By Contestant No.3
April 10 2007

This is entry number 3 in this years Writing Competition. The other entries will follow over the next fortnight. After all entries have been displayed for your entertainment on the site you will get a chance to vote for your favourite and our overall winner... TEN DAYS IN PERTH

Great trip, good photos, shame about the cricket

Preface

I had watched an unprepared England side lose heavily in Brisbane; no contest. A boringly flat Adelaide pitch had provided the batsmen with a chance of rehabilitation. Collingwood made 200 and Pietersen 150, and Fletcher told the television audience that Warne held no fears for his players.

Hoggard bowled superbly to give England a slender lead, and would surely have been man-of-the-match but for the events of the fifth day.

The memory is painful, even three months on. England had overnight lost Cook to the new ball and Strauss got a bad decision. Bell was looking good but was run out in a mix-up with Collingwood. As Warne settled into his groove from the Cathedral end, the England batsmen were reduced to strokelessness.

Pietersen tried to break out but, embarrassingly, missed his slog-sweep. Four wickets down and the team in trouble. A captain’s innings was required, but the captain’s feet were stuck in concrete as he tried to fathom the intricacies of Lee’s very fast reverse swing. Play and miss, play and miss, play and edge.

Keeper Jones then played a stroke of staggering irresponsibility, toe-ending a near-wide to gully. Giles went, bamboozled by Warne, and the end was nigh. The tailenders battled well in support of Collingwood, but Australia needed only 168 to win.

It should have been close. With Giles bowling into the footmarks that Warne had exploited so brilliantly, surely the Aussies would struggle to score the required 4.7 per over. In the event they pasted him all round the ground and the only ball that jumped from the rough went over Jones for two byes. Ponting and Hussey were superb.

Ten Days in Perth

If there is a city more beautiful than Adelaide, it is Perth. While the rest of our party headed for a big red rock in the desert, I went early to Perth, eager to photograph all its delights before the Test began.

I spent a day relaxing on Rottnest Island, another day lazing on Cottesloe beach and swimming in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean. The local kids thought it was freezing that day. They should try Whitby!

I liked everything about Perth, except the unfriendly Sheraton Hotel which compared very badly with the Brisbane Hilton and the superb Majestic in Adelaide. The city is a delight: attractive modern buildings, clean streets, beautiful parks and gardens and, best of all, the Swan River with its graceful bridges. City-centre public transport is free and frequent, and the train to Freemantle is cheap and frequent. Freed from the annoyances of daily life that we Poms must endure, the people of Perth appeared relaxed and happy. The climate helps, of course.

The only graffiti I noticed were in the toilets inside the gardens of the Supreme Court! On my return to the Old Country, my first journey on public transport (the Manchester Metro tram) included a reduced service and long delay because of vandalism in Radcliffe. I arrived in Bury bursting for a pee, but the toilets were closed for cleaning. Welcome to England.

Back in Perth, I attended the second day of the 2-day game against Western Australia. I managed to get into the ground half-price on my Greater Manchester bus pass, a Yorkshireman’s day made almost before it had started.

The atmosphere at the WACA was reminiscent of a 4-day County Championship game, happy people enjoying conversation and the cricket. For the first time in three weeks I was able to watch a game without the raucous chanting of the Barmy Army ringing in my ears, though by a coincidence I found myself in the pleasant company of the manager of the Lucky Shag (yes, really), the quayside pub which the Army had made their HQ.

Unlike a County match, though, there were many young kids present to watch Cook make a century. Strauss and Joyce also batted well, as did Read. Jones failed again but still retained his Test spot. Vaughan was in the team but did not bat, and Plunkett did not appear at all. There may have been a good reason for this but we paying customers were not privy to it. Not for the first time my impression was of a team management that had no idea what they were doing.

The WACA bursting at the seams was a wonderful sight as the 3rd Test began. More modern than Adelaide, Perth retains the qualities of a proper cricket ground, unlike the depressing Gabba. Our seats were high up at third man, not a bad angle to watch cricket I always think, especially when you can watch replays on the big screen.

Ponting won the toss but the pitch proved more bowler-friendly than the bland one prepared for the WA match. Panesar was playing, not before time, and he took five wickets. Harmison took four. It had taken two games for him to get his radar working, which would have been acceptable if those games had been against State sides prior to the First Test, rather than the Test Matches themselves.

England struggled in turn, Pietersen apart, though a last-wicket partnership between Harmison and Panesar kept the arrears down to 29. The local TV interviewer commented to Fletcher that Panesar, who had been left out because of his bad batting, actually appeared quite accomplished. Fletcher replied, as near as I can remember it, that none of Panesar’s captains knew that he could bat.

I did not, and do not, understand that remark.

Hoggard bowled Langer through the gate with the first ball of the second innings, and the game seemed perfectly balanced. Hayden and Ponting, however, took the Aussies safely through to the close of play.

On Saturday I made the decision to miss the morning’s cricket. I had watched Ponting score 196 and 60 not out in Brisbane, and 142 and 49 in Adelaide. He is probably the best batsman in the world and I enjoy watching him play. But enough is enough. I went to Kings Park to take some early-morning photographs and then to Cottesloe beach, and hoped he would be out before I returned after lunch.

He was, for only 75. Hayden had also gone, for 92, but I have never particularly liked watching him bat anyway. Hussey is one of my favourites and Clarke is easy on the eye, too. Is this really the same guy I saw struggling with Hampshire? They both scored centuries.

Then came Gilchrist. Out for a duck in the first innings and seriously out of form, according to the TV pundits, Gilchrist produced the greatest prolonged feat of hitting I have ever seen. I had seen Lehmann’s astonishing innings of 190 against Notts at Scarborough, a rare one-day match for me, and Martyn’s sensational double-century against Gloucester at Headingley, but Gilchrist’s 59-ball 102 transcended those. Magnificent.

My only regret was that, having been to the beach, I had only my little Konica Minolta camera with me to help preserve the memory.

Ponting’s arrogant declaration left England over two days to score 557, but Strauss was yet again the victim of a poor decision. Cook and Bell played attractively and well. The Essex boy had looked a trifle raw in the earlier games, but he will be a Test batsman. It was good to see him score a century. Bell fell just short. Once again he had looked a class player, organised, determined, muscular.

Pietersen is a genius. I am not happy about his inclusion in the England team, but he is wonderful to watch. On the final morning KP played second fiddle to his captain, who launched an assault against Lee, but Warne bowled Flintoff with a ball of full length pitched into his blind spot. The big lad had looked more like a number 8 than a 6 on this tour.

Jones found another way of getting out. Struck on the pad, sweeping, he was looking at the umpire’s reaction to the LBW appeal when Ponting ran him out. 14-year-olds occasionally get out this way when they first play adult cricket, if the kindly fielding captain doesn’t let them off. Boo, Ponting.

So that was that. The Ashes had gone, almost without a fight. Can any cricket team ever have talked such a good game and played such a poor one as England in this series?

One final afternoon on the beach, then it was back to the cold and squalor of Manchester. But at least I would be able to get a decent pint back home, and I would spend the next two months reliving the memories as I edited the 500-odd photos I had taken in the wonderful land of Oz.

February 2007