill in which no ball must be delivered in anger or with any sort of flair. It was like they were drilling. Trying to create a base of correct action upon which they will later begin building something more audacious. Sometime in the Ashes perhaps deliveries will start to rise violently, cut, spit or move along lines that the batsmen find tenuous and diffcult to grasp. For now Australia are going through the motions of mundane production. And it can’t work for them because these players are all too rampantly great to restrict themselves to this form of impassive zero degree form. Even McGrath who is the master of mechanical reproduction of pure basic form, even his mechanics have lost spirit. A Kompressor engine without dreams and vital passionate energies doesn’t make for much of a Mercedes-Benz. It’s going to so exciting to watch Australia’s methods in trying to build their way up from this platform that they have set for themselves. Perhaps, even, they will keep building down and go underground (drilling) and then we will see cricket that we have never seen the like of before. The soil in England is soft – this is the logical place & moment for Australia to select to take their reinvention of cricket to new strata. Cricket has occupied the grass and the air, at times i think it has even occupied the oceans – now it will occupy the deep layers of the earth itself. Only one cricketer has been there before. Michael Slater was there in the previous Ashes tour of England in 2001. He inspired the move. Australia will now continue the work he began, at such a cost to his own being. They will perfect his methods (last night Ponting was batting with a method strangely similar to that used by Slater during that fateful last tour – trying to turn everything to leg). Slats will yet become the stuff of gigantor legend.