Dear Oh Dear

England have picked their squad for the West Indies.

Now, I for one wasn’t particularly clamouring for the return of Michael Vaughan, so the headline of the story isn’t the be all and end all for me. What particularly “amused”  me is this justification for not picking Vaughan…

“There’s got to be justification of why people are included in the side and since Michael’s problems last year when he gave up the captaincy there’s not been an awful lot of runs.”

Ian Bell has not had the burden of captaincy, yet has a lovely Caribbean jaunt to look forward to prepare him for the position of dragging us down when the pressure is on during the Ashes. If we are looking at runs from him, well… that’s just an optional extra for him, it seems.

As for more muddled thinking, why are we taking three spinners to the Caribbean?

Geoff Miller and Peter Moores ruling the roost. Inspiration indeed.

And Now…The End Is Near…..

Hubris.

While watching the last rites of the Dolphins v Jets game, I happened to switch over to Sky Sports 1 during an advert break to catch some of the action from the MCG. As I turned over Lord Haw Haw himself, Mark Nicholas, was in his usual hyperbolic frenzy over his adopted nation’s players; this time it was Matthew Hayden who on the basis of clumping a couple of boundaries was showing the positive spirit needed to get him out of this horrible slump he is in. The next ball he promptly blapped it straight to cover and Duminy pouched it. Mark Nicholas, showing what a cricketing whore he’s become, exclaims “OH NO!!!!!”. Any English cricket follower worth his salt wants seven shades of hell for that flat track bully, but not Haw Haw. Vic Marks describes my feelings on Hayden a lot more eloquently like than what I can… see here.

Australia are going down as quickly as Hayden’s batting average, if not as quickly as Michael Hussey’s (the 80+ average is now down below 60) and the fact is that they are powerless to do much about it. In this test they had South Africa in a noose, had the foot on the throat, and then allowed them a stay of execution with a bloke playing his second test getting a masterly 166, and Dale Steyn scoring 76 to take 192/7 to 450 odd all out. The best thing about it is that Australia, living in denial as they are,  just weren’t ready for it.

I know, I know. I said I doubted South Africa’s mental strength. The run chase in Perth exorcised a lot of demons, and coming back from this seemingly hopeless position to stand on the brink of immortality seems to prove me wrong. Maybe, when all is said and done, I’ve over-estimated Australia’s mental strength. A previous regime would have booted out Hayden long ago. What did Phil Jaques do wrong? His last test knock was 108 and he hasn’t played since! Hayden has just two half centuries since Australia Day. Then there is the enigma that is Andrew Symonds, who KP once called a great fielding allrounder. To watch the Brummie born West Indian in the field recently is to give me reminiscences of me lumbering around the outfield in my “pomp”. He’s got a bad knee, I had a big belly. The results are broadly comparable except he can catch and can throw. I’m talking nonsense. He should not be playing, is the upshot, and previous Aussie regimes would have had him fully fit before taking the field. He can’t bowl medium pace with his injury, and his batting is hit and miss at best.

The bowling was always going to be the chief problem, because you don’t replace McGrath and Drug Cheat easily. That their replacements are Siddle and Hauritz is a bit like Laurel and Hardy being replaced by the Chuckle Brothers. Brett Lee is now also complaining of injury and the side is unravelling before our eyes. To snatch a losing position from the close of play at Day 2 takes some doing. Siddle bowled well, but he’s no McGrath. Stuart Clark is missing too, and Australia must contemplate returning to the realms of the ordinary. Meanwhile South Africa’s worst fast bowler, Ntini, would walk into their team, and their first reserve, Nel, would probably get in too. Dale Steyn is living up to the promise he has threatened for a while now, and South Africa’s batting looks formidable. England go there next winter, and it’ll be interesting to see how we do.

Back to Australia, though, and one moment summed it up for me. Morne Morkel bowled a snorting bouncer to Michael Hussey which pinged him on the helmet, flew up in the air, and was caught at square leg. It never looked out, but Aleem Dar gave it. That moment Australia’s chickens came home to roost. The persistent dissent showed by drug cheat when outrageous appeals were turned down; the appealing by honest Joe Big Ears, the keeper with the game at heart, when he knew it wasn’t out; the bile emanating from Benny the Bull, the Transvestite Botherer when a 12th man run him out; the spirit of the game safe in the hands of the country that brought you the Chappells. At that moment, a horrible mistake went against them with their backs up against the wall and no McGrath or Drug Cheat to bale them out. Transvestite Botherer’s face was a picture. Aussie commentators, according to Adelaide Exile, moaned about the lack of referrals. Hussey’s luck was coming to an end, so was Australia’s. And they don’t really like it much…

The next couple of years are going to be very interesting.

They’re Back…

You really, sometimes, have to laugh at the New York Yankees. Believe me, as a Red Sox fan it can be tough to chuckle at their antics, but when you’ve been done again, there seems little option. When Dmitri Slighty Less Old rang me on Christmas Eve morning to tell me that Mark Texeira had surpised no-one in my household by signing for the New York Yankees for a top dollar contract with absolutely no get outs for the gargantuan egos from the Bronx, I chuckled to myself. Whatever happened to developing your own players, New York? Did you get bored that quickly?

The pretence is now over, and after a few years flirting around the edges, the New York Yankees have spent like a sailor on shore leave. What do we need, you could hear Hank and Hal murmur to themselves, after last season’s train wreck? The biggest free-agent pitcher – signed. Biggest in more ways than one. CC Sabathia wanted to hit, wanted to go to the West Coast, wanted to be in the NL…. oh well, the Yankees waved the biggest cheque and those desires waned… not surprising and we knew we’d have to face him again. He’ll be very good, but then again, we thought that about Randy Johnson and he did knob all for them.

Need another pitcher, so the second best free agent had to be their’s too, so they have picked up AJ Burnett on a long contract. AJ is a fine pitcher, when fit, and if some mug offered me a long-term big money deal in the face of all my medical track record, I’d gobble it up like a shot too. If he stays fit he is a great acquisition and can let them forget the humiliating build up for the likes of Philip Hughes and Ian Kennedy (Boston also built up Clay Buchholz, and yet had plans in place when he failed, unlike our friends from the Bronx who’s answer to the problems was Sidney Ponson and JtC busting his shoulder) last season. Stuff them, they are trade bait now.

And so, when Boston were being touted as the clear favourites to land Texeira, the fact the deal was not done always raised the red flags. When John Henry said Boston would not be a factor, the media thought he was bluffing. What was clear, to these eyes it seemed, is that New York had a need at first base – Giambi having taken his steroid fuelled body to pastures new – and they had cash in abundance (a new stadium, and lots of salary slashed). It always seemed a perfect fit that the best first baseman on the market would be a natural fit for them. So in they crashed, like a drunk at an auction, and outbid the highest bidder. I don’t blame Texeira for going there, but at the end of the day I do find the “I always wanted to play for the Yankees” bull nauseating. You are only there because they are paying you the most, so don’t take us all for suckers. 

It is clear that THEY are back. The AL East is now a horror zone with three play-off calibre teams on paper, and only two spots, maximum, to take. Will the Rays do it again with their young pitching staff a year older and a year wiser, and with the awesome looking David Price to add to the mix? Boston, hamstrung by health issues in the play-offs, with no Lowell and no Beckett worthy of the name, look stronger if key players stay fit, but the squad looks thin. I think we need another top pitcher, but the boys on the boards want a bat. And now the Yankees have stopped pretending that they’ll develop their own and just shopped for the most expensive goods. Should be quite a season.

They’re back all right.

Stick That Favre…..Not Fit To Lace Marino’s Boots

There’s so much to write when it comes to the Miami Dolphins 2008 Regular Season. Last night, in Giants Stadium, Miami defeated the New York Jets 24-17 to clinch the AFC East and nab a play-off spot. That I think this will mean a defeat at the hands of a very strong Baltimore Ravens team is a moot point. Miami’s turn around from circus act to high-level performers is a tribute to the coaching and management at a club that got rid of most of its aged stars, and built itself up on young, hungry talent and players with a point to prove.

 

Without doubt the best thing that happened to Miami took place on 11 July when the ego that played in the body of Brett Favre announced that he wanted to come back. Placing Green Bay in an invidious position, the Packers traded Favre to the New York Jets who believed they could move forward with the aged old crone. In so doing they had to release the frustrating Chad Pennington and Miami, in desperate need for a reasonable quarterback, let alone a good one like Pennington, steamed in. When Pennington so totally outplayed the legend that WAS Brett Favre it made me chuckle like mad. In picking up a “spectacular” player like Favre instead of a “steady” player like Pennington, the Jets imitated their sporting bedfellows in Gotham, the Yankees, in totally missing the point. Brett Favre is all about Brett Favre. The bloke threw 21 interceptions this season, for crying out loud. Sure, he lit up a couple of games with signs of old brilliance, but Favre ignored father time, and kept his sense of importance – and in the most unforgiving theatre in sports, New York City, he fell on his face.

 

Miami are being damned with faint praise – that thing about “soft schedules” is particularly funny, and yes, Miami did not have to play the Colts, the Steelers or a decent NFC team. Nor did the Jets. Miami did lose to some good teams – the Ravens, the Patriots and a first game of the season loss to the Jets, as well as a then in-form Cardinals team. The other loss, a stupid one in Houston, looked like it could have killed Miami’s dreams. However, the Phins did enough to win games – the Raiders, 49ers, Chiefs, Seahawks and Rams were beaten by small margins, but winning in Foxboro and beating the AFC West top two should not be sniffed at. The Jets blew it by being unable to win on the West Coast so don’t come crying. Other funny ones are that we were lucky Tom Brady went down – although Matt Cassel is being anointed as a superstar quarterback and the Pats went 11-5 and missed out. Karma is a bitch.

 

And Miami were 1-15 last season. The sheer scale of that train wreck was beyond comprehension (well at least until this season’s Detroit Lions laced up cleats) and with a strong leader in Parcells and an inspirational appointment of Sparano as coach, the team lost the first two games (a narrow home defeat to the then appointed “super bowl bound New York Jets) to get all us Phins fans thinking “just another year”. A win against the Patriots in Foxboro (I was in Wildwood, New Jersey that day having attended an Irish Festival) turned the season around, and Miami ended up winning 9 out of 10 to win the division. A great performance.

 

Chad Pennington is this team’s MVP. Without him Miami might have won four or five games. Miami also played very sensible football with interceptions limited to a minimum and the innovation of the Wildcat which still takes teams by surprise, although not quite as surprising as it was to the Patriots and their genius coach.

 

At the end of the day, though, it was lovely to see Chad Pennington, fired by the Jets for the corpse of Brett Favre go back to the Meadowlands and show the Jets what they chose to give up. As the New Yorkers wandered home, tails between legs, the laughter coming from South Florida must have been ringing in their ears. Thank you very much, New York.

 

Peter King, where for art thou?