Last of the Mohicans

Sourav Ganguly would vouch, Andrew Flintoff often struggled to keep his shirt on.

This time, Freddie sheds flannel to retain pyjama. Test Cricket, on its part, can surely find a lonely, dingy corner and shed a tear or two to mourn the exit of the Last of its Mohicans.

I’m afraid we won’t see his like again. The era of 24-carat all-rounders is just behind us. Welcome to a new world where imposters in the all-rounder’s garb would fool around.

ICC rankings would want us believe Mitchell Johnson is world’s number two all-rounder and Chaminda Vaas ranks fifth. But then ICC’s understanding of the game rivals Paris Hilton’s grasp of rocket science and both come with the unmistakable ‘Not To Be Taken Seriously’ tag.

In his approach, Flintoff was a throwback to an era where the popular notion was that an all-rounder should be good enough to merit two places in the side, one for bowling and another for batting.

Now, take Garfield Sobers out of the action. He could bowl pace and spin, at times both in the same over, keep wicket and then hit a poor Malcolm Nash for six sixes in an over. He could be Clark Kent’s estranged sibling endowed with equal supernatural ability and a markedly better sartorial taste.

Soon after the Kapil-Imran-Botham-Hadlee quartet left the scene, batting pie-chuckers and bowling sloggers thronged the dais and statistics – often confounding than enlightening – were thrown up at regular intervals to prove their all-round credentials.

You don’t have to strain your eyes to see the clowns fooling around. Underneath the garb, Shane Watsons and Yusuf Pathans are essentially bits-and-pieces players of some utility but anything but all-rounders.

Unlike them, Flintoff, in between his injury rehabs, sent down real 90mph thunderbolts from an awkward angle and then returned to wield the willow with impunity.

More importantly, he was match-winner with both.

His foibles only endeared him and make no mistake, it’s people like him who ensured bums on seats.

Above all, Flintoff was the rare flicker of flair in an otherwise mass of mediocrity that is English cricket.

I insist, Test cricket is all about romanticism and if you don’t like, you are free to frequent the nearby Twenty20 circus.

MCC diagnoses Test cricket is dying and their optimism simply baffles me. They might declare Michael Jackson alive!

Pix: PA

No pretension please, we hate Test cricket

Unless someone calls their bluff and comes up with decisive evidence, Bangladesh have won their second Test match. Please note, their last win came against Zimbabwe in 2005.

And Adam Gilchrist still moans the lack of Olympic spirit in the sub-continent.

Again, unless someone calls the bluff, Bangla Tigers beat West Indies.

Now don't ask how much West Indies. It would suffice to say that the assortment was led by a certain Floyd Reifer who had played his last Test when Bill Clinton was battling 'Monicagate', George W Bush's English grammar classes were confined to Texas and Paris Hilton had just been expelled from school in what was the first concrete sign of becoming the scourge of humanity that she is today.

Now how this win helps Bangladesh, perhaps the biggest sceptic of its own Test status, is beyond me.

And how the defeat helps West Indies Cricket Board to get even with the boycotting players is equally beyond me.

No pretension please. We don't love Test cricket.

7 Reasons Why England Can’t Win Ashes

1. The John Buchanan miasma. This should be the cinch;

2. By scheduling the opener in Cardiff, England essentially and inadvertently opted for an away match and lost the home advantage;

3. Keeping with his form book, Andrew Flintoff is destined to miss the bus to the ground on the most crucial day of the series;

4. By placing Matt Prior behind the stumps, England has made the prior announcement that they are taking Caught Behind and Stumping out of the equation. While this is very chivalrous of them, England’s bowling does not look good enough to get 20 Australian wickets sans these two crucial modes of dismissals,

5. Kevin Peter Pietersen, Order of the British Empire (OBE), would deliberately under-perform, fearing another Ashes triumph would invariably incur a similar mile-long obnoxious title which no 21st century man in his senses would fancy;

6. Cricket Australia’s threat of bringing back Buchanan, in case of an Ashes loss, ringing in ears, Ricky Ponting and his men would settle for nothing less than a win;

7. Leaving no stone unturned in their preparation, Australia had no less than F1 driver Mark Webber telling them how to run faster between wickets. Sadly, neither Lewis Hamilton nor Jenson Button displayed as much patriotism and bothered to turn up at the Poms practice.

Pix: Mike Egerton/EMPICS Sport

Buchanan's boot camp beans spilled!

Adam Gilchrist does not say whether Warne alluded to the female members in John Buchanan's family when he badmouthed the coach.

Gilly, however, does say that spin rivals Warne and Stuart McGill buried their hatchets and turned comrade-in-arms against Buchanan's boot camp idea.

Asked to strip down to the bare minimum, Gilchrist does not disclose his own brand but he 'reveals' Warne's uses 'Playboy' undies, memorably depicted in a UK tabloid.

Gilly tells when asked to deposit 'dependent medication', Mike Hussey handed over asthma inhaler, while Warne reluctantly submitted five packets of Benson & Hedges!

Gilly reveals their media manager, also put through the drill, threw up in a bush but survived to tell the tale.

Gilly divulges three guys had to share "a tin of chunky soup" and "half a loaf of bread" in dinner and there was neither cellphone nor any plump British nurse for Warne.

A grenade went off outside their camp and the cricketers had to run 5 km in pitch dark. While others started unpacking, Warne was busy with his "dependent medication" i.e. Benson & Hedges.

Now, don't tell me you need further reasons to buy "True Colours: My Life" by Adam Gilchrist.

Ashes: Food for thought

So England has a Cook (of mascara fame), Onions, a Swan with an extra N and Collingwood for firewood.

Their head chef Andy Flower is a worried man after told that it sounds like a perfect recipe for disaster.

Australia, on their part, has arrived in England with an entire McDonald!

I have never tasted Ashes but this one promises to be a finger-licking one!

Cry Eden, cry

Rows of empty galleries greet Tendulkar on his 12000th Test run but still I S Bindra’s Mohali;

Mumbaikars may have sold their soul to T20 and switched allegiance to YV Patil but still Sharad Pawar’s Wankhede;

Counterfeit tickets, counterfeit crowd, counterfeit administrators and still Arun Jaitley’s Kotla;

Lalit Modi’s indifference to anything not T20 shared by the entire Jaipur but still Sawai Man Singh;

Nagpur maybe a lemon as a venue but still Shashank Manohar’s VCA Stadium in Jamtha.

Once again, arguably the most hopelessly emotional bunch of cricket followers found them caught in the crossfire between egoistic administrators and their murky game.

Cry Eden cry.

Of sledging, charity and nirvana

* Steve Waugh, Father of the Theory of Mental Disintegration, supports a house for kids of lepers;

* Glenn McGrath, Sheikh of Sledge, champions breast cancer awareness;

* Adam Gilchrist, leading Foulinguist of his era, bats for disabled kids;

...and now...hold your breath...

* Ricky Ponting, cricket's own sledge-hammer, bats for cancer kids.

Trust me, even in the darkest hour, I had never given up. I knew remorse will gnaw at their vitals for all the effing pleasantries these motormouths showered on their opponents. I clung on to the hope that good sense would eventually prevail and once self-realisation enlightens their soul, they would seek atonement.

And they did.

May it rinse, cleans and wash their sins away and help them attain perfect nirvana.

Amen.