It’s well into spring and the pigeons are getting feisty. What first drew my attention to the swelling loins of the English pigeon was the change in its calls from Coo Coo to Brooawh Brooawh. After that, the cricket became secondary. It started out as comical. The ladies seemed to be minding their own business pecking the lawn when suddenly one of the males who had been circling the herd would single one out, peck a bit of grass beside his fancy, then launch into a spectacular mating dance net consisting of getting low and fanning out the tail feathers like this…
Then standing up tall like this…
Followed by running around in circles a couple of times while integrating both short and tall positions and fanning the tail according to the style of each male, and then crescendo-ing by having a little race across the lawn until either one or two of them fly off to destination unknown.
Bubba Gump
It all seemed so simple… but intricacies began to emerge. At first, I thought the ladies were eating something in the grass but upon closer inspection I think they were showing off their pecking abilities to the males! The males saw a pecking style that got them a bit warmed up and that’s when they came in with their Columba Livia Jig. When the race across the lawn took place, I originally thought the lady was trying to get away from a bothersome male, but I started to notice that certain pairs made along with their head bob out of synch. Then I noticed a couple race along with their head bobs in synch at which they both flew off together!! I felt I had broken the mystical code of the mating ritual of the pigeon… I felt like an intellectual, I considered that maybe I should submit my findings to a local University campus, just leave my findings on the doorstep of some avian faculty unnamed, I mused at how noble I was… then I glanced back to the cricket.
Allemande Left
Surrey was playing Hampshire. On day one passenger jets were flying over-head from east to west but on day two they were flying from south-west to north-east!? It made me feel uneasy… had air traffic control been notified? I had to let it go and assume they knew what they were doing.
Speaking of Change
I don’t like it. The County cricket equivalent in Australia was from the time it was conceived called the Sheffield Shield. The Sheffield Shield… doesn’t it just roll off the tongue? Growing up and playing as an up-and-coming cricketer it was the last stepping point to international super stardom! The Sheffield Shield… The Sheffield Shield! Then in the late 90’s they changed it to the Pura Milk Cup. Now my dreams were associated with lactose intolerance. They eventually changed it back, but I’ve never forgiven Cricket Australia for that stunt.
Hacksaw Ridge
Which brings me to The Oval. What a name! The Oval! It’s not named after the suburb it’s in, nor a famous cricketer who played there in the distant past. It hasn’t got some pompous title like Lords or some quirky abbreviation like the GABBA or the WACA… It’s just ‘The Oval’. There are thousands and thousands of ovals around the world and all but one starts with the article ‘an’. The Oval… what simplicity and strength in a title. So whatever was left of my broken heart from the Pura Milk scandal was completely obliterated when I went to watch a game of cricket at Kia Oval. Hyperbole… sure, I can hear the CEO of Kia Oval screaming like Krusty the Clown “They drove a dump truck full of money to my house… I’m not made of stone!”
Giblets
When I was twelve my brother gave me a can of Duff Beer. The beer company had to discontinue the label because of copywrite infringement but a few cans had escaped the brewery. When I was eighteen, I worked with a guy that collected beer cans who’d said he’d like to buy it off me and, being the young stupid boy that I was, I sold it to him. After he left with the can I looked down at the money in my hand and realised that what I had given up was worth so much more than what I’d gained. I’d gain a bit of money and lost a unique item and a keepsake from my brother. The birthplace of the Ashes, the infamous duck in Don Bradman’s last innings, the West Indies making England Grovel, the exclamation mark on the greatest test series I’ve ever seen, the 2005 Ashes series… all now associated with a car.
Here’s Tom with the weather
It was a frustrating game only highlighted by a supremely patient innings by Rory Burns. One of the down sides of limited overs cricket is its impact on long form cricket. Batter after batter strode out to the crease and after blocking two or three balls went for the big swing and got caught in the slips. It was only Burns who applied himself and slowly but surely dinked, tapped and paddled his way to a century… and it was the difference in the match.
It’s a dull score board I admit, it just happened to be the best photo of it I managed to catch. The square leg umpire seems to have had a few early touches.
Cling Film
Hampshire were bundled out for about 150. Surrey, thanks to the aforementioned innings by Burns and another chap whose name escapes me, totalled their way up to three hundred and change before Hampshire managed their way to two hundred and that was, as they say, that. I’d like to tell you more! I’d like to write about 4’s and 6’s and incredible catches but as the pregnant philosopher said whilst having contractions “It’s what It’s!”