Playful banter and jelly beans cause a flap at Trent Bridge
There's only so much self-flagellation you can take, so it was a relief to escape the woe-is-us bloodletting of the Tour de France with a trip to Trent Bridge for the second Test match against India. In contrast to the repeated revelations of cycling's iniquity, there was something decidedly wholesome about Nottingham's cricket ground. Perhaps it's because the stadium is so well designed - its modern stands manage to feel just as homely as its 19th-century pavilion, and there's none of the jostling you get at larger-capacity grounds. Perhaps it's because of the family atmosphere, with spectators self-editing their chants for good taste. Perhaps it's because Trent Bridge only sells wine in 175ml bottles, and so, at £3 a pop, getting drunk is rather an extravagance.
And yet . . . et in Arcadia ego. Cricket is no stranger to controversy, and by mid-afternoon we were in the middle of a full-blown confrontation, involving an Indian player, both umpires and the England captain. I won't spoil the surprise, but suffice it to say this was a diplomatic incident involving performance-enhancing substances being consumed on the pitch, not to mention a flagrant breach of health and safety laws.
While most sports bemoan the influence of drugs, thugs and bungs, cricket usually gets its knickers in a twist about other things, such as a dodgy lbw decision, or a bloke falling out of a pedalo. Last year Pakistan forfeited an entire Test match because they felt their honour had been impugned, in a gesture that managed to be both admirable and utterly laughable at the same time. Maybe because it's a game stretched over such epic time frames, cricket has always refused a sense of perspective. A decade ago it was captains causing uproar because they hadn't shaved, and stewards refusing to let you into pavilions without a blazer or a penis. (Happily, they've modernised, and now you just need the blazer.) Today, it's pompous Tannoy announcements at the start of every session, reminding spectators that any intrusion into the playing area carries a £1,000 fine and possible prosecution - a point re-emphasised by the security men who stand guard around the wicket, their black suits and earpieces suggesting that any violation will be met with a loaded .38 pressed to your neck.
Anyway, back to the incident. Towards the end of a beautiful day, Zaheer Khan, one of India's less competent batsmen, made his way to the crease. He asked for his mark, faced one ball, then turned and walked straight for the slip cordon, where he started shaking his bat angrily at England's Kevin Pietersen. Now, I wouldn't put it beyond Pietersen to get up someone's nose just by being there, although the papers reported the next day that Pietersen had been giving Zaheer a few unwelcome words of batting advice.
But the truth was much darker. According to Graham Gooch, the England team had been - quite openly - ingesting high-energy sugar lozenges, known on the street as jelly beans, and one of the players had left some on a good length as a little welcome present for Zaheer. Naturally shocked and offended, Zaheer remonstrated fiercely and called the umpires over to complain. One of the jelly beans was impounded as evidence. (Probably.)
By the way, a final thought on the Tour de France: why did cycling commentators sound so surprised that the Tour had hit yet another low? They need to revisit King Lear: "The worst is not/So long as we can say, 'This is the worst.'"
There's only so much self-flagellation you can take, so it was a relief to escape the woe-is-us bloodletting of the Tour de France with a trip to Trent Bridge for the second Test match against India. In contrast to the repeated revelations of cycling's iniquity, there was something decidedly wholesome about Nottingham's cricket ground. Perhaps it's because the stadium is so well designed - its modern stands manage to feel just as homely as its 19th-century pavilion, and there's none of the jostling you get at larger-capacity grounds. Perhaps it's because of the family atmosphere, with spectators self-editing their chants for good taste. Perhaps it's because Trent Bridge only sells wine in 175ml bottles, and so, at £3 a pop, getting drunk is rather an extravagance.
And yet . . . et in Arcadia ego. Cricket is no stranger to controversy, and by mid-afternoon we were in the middle of a full-blown confrontation, involving an Indian player, both umpires and the England captain. I won't spoil the surprise, but suffice it to say this was a diplomatic incident involving performance-enhancing substances being consumed on the pitch, not to mention a flagrant breach of health and safety laws.
While most sports bemoan the influence of drugs, thugs and bungs, cricket usually gets its knickers in a twist about other things, such as a dodgy lbw decision, or a bloke falling out of a pedalo. Last year Pakistan forfeited an entire Test match because they felt their honour had been impugned, in a gesture that managed to be both admirable and utterly laughable at the same time. Maybe because it's a game stretched over such epic time frames, cricket has always refused a sense of perspective. A decade ago it was captains causing uproar because they hadn't shaved, and stewards refusing to let you into pavilions without a blazer or a penis. (Happily, they've modernised, and now you just need the blazer.) Today, it's pompous Tannoy announcements at the start of every session, reminding spectators that any intrusion into the playing area carries a £1,000 fine and possible prosecution - a point re-emphasised by the security men who stand guard around the wicket, their black suits and earpieces suggesting that any violation will be met with a loaded .38 pressed to your neck.
Anyway, back to the incident. Towards the end of a beautiful day, Zaheer Khan, one of India's less competent batsmen, made his way to the crease. He asked for his mark, faced one ball, then turned and walked straight for the slip cordon, where he started shaking his bat angrily at England's Kevin Pietersen. Now, I wouldn't put it beyond Pietersen to get up someone's nose just by being there, although the papers reported the next day that Pietersen had been giving Zaheer a few unwelcome words of batting advice.
But the truth was much darker. According to Graham Gooch, the England team had been - quite openly - ingesting high-energy sugar lozenges, known on the street as jelly beans, and one of the players had left some on a good length as a little welcome present for Zaheer. Naturally shocked and offended, Zaheer remonstrated fiercely and called the umpires over to complain. One of the jelly beans was impounded as evidence. (Probably.)
By the way, a final thought on the Tour de France: why did cycling commentators sound so surprised that the Tour had hit yet another low? They need to revisit King Lear: "The worst is not/So long as we can say, 'This is the worst.'"
No comments:
Post a Comment