Outside The Line

"Hopkins, Chill Out... How Do You Know They're Booing Yooouu?"

APPLICANT'S NAME:
Outside the Line

TODAY'S DATE:
August 3rd, 2008

APPLICATION FOR THE POSITION OF:
Coach of the New Zealand Cricket Team (Black Caps)

It wouldn't be an Outside the Line entry if it wasn’t slightly too verbose, somewhat beside the point, and delivered on the nick of time, right? Well, we’re here to please. As the fourth- or fifth- most prominent New Zealand-based cricket blog, it feels almost like a duty to present at least a token application for the position. Thanks to JRod for creating the groundswell of support and interest in this nominating process.

So why Outside the Line? It seems like an odd choice, doesn’t it? Even though I’ve lived in New Zealand for the better part of four years now, I don’t think I’ve written more than a handful of posts about NZ cricket in that time. I remember there was one about Stephen Fleming’s retirement, and ode or two to Scott Styris and Brendon McC, some disparaging remarks about the Black Caps’ faceless middle order, but little beyond that.

(I don’t think I’ve even mentioned John Bracewell’s name once. Meanwhile, “Shooter McGavin” comes up at least three times in my searches.)

And that, right there, is precisely what makes OTL supremely qualified for the gig. It’s that understanding of the realities on the ground; the pragmatic air of indifference; and the ultimate acceptance of the utter irrelevance and meaninglessness of the gig itself.

Seriously, what can a new coach possibly do to improve Kiwi cricket? Will a new coach bring Shane Bond back and give him another 2-3 years in his prime? Will a new coach grant Kyle Mills an extra 10 kph of pace? Will a new coach find a way to bend the space-time continuum so that Chris Cairns’ son would be old enough to fill in the allrounder spot solely reserved for members of his family?

Let’s face it: it’s not bad coaching that has kept New Zealand from achieving any great honours in cricket… it’s bad demographics.

Take a look around this little country sometime -- by my count, it seems there are about 67 people in the entire South Island, and I’m sure at least 33 of those are out in the rain this very moment, practicing rugby line-outs on a muddy council pitch.

(A quick Wiki search tells me that New Zealand ranks 122^nd in population and 204^th in population density in the world, nestled somewhere between Ireland and Lebanon in the former rankings and Paraguay and Sudan in the latter.)

There is just no way a country like that can expect to compete with behemoths like India, especially in a sport like cricket that magnifies slight differences in talent and infrastructure. The fact that New Zealand has managed to do so damn well thus far should already be a reason to gasp in awe and celebrate. They are a team full of well-disciplined overachievers who should be encouraged to just keep on doing whatever it is they’ve been doing so far.

                                                                   *** 

So as far as matters of performance on the field, OTL wouldn’t propose any real changes. The only tweaks we could suggest are more conceptual than anything else.

• For instance, more of this is good…
  

  

  In fact, anything that accentuates the rivalry with Australia is a positive, since New Zealand will always come out as the emotional folk favourite. The plucky upstart with the sense of humour and the Pacific Island influence, battling the big, bloodless bully with all the riches from across the Tasman.

• The beige and brown combo of the uniform definitely works for retro comedy purposes, but I think I like the opportunities black provides for forming a team identity. Studies show that teams dressed in black regularly face an unconscious officiating bias in American football and hockey, leading to more fouls and penalties for aggressive behaviour being called against them during the game.
  
  Maybe New Zealand should see that as an opportunity… and come back as a bad-ass, anti-hero team, of the Oakland Raiders in the 1970s mold. Behave badly, break norms, disrupt, get suspended, banned – what’s Jesse Ryder up to these days, anyway? – and, you know, get people on their toes. Do the Haka before taking the field. Roast wild pigs in a hangi pit just outside the boundary ropes. Let the Mongrel Mob handle security at the grounds. Hand out free Chappell brother effigies to burn joyously under the crisp summer night.

• In fact, that might well be priority no. 1…
  
  Make sure no one, EVER, forgets the Underarm Incident. It should be brought up at all possible times, even when it has nothing to do with the conversation. (“Say, what horrible weather we are having today, gentle sir.” “Verily, my good man, but not nearly as black as Greg Chappell’s soul.” “Mmm, quite.”Or something like that… I was never much good at dialogue.)

• Oh, and since it’s worked out pretty well for Zimbabwe so far… guess who else has a vote at the ICC that’s up for sale to the highest bidder? That’s right, New Zealand is ready to be wooed again, and she can prove very, ahem, “accommodating” of the winning bloc of nations at the ICC, if you catch our drift. Will it be the Asian bloc? The white bloc? See, all this talk of blocs is getting her all hot and flustered already…
  
  
• For any further ideas on management, we'll just draw from those who know what they're doing...
  
  

Hey, Blame Jesus

It's funny, Dunedin probably has the highest rate of churches-per-capita in the Western world -- you can't go a single block along the main strip without seeing the phallic architectural styling of some house of worship or other -- and yet, by now, most of those stand empty, or leased out, or have been turned into bars, cafés, and nightclubs for the student population. After seeing the continuing erosion of their local influence, you'd think the damn church freaks would take a hint, huh? But no, they're still out in force, and for some reason that means I can't buy booze on a regular Friday night.

Well, if they insist on imposing their protohistoric desert morality on me, I figured I'd counteract it by spending my "Good" Friday engaging in as many godless, perverse, modern activities as I could imagine... so I proceeded to drink bad dinner-party liqueur from my friend Anna's parents' liquor cabinet, get pleasantly baked, illegally download a Sufjan Stevens album off the internet, play poker, gamble into the night, and then cap it all off by watching the dirtiest, most hardcore pornography that Red Tube has to offer. (I'm talking nasty squirting threesomes, and the like... stuff so extreme and out-there that it ceases to be erotic or stimulating, and become little more than an odd compilation of organic pistons pumping away mechanically.) Well, hey, two can play at this soul-shaping business, Mr. Christian Patriarchy, and my rites and traditions just happen to be a whole lot more fun than yours. (Plus, I don't go out and impose them on anyone else. So... who's the bad guy again?)

All of which is meant to stand as an explanation of why, by time I got up on "Holy" Saturday, I had missed most of the first day of England's last Test match against New Zealand. I woke up early enough, to be sure, but then I forgot the game was even on for a few hours. Shortly after I tuned in, the Kiwis had taken the second new ball, Kevin Pietersen proceeded to feather one outside off to McCullum, and all that was left was for the English tail to scam a few cheap runs late in the day, and for my recently-arrived German flatmate to get antsy and start asking me questions like 'Who's winning?' All in all, I barely got half a session's worth today, and not even a good half.

It becomes quite easy to overlook the smaller teams in the cricket arena -- the New Zealand's, Sri Lanka's, West Indies' of the world. Hell, I do it all the time, and I live in NZ. I guess it's because the focus of the media gaze is (naturally) centred on the bigger neighbours, while the little teams lie at the periphery of that gaze, somewhat noticeable through the wider lens, but rarely meriting their own close-up.

I'll admit the current New Zealand v. England series definitely feels quite tedious and beside the point at the moment, except for one simple fact... it's actually been spectacularly competitive and entertaining on the field. And that shouldn't even come as a surprise, really. New Zealand has a strange knack for providing some of the most objectively gripping home series in the world.

Since 2001, all major international teams have toured New Zealand at least once. Excluding games against Zimbabwe and Bangladesh, 26 Test matches have been played in that time, across 10 different series. Of the twenty-six Tests, New Zealand have won ten, lost eight, and drawn another eight. Nine out of the ten series have gone on to their final game with the ultimate series result still in question. You can't get much closer than that. Just look at the series scores... 1-1, 1-1, 2-0, 0-1, 1-1, 0-2, 1-0, 2-0, 1-1.

If all the bromides are really true, and what cricket fans around the world are in search of is "a tight contest" and "a good battle between bat and ball", they should be tearing down the doors of the ICC's headquarters and demanding that more series be hosted in New Zealand. Or at least that they make the existing ones longer than two friggin' games! (Seriously, they give Sri Lanka two-game series against New Zealand. Sri Lanka!! There is absolutely no team better suited to play New Zealand than Sri Lanka... it's a proven fact. They should be hosting massive, gladiatorial, Best-of-7, home-and-away series between those two every couple of years at least. Huge battles to the finish, going back and forth, seesawing between two fully complimentary teams, eternally competing for the unofficial title of "Cricket's Favourite Sidekick Nation.")

If X-Mas Can't Be White, At Least It Can Be Green

                         

Sometimes I wish life were as good as a Christmas story from The Onion. And sometimes it is. Or it can be, for a while. Not too long. You know, every so often. But when it does, it's great.

I'm not religious, and I don't really care much for tradition, so Christmas time should mean very little to me. It shouldn't affect my life in any way, but it does, every year. Even if I try to stay out of it. Stupid carols on PA systems. Angry 9-to-5 clerks in demeaning Santa hats. No restaurants open. Boring families, that are not my own, lubricating their passive aggression with booze and fueling it with fatty meat.

Still, when that same booze and fatty food is being offered to you for free, and (a) you're a student, (b) you're poor, it's a deal too tempting to pass on. We even had our very own delivery guy coming in to save our Christmas, at the eleventh hour (well, actually, at 4 PM, but we're speaking figuratively), so I guess I can't complain much this year.

I was hoping the good cheer would extend to Boxing Day and I could watch a few hours of cricket on TV, my first time in months. New Zealand doesn't show any games on free-to-air TV and I don't have payTV (refer to (a) and (b) above) so until I leave Dunedin in three days, all the cricket I'll be able to watch will be from sports bars, as I try my best to nurse one beer for a whole session, but always fail. Today, I didn't even make it as far as the bar. Dunedin served up one of its wet herky-jerky summer days -- where it rains at random intervals during the day, in really intense Truman Show showers that appear unexpectedly -- and I got caught in one as I made my the way home in the morning, hungover and moody. After I checked cricinfo and saw that Australia were 111-for-no-loss at lunch, I closed the browser, said fuck it, and decided to stay home instead. I'd heat up some leftovers, watch Woody Allen movies, and recent broadband downloads. Fuck the rain and fuck Australia.

After getting through Manhattan and the (excellent, by the way) series finale of Extras, I checked cricinfo again and it said Kumble destroyed the Australian middle order and almost got them all out under 300 on the first day of a Test in Australia. Huh? Then, literally -- and I mean literally, even though many people add the word 'literally' to sentences even when there's nothing literal about what it; when 'literally' is being used figuratively, as a general intensifier... here, I'm saying really literally -- I start to hear birds chirping, and water trickling down fresh leaves as it evaporates in the heat, and I open my curtains and see the biggest, most luminous rainbow this side of a Care Bears cartoon, going right across the North East Valley, from green to hill to green hill. If I was into symbolism, I bet that moment would've felt magic.

But I know too much and I've been fucked over by Australia too many times to treat that moment as more than a pleasant coincidence. I don't want to get my hopes up, as I have many times before, run giddily to the tourist grill/sports bar tomorrow afternoon and see Hayden and Jaques batting again after India collapse for 140 while Dravid remains unbeaten on 32*. That would be brutal -- and believe me, the bastards have done it before.

Yet today they've stumbled, and there's a chance. A chance for India. (And for everyone else in the world except the most pathological of flag-humping Aussie sadists.) I won't say anything about it or judge it until I catch some of the action at the bar tomorrow, because it wouldn't feel fair. I couldn't know. Sometimes you can know these things, just from watching them for a day... you know if it feels right, if the stars seem aligned, if luck is on the right side. Remember when England won the Ashes and it felt like they were going to win from the moment the Aussies stepped off the plane in Heathrow? When Australia lost an ODI to Ashraful & Rafique, and Andrew Symonds took a break from his pub crawl to show up for the game? Sometimes you just know.

Tomorrow might be such a day. And I'll check it out, come rain or come shine.

I'll Save The Crow For After The Entrees

This was me, two days ago:

New Zealand are dangerous, as always, but apart from Bond and Vettori, their bowling really is quite dreadful (any bets on Mark Gillespie's economy rate for the tournament? Can he break the dozen? I can't wait to see).

So what does Gillespie go and do the next day? Post the best bowling figures in Twenty20 history.

The Man That Almost Was

Not a good day for Stephen Fleming. First he is stripped of the Test captaincy and essentially tossed from the one-day game through the doggy-door, and then he has to watch Dan Vettori's New Zealand squad annhilate the Kenyans in the World Cup. And his retirement didn't even make it to the headline section of the cricinfo front page. (It was only a subheadline, in grey.)

I'm not sure why Fleming is being squeezed out so quickly and unceremoniously; he's always seemed like a faithful servant to the Kiwi team, and they've done reasonably well under him. I don't even see the reason why the captaincy is being taking from him -- it's not as if the team had been underperforming and needed a change of direction. On the contrary, they have played beyond their abilities for quite a while now, and a lot of of the credit for that must go to Fleming.

I was never a big fan of the man (I always found him a little too able to mask his own arrogance for my liking), but I can't deny his skills as a captain and leader. He had a sort of awareness on the cricket field, constant yet unforced, that few of his contemporaries could match. He also batted very well in hostile environments -- he was one of the best players I've ever seen facing Muralitharan's spin. (Oh and he was the absolute master of the backhanded compliment in the post-match press conference, especially after a NZ loss. I believe that's what I'll miss the most about him.)

But in the end, I think I will forever remember Stephen Fleming as a man than almost was. He coulda been a contender, see... and I think he knows it. You can see it in his eyes sometimes, as he sighs and grimaces in the field, how much he wishes he had just played for Australia. I'm sure he would sometimes daydream of hanging out in that snaking Aussie slip cordon, talking shit with Warnie and Haydos, sledging the opposition for sessions at a time. Instead, all he got was a decade of having to decide which plodding medium-pacer to bring in after seeing one of his opening bowlers getting carved up. I can't say I really blame him for leaving it all at age 34.   

Bullets From The Head (NZ v. Sri Lanka)

[Note -- I didn't actually manage to make live notes during either of the Semifinals. I did not have my notebook with me in the stadium for the NZ v Sri Lanka match, and then we overslept by half an hour and missed most of South Africa's collapse the next morning. These are all notes jotted down from memory that second night.]

NEW ZEALAND v. SRI LANKA

-- Best live moment of the day: The Over of Plays and Misses by Ross Taylor, against Malinga. After having the ball beat the bat for the first five deliveries of the 8th over, the entire crowd erupted in cheers when Taylor finally managed to block the ball on the sixth. He even raised his bat to the crowd in acknowledgment, with a look on his face (showing on the big screen) that could do nothing but say, "Yeah... I know. Completely out of my depth. No need to mention it."

-- After having eaten countless overpriced, tasteless meals on various grounds around the world, I can now officially give out the award for the Worst Food To Buy At A Stadium, Ever: spicy peppered prawns. I don't know what motivated me to buy that concoction; maybe the fact that they were a little cheaper than the Escoveitch fish and a little more exotic than the bucket of KFC.

They come in a little plastic bag, which is itself inside a bigger paper bag with a napkin in it; a dozen or so full prawns, smeared in garlic and spicy seasoning. First you have to stick your fingers inside the greasy bag and pull out a prawn by either the head or the antennae. You then take off the head and peel the body, above the plastic bag, and throw the discards into the gap between the plastic and the paper; except sometimes they fall inside the original bag by accident and you have to fish them back out, or sometimes you miss both bags altogether and they land right on your shoe.

But that's if you manage to peel the damn things in the first place. Since the prawns are so old and stale, the shells were soft, sticky, and impossible to remove. The meat was flaky and yellow, the taste was gummy, and the thick black intestinal vein running down the back of the prawn could only give you the creeps if you stared at it for too long.

-- Sabina Park, although full enough to provide a lively atmosphere, was still not packed to capacity. For a World Cup semi-final. That is criminal. Everyone you ask about it will tell you it's all to the Indians ("the Indians" becoming a big catch-all clause for every source of negative spectator behaviour in this World Cup). The taxi driver from the airport in Kingston offered me tickets to the finals, which his cousin purportedly obtained in batches after the first round from a group of bitter Indian supporters.

Is it all the Indians’ fault? If India had gone through to the Super 8s and to the semis, would we have had some full stadiums? I doubt it. It seems like interest for the event was low across the board, and India's (and Pakistan's) early departure only exacerbated the problem. For the lack of original interest, you can blame the ICC and the organising committee. Because I can't think of any other reason why people would have no interest in attending an important international tournament in a place of such beauty and tranquility as the Caribbean.

Who Can Step On The Giant's Shoelaces? (NZ)

Is it time to wake up and pour the coffee yet? Are the final stages finally upon us? It has been quite a wait, no one can deny that, but we might finally get to see The Dethronement. After years and years of failed hopes and shattered dreams, we might get to see someone wipe that smug smile off McGrath’s, Ponting’s, Hayden’s, and co.’s face and leave them with an awkward blip on the tail of their record.

It’s obvious that if any of the three teams left want to have a chance to win it all, they will eventually have to get through Australia, so it's important to define their chances based on their ability to hurt Australia. To beat the Dark Force, it usually requires a full effort from the entire squad, with a certain number of necessary components and qualities:

The Money -- As in, "you are so money and you don't even know it!" In other words, The Cream. The match-winners. And we're not setting the bar low for this -- we're talking "century in a final after you team collapses to 50 for 4" or "hat-trick against the run of play" . Only a select few players can raise their game to top levels in a deciding game, and at least one is needed if a team is to have any chance against Australia.

Ponting 0 [run-out <........>] -- Pretty self-explanatory. Who in the team can pluck the Spiderman catch, or induce the direct-hit that can change the complexion of a tight game? Who can end Ponting's innings before it starts?

Rattle n' Hum -- The Australians are used to dominating at all times, both on the field and in the other players' minds. If you can find a way to strike back and get under their skins somehow, rattle them, some of their players can lose focus easily and become vulnerable (see: McGrath, Glenn).

Killer-to-Filler Quotient -- In other words, how many players are there just for padding? They do not present a real threat to anyone; they are just there because there is no one else better in their country, and the rules say you need 11 players taking the field.

Mental As Anything -- Some teams have deep overriding issues hanging over them at all times -- inferiority issues, complex collective mentalities, "Choker" tags. These are often far more dangerous to a team than, say, a weak middle order, or lack of bowling power at the death.

NEW ZEALAND

The Money
After Chris Cairns' lumberjack body one day decided to just collapse into oblivion, this category has really hurt New Zealand. It's not that the talent is missing, it's that the talent has been unavailable 80% of the time. In fact, I'm surprised no one has pointed out the insane streak of good luck that has hit the Kiwis during this World Cup. How often have Bond, Styris and Oram (their three big stats-getter of the tournament) played together in the past 4 years?

Beyond that trio, however, there is not much meat in the lineup. Fleming is a committed, organised but ultimately quite pedestrian batsman. Vettori is treated with respect by most opponents, including the Australians, but it's hard to overlook the fact that, for all his intelligence, accuracy and variations in flight and speed, he's still a spinner who doesn't spin the ball.

Ponting 0 [run-out <........>]
Vincent's early withdrawal created a void in the fielding department. His replacement, Hamish Marshall, is athletic and busy and looks the part, but he hasn't passed 30 with the bat in about a year and a half, so I doubt he'll even get to play. There are some decent, safe catchers in the squad, but no one to stop the singles through his mere presence (a la Jonty, Symonds).

Rattle n' Hum
Fleming seems intellectually capable of rattling small-minded simpletons like Graeme Smith, but I doubt the Aussies will still lose too much sleep over him. New Zealand do have a history of troubling Australia on the field, but "troubling" does not necessarily equate with "beating". Take away the recent 3-0 drubbing, sans Gilchrist and Ponting, in the series prior the World Cup, and I'm sure their record against Australia is equally as poor as any other team's.

Naturally, there is an innate Trans-Tasman antagonism on which to feed here, as well is as collective subconscious acknowledgment -- from both sides -- of that undeniable low-point in the history of sport and competitive ethics, i.e. the Chappell underarm incident. (To this day, I'm amased either of the brothers can even show their faces in public without getting beaten by street mobs. They must be at the very bottom rung of the karmic ladder at the moment, slightly below most parasitic invertebrates.)

Killer-to-Filler Quotient
Wow, you want Filler? Where to start? Try "half the batting line-up". I haven't really followed it as closely as I should have, but the New Zealand top/middle order seems to be a saloon-revolving-door for nondescript, faceless right-handed batters (e.g. How, Cumming, Fulton -- could anyone identify these cats from a police line-up?). The kind of guys whose eventual claim to fame will probably be something like getting Sachin Tendulkar out once, during a 3-day Tour match, with their part-time spin.

Craig McMillan has plenty of experience to draw from, but he has seen too many down periods and has been bounced back and forth without concern for a long time, so it's hard to say what he can contribute on the day. James Franklin is an opening bowler who is in the team for his batting, and Jeetan Patel can at least say he got to a free trip to the Caribbean for his part-time work.

Mental As Anything
Their overall psychological baggage is surprisingly light. For a bottom-feeding little island with no great cricket success in its history, New Zealand seem devoid of any of the deep national scars or pathological big-game yips that some more successful Test countries have. Their problem is, and has always been, simple: they just don't have the depth. Not to go all the way in the tournament.

They're spoilers, the Kiwis -- they can topple more talented teams with grit and discipline and make it to the final stages, but they rarely have enough weapons to carry them through. Not against McGrath and the Ponting Generation. Not this time.

Flowing Stream (SL-NZ, pt. 1)

You wouldn't know it from their profiles or from the hype, but cricket's most fascinating rivalry is getting its World Cup installment today.

New Zealand and Sri Lanka have a lot in common: they are both small islands with limited talent pools, professional teams with a hard work ethic and no real douchebags to mention. Naturally, they are often outshined by their bigger, flashier neighbours, but both of them have the strange ability to always remain competitive and keep any contest interesting.

The two teams have seen a lot of each other in the past few years, most recently during Sri Lanka's tour of New Zealand late last year. The results from that tour: Drawn Test series (1-1), drawn Twenty20 series (1-1), drawn ODI series (2-2). Apart from the fact that even-game series should be banned, that just shows have evenly matched and aware of each other's abilities both teams are, and how unpredictable their matches can be.

With that in mind, what better opportunity to shake off the morning-after fog of another night of cheap rum than a nice stream-of-consciousness summary in 10-over segments:

10th Over
... The moment I turned the TV on, the Hawkeye replay of Fleming's lbw wicket was being shown. I then went to get some orange juice from the kitchen and Ross Taylor got out before they even had time to show his ODI record on the screen. New Zealand could get spanked out of the ground today -- this is the first time they've had to play quality opposition in the tournament. Are the Kiwis really in form and dangerous, or did they blow their load too early against the dregs of world cricket? We'll find out very soon ...

... Scott Styris, the man with the second highest strike rate in World Cup history and a face only a mother can love, finally gets off the mark after playing out about 7 maidens of perfect Vaas balls ...

... Farveez Maharoof, the walking barometer of Sri Lankan fortunes, comes on to bowl in the 6^th over. If the Lankans are bowling well, applying pressure, and taking wickets, Maharoof looks a tight, economical seamer who is awfully hard to get away. If the team is getting carved, he looks slow, predictable and deliciously hittable.

20th Over
... Judging from his posture, I'd say Chaminda Vaas went to the same pediatrician as Forrest Gump. You could rest a champagne pyramid on that back ...

... Wicket off a no-ball for Maharoof. That surely won't affect him mentally, right? ...

... Wrong. He then gets hit for two consecutive fours by Styris. Sangakkara doesn't mess around after that. He just dons the helmet, stands up to the stumps and cramps the batters into slowing down. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried it with Malinga bowling one of these days. …

... Further proof that not even Kryptonite can stop Sangakkara at the moment: he was standing up to the stumps (what else?) to Vaas, and he caught a sweep off the face of Styris' bat with his balls. That's right, with his testicles. Asad Rauf, with the vacant visage of a man with nothing but tumbleweeds and lbw decisions in his mind, gave it not out. ...

30th Over
... Craig McMillan coming in at no. 5 to stave off a top-order collapse? Is it 1999 again, or something? What's next, get Chris Harris to open the bowling with Shane Bond? ...

... The Mid-Life Crisis Pair are at the crease right now. I don't know if they consulted each other on the matter, but Oram and Styris have the same ridiculous set of blonde highlights in their hair, which go great with their budding laugh lines and crow's feet on their faces. ...

... Where would NZ be without Scott Styris? He has only gotten out once during the whole World Cup, and today he's the lone reason why the Kiwis weren't skittled out for 70. I don't where they found the guy, I don't know what he was doing for those 11 years of professional cricket before he joined the national team, but he's now a genuine match-winning batsman and the most complete player in that team since Chris Cairns. ...

40th Over
... The trademark SLankan strangulation by spin has begun, and is already reaping benefits. McCullum complains about his dismissal, claiming he never hit a ball that went straight to bat-pad. Too bad the umpire actually gave it out lbw, Mr. McC. ...

... How the hell did New Zealand manage to get itself two 9-foot-tall freaks in their lineup? You could probably fit three whole Sri Lankans into Fulton's left sock and another three into Oram’s protective box.

... Is it that hard to get someone who actually knows how to bowl for local TV ads? As is to be imagined, the cricket theme is being used for a lot of ads here in Tobago around this time. The problem is that they've chosen actors who have obviously never played cricket, so you get egregious throws off five-pace run-ups, clonked off the front foot with awkward tennis shots. Hell, couldn’t they just have asked Sherwin Campbell or Ricardo Powell to play a few strokes in front of the cameras for them? I’m sure they need the work. ...

50th Over
... Dilshan bowls a maiden to James Franklin in the 46th over. Fuck 1999; are we back to 1979? ...

... A commentator's wet dream of a century by Styris: he came in under pressure, started slowly and looked shaky, could have been out a couple of times; but he dug in, worked the ball around, was there for the close, and ended the innings with a flourish after scoring more than half his team's runs. As far as degree of difficulty, I'd say that was easily the best hundred of the tournament so far. ...

New Zealand did well to post a score, let alone a competitive one. It still doesn't seem like it will be enough, though, unless Bond can get Jayasuriya (and a few others) out early. Even so, games between these two teams usually manage to become thrilling no matter what, so who knows what can happen?

Big Shot Scott

One of the more unheralded stories of this World Cup has been Scott Styris' sudden elevation into the upper echelon of international match-winners in one-day cricket. Look at some of his all-time World Cup stats -- they defy all odds and expectations: second highest batting ave., second highest strike rate (!!). Yeah, I'm picking my jaw off the floor too.

He reminds me a little of Robert Horry, the journeyman NBA power forward with the uncanny ability for signing to championship teams, sleepwalking through most of the regular season, then nailing vital shots in big Playoff games when the team need them the most.