w00t! My first ever public cricket protection was so accurate it was like that film where they dig up the time capsule from kids in the `70s writing "Dude, a solar flare is going to destroy the entire world" which I haven't actually watched. Knowing that's the one. Australia did actually lose the Test Match, in spite of the fact that we haven't lost a match at that ground since 1934. What a fluke!
The circumstance wasn't as I predicted, though. Far from Nathan Hauritz proving to be an unmitigated embarassment to the side on this fine Summer's day, he actually proved to be the best bowler in the match. The problem was Mitchell Johnson still unable to bowl within a yard of the stumps, yet bafflingly being our 'strike bowler' - it's worth note that, although the poms claim to have scored 756 runs an incredible 56 of those were actually extras gifted to them by our own bowling attack.
Of course, the other problem is rampant cheating from the Poms, which I foolishly forgot to put into consideration.
Interestingly, despite claiming to have invented fair-play and wearing the whitest whites you will ever see in cricket or even among the new year's roster of Hollywood bad guys, the poms are such disgustingly poor sportsmen it boggles the mind that they are playing at the 'home of cricket'. To pre-empt a joke that no doubt will be going around: how do you win a Test match when you only get 16 wickets? Ask Andrew Strauss.
The 1st innings wicket of Richard Terry Ponting, and the 2nd of Simon Katich, Phillip Hughes, and Michael Hussey where complete works of fanciful fiction courtesy of the dandied bluebags on the field - and as anyone familiar with our team will note, those batsmen are all big hitters who can change the face of any game. The English, noticeably from the first match at Cardiff, have established an unsportsmanlike tactic of appealing orgasmically for the faintest of any chance of a wicket, and in this game have reaped magnificient fruit from the purest of pure arse. Ponting and Hussey did not hit their balls before they were caught (ooh-err), Katich was not facing a legitimate delivery, and Hughes, most disgracefully of all, was caught off a ball that led Andrew Strauss to impersonate Archie "The Mole" Ives from The Great Escape in his eagerness to dig it up out of the dirt.
There's also the small matter of some inconsistency in doping rules. Some may distantly remember the sudden debut of George Bradley Hogg into the test side, which many saw as a farce, in the heyday of Shane K. Warne aka "The Sultan of Spin" / "Sleaziest Dad of the Year". This happened because Warney had been imbiding some diet pills. 6 years later it's hard to read articles on the heavily-injured England side without seeing phrases like "needed four injections before he could walk on the field". Injections of painkillers, of course. And meth.
To be fair to our guys who now appear to suck royally, the match was seen as winnable at one stage. From the beginning of Day Four to it's end the bookie's odds on Australia transmutated massively - from 500 to 1 down to four against. True, we needed to break all records to win, but that's just the kind of crazy shit we love to pull off.
Obviously, though, that didn't happen and the laurels (and possibly the hardies as well) must go to Man of the Match, Andrew Flintoff, who heroically bowled over after over with more painkillers than actual blood in his system. What a trooper! And he's a paragon of humility to boot.
Worship him, WORSHIP HIM!
Obviously I don't need to tell our lads to bury the pricks at Edgbaston. But... bury the pricks in Edgbaston. COME ON!