Essex County Cricket Club; Where 2016 didn't feel cursed

Embed from Getty Images

Chelmsford, April the 10^th 2016, an 11am start. Essex without a front line spinner at the ground most recently famed for green pitches and Jesse Ryder-inspired collapses. For the first time away captain’s were given the option to bowl first without contesting the toss, surely Gareth Roderick would bowl first..? Nope.

The toss was contested; Gloucestershire won it and took first use. Despite the lack of an Essex twirler, we were about to find out just how much the new toss rule was going to shape the Division Two title challenge of Ryan Ten Doeschate’s nearly men.

262 all out, and the early wicket of Nick Browne before the close, looked to represent a reasonable effort on the first day at the ECG, where first innings runs have been at a premium for some time. However the England captain, and the man Essex members are adamant should be playing alongside him with the Three Lions on his chest, Tom Westley, had other ideas. A century apiece and a lead of more than a hundred, maybe the ECB directives have reached CM2, I wondered aloud…

Embed from Getty Images

Before lunch on the final day the West Countrymen were heading back to Bristol on the wrong end of a 10-wicket defeat with Essex only one short of a maximum-points win, and the tone was set.

So adept at finishing third when the top two were being promoted, something changed in 2016, however loudly the Essex members could be heard predicting a tunnel at the end of the light.

There was of course still time in a 16-game season to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, providing Gloucestershire with their revenge in Cheltenham in July, but with only one team going up, Essex were far too good for their division two rivals.

Whether it was the end of Paul Grayson’s frequently promising, but then ultimately frustrating, tenure that had overseen eight trophy-less seasons since the day Grant Flower led them to Friends Provident Trophy success on the day that Usain Bolt announced himself to the World in 2008, or the new toss rule, something changed Essex’s approach. With the change in approach came a dramatic change of fortune.

For years the East-Coast County decided the way forward was low scoring games on devilish pitches to encourage David Masters and Ryder to put the ball on a length where the surface did the rest. This led to hugely important tosses and batting bonus points being as sporadic as an Alastair Cook six.

After the 385 posted against Gloucestershire, Essex added 441/8, 537/7, 268, 569, 358, 601/5 and 319 in the first innings’ of their remaining home games, belying their reputation for flaky batting displays and creating seamer-friendly surfaces.

Westley, Ten Doeschate and Browne all passed 1000 runs and Cook averaged nearly 92 in the seven games he played, and the bowling attack still thrived despite having the work harder for their wickets.

Graham Napier signed off his one-club county career with a personal best 63-wicket haul, with Jamie Porter taking 55 and David Masters adding 40 as the curtain came down on his career too.

Embed from Getty Images

Spin only accounted for 13 opposition wickets, so it could be argued that Essex’s new approach still ignored the directive of encouraging the production of international-class spin bowling, but having been so unorthodox in finding ways to not get promoted or challenge for one-day glory, it would’ve been very un-Essex to achieve success in the way expected.

Anybody wondering if this was a new leaf being turned over will continue to wonder though as two quarterfinal exists in the one-day competitions meant an extension of what has become a dreadful record in knockout matches, both home and away.

That continued state of wonder, along with the sprinkling of success, some interesting overseas acquisitions in the shape of Neil Wagner and Mohammed Amir, and the prospect of more things to moan and cheer about make 2017 look like an unmissable year at Fortress Chelmsford.

The half-yard, football’s most fabled of distances

Embed from Getty Images

Sergio Aguero making himself half a yard for a shot

Like many other facets of British culture, football in this country belongs to a pre-metric era. Alcohol consumed pre-match is measured in pints and speculative efforts on the pitch are measured in yards. Even once you get your head around the pitch being split into yardages rather than metres, there are 0.9144 of the latter in the former, there is the uniquely football term, the half-yard to contend with. 

It should be no surprise that a sport in which the 6-yard line and the 18-yard box figure prominently needs a smaller yard-based way to distinguish things that occur. Unlike Fight Club, the main rule when discussing the half-yard would appear to be always talk about the half-yard, however spurious the reference. 

The highest space-based compliment one can pay a striker is to say they only need half a yard of space. Whether they are known for creating that half-yard by shifting the ball or finding it with some clever movement is really not important, it’s simply that giving them said half a yard is almost certainly disastrous for your goals against tally.

At the other end of the scale, one of the most common criticisms of struggling teams or individuals is that they look half a yard off the pace. This can frankly mean anything from their opponents beating them to second balls or that their closing down has been dreadful or that simply they’ve been a bit rubbish and are either losing, or ought to be.

The offside rule, and the dubious attempts of officials at enforcing it, are often the most controversial incidents in football matches, and the half-yard is key to analysing them. Strikers can go too early and end up half a yard offside or just lose concentration at which point they tend to drift half a yard beyond the last defender.

So deeply has the half-yard platitude become ingrained within football culture, when Niall Quinn spotted a player drift offside, he was so determined to suggest it might be an issue of half-yards, that he declared the player should’ve looked across the line and stayed a half-yard onside. 

Quinn can probably be forgiven for that mistake, you only need to be level rather than behind the last defender, because of the way half-yards are measured in football. Namely that they aren’t.

Any shots that fly just wide are half a yard away from glory, players whose legs have aged lose half a yard of pace and cheeky fullbacks tend to sneak half a yard up the touchline when taking throw-ins. 

For the avoidance of any doubt, if you find yourself chatting away about a football match and have nothing else to say, if you spot someone doing virtually anything, comment about the half-yard implications and you’ll fit right in.

Alastair Cook on opinions and opinions on Alastair Cook

When, earlier this month, England captain Alastair Cook said: “Opinions are like arseholes, everyone’s got one.” I smiled at the slightly out of character response, but certainly didn’t expect to be quoting him in the near future.

It’s not my favourite turn of phrase, but seems particularly appropriate considering his use of it and the response to his refusal to enforce the follow-on at Old Trafford yesterday.

As England motored through the Pakistan batting lineup it became clear that they wouldn’t reach the target of 390 runs that would force England to bat again. Fairly early on there were whispers from pundits and the like suggesting he might not enforce it to give his bowlers a break, but there seemed to be a consensus that having rattled through the Pakstanis for only 198, they’d be fine to go again.

In the social media age everybody does have an opinion, and they speak with great authority on a range of subjects that they feel they are far more in-tune with than experts, and those employed to actually carry out decisions. I’m sure it only feels like society is getting more arrogant, because of how readily these views can be shared, but it grows tiresome.

Regularly I will hear or read people saying how stupid decision X or Y was and handing out a barrage of criticism for the person who made it, even though nobody knows for sure how it would’ve turned out if another option was taken, and crucially, that the decision was almost certainly made in good faith at the time.

Furthermore, even if the other decision had been taken, if that had gone somewhat awry, somebody else, or the same people would have criticised that too. In essence, you’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t, and you’re damn-well damned if you take too long to make a decision at all.

The perfect example of this is Alastair Cook’s decision to bat again with half the Test Match left and a 391-run lead to build on. It has been variously mocked, described as dull or defensive and most ludicrously, described as one of the most glaring instances of cowardice in cricketing history. Brilliant.

While the knives were being sharpened, a bearded member at Essex, Alastair Cook’s county, was enjoying a day at the ECG moaning about everything from the campaigning in the lead up to the EU Referendum to Ravi Bopara’s bowling changes. Despite not bothering to look at the score from the Test, bearded-gent confidently proclaimed that there would be an argument for not enforcing the follow-on, but that Cook wouldn’t have the imagination to do that.

Without even considering the physiological and pyschological elements on the decision Cook made, quite incredibly, though sadly not uniquely, the England captain has been criticised for not enforcing and for enforcing a follow-on that he chose not to enforce. All of this gives a pretty strong indictment of where we’re at as a society and the attitudes towards people in a position of any sort of authority.

…and while I think of it; the result of the Test? - England won by 330 runs with more than a day to spare. I’m starting to think Alastair Cook used the right word to describe people and their opinions.

The EU Referendum Explained

N.B. This is supposed to be funny, or at least tongue in cheek. Any similarities between characters in the story and real life is purely coincidental... Promise...

Imagine you're at a pub with 9 friends. You're sort of the leader of the group, because everyone else is crap at making decisions, you're the one that eventually decides where you're eating or drinking.

Tonight you're at the local. One of your mates, we'll call him Nigel is moaning as usual about your local, he doesn't like the staff and he thinks that the pints cost too much and that money could be better spent on the jukebox or on crisps for the whole group.

Nigel thinks you should drink elsewhere but is very vague on suggestions as to where that might be. Up until this point the consensus has been Nigel is a bit of a prat and its best to just let him get on with his moaning because you're going to stay regardless, it's your local and the status quo is fine...

On the last couple of trips you've noticed that at least one of your mates seems to be nodding in agreement with Nigel when he's moaning, alarm bells are ringing now because this bloke, we'll call him Davis, is more of a frenemy than a real mate of yours, but you know he's never really liked the pub and he has a lot of influence in the friendship group, so there could be a falling out if this pub situation isn't resolved.

In a bid to shut Davis and Nigel up, to reinforce your authority as the group's decision maker, you clear your throat and say; look lads, Nigel doesn't like the pub or its staff, Davis believes they hold too much influence over our choice of beverage and I've just renegotiated our bar tab to get the cost of a round down by a couple of quid, at least temporarily.

I think it's time we settled this once and for all, are we staying or are we moving on? Nigel and Davis haven't even suggested any alternative pubs, and you know full well the price of a round is unlikely to be cheaper elsewhere, you're confident your pals will see sense. You declare you want to stay and you're joined in that decision by your sidekick, we'll call him Creepy George.

Creepy George wants to make decisions when you stop making them in a few years and Creepy George decides to try and creep people into agreeing with you by saying that if we go to another pub he'll stop buying his round. Davis and Nigel are joined by Weird Michael.

Weird Michael has always held some weird views so it's no surprise to you he wants to leave, Weird Michael responds to fact and evidence-based arguments by weirdly saying that people are bored of experts, the weirdo.

At this point you're looking at the mates that haven't said anything yet, Beardy Jez says that he thinks we should stay, while appearing to edge towards the door, and at the same time Jacob Two Names says that he thinks we ought to leave because staying in this pub is a sign of our pessimism. At this point you, Creepy George and Beardy Jez are joined by Scottish Al and Invisible Tim who use this opportunity to remind everyone that they might not stay in this group if they don't get their way, and that they exist, respectively.

You're still confident, but this is close, you all look at Hairy Boris. He's been pretending not to listen while all this was going on, but that's Hairy Boris' game. You know full well he's said we should stay at the pub before now, and he knows you know, but that won't stop Hairy Boris.

You need Hairy Boris onside. People listen to Hairy Boris. They get hypnotised by that hair and all the words even Shakespeare rejected that tumble out of his mouth. Hairy Boris winks at you, nobody else sees it, but he winks. I think we should leave says Hairy Boris.

You've now effectively reached a point where half of you want to stay and half of you want to leave, but because Jacob Two Names is quite tall and Hairy Boris is oddly spherical they seem to have the edge, about 52% to 48%, if you will.

At this point you all start to walk VERY slowly towards to door. You mutter that you're opinion isn't taken seriously so you can't make the decisions for the group anymore, Creepy George says he'll buy a round wherever you end up after all. Beardy Jez, you're sure you saw him fist-pump, shrugs and says he couldn't do anymore.

Nobody is listening to Invisible Tim when he starts talking about it not being over yet. Divisions in the group are growing as Scottish Al says he's staying put because he didn't say he wanted to leave and he won't let the rest of us drag him out.

Hairy Boris didn't really want to leave, so doesn't know any other pubs but fancies the role of deciding where to go and makes his pitch. Unfortunately Weird Michael has suddenly decided that Hairy Boris doesn't have the capabilities to lead you to another pub and thinks he should, you're still not sure he knows if there is anywhere else open or worth a visit, just that he's never liked this pub.

Nigel doesn't like the staff, he wants to go somewhere with self-service, you're pretty sure that doesn't exist but Nigel isn't listening and Davis wants more freedom to pick what he drinks, but doesn't know of any specific pubs that will actually be serving his favourite beer.

Jacob Two Names says something posh and reassuring that reassures nobody as you all stroll out into the night coming to terms with the realisation half of you wanted to stay and the other half wanted to leave for different reasons, you don't know whether they can all be accommodated wherever you end up, just that at least half, probably more, will be disappointed.

You ring the Mrs and say, Stern Theresa, can you give us a lift? Where to, she asks... No idea, you say... Fair enough, she says.