The A to Z of 2004
From Lara's record to Freddie's fireworks, from Barry Big Pants to Butcher's whiplash, Marcus Berkmann takes a not entirely serious look back at 2004.
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A is for Antigua
I think we all knew. England had won the first three Tests by substantial margins. Brian Lara had barely scored a run all series. His captaincy had been alternately vilified, mocked and torn into tiny shreds. Even his close relatives probably wanted him sacked. And yet, on the eve of the fourth Test, many cricket fans around the world had a feeling that something special was going to happen. One, the series was dead, so nothing was at stake. Two, the wicket was so flat Ronnie O'Sullivan could have hit a century break on it. Three, Graham Thorpe and Darrell Hair were in attendance, as they had been 10 years earlier, and both of them were made for suffering. What they, and we, witnessed was an innings of superhuman determination by a batting genius who wanted his record back. One man against his critics, against posterity, against Steve Harmison. Let's hope he retires before England tour there again.
B is for Bangladesh
Still on the terrible merry-go-round, constantly travelling around the world to be thrashed by everyone. There seems to be no end to their torments. Another prominent B, Beelzebub, couldn't have dreamed up anything more cruel.
C is for Coaches, Australian
They're everywhere: men with strong opinions and sometimes flipcharts. We have Rodney Marsh, who is the best, and Troy Cooley, who is "the Tasmanian with the porn-star name", according to the editor of this magazine. But everyone else seems to have one as well. In appointing Ray Jennings to replace Eric Simons as South African national coach, the United Cricket Board has ... not chosen an Australian. The world holds its breath.
D is for Dravid
Michael Henderson is right. The man is a marvel. Everyone talks about the strength of the current Indian line-up, but the backbone is Rahul Dravid. When he fails, as he did in the recent series against Australia (167 at 27.83), the Indians are swept aside. When he succeeds, which is all the rest of the time, they look a team of genuine substance. Quietly and admirably he has become the pre-eminent batsman of our time. Forget the Australians: they all have each other. For India it is always Dravid and someone else; the strength of the rest of the batting line-up is that it usually produces someone to stay with him. It is lucky for him that Sachin takes all the attention, and VVS, and Virender, and Sourav. But Rahul is the star. (Just don't give him the captaincy again.)
E is for Eggs
The year's most shocking revelation came when Glenn McGrath admitted that he likes his fried eggs positioned bang in the middle of his toast, which must be white. There must be no overhanging egg white and the toast must be cut into quarters. Leading Australian psychiatrists described this level of precision as "perfectly normal", while their British equivalents called it "barmy as a can of peas and no mistake". More comforting for British fans, though, was the knowledge that there were now two such people in the world. Previously we had thought there was only one, a notorious wicketkeeper who wore the same floppy cap every day for 20 years, ate Weetabix only if it had been soaked in milk for 12 minutes and blindfolded people who wanted to visit his house. Are there many others still at large?
F is for Freddie
England's star: the stadium-filler. My favourite Flintoff moment was actually in 2003, during a day-night match at Edgbaston. Fielding at gully he leapt to take an extraordinary one-handed catch to dismiss Jacques Kallis, and landed with a mighty clump. The earth shook and tremors were recorded in Stoke. It was the first time I had experienced the sheer wave of joy that a Flintoff moment unleashes in a large crowd. To think that only a few years ago we were talking of him as the new Botham. What, the miserable old bloke in the Sky Sports commentary box telling us how much better it was in his day? Freddie isn't the new Botham. Botham is the new Freddie (Trueman).
G is for Goodbyes
This was the year Nasser Hussain retired, in the most exhilarating way possible. This was the year Steve Waugh finally went, having dragged his average up above 50 again with typically flinty-eyed tenacity. (Compared with the effort required to achieve this, with powers failing and age telling, captaining his side to 16 consecutive Test victories must have seemed straightforward.) This was the year in which Gary Kirsten retired, with an agonising 76 off 180 balls in his final Test. And this was the year the Hon Tim Lamb left the ECB, as crowds of fans spontaneously gathered outside Lord's, tearfully begging him not to go. Rumours that he will make a comeback of sorts in the next series of I'm A Celebrity ... Get Me Out Of Here have not been confirmed.
H is for Harmy
"Best bowler in the world". Can we still quite believe it? "Best bowler in the world". What beautiful words they are. "Best bowler in the world." And what everyone is thinking is: will it last?
I is for Injuries
Poor old Mark Butcher. He had torn a thigh muscle. The injury was on the mend. Then, driving to the Surrey physiotherapist for treatment, his car was hit from behind and he suffered whiplash. Later he strained the other thigh lifting a box. And poor old Graeme Welch. He and his son were impersonating John Travolta in the car when son poked dad in the eye.
At least, that's what they said happened ...
J is for Jones
There are worse surnames to have if you want to play for England.
K is for Kolpak Players
We even have them in village cricket. In my team Rain Men we have Bella, an Australian woman with a Dutch passport and, even more importantly, cricket kit. South Africans, though, are the real prize. I have heard tell of the captain of a wandering side who, when short of players, nips down to Heathrow and holds up a card saying, "Anyone want a game of cricket today?" when the Cape Town flight lands. Apparently he has never failed to fill a team yet.
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L is for Lord Brocket
Andrew Strauss: who'd have guessed it? Myself, I think this is final proof of Duncan Fletcher's genius for identifying talent. Strauss - or `Barry Big Pants' as his Middlesex colleagues now call him - had been touted by virtually no one as an international cricketer and, when he came into the one-day side, we were all told it was a mistake. England then won the first seven Tests in which he played, and he scored 590 runs at 45.38. It's the most convincing validation of the domestic system in years, although obviously we'd like that average to be nearer 45.70 or even 45.90 ...
M is for Middle Order
Granted I have been watching cricket for only 30 years but is this not the most reassuring England middle order we have seen in that time? There may have been better individuals but I don't think there's been a more convincing unit than Butcher, Vaughan, Thorpe, Flintoff. M is also for Murphy's Law, which dictates that, now I've said that, all those four will get injured or forget which end of the bat to hold in 2005.
N is for Not Chucking
The official new name for chucking. N is also for Nipple Ring, as worn by Dermot Reeve.
O is for Oscars, Cricket's
As we didn't call them. Elevated levels of hubris were involved in the naming of the ICC's inaugural awards ceremony, especially as Wondrous Oblivion failed to pick up Best Film. Indeed, only a few months later, no one can remember who received any of the awards, even the people who received them. (Soon to be rebranded as I Can't Believe It's Not Cricket's Oscars.)
P is for Pakistan v India
Maybe marginally less gripping as a Test series than the non-aligned might have hoped but it was wonderful that it took place at all, and so harmoniously, thus highlighting what the journalist Rahul Bhattacharya called "the unique attachment between the peoples of these lands". Football has started wars in the past; cricket, it seems, may prevent them.
Q is for Quick Learners
Serious young batting talents who have adapted frighteningly fast to Test cricket. In January Dwayne Smith's unbeaten 106 in his debut in Cape Town. In May Barry Big Pants's 112 at Lord's. In August Ian Bell's 70 at The Oval. In October Michael Clarke's 151 in Bangalore. Each of them could have considerable Test careers ahead. Or they may fizzle, Frank Hayes-like, into swift obscurity.
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R is for Record Breakers
Shane Warne and Muttiah Muralitharan spent the year shadowing each other like a couple of old boxers. Every week, it seemed, one of them was creeping up on the other's record, although we know that Warne will not be around forever and Murali probably will. We almost take them for granted nowadays but it is quite conceivable that we will not see their like again in our lifetimes. ("Phew!" say all England batsmen.)
S is for Southpaws
Still scoring all the runs right-handers used to regard as theirs. S is also for Sussex, whose morning after the night before lasted nearly a year.
T is for Twenty20
As ever the ECB is about to murder the goose that laid the golden egg by expanding this wonderful competition beyond all reasonable limits. T is also for totesport League, the raddled old turkey that's still on life support. T is also for Teflon Man, otherwise known as David Morgan, re-elected unopposed as ECB chairman in September despite the endless balls-ups. Just the man we want representing the wider interests of English cricket on the world stage.
U is for Upsets
All hail the glorious unpredictability of Test cricket. That Australia should win so easily and convincingly in India, and that India should fall to pieces so utterly. That West Indies should even reach the final of the Champions Trophy, given the news from home of Hurricane Ivan - let alone win the contest with grit and style. That England should win seven Tests in a row, and 10 out of 11, and lose only one out of 17. What were the odds on that? (If you happen to know, please don't tell us.)
V is for Victory
At Edgbaston, on September 21, England beat Australia in a one-day international for the first time since 1998-99. Bask in the warm pleasure of it, and dare yourself to think the unthinkable.
W is for Wheelie Bin
Never shall we laugh at him again. Actually that's not quite true. For Ashley Giles is no longer just a joke figure. Now he is a much loved joke figure. And excellent new rhyming slang for haemorrhoids, too.
X is for X-Factor, The
Not the useless TV series but the vital importance of draws in Warwickshire's Championship victory. They may not have been the best side in the country but you can't help but admire the single-mindedness with which they pursued their game plan: score billions of runs, occasionally bowl the other side out. Remember, it could always have been worse: Surrey could have won.
Y is for Young Umpires
The recent death of Bill Alley (RIP) reminded many of us how umpires used to be a generation ago: grizzled, authoritative and, above all, getting on a bit. True, David Constant was only nine but we all understood that he was a bit of a freak. Tom Spencer, who regularly umpired Test matchesthrough the 1970s without any teeth in, seemed much more typical. More recently Dickie Bird became more popular as he grew older and ever less likely to give anyone out, while David Shepherd remains widely adored, even though most bowlers must now bowl virtually from mid-off in order to get round him. So who are all these youngsters? Simon Taufel isn't out of short trousers (although on closer inspection they turn out to be running shorts), while Billy Bowden has been entertaining crowds with his little dances and questionable lbw decisions. In other words, umpires are now younger than me. It's all very disappointing for those of us who had hoped that the future was Peter Willey.
Z is for Zombies
How does Simon Pegg see off the zombies in his horror-comedy film Shaun Of The Dead? With a cricket bat, of course. (Z is also for Zimbabwe and, not coincidentally, Zzzzzz.)
This article was first published in the January 2005 issue of The Wisden Cricketer.
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