Sunday, July 21, 2013

Fw: The Idler, ednesday, July 17, 2013

 
----- Original Message -----
From: linscott
Sent: Saturday, July 20, 2013 5:21 PM
Subject: The Idler, ednesday, July 17, 2013

 

Ashes back with a bang

 

IT'S REMARKABLE the way the Ashes have today become a central part of the marketing of Test cricket between England and Australia. They have been the trophy for which the two competed in Test cricket ever since 1882.

 

There was a lot of excitement at the time, When Australia beat England for the first time at the Oval, in London, the Sporting Times ran a satirical obituary in which it described the death of English cricket, saying it would be cremated and taken to Australia.

 

When England went on a return tour to Australia, a group of women in Melbourne presented England captain Ivo Bligh with a small terracotta urn containing the ashes (reputedly) of a cricket ball.

 

From then on the Ashes became the trophy, though they remain permanently in the cricket museum of Marylebone Cricket Club, in London. Facsimiles are presented after each series.

 

But the excitement ebbed somewhat and for many years the Ashes were little more than a footnote. England/Australia regained/retained the Ashes. The technical match reports dominated.

 

But we're in the age of marketing ballyhoo and the Ashes – in the little terracotta urn - are back with a bang – the Ashes Series, the Ashes Test, Ashes excitement …

 

And if it serves the cause of Test cricket - where, let us not forget, South Africa is still at the top of the world rankings - so much the better.

 

Vitai Lampada

 

READER Mike Butcher parodies the famous poem by Henry Newbolt to capture not just the drama of the final day of the First Ashes Test between England and Australia but a controversial incident during the game as well.

 

There's a breathless hush in the Close tonight,

Ten to make and the match to win,

A bumping pitch and a blinding light,

An hour to play and the last man in.

But it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat

Or the shining steel of the victor's sword,

But his captain's hand on his shoulder smote,

"Play up and play like Stuart Broad."

 

Purest form

 

CONTROVERSY or not, that First Test was a marvellous underlining of the undeniable fact that test cricket is the highest, purest form of the game. This Test had everything – uncertainly and excitement right from the start. A Number 11 batsman scored 98 in his first Test match ever. Anything could happen, and the seemingly impossible almost did.

 

Trent Bridge was packed to capacity. Nothing can compare with this. The meddlers who want absurdities like day/night test cricket, played in pyjamas with a white ball, have had another setback. They should move on to baseball and be done with it.

 

Test cricket, in all its subtlety, is akin to chess; one-day cricket to draughts. Twenty20? Pocket billiards comes to mind.

 

 

Skinny-dip latest

 

ON MONDAY we looked at the problem of women skinny-dippers distracting men while their houses are burgled. Dave Pickford follows up with more on the incident in Tennessee that highlighted the practice.

 

"I did hear that when the police asked for a description of the culprits, the victim responded that he did not get a good look at her face."

 

Yes, it was only 20 minutes that he watched her swimming in his pool.

Peashooting drama

MEANWHILE, high drama in the English village of Witcham, in Cambridgeshire.

There the World Peashooting Championship was won by Rob Bresler.

The championship has now been running 43 years. It is something to be taken seriously. Bresler won his title using a peashooter fitted with a laser sight.

Proceeds go toward upkeep of the village hall.

Tailpiece

THIS fellow spent the entire weekend razzling with his pals. Friday night he was playing darts at the pub with them. All Saturday he was with them shooting guinea fowl. All Sunday he was with them fishing. When he got home on Sunday evening he ran into an angry confrontation with his wife.

"How would you like it if you didn't see me for two or three days?"

"I'd bear it with my customary fortitude."

Monday went by and he didn't see his wife. Tuesday and Wednesday came and went the same . On Thursday the swelling went down just enough for him to see her a little out of the corner of his left eye.

Last word

The penalty for success is to be bored by the people who used to snub you.

Nancy Astor

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