Sticky wicket
Simon Barnes
IN a way, it was easier to deal with despair. There was a time when the England cricket team lost every match, and generally did so disastrously. We became `routined' to it, as Proust's maidservant would have said. We knew that once Michael Atherton was out, everyone else would follow, bolting into the hutch as if a ferret were after them.
And we knew that the bowling attack would falter and lose heart. would make excellent starts but never go for the jugular. We became used to teams setting record last-wicket stands against the England bowling. It was painful, but you can get used to pain.
But things have changed. England can still be very bad but, confusingly, they can also be very good. They are still capable of disasters, but now they are capable of rescuing themselves — sometimes. They can still lose matches horrifically, but they can also win in a disconcertingly majestic fashion.
They throw in the towel, but they sometimes retake the initiative against insuperable odds. It's all very unsettling. They are about to start a Test series in New Zealand, and in their first warm-up match they contrived to nosedive to 88 for 7. However, there was a late-order revival, and the bowlers took six wickets the following day. We don't know whether to be upset about the relapse or pleased about the fightback.
Following the England cricket team is like having a dear friend in rehab. We had got used to his mad, self-destructive ways, and had long withdrawn our hopes, if not our affection. But, amazingly, he started to put his life back together again, changed his outlook, sought help (England hired a Zimbabwean coach) and started to live a normal life again.
And oh how we rejoice when it all goes well and he lives a normal day, just like every one else, and is able to deal with life and its nagging problems. We feel a deep joy when we hear that he has got up in the morning, cleaned his teeth, gone to work, didn't get rat-arsed at lunchtime, went home in the evening, watched telly. We respect the But then comes the relapse, the one-won'thurt decision that he knows and you know can lead only to disaster; to the snivelling wreck in the gutter begging for forgiveness, saying that he has learnt his lesson, really learnt it this time. We pick him up, and we know as he knows that he is lying, and we look forward to the next good day, and hope that it comes tomorrow.
This winter England have continued in exactly this vein, hopelessly losing a Test match against India and then fighting back to draw the series like a real cricket team; they then did exactly the same in the onedayers. Against New Zealand they collapsed in the one-dayers, drew level and were beaten in the last match. But they made a good fist of it, and surely that's a good sign, isn't it?
Now they march towards another Test series, and that familiar feeling of anxiety floods up again. Will we get the new selfcertain, much-counselled England? Or will we hear the monstrous crash as they tumble off the wagon once again? Watching the England cricket team has become the most anxious-making task in sport. My suggestion is that we take it one day at a time.
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