Day 1 – Frustration
Several months ago, we purchased four packages for the Leeds Test Match.
Normally, Headingley offer a good deal on pricing with a five day pass for £100 the norm.
Clearly, no such offer is available for the ‘Cashes!’
Our tickets were priced at £100 per day for the first three days and £90 for day four, which is the highest amount I have ever parted with for four days of cricket.
The tight – fisted Tykes even had the nerve to request a separate registration and subsequent remittance of £25 for a day five ticket, which we collectively eschewed. They do have a new stand to pay for, I suppose.
Lofty and Higgy were to accompany me over the border on Day one. Doubter of Dobcross, who normally prefers the instant gratification of one day cricket, had also astonishingly decided to go the distance with us for four days of Test cricket, although he was unable to make Day one due to a family boating excursion in Cheshire. I had sold his ticket (at face value!) to my good friend Dave Smith, a fellow Lancashire Member. We had arranged to meet Dave in Leeds on the morning of the match.
A journey to the dark side is always challenging, with a three – train connection required. Add to this, the Leeds Festival and York Races being on at the same time as the Test Match. Imagine therefore the joy of Higgy and myself on learning that our 9.30am train to Huddersfield – the first leg of the journey and where we had arranged to meet Lofty to collect our tickets – had been arbitrarily cancelled. They only run trains every hour!
We headed west instead to attempt to join a Leeds train from Stalybridge but all efforts to contact Lofty to advise him of the change of plan were to no avail. As usual, his phone was not receptive to messages or calls. As usual, it was probably switched off! Dave’s phone was working, and he must have been rather concerned and annoyed having been sat at the Headingley Station Diner munching bacon butties and awaiting our latest travel update since 9.20am.
As our train eventually passed through Huddersfield, Higgy was able to spot Lofty milling about on the Leeds bound platform and yanked him, and our precious tickets, onto the train.
Sighs of relief all round.
By the time we arrived at the cricket ground at 11.30am, Dave was there to meet us, having exhausted the grilled pig supply at the Headingley Station Diner.
However we needn’t have worried about missing any play. The day was grim, with drizzle and dark clouds scudding over. The locals attributed this to ‘Manchester weather coming over here’.
A delayed toss, which England won, and unsurprisingly inserted the Australians.
Eventually play started and, sat in the splendid seats that Lofty had obtained, we saw the majestic sum of four overs before the Umpires took the players off. Harris, the new Aussie opening bat, was unluckily dismissed by the last ball before everyone trooped off the field.
After a further delay the players took early lunch and came back for another ten overs before the next rain / bad light delay.
Khawaja was dismissed, but the annoying David Warner and Marnus Labuschagne could not be dislodged.
Some poor bowling by Woakes.
Some poor fielding by Woakes.
Two fives from buzzers.
Umpires Gaffaney and Wilson were being very pedantic with the timing of the various stoppages. Example:
“Providing there is no more rain, play will recommence at 3.40pm”
The efficient ground staff had the pitch ready for play at 3.25pm. So why lose 15 minutes under such trying conditions? HIggy and Lofty were getting rather cross, and this was reflected in their catcalls.
All very frustrating.
As the clock ticked past three in the afternoon, we had seen just fourteen overs of cricket and I was beginning to feel rather bad about charging Dave £100 for Doubters ticket.
My guilty mood was not helped by the following text message from a barge somewhere in Cheshire:
”I’m feeling guilty for the guy who took my ticket. Do you think he might want my ticket for tomorrow too?”
After an early tea and another protracted delay we did enjoy a longer final session. Warner got out to collective delight, but the stubborn Labuschagne continued to occupy the crease.
As Marnus Labuschagne is relatively unknown to me, I did a little research before writing this piece, and readers may be amazed to learn that Marnus is not a ‘pukka’ Aussie, like say Usman Khawaja. He was actually born in Klerksdorp, near Johannesburg, and travelled to Queensland at the age of ten, speaking only Afrikaans. I bet that verbal prowess really helped young Marnus through puberty in Brisbane!
Our day finally improved when Jofra Archer came alive late on. The Aussies collapsed and were bowled out for 179, Archer taking 6-45.
Job done, and Dave pronounced himself satisfied with the days play despite losing nearly half the overs to the weather and the Umpires.
A 7.30pm departure from the ground meant very little time for beer after the close.
A quick pint in the Kings Head on Huddersfield station, then a dash for the train back west.
Day 2 – Despair
We meet Lofty at Huddersfield station.
“I’ve got your messages from yesterday now Midnight!” He says. Marvellous.
What a great prospect today! The sun is out, not a cloud in the sky, and we are on our way to Leeds again to watch England pile on the runs!
Dream on, Midnight. You will in fact just be watching another of ‘those’ shit collapses.
Basically one rash T-20 type shot after another.
Stokes had to reach so far to nick the ball that got him out, he probably needed the long rest.
With the score standing on the precipice of 54 – 6 at lunch, I walked the ground in search of free Yorkshire tea and came across ECB Supremo Colin Graves showing a businessman (probably the refinance officer from Metro Bank) around the new Headingley set up.
I was most restrained.
I resisted the temptation to offer my opinion on the new 100 ball Franchise competition that will be foisted upon us all next season, the one that absolutely nobody wants except those avaricious people who stand to make lots of money out of it.
I also resisted the temptation to tell the arrogant Mr Graves what a mess he has made of the County Cricket schedule, and what a mess he will make of the current 50 over competition next season.
Keeping my emotions firmly in check, I also resisted the urge to tell Mr Graves what an absolute bag of shite England’s morning session had been.
Had I chanced upon Mr Graves during the afternoon though, I think he might well have copped a volley.
England collapsed in a heap straight after lunch with the hapless Buttler hitting the ball in the air straight to the fielder the Aussies had planted specifically for that shot. Brainless.
All out for only 67 in just 27 overs.
A disgraceful shambles that was an affront to the paying public.
Not for the first time either.
At this stage, the Ashes were disappearing faster than the Titanic, and I could imagine Daniel Gidney, the Lancashire CEO, gnashing his teeth by the TV as the prospect of a dead rubber at Old Trafford next week loomed large, together with its much reduced income from the customary ‘last minute release of super-expensive seats’.
Doubter of Dobcross, meanwhile, was assuaging his disappointment by visits to the Fever Tree Gin Stall, returning with double measures.
“How much was that then?” we innocently asked.
“Oh, it was free. I used my card.” came back the reply!
In case Mrs Doubter happens to read this, don’t fret H, they were only £10.50 each!
When the Australians batted again, a very strange malaise pervaded the ground.
The sense of despair and depression was tangible, and even when pantomime villain Warner copped a duck the crowd reaction was comparatively muted.
Too little, too late…
The afternoon and evening featured dropped catches, a ‘wicket’ off a no ball from Stokes and more rubbish bowling from Woakes.
The Aussie score continued to grow, with Labuschagne once again leading the charge, and we left the ground early in disgust.
At least this tactic allowed time for a few beers and some sustenance.
Lofty is staying in Huddersfield for the duration of the Test, and we ventured down to his Hotel near the aptly named Beast Market. His local pub, the Boy and Barrel, fitted in perfectly with the location, if the dumb animal bouncing around in the doorway as we passed by was any guide!
A super meal for four in the excellent San Vito Italian helped to soothe the pain of the day.
At least, the copious quantities of lager, wine and Calvados did.
Day 3 – Hope
Four Australian wickets were needed in double quick time for the game to have meaning, and although the first one took a while, a superb run out of Labuschagne enabled the tail to be shot out relatively cheaply.
Just the 359 required for England to record a historic victory, then.
All probability of this target being reached seemed to disappear after another disastrous start.
Burns, whose contributions appear to be on a downward trajectory, was caught in the slips.
Roy played and missed several times before being bowled by a jaffa from Cummins. He seems like a fish out of water, as Chris Squire might have said.
Bollocks!
Root and the unheralded Denly then dug in, with both recording fifties before the close until Denly’s brave resistance was broken by a lifter from Hazlewood.
Every run was cheered to the rafters by the now boisterous crowd.
Root lasted to the close and was joined by Stokes, who made an uncharacteristic 2 runs from 50 balls.
A couple of pints in the Kings Head but no evening meal tonight.
Higgy and I sought liquid refreshment instead, ordering three pints each at last orders in my local to add to the earlier count.
A stagger home, and by this time the chippy is closed, so we open some wine instead.
Whether this was in anticipation of a historic victory tomorrow or yet another entry in the long list of England let downs, we will probably never know.
Day 4 – Ecstasy
Hmmmm. A very strange atmosphere today.
For once, the trains run like clockwork and with the aid of a bus from Leeds station we are in our seats by 11am. So is everyone else.
Root and Stokes emerge and they are greeted by a roar that Russell Crowe would be proud of upon entering the Arena. As play commences, every block, dot ball, in fact every ball that does not bring a wicket, is loudly applauded. It seems to take forever for the first runs to come, then…disaster.
Root charges down the wicket to Gary Lyon and is superbly caught by the odious Warner, stationed behind the wicketkeeper.
This does not seem to intimidate the crowd, but I am simply thinking “here we go again”.
Bairstow and Stokes manage to bat out the morning with the former the main aggressor and when they leave the field for lunch there is a cacophony of cheering and applause. After they have climbed the steps up to the dressing room this just leaves the Aussies traipsing in from the field and they are loudly booed.
Higgy heads to the pub at lunch time to meet pal Craig, but for once he is back promptly – who would want to miss this? Doubter has once again been sampling the fruit of the Fever Tree, whereas I content myself with water from the hopelessly inadequate Headingley water fountains. There are longer queues at these than there are at the beer bars!
Bairstow does not seem as assured after lunch. After surviving one decision by use of DRS, he flashes outside off stump and is caught in the slips. Here we go again!
The hapless Buttler is almost immediately run out by Stokes (not Buttlers fault to be fair) for just one. Here we go again!
Woakes, the so – called all rounder, then comes in and after a couple of overs of defence, leans back to hit a full ball for four and is caught, once again by a fielder positioned for that very shot. Do England batsmen not have the ability to think?
Here we go again!
261 – 7 and nobody in the ground thinks there is any chance.
Jofra Archer comes in and after a few loudly cheered boundaries he goes to the well once too often and is caught on the boundary for 15. 286-8.
Enter Stuart Broad. At this stage I begin to nervously laugh to myself. Broad never gets any runs when England truly need them, and today is no exception. Plumb LBW for 0.
Broad must now have more ducks than a Cantonese Restaurant.
Jack Leach creeps to the crease with 73 still required. The crowd is full of gloating Australians, who are by now making lots of noise. The Ashes are lost. It is about twenty minutes past two.
At around this time, the Ginger Botham, who had been watching patiently from the other end as wickets fell, decided that the time was right for his single handed assault on Cricket Australia.
Gary Lyon comes on to clean up. A straight six. The England fans cheer, but the Aussies aren’t worried. Still loads of runs in the bank!
Another six, followed by a massive switch – hit into the Western Terrace for six more.
By now, the ground is rocking. A proper cricket audience this, not a poncy champagne flute or a dozing MCC member in sight. The Aussies are beginning to get rattled!
Incredible hit follows incredible hit and by this time the crowd are transported with delight.
With 33 runs still required, Stokes reaches his century.
“Stand up if you love Ben Stokes” rings around the arena. It’s like a football match.
Ooooh, our Antipodean friends are not enjoying this one little bit now!
Another vital moment with 17 runs required. Stokes is dropped by Marcus Harris off an admittedly difficult skier.
Incredibly with just 8 runs required and the crowd at fever pitch, Leach is hit on the pads and Tim Paine decides to use his final remaining review, despite the ball clearly pitching outside leg stump. A fateful decision, one might say. Unsuccessful. Review lost.
Another mighty heave by Stokes against Gary Lyon.
Another six!
Delirium in the crowd.
Only two required now. We can’t, can we? My heart is pumping so hard I can feel it getting ready to jump out of my chest. Doubter of Dobcross cannot watch, his head is in his hands.
Lofty and Higgy are awestruck. None of us have ever seen anything remotely like this.
A risky aborted run and oh no! Leach is miles out of his crease. An easy run out! But Gary Lyon fumbles the inward throw and Leach somehow manages to regain his ground.
You might have just dropped the Ashes, Gary, and it couldn’t happen to a nicer person.
Now, the terrible umpiring that has been a feature of this series thus far swings the match. Umpire Gaffaney has had SIX overturned decisions in this match alone!
Stokes is trapped bang in front by Gary Lyon. It looks absolutely plumb, but Umpire Wilson’s finger does not go up. My impression, and it is only that, is that he is fearful of the potential crowd reaction if Stokes is given out at this juncture. The Aussies, meanwhile, roll around the wicket in absolute torment and anguish. They have just wasted their review, and if they had retained it, Stokes would have unquestionably been given out.
God bless you, Umpire Wilson, useless though you may be.
All this time Jack Leach has not scored a single run. He looks like Andy from Accounting down the corridor. When he is given the strike for one or two balls at the most, he takes his helmet off, cleans his glasses, and does a little gardening. Cool as you like.
But then Leach does scramble a single and the scores are level. Absolute pandemonium.
Now Stokes is on strike again and sure enough the die is cast.
Wallop!!! Have some of that, convicts, as the ball disappears at a rate of knots through the covers.
ENGLAND HAVE WON!
I have a tear in my eye, and a lump in my throat that has nothing to do with the Yorkshire CC cheese burger I bought an hour earlier when Jofra holed out.
The most incredible finish I have ever seen.
The most incredible innings I have ever seen, eclipsing all the efforts by the mysterious legend known now only as KP.
Most of the crowd stay for the presentation.
Stokes gets Man of the Match of course, but the happiest man in all of England is Daniel Gidney, CEO at Old Trafford, who will now be able to bring his business brilliance fully to bear on a sell out Ashes match in ten days time.
I hope enough pies and shit lager have been ordered.
To be fair the Australians took their defeat sportingly, and all came over to Stokes at the finish to offer handshakes, but they must be absolutely gutted.
After all they didn’t do much wrong, apart from drop catches, miss easy run outs, and waste reviews in a criminal fashion.
The four of us will be heading to Old Trafford along with other Addis members so I understand.
So what changes need to be made to the England team to ensure this unexpected momentum is not thrown away?
Well, Jimmy Anderson must play if fit instead of Woakes, who currently offers little to the team.
Jason Roy is not a Test player in my view, and neither is Jos Buttler. I’d drop them both for Sibley and Pope and let the new lads bat together at the top of the order with Root in his favourite position of number four. Denly has done enough to warrant at least another Test.
On the Australian side, the twitcher will be back to bolster the batting and I firmly believe that it will not be long before he regains the Captaincy. Tim Paine seems like a nice guy, but essentially he is the price Australia are having to pay for cheating with sandpaper and I am sure he will be jettisoned at the earliest convenient opportunity.
I will never see another game of cricket like this.
Unlike Colin Blunstone, I DO believe in miracles.
We’ve just seen one!
Regards
Midnight