The Oval, 5th September 2021

It happened about five o'clock, though it may have been later. Evening shadows over the grounds are a trope of cricket writing, but shadows are supposed to be of church steeples. In this case it was the mass of the huge Vauxhall End stand at The Oval. But shadows there were and, suddenly and implausibly unexpectedly, we had entered my favourite part of watching the cricket. We were sitting in, give or take, the same seats that I first watched test cricket sixteen years ago for an overcast Ashes securing day, and again, four years later where watched us actually win the Ashes themselves.

Yesterday wasn't one of those successful days for England, though - thankfully - nor was it a repeat of this test in 2007, where I watched Dravid score 12 in 96 balls and seemed to spend an hour getting each run. But it didn't matter. We were amongst cricket people, at the cricket, and very little else mattered. I'd brought a set of people who didn't know each other at all at eleven, but by the afternoon had developed their own in-jokes. To our left was a ten year old whose excitement was matched only by the sharpness of his eyesight and his understanding of the LBW rule. We didn't need the replay to tell us Jadeja was out and they had wasted a review, he'd already talked us through it. At lunch we took the admiration of the group behind us because one of us had managed to bring a large pie; after tea we managed a full cheeseboard. I personally continued my unbroken run of smuggling drinks into the ground in defiance of the absurd ban on bringing alcohol in, though the lack of effort they put into bag searching did rather demean the outcome. 

And the cricket, well, it was exactly why only test cricket really counts. I don't really think anyone was superlative, but it didn't matter. It was enthralling, while allowing time for conversation (and more drinks. There were a lot of drinks). Early England inroads made us hopeful that we'd limit India to a manageable lead before a hundred run seventh wicket partnership rather drained us of all optimism. My low case prediction of a 350 target with some big batting after tea came rather depressingly true. It was shortly after that that the shadows fell, and this time my low case predication was entirely wrong. We didn't end four wickets down at the close of play. Somehow, we avoided subsiding like, well, England, and we watched Rory Burns hold out on his home ground and Haseeb Hameed write the next lines of what will hopefully be a deeply satisfying redemption story this summer. 291 to get today with all wickets in hand is possible, if unlikely.

And we drank in the summer evening, talked novels, and watched that slow patient cricket, and - pausing briefly after the cricket itself to have a further drink - I walked home listening to the only known popular music act to entirely specialise in cricket songs singing about sleeping on the boundary.

I fully expect us to lose today, but it doesn't matter. It was marvellous, and by that I truly mean that it is a marvel. None of this should work, but it does, almost every time. I had missed the cricket far more than I realised, but no longer. Marvellous indeed.

All my Wisdens

I've read all my Wisdens! (1977, 1982, 1994, 2003, 2006-2018). Strictly speaking, I didn't read everything. There are more than 1,500 pages in a typical Wisden. For each, I pretty much read all of the Comment, Review, England team, and selected sections (i.e., Surrey) from Domestic cricket - about 300-400 pages each time, adding up somewhere between 4,500 and 6,500 pages of cricket.

Overall, it was magnificent. It wasn't really what I was expecting at all. They aren't designed to be read in such a fashion, but it worked. On a standalone basis they were even better. Some articles were simply brilliant and though obviously the quality varies, it was usually excellent. It also inspired a re-joining of Surrey which turned out very well indeed.

Here some wider reflections:

Change. I'd rather imagined that the format stayed pretty much static. I knew that early Wisdens were fairly eclectic in their source material, but I thought the approach stabilised pretty early on. Turns out that's wrong. The order and content is constantly being tinkered with. New sections get added (and the whole idea of sections - absent in 1977). Slightly unexpectedly, the logic for this change seems always be with accessibility. All the various shifts seem to be to help the casual reader (though who the casual acquirer of a Wisden can be I have no idea). A more discerning man would identify the personalities of the editor here, and even I note that much of the innovation came from Scyld Berry, since when we have had a sleek consolidation under Laurence Booth, though this year's edition took the highly radical step of introducing a new section covering domestic Twenty20 leagues.

As a result, it is actually better now. The current order puts all the articles I want to read at the front - and there are a lot more of them than there used to be. In 1977, there were only a handful and they were mostly extended obituaries and retirement pieces. This constant changing also means that a lot of new bad ideas get ditched quickly. 2003's experiment with a literal drawing of key at the start of sections to tell you what was in them has fortunately been dispensed with. Likewise, the brief interlude (2000-2003) where the cricketers of year stopped being judged on performances in the English summer alone (so that Matthew Hayden and Shaun Pollock got recognition despite neither playing in England). Good innovation tends to stick around - the new writing competition is delightful - though not always. I rather liked the test team of the year, but it only lasted a couple of years. The most obvious shift is probably with regard to women's cricket. 2018 made three women cricketers of the year; in 2006, women's cricket was literally the last thing they covered. 

In this, it parallels the changes in cricket itself. Reading a sequence really drives home the pace of change of that. This is easy to forget even having followed it closely at the time. Lots of aspects of cricket can seem unchanging (it's part of its appeal), but this really shows how untrue that is. In 2003, which I tend to see as being pretty recent, no-one understands the Duckworth-Lewis method and T20 is described as an experiment purely for laughs. The domestic scene still had three one day competitions. Some of the same players are still playing in 2018, but the ground has shifted.

Not that Wisden itself moves with such speed. As a publication, it is fundamentally retrospective. By its nature it is nostalgic. Each Almanack includes an extract from one a century ago, including in one the vignette about how many days were lost to the funeral of Edward VII. Reading it, I dread to think what will happen to the County Championship when our current monarch dies. Its writing, perhaps inevitably in articles of record, look back. Reading a succession of articles, this makes for a rather delightful experience, being transported back, not always predictably, to crickets past. In a section of those never made cricketers of the year, I stumbled on a wonderful appreciation of Jeff Thomson by Ian Chappell. Benaud's obituary in a later year was expected, but no less affecting. Retrospection is nowhere more evident in the discussion of statistics. Successive editors are highly invested in their role as custodians of stats and frequently the editor's notes contain extensive justification for the treatment of, inter alia, obscure matches involving W.G. Grace. The corrections section on more than one occasion referred to matches from the 1890s.

At times, this retrospection can tip into reaction. In fact, this happens a lot of the time, even with regard to statistics. New developments in the game are viewed with reflexive suspicion: in 2003, discussing the Duckworth-Lewis method, the editor noted 'Stats are one of the joys of cricket, but there is a place for them and it is not on the field'. Matthew Engel, as editor, frequently chuntered against various innovations even before the advent of T20. In recent years, editors have fulminated against the the failure of global governance, the decline of English participation and the destruction of traditional long form cricket for T20 and the 100 ball new abomination. They're not wrong, but I feel they may lack perspective.

Curiously, the Almanack is generally mediocre at perspective on recent activity. 2006 and 2012 are triumphant - in discussing the 2005 Ashes Wisden does not hesitate to talk about the 'greatest series'; a year later all is despair. Some of this isn't their fault of course, and some of England's performances have had a little of rollercoaster about them, but you would hope Wisden was better at recognizing it. Of course, the prediction game is difficult. For every accurate pick - Jos Buttler was schoolboy cricketer of the year in 2010 - there come ones which lack precision: in 2012, Steve Smith is mentioned for his bowling. This perspective problem is also visible in the narrowness of view in the obituaries section. Simultaneously focussing only on cricketing prowess, yet keen to be relevant, we find in 2014 an entry for Nelson Mandela which has to concentrate on his fleecing of the national team for money for a school and in 2017, Jo Cox's tragic death allows Wisden to remember her having attended some local games in he constituency. None reach the heights of Rupert Brooke's obituary, which only really talked of his 1906 schoolboy season, though at least he had one.

Finally, for me, it all highlights the difficulty of memory. There are moments of Proustian clarity when reading the reports of Test matches I have attended or followed closely. I can remember vividly following India's Laxman-led fightback against Australia in 2001 and its recollection in Wisden brought that flooding back. But there are plenty of occasions where I struggle to recall whether I was there, and only meticulous diary keeping has allowed me to cross-reference back to the actual dates. In some cases, my memories of matches are treacherous. Reading it, I could have sworn I was at the Oval for Sachin Tendulkar's final innings in the UK when he came tantalisingly close to the perfect end. My 'diary' - read: spreadsheet - confirms beyond doubt I was in Wales. As a result of this I did some checking of the c.25 days of test cricket I attended in this period. Some are completely obscure to me. Wisden brought others back. In both cases, I am very grateful I read them.

The eleven sixes of Alastair Cook

There has been, broadly appropriately, a vast outpouring of thoughts on Alastair Cook's last day of cricket. I have little to add to the general analysis, so I just want to talk about seeing him hit a six.

To appreciate how rare it was, it should be noted that in making 12,472 test runs, he has made precisely 11 sixes. almost all of the other great test accumulators have hit fifty or more (Sangakkara - his closest comparator - has exactly 51). Even Dravid made 21. Gilchrist has the record with 100. The only major run scorer who has fewer sixes is Boycott, who only managed eight. And as a proportion of runs, even he out-sixes Cook.

I saw Cook's last six, against Sri Lanka at Lord's in June 2016. One of only three in England. The only one scored in the second half of his career (this is slightly misleading, eight of those sixes came in a short period 2010-12). A freakish result.

I thought at one point that there was a book in it, on the evolution of big hitting. It would have helped that they are remarkably evenly shared - scored against all of the major test opponents save Pakistan. Regardless, I don't have time. Anyway, here is the list:

13 March 2008. vs NZ, Wellington. 60 runs (W). b. Martin
26 Feb 2009. vs WI, Bridgetown. 94 (D). b. Benn
12 March 2010. vs Bangladesh, Chittagong. 173 (W). b. Shakib Al Hasa
12 March 2010. vs Bangladesh, Chittagong. 173 (W). b. Madmudullah
15 Dec 2010. vs Australia, Perth. 32 (L). b. Harris
19 Jul 2012. vs South Africa, Oval. 115 (L). b. Steyn
2 Aug 2012. vs South Africa, Headingley. 46 (D). b. Duminy
23 Nov 2012. vs India, Mumbai. 122 (W). b. Ojha
5 Dec 2012. vs India, Kolkata. 190 (W). b. Ashwin
5 Dec 2012. vs India, Kolkata. 190 (W). b. Ashwin
9 Jun 2016. vs Sri Lanka, Lord's, 49* (D). b. Eranga

No-one will ever bat like that again.

Glory

I never really mind too much when we lose to Wales in the rugby. There are exceptions, when they deny England the grand slam (e.g., two years ago), or when it would have been just embarrassing. But I'm usually excited when Wales do well, partly because it makes A happy; partly because my grandfather was Welsh and I am technically an eighth Welsh (expect that to come to the fore if we lose to Australia); partly because it's such a big part of Welsh culture and it means so much  to them (this my favourite from the weekend); and partly because Wales is supposed to be good at rugby - no-one begrudges a fast Ferrari; no-one should celebrate a poor Welsh team.

So while I still don't quite know how we lost on Saturday, and I would much rather we won, I can't be too upset about it. I still think we threw it away, but Wales played with endeavour and bloody-mindedness that deserves reward. It was also a great match to watch. 

Controversially, I disagree on the talking points, or at least the headlines of them. I'm glad we went for the line-out in the final five minutes. The real issues are a) that we messed up the tactics of the throw, and b) far more importantly, why we were close at all. There were plenty of wasted opportunities to do well down in the Welsh half, and we casually gave away penalties in ours. That's what should attract criticism, not the call to go for the line. In fact, I'd go further and praise the mentality that went for the line. It is true that modern sport, especially in tournaments, is all about percentages, but that's a shame, not something to be celebrated. It should be about glory. We were all quick to praise Japan for the same call and the same impulse the week before, and though the press have since tried to argue that England should behave differently to Japan, I don't see why that should be so. One of the great things about sport is that the very top can behave just like everyone else in approach, this is a prime example. There's no fundamental shame in draw, but there is when a win is available. On Saturday, England (and Wales) went for glory. Wales dug in for it in the middle of the second half; we went for it at the end. I am glad they both did, though I wish the outcome had been different.

Just not cricket

After yesterday, I am longer mentioning international cricket. Unfortunately, because I've been talking about cricket for some weeks, my elder son is now fascinated. He took not coming to Lord's with a good grace (thankfully. He's far too young to be useful and be sent to get the drinks). Instead, I said I'd take him to the Oval to watch Surrey another weekend. This has three major advantages: it's cheap, down the road, and there's a chance they might actually win. I discover today it has one overwhelming disadvantage: there aren't any matches. Not one.

Preposterously, in the week that schools break up, there are now no more weekend fixtures at the Oval - for the entire rest of the year (her's the schedule). In fact, Surrey played on only one weekend day throughout all July (in Leicester). They play most weekends in August, but only one is at home (and that's in Guildford). They don't play a single weekend in September unless they reach a final or two. None of these games are at the Oval. These things aren't relevant to me yet, but that means there is not a single weekend game for the entire school holidays, even if you're working off private education holidays. In the spirit of even-handedness, the early part of the summer was better, but I am unimpressed. 

I know no-one watches county cricket, but I feel they could try a bit harder.

Love the legacy

They buried Ballesteros today; and I didn't really have time to notice, which is a shame.

I was too young to see him in his pomp, though I have of course seen the footage since. By the time I started following golf, even cursorily, in 1993, he was fading, though he had a couple of Ryder cups left and even won the odd tournament.

But he was a titan of the previous decade and a bit, and - as every obituary has made clear - one of a tiny number of sportsmen to genuinely change their sport. I don't mean in achievement: his record is impressive, but it didn't redefine the era. Nor in style, though the manner he played is still magical. But he literally changed the geography and contours of professional golf and he created one of the few major competitions in English sport where people genuinely want the Germans to win.

It's not clear exactly how he did this. He was described as being the vanguard of European golf , but a brief look at the 1979 Ryder cup suggests that although he was one of the two first non Brits to play, he and they were rubbish, and he didn't play in the thrashing in 1981. By the time the Europeans had assembled a competitive team it had a raft of Spaniards and Langer in it. But, it will always be Ballesteros who remains at the heart of those 1980s teams and he lives long in the centre of folk memory. When we won the Ryder cup back in Wales, they revealed they'd had an image of Seve in the dressing room throughout. And he was as ever-present in the speeches as he was on the course in 1997, in captaincy.

So, whether he is missed because of what he had come to represent or what he was, it's fitting that he is. Few can do what he did, and no-one else would have had so much fun doing it.

Wellington boots and suncream

I promised when I did a post on the golf, this is what I'd call it, as, on the Monday, though the sun was out, it was still boggy underfoot. Hence the need for both boots and suncream. It's been a while, so I no longer have a great deal to say about the golf, save:

• I was there
• It was ace
• We won, and it was great to watch a crowd cheer for Europe. 

What I thought I would comment on briefly is the import of it all. At one point, when it was looking at bit bleak, Andrew said to me 'of course it's not important.' Now I've always thought this too, until recently. Obviously in the grand scheme of things it isn't, but then nor is much: only footballers think sport is 'more important than life or death.' However, in public service broadcasting orthodoxy, Sport is important as it brings people (usually the country) together, so I said that. And as the day unravelled, I think it proved to be true. The people on the bus back from the course with us won't be able to attack the Germans quite as vociferously as they might have because they were discussing the merits of Martin Kaymer (though given his Monday performance, they might). 


Now, the Ryder cup is an odd infrequent event, but most sport is simple, regular and about country (or smaller units), and it generates a common passion which is hugely positive. Patriotism, or love of country, is unfashionable now, but its actually key to all our civilised impulses. Logically, there is no distinction between me funding the poor in London or Lesotho. They both need money. Yet, obviously we tend to want to support those in country. Social fragmentation is dangerous because it means people don't want to support those less fortunate because they don't feel part of the same unit. Sport helps avoid that (it can do it internationally too, like in Anna's friend's excellent cricket charity), and that is critical. 


So, sport is important, and a force for good. Apart from Association Football obviously. That is anathema.

Out for 199

To everyone's great relief, we miraculously aren't 2-1 down in the cricket in South Africa, though we probably should be, to be twice saved by the heroics of our No 11 is astonishingly fortunate(interestingly, Mr Onions has yet to be dismissed in South Africa). In our recent escape, much of the credit has been heaped on Ian Bell, for 'saving the test' and ensuring we're still in the series. Allied to his commanding century a week before, he begins to look instrumental in the series.

By most accounts, his faults are now forgiven and he is now considered to have cemented his place in the team. Yet, though a positive development, I see no reason to revise my longstanding view of his enduring frailties. Former fellow travellers are hailing his new dawn and the turning point of his career, but the evidence is mixed.



Let's look at his performance by innings:

1. 48. A classic Bell score - just threatening to do something, and falling short (See also his famous 199, also against South Africa)


2. 78. The score here is irrelevant (213 balls faced is more important), but clearly the best performance by any England batsman in this innings -

And it is the significance of this last point that is crucial. I am glad that he seems to improving; I am glad that he did well in this situation, but I don't think it's decisive evidence that he has sorted out the mental issues.

• Firstly, These are not world beating scores. He scored more in one innings (and faced more balls than his defining second innings here) in the previous test - let's not too excited. And, as far as feats of defiance go, it clearly doesn't rank close to Atherton's glorious 185*, also in South Africa. In fact, Jack Russell in that match faced more balls, and he's not a great batsman.
• Nor was the attack impregnable. SA were one bowler down on a slow pitch and with an ineffective spinner.
• As a whole, the series gives me no reason to point to a renaissance. Shit in the first test, one great innings in the second test, when Cook had done the work, and some goodish, but not stunning, scores in the third. If he'd really sorted it out, his first innings not his second would been decisive.
• Overall, averages do matter, and he's currently got a worse test average than Prior, which is astonishing. Nor should we be deceived by the occasional string of anomalous scores: for example, Mark Ramprakash has an average of 42 against Australia (Bell's, for the record, is just shy of 26), yet we know he suffers from similar problems.

I think the decisive piece of evidence is his conduct at the end. Damningly, having got England within touching distance of the draw, he bottled it. Suddenly we were 8 down; and he panicked. A genuinely tough performer would have got them through.

Now, this shouldn't be read as suggesting Ian Bell isn't a good cricketer. Clearly, he's very good; equally clearly, he's always has been technically excellent. He has done well this time and he may go on to great things. But he hasn't done enough to dispel my doubts. I hope I am wrong, I fear I am not.

It's an odd boy who doesn't like Sport

In one of their odder tracks, the Bonzos recorded a ditty where they reminisced about sport, more specifically, about the odd boy who doesn't like sport. It's an odd song that cannot quite make up its mind about whether to parody the hale and hearty public school vision of sport or the miserable child who has no desire to play. I always remember school as a time when I didn't like sport, though on calaculating reflection I appear to have done a lot of it - all badly. Then, I rather stopped doing and following it for some years at university, and was rather dismissive of those who saw it as important.


Anyway, I'd meant to do a quick sport round up, but time appears to have caught up with me. So very briefly

• I now do think it's important, and smugly spent two days at the Oval watching us win in glorious fashion, before being very hungover the following day
• I am appalled by what Harlequins have done. It's as bad as football and they should be relegated. They were underservedly not banned.
• Football appears to have started; before then end of the cricket season, and seems to be injuring both their own fans (who cares) and indeed members of the England cricket team (much more serious)

I think the reason I dislike football so much is that they appear to have missed the point. It is always meant to be a game, a game taken seriously, but a game. The serious part is the playing. And football forget that long ago. What saddens me is the rugby looks like doing it now; especially my own team. And then there is no point watching. I loved the fact last year that when Harlequins played Stade Francais, fans mingled, fun was had and everyone went back on the same train. Cheating at blood replacements isn't the beginning of the end, but in some ways it the end of the beginning and we can only hope the gutter doesn't beckon.

For to follow football, that would be anathema indeed.

Making your mind up

Not the Bucks Fizz classic Eurovision entry, but a sensible decision from the ECB on the forfeited test of 2006. While shambolic on the day, this was and remains the right decision. You cannot just sulk over this kind of thing, unless you're about twelve, in which case you have parents to step in, or a footballer, in which case you don't. And look where that's got them.

So, sanity prevails, and cricket retain a sheen of decency.

The Mighty Quin

I went to the Stoop on Saturday to watch one of the most exciting matches I have seen as Harlequins managed to win deep beyond injury time. And, though I cannot quite be seen, I was just to the right of the image above, behind the post when the final drop goal went over. It was great.

What was doubly great was also the sheer joy of having a civilised night out at a contact sport. A minor fight on the pitch aside (when gloriously, the PA played Give Peace a chance), it was done in great spirit and I watched lots of big (and by the end drunk) men cheerfully cheer Frenchmen waving their flags when they were ahead, and the French similarly gracious in defeat.

So, hurrah for middle class sport and down with Association Football.

In the name of God, go!

One of the reasons the raid by police in the Commons is so sensitive is because of the regicide, to whom this quotation is ascribed, when he purged the parliament. However, it has become a more general purpose call to urge individuals to obey a moral imperative, it was used to Chamberlain, and appears to get routinely rolled out in US politics.


Hence, I'm not going to feel too bad about using it for England's cricketers, though I'm not calling for any of our players to be fired (at least not for non-cricketing reasons, any side under pressure would always be better for losing Ian Bell)

They need to go back to India, and they have to do it at as close to full strength as possible. Some of them will be worried, especially those with young children, and that's not helped by the inevitable exaggeration by distance and ignorance. Nonetheless, they all have duty to go. When violent loonies attack in otherwise safe areas, people shouldn't back out and they shouldn't back down. Partly because those places tend to get safer through the swarming number of troops, but mostly because that's yielding.

Now, private citizens can do as they please (though I think Indian flights must be supercheap now), but these young men get paid lot of money and given adulation for playing a game for their country. And that means they have to go. It's especially important because it's cricket, India's sport, and a game that has higher standards than others. Precautions can be taken (it's probably sensible to move the Mumbai test) but if we want to make any claim for our ties to India, we need to go and send the message that we don't run scared just because it's in a foreign country, with brown people in.

The Americans bottled coming here in 2001 for the Golf - they were wrong, and we pilloried them for it. But broadly we haven't been the victim of many cancellations despite years of IRA murders. And I'm grateful, but now it's our turn. Instead we are to be treated to over ten days of shilly-shallying while they decide - would that we had a modern Keith Miller to remind them of real pressure. He would have gone.

Cromwell's quote in full. The ECB and the England management should listen, whether here or in Abu Dhabi:


You have sat here too long for any good you have been doing. Depart I say and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!

Our classical heritage

By the way, this is an Olympic post with a pretentious title. It may save time


Well, it's all been jolly exciting this time round. It's so much better when we're not rubbish. It does make me a little nervous though - there is a real risk 2012 will be a massive anticlimax. In fact, I am very worried about London. Here's my favourite stat:

• Number of post war British double gold medallists to 2004: 2
• Number of British double gold medallists 2008: 3

We may struggle to match this next time.

Quite frankly, I never really wanted them here. I rather hoped they would go to Paris, which would be near enough to get to easily, but not involve me paying for them or having hordes more people buggering up the transport. Anyway, the French also have a better track record than us in delivering public buildings, so it would have been best there (incidentally, I think everyone outside Africa has a better record than us).

Also, the our segement in the handover to us was truly awful. However, I was pleased to see Boris in full classical flow in his speech. It's about time a classical revival got a classicist to receive them.

Maybe it won't be so bad after all.

At last

I had begun to worry about him, but Ramprakash finally got his century of centuries yesterday. Thank God for that.

Sadly (and simultaneously), our current lack of national captains was also long overdue and the right choice, though there aren't many alternatives knocking around.

I've just got back from holiday, which has prevented posting. Normal service to be resumed with a bumper bibliographic posting soon.

Wimbledon

The tennis has been a source of some marital discord in our house this week. After today's marathon, Anna has come away the happier of us; and I am sulking.

I don't really know why we care. Both Federer and Nadal are very rich, already have their place in the history of the game, and in Michael Flanders' memorable phrase "are bashing the ball with the skin of a cat." - here with a slightly bizarre video. However, we did care, and I think it says something - possibly surprising - about both of us.

Anna likes - as she rather patronisingly puts it - "little Rafa" because he is endearing and quite sweet, as well as being astonishingly dogged and brilliant. She wanted him to win today because he tried so hard and visibly wanted it so much. Anna is generally in favour of Nadal, finding this recent story about him travelling back to Barcelona on economy rather lovely - as it indeed is.

By contrast, Federer irritates Anna by monogramming his kit and looking smug, which - to be fair - he does a lot of the time. He does however, have a lot to be smug about, but not yet enough for my liking. Where he stands in the pantheon of great players is still being determined, but I - like others, have been keen to canonise him (in tennis terms) for some time. When he worked, he worked perfectly, and was joyous to behold. But for me, his losses this year have been hard to take. It some ways - entirely unfairly - it looks like he cannot win once his aura has gone, and that calls into question the genuineness of his achievement to date. He is still an amazing player, but no longer challenges for the title of the best ever. Because those people fight back. And so far, Roger hasn't been able to do so - or at least not to actually win. So it doesn't look like a legend is being coined, but merely another great player now fading away. I am using "merely" in a slightly odd way here, but the point is valid: I will be disappointed if Federer doesn't come back, and I don't think he will (unless Nadal is injured soon - not impossible - but that wouldn't be the same).

What does this mean? Well, in short, I think it means that I am interested in history being made; and Anna places more importance on people being nice and deserving it. Come to think about it, that's not too much of a surprise after all.

Long words

In one of my less prescient moments, a few weeks ago I decided that it would be good to go for a day of test cricket this weekend, but instead of going today, where it appears to be rather good weather, I went yesterday, when it rained, and rained, and rained. We missed the first two overs that were played, little realising that such a loss represented 25% of the action.

The interminable rain delays meant that we wandered around Lord's for much of the day. Even in an almost abandoned test, the museum was not that busy (though it did have last year's exhibits in), Andrew played famous person spotting and - in a fit of weakness - we bought Ed Smith's new book, What sport tells us about life (Note how it's £6 cheaper on Amazon). Ed Smith is a very well educated man, who has a better degree than me. However, shockingly, while we dithered about buying his book, he accused us of pontificating - he meant prevaricating. I should stress that while am no stranger to pontificating, but I am assured I was not on this occasion.

Sport may teach you about life, but it would seem not much about words.