The result for the English Test series is well and truly decided but the coverage continues with a less urgent attitude which is probably a good thing when it comes to sleep paterns. I usually plan on watching or listening to it before bed with an option to hang on if it’s getting exciting.
There has been a few early nights.
And a few where I thought we were travelling well and missed another tragedy.
The attraction, especially now that the overall result is settled, is listening to the Pommie commentators. The good ones have me hooked in and the bad have me switching off and heading to bed.
The Aussies? Nope. They are just there. But the best of the Brits just reek of old school and it’s hilarious. Principal among them is Henry Blofeld with his “My dear old thing” and lately Phil Tuffnell has stepped forward to really add to the fun.
Listening to the banter is fabulous and often cricket is not getting a look in. Especially entertaining when the Poms are deliberately time wasting out on the field.
Last night there was a fly buzzing around in the commentary box and Phil had had enough.
“That’s it. I’m going to get him now.”
Swat. Much laughter.
Blowers, “I know you were only a number 11 batsman but you missed him by half an inch.”
There is a lot of laughter in that box and sometimes we aren’t privy to it. I’d love to be a fly on the wall to catch the stuff that doesn’t make it to air and if Phil is in charge of pest disposal I should be pretty safe.
But then we have the forces of darkness led by Geoffrey Boycott. Negativity just drips from this chap. If someone hits a magnificent straight drive, it’s the bowlers fault. A bowler takes a wicket? The batsman was inept. There is simply no outcome that doesn’t have some negativity hidden inside it. It would be a line ball between him and Tony Abbott over who whinges most. Tony wins on opportunity, Geoffrey on depth.
Over on the TV coverage things are much the same except for the depth of Britishness. I’m not one of the Radio on, TV on but sound off, chaps. I especially like Warnie but Ian Chappell has me jumping to the Mute button. Ian’s a living breathing human drone. Of course you do get the pleasure of regular adverts on the telly which seem to lack much variety late at night, but overall it’s not too painful.
Does this enjoyment of the Brits mean I’m a closet Monarchist? Hell no. Oz isn’t England and it shouldn’t need the Queen to validate our decisions but I might just be in the category that some of the Yanks are in. They don’t want the British Monarchy but quite like some traditional British behaviours.