1st Test, Trent Bridge, England won by 14 runs.
England 215 and 375, Australia 280 and 296
A cloudless blue sky with the sun beating down, mercury
touching 35C, warm sea water and a sandy beach teeming with people modelling
the latest in beach ware and apparel; welcome to Bograshov Beach, Tel Aviv. A
perfect setting for a summer holiday but a less than convenient place from
which to follow the action from Trent Bridge in the First Test.
Unsurprisingly The Ashes is neither front nor back page news
in the Israeli press. If you asked a local for their opinion on Hot Spot they
might direct you to the Clara on a Monday night and DRS sounds suspiciously
like a new tax. It’s safe to say that Australia’s retreat back in to the pack
from cricketing superpower will have gone unnoticed in the trendy restaurants
of Neve Tzedek.
Israel’s national sport is not cricket but matkot which involves
two people using carbon fibre rackets to smash a squash ball at each other as
hard as possible without it touching the ground. Perversely, in an
ultra-competitive society, it’s a sport which doesn’t result in a winner or
loser as no points are scored but, in a lesson that no global sport has heeded
apart from volleyball, it is frequently played on the beach. Whilst not
threatening the status of matkot, cricket does have a presence in Israel which has
grown in popularity since the departure of the British in 1948. Israel obtained
ICC Associate Membership in 1974 and, with teams populated by a combination of
Israelis, expatriates and migrants, has a thriving league where for Middlesex
and Yorkshire read Sri Lanka Tel Aviv and Lions Lod.
Disappointingly, by the time of my holiday, cricket was not
sufficiently ingrained in the public consciousness to the extent that a large
screen had to be erected on the beach to keep the Israeli cricket supporters abreast
of the Ashes. Instead it was a case of rationing the use of mobile phone
battery so Cricinfo score updates, BBC text commentary and the occasional burst
of TMS could all be accessed to keep us on the edge of our deckchairs. It’s
doubtful that Aggers, Blowers, Maxwell and Boycott have held the attention of
many beachgoers in Tel Aviv before. Snatches of Anderson brilliance, Bell
resistance and Agar precociousness disturbed our relaxation pleasingly. The
match seemed England’s to lose and lose it they so nearly did.
With the benefit of hindsight, scheduling a meeting for the
climax of the Australian fightback was a foolish move. I’d expected the game to
be over well before this point. When I was having lunch and receiving
ball-by-ball updates from a friend in Paris it was Pattinson that joined Haddin
at the crease and Australia needed 79 runs from their last wicket partnership.
An Australian win looked a long shot but the target was whittled down. With my phone
vibrating with score updates I kept the meeting as short as possible.
Renting a flat in Tel Aviv with an Australian could have
backfired. It was about to pay dividends. Exiting the meeting I discovered to
my horror that, resuming after lunch, Australia needed 20 runs to win. I was a
15 minute walk from home or, as it turned out, a 7 minute run in flip flops in
35C heat. My flatmate (did I mention he was Australian?) had the TV coverage on
his tablet which was streaming several seconds behind TMS running on the laptop.
With the commentary being relayed to me over the phone I ran up Ben Yehuda,
turned right on to Sderot Ben Gurion. Trying not to lose my flip-flops I
crossed over Dizengoff and scuttled past the fruit juice stand. Five runs came
off Swann’s over. Fifteen runs or one wicket. I was in the home straight,
running up Hakalir. Anderson bowling. An appeal for caught behind and a review
from Cook! I ran up the two flights of stairs and put my key in the lock,
opening the door to hear Haddin given out. My flatmate sat in silence. A 14 run
win for England. There was little more to do other than record the moment of mixed
emotions. Thanks to Tuffers for the retweet.
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