Limited Overs

Decided to occasionally use this space to write about stuff other than cricket. Feel free to ignore. It’s just I need a place to put all this and Medium is lame these days. 

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Two summers after our father died, my brother, sister and I went to Cincinnat for a week. We stayed with my grandparents — my father’s parents — in their big house on the big lot that they built after the war. On the second to last day we were there we went with my uncle — my father’s older brother — and aunt and their youngest daughter to a water park. Also with us were several people from my aunt’s family. The Cornells. People I didn’t know. With them was a younger cousin named Stormy, who wore a slim black one piece swimsuit and had long damp black hair. I asked her about her name, but she didn’t hear me.

It was a hot blue sky high sun Cincinnati summer day. The kind of summer day of youth that somehow finds a way to last forever.

At the water park I sat on a towel on the concrete bored and hot and a teenager. I went up and down water slides. I felt out of place, distant, sad. My uncle seemed the same. He didn’t want to be there. I didn’t either. The day my dad died my uncle stormed onto the plane my grandparents were on as it sat at the gate before departing to Minnesota even though he didn’t have a ticket. Screaming and wailing and utterly despondent with grief. The flight attendants had to pull him off the plane. He didn’t fly in until the next day. At the funeral he shook with sadness. Cracking sobs. He looked like he was going to split in two. Cleave himself into a thousand pieces. Into dust.

At the water park after maybe 30 minutes my uncle suggested the two of us walk back to their house in Hyde Park. My aunt tried and failed to get a house key off her key ring. So we didn’t take keys, hoping that my cousin Brian freshly home from his freshman year of college would be there to let us in.

And so we walked. For hours. In that hot high sun. My neck turning red. Up and down all those southwestern Ohio hills. For hours and hours. Past malls and warehouses and neighborhoods and strip malls. Without shade, without pause. We just walked. And walked. And walked. And walked.

Finally we returned to his house where my cousin was and he let us in. He had just woken up. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. The night before he had been out with friends at the Steve Miller concert. The three of us drove to a late lunch in the village down the hill. My cousin drove. We listened to the doors. LA Woman. Motel Monday murder madness. Let’s change the mood from glad to sadness. I sat in the back. My uncle sat in the passenger seat. His window down. He thumbed along to the song on the roof of the car. He seemed free. Unrestrained. Happy. Somehow. Like everything was perfect and he could ask for nothing more. At the restaurant he ordered soup and it was too hot to eat to so he spooned ice cubes from his water glass into the soup to cool it.

That’s the clearest memory of the entire day. The site of those ice cubes drifting and melting and cooling his vegetable soup there in the dark diner while that summer day blazed away on the other side of giant windows on the far side of the room. Noise and dishes and conversation.

It’s a day that sticks out like few others. We all have them. Those childhood memories that for some reason stick and live forever in that space right below our hearts. I remember the sunburn and the sun and the sky. I remember Stormy’s eyes, Stormy’s swimsuit, Stormy ignoring me. I remember the hills and the broken sidewalks. I remember the smell of the chlorine. I remember my aunt struggling to remove the key from the keyring. I remember the boredom. I remember the sadness. I remember all those hills. I remember the ice cubes in the soup. I remember the heat. 

But I don’t remember what we talked about on that walk. It was hours and hours. Miles and miles. When we arrived back at my uncle’s house my cousin was shocked, in utter disbelief, that we had walked all that way. But I don’t remember a word of our conversation. Did we talk about school? My dad, his brother? Did we talk about aging and life and girls and the pit of sadness we both carried? Did we talk about the weather? Did we talk about the government? My uncle was a teacher and one Saturday at my grandparent’s house in their cool basement in my grandfather’s radio room my uncle interviewed me for a project he was working on for his master’s degree. We talked for an hour. Talked and talked and talked. I remember almost every word. We talked about growing up and school and my teachers and little league. When we were done my uncle realized he had never hit the record button on his tape recorder so we tried to recreate the entire conversation but it wasn’t the same and he was so upset. I remember his frustration. It rings out like a bell.

But I don’t remember a single word from the walk a few years later. Not a single one. Did we even talk at all? Maybe we didn’t. Maybe we walked in uncomfortable silence. Me and my uncle, my dad’s older brother. Me, his dead brother’s oldest son. Walking through the hot streets of Cincinnati. Two years after the worst moment of our lives. Two years after I watched him collapse at that Catholic church up the street from my house. Two years. The both of us still collapsing. Yet. We walked. The two of us. Maybe we didn’t talk. And maybe that was okay. Maybe we just wanted to remember. To be close to someone we had lost in the only way that was left. And maybe that’s why he seemed to happy in that car ride later. Tapping his fingers on the roof along with The Doors. Because for a few hours he had walked next to his dead brother. And maybe that’s why I remember the day so clearly, words or no words, because for a few hours I had walked next to my dead father. And so maybe it doesn’t matter what we talked about. Or if we didn’t talk at all. He saw me in all my sorrow there on that hot concrete wet towel, and took me away from there, and together we walked up all those hills. And together for a few hours we were okay.

All that heat, all that sun, all those miles, washing it all away. Somehow. A son with his uncle who was his dad. An uncle with his nephew who was his little brother, 15 and skinny and quiet with red hair and glasses and a sunburn and willing to walk for hours.

Today Cricinfo threw out a number: 3.

That’s the maximum amount of losses a team could suffer in the group stage and still qualify for the semi-finals — which are still a month away. Currently, there are three teams with zero losses: New Zealand, Australia and India (though they have only played one match so far, more on that in a second) — that puts them in a prime position now 11 days into the tournament. Sri Lanka, Pakistan, the West Indies, England and Bangladesh each only have one loss a piece. Not great, but if you beat the teams you should beat, then you will probably be okay. Afghanistan have two losses and will probably have three after their match with the quietly strong New Zealand today. While South Africa of course have already maxed out their losses at three, so they might not be out of it completely, but winning the rest of their matches is surely a bridge too far.

But, even with that caveat, every single team in the tournament is still alive for the knockouts. It’s early days, of course, but the more I say that the less and less true it is. I think we can stop saying it after each team has played five games, then we will have a crystal clear idea of who’s in, who’s out, and who’s on the cusp.

Speaking of: Bangladesh, England, New Zealand and Afghanistan are playing their third matches of the tournament right now. Sri Lanka, Pakistan and South Africa have already played three. Australia and the West Indies have each played two.

India have still only played one. And don’t play their second until tomorrow, when they play Australia, which will be the Aussie’s third match. I don’t get it. Yes, they played their last match of the warm-ups on the last day possible, but so did Bangladesh and New Zealand, who are playing their third matches as we speak. I guess you have to take the IPL into account, but I don’t think that delayed their travel to England by that much, as they played their first warm-up on May 25, the first day New Zealand and Australia did, so you really can’t talk acclimation.

There is no conspiracy theory here that I am about to impart on you. But India does have a lot of pull with the ICC, whose tournament this is. India basically run the show, simply because that’s where all the money for the game is. And so if they wanted to have a lighter schedule earlier in the tournament — to give their players more time to acclimate, to rest after the IPL, to train on the English pitches — then they probably could have pulled that off. And if they wanted one of the other tournament favorites — South Africa, which is odd because India blew them out of the water in their last ODI series — if they wanted them to play three matches in seven days before their players even had a chance to shake the jet lag, they could probably do that too. Or, even if they didn’t see South Africa as a rival, but simply wanted their first game of the tournament to be against a team that had already played two matches so they would have film to watch beforehand and be playing a team that might be a little tired, then they could have done that. Winning those early games is vitally important.

Honestly, though, I don’t believe anything untoward is going on here. It’s a scheduling fluke, or maybe the ICC giving them extra days off because of the IPL. But even if it is innocent, it’s still not great optics. Cricket is corrupt, we all know that. And the big three — Australia, England and India — run the whole damn show, and tend to get whatever they want. And anything that even smells of favoritism for one of those sides — like, for example, the shoddy officiating in the West Indies vs Australia match that reeked of a pro-Australia bent — is going to get a light shone on it, and is going to color with corruption what has otherwise been a brilliant couple weeks of cricket.

Until next time.

Today’s match between Sri Lanka and Pakistan was abandoned without a ball bowled, thanks to a steady rain in Bristol. Which brings up an interesting lesson in the wide world of cricket: there are no make up matches. Well, I guess there could be for matches in knockout stages, but for group stage matches and regular tour matches the game is just abandoned and the points shared.

A while ago it was explained to me why this is. And it made sense at the time. But I can’t remember why it is. Mostly, I think it’s tradition, and keeps the weather from wreaking havoc on a tournament’s schedule. Pushing the match to tomorrow would give the two teams one fewer day of rest, which isn’t exactly fair, and if you started doing make up matches and giving teams equal days of rest, then the tournament would stretch on forever.

So, there you go, the points shared. But this has to be worrisome for the tournament’s organizers, and in a lot of ways a month long damp season is their worst nightmare. You lose matches so you lose revenue, and teams don’t get a fair shake at making the semi-finals. Imagine, if you will, if Pakistan miss out on the knockout stage by one point. That would be a real shame. But, the weather is the weather, it’s part of the game, both when the game is played and when it is not.

Since we last checked in, India beat South Africa, affectively ending the latter’s tournament. All they can do now is play spoiler. Meanwhile perennial dark horse New Zealand beat Bangladesh and Australia beat the West Indies. And so after 11 matches — including today’s washout — the table shapes up like this:

1. NZ, 2. Aus, 3. SL, 4. Pak, 5. WI, 6. Eng, 7. India, 8. Bang, 9. SA, 10. Afg.

Still very early days, of course, but New Zealand and Australia are well poised to make the knock out stage. Winning your early matches in this long group format is vital. It’s how you gain momentum, and allows you to rest players, and keeps you from having to play must-win after must-win after must-win at the death, which can be mentally exhausting on the players.

The last few days have also brought us our first bouts of controversy. To start, the officiating during Australia’s win over the West Indies has been roundly lambasted by both the press and the West Indies. There were numerous times when wickets were given against the chasing Windies after not one, not two, not three but four appeals. It was almost painful and the match commentators let the official have it — calling him weak. But the big moment was the blatant no-ball missed by the official on the delivery that preceded Chris Gayle’s wicket. If the no ball would have been called, Gayle would have had a free hit, instead he was walking back to the clubhouse on just 21 off of 17, and West Indies finished 15 runs short of the total Australia set them (in what was a thrilling and hard fought chase that was a real joy). It’s a shame. I don’t think the decision cost the West Indies the match, but it did kind of put a damper on a fun day of cricket.

Off the field there’s been controversy too — as there always seems to be in cricket. MS Dhoni’s wicket keeping gloves have a dagger on them that is similar to the regimental emblem of the Parachute Regiment of the Indian Territorial Army — of which Dhoni is an honorary Lt. Colonel. The ICC — which bans all messages on kits that display anything related to anything slightly political — was like “no way dude” and told him not to wear the gloves anymore. Now, considering what happened a few months ago in Kashmir the gloves can definitely be seen as an overtly political message. Personally, I think Dhoni had nothing of the sort in mind when he wore the gloves and even if he did it’s still rather innocuous. But I guess the ICC has to draw a hard line on this issue otherwise the floodgates will open. In a game that encompasses so much of the globe in all its glory and strife, that is probably for the best.

Dhoni and his national board have quietly accepted the decision. He will wear the gloves but cover the emblem with tape so the pearl clutchers can go back to watching cricket, safe from the knowledge that bad shit happens in the real world. Which I guess is okay too.

Cricket gonna cricket.

What a fun and unpredictable World Cup we have here.

On Sunday Bangladesh won its first match of the tournament, beating a lackluster, Dale Steyn-less South Africa who slumped to two losses in two matches. The highlight of that match — aside from the Bangladesh XI who played inspired, fun to watch cricket just like they always do, only this time they won — was the crowd. It was a sea of Bangladesh fans creating a really fun atmosphere. Even watching on a stream at my kitchen table as I wrote letters I could feel the energy steaming off the terraces. It was lovely. And it has been the seen of most of the matches so far. I guess that it is the blessing of having a tournament for a sport given global popularity by imperialism in the country that ruled that Empire. There are over half a million people of Bangladeshi ethnicity living in the United Kingdom, an influx that started in the 70s and continues to this day. The color and noise they brought to the Oval last Sunday is a testament to the life and culture they have brought to their new home.

Monday also saw a boisterous crowd of both Pakistanis and Brits as Pakistan shocked the cricketing world and beat England by 14 runs, batting for 348 which was too much for England to chase down, despite the first two centuries of the tournament from Root and Buttler. And, yes, this is the same Pakistan that were scuttled by the West Indies just a few days beforehand. And, yes, this is the same England that restricted South Africa to just 207 a few days before. Again, it is early days, but so far this tournament has not been an easy one to predict. I mean, who would have through that Joe Root would score the first century of the tournament?

Another first day happened today as Sri Lanka took on Afghanistan in Wales: rain. Something we can surely expect more of as the summer goes on. Sri Lanka won by 34 runs via the Duckworth-Lewis method, giving them their first win of the Cup and Afghanistan’s second loss.

Tomorrow is a big one, as we finally get to see India play. They are taking on South Africa who are desperate for a win. It’s not a must win game for them, but it is a must win game for them. And they are going to have to do it without Dale Steyn, who has been ruled out of the rest of the tournament. So if South Africa do win tomorrow — which I do not see them doing — their World Cup might more or less be over with the sad news about Steyn this morning. He is one of those players everyone — except the opposing batters — likes to watch steam in. He makes the game more fun, and adds fire to every match he plays in, and it is a shame to know that we won’t see him bowl this World Cup. And even more of a shame as this was probably his last World Cup of what has been a wonderful career. It would have been nice for him to top it all off with some five cricket hauls here and there over the next few weeks. Alas.

More to come in what has been a great tournament so far. All those that predicted that the format would strangle the excitement and make for a dull World Cup have not been proven wrong quite yet, but we are getting there.

The World Cup started earlier this week, and it’s already entertained. The first three matches were all routs, but in a fun way. England dismantled South Africa thanks to comeback kid Ben Stokes, while the most unpredictable side in the tournament — the West Indies — blew out the tournament’s second most unpredictable side, Pakistan. Then today New Zealand routed Sri Lanka, whose lackluster 136 barely topped Pakistan’s meek 106, while in Bristol its the innings break right now as Afghanistan who won the toss and selected to bat have put up a respectable but not quite par 207 against Australia.

It’s early days, of course, but England remain the only team to top 300 this tournament. They did what they needed to in that first match which was simply WIN. A loss would not have eliminated them from the knock-out stage, but it would have been deeply damaging to the psyche of the team and their fans. But now things can start to roll downhill for them as the country gets behind their hometown XI. And to finally have Ben Stokes back in form might be the final boost they need. Meanwhile South Africa has to be a little worried about their bowling, as does Australia, who let Afghanistan claw back to 207 after having them on the ropes at 77 for five.

And the West Indies? No one has literally any idea. They could do anything: win the whole damn thing or lose all the rest of their matches. Seriously, no clue.

All that and we still haven’t see India take the field in this tournament. And if they aren’t your favorites you haven’t been paying attention. They play their first match on Wednesday against South Africa, a test for both teams. That match is in Southampton which has yet to host game, so no sure thing on how that pitch will perform. That’s probably the marquee match of the week, followed by Australia versus the West Indies on Thursday, and Australia versus India on Sunday. Down the road, the big one everyone is looking toward is India versus Pakistan on June 16 and then India versus England on June 30.

Like I said, very early days, the semi-finals don’t happen until the 9th of July, so there’s lots of times for the favorites to rise the top, and for those that have stumbled this week to find their way back. Yes, the tournament is long. Maybe too long. But I don’t know. With the length of it, you have time and space for stars to rise and stars to fall. For villains and heroes to come out of nowhere. For stories to be told. And not short stories, but whole novels. There will be a fully formed and fleshed out narrative to this tournament. With characters you grow to love and characters you grow to hate, but either way characters that you know inside and out. And the tournament is a great way to learn the game, or at least this format of it, as there simply be so much of over the next month and change. It comes down to this: not everything in this world has to be so damn quick and efficient. It’s okay to take your time. It’s summer in England. The sun is out in Bristol. Let’s settle in and watch some cricket.

Until next time.

That’s been the debated topic over the last week on Twitter. It all stemmed from a press release from the ECB on The Hundred — their new format coming to a stream near you next summer — which stated that the format will be easier for non-cricket-aficionados to understand.

Now, most people think The Hundred is at best a joke and at worst the end of all cricket as we know it, so everything that even smells of it is roundly dismissed. So while the reaction was colored by this, it was still pretty on point: cricket is not by any means a complicated game. Or, at least, more complicated than other sports. You bowl, you bat, you score runs, you take wickets. I think it is far simpler than rugby or Aussie rules or gridiron football — as hardcore fans of those sports that I know actually prefer to watch them on tv so they have a better clue what is going on. But even those games can be understood by even the biggest sporting novice after an afternoon or so.

Cricket is simple enough, it doesn’t need dumbing down. But even if it did, I am not sure how The Hundred accomplishes that.

Then again, it is really complicated, once you start exploring the nuances. I have never known a game with so many nooks and crannies, back alleys, tunnels, underground roads. The game is ceaseless in its ability to surprise and delight even the longest term fan. That’s what keeps us all coming back, day in and day out. It’s terribly complicated. You can spend a lifetime studying the game and still not understand it all, still be dumbfounded by it, still get things wrong every day of the week. And that is what makes the game great. And that is something that The Hundred does accomplish. By further shortening the game, you take away its ability to surprise, you take away more of its nuances and back alleys. And yeah you make it less complicated, I guess, but not in a good way.

A lot of the ECB’s yes-men — I am looking at you, Michael Vaughn — are on board with the tournament, Mostly, it seems, because they like the idea of an eight team, city-based competition. And I get that. I think that part of The Hundred is actually kind of okay. Despite the fact that it removes promotion and relegation, which is one of the things about European sport that really sets it apart. It provides a level of danger to the sports that utilize it that other sports are missing. But I digress. The fact that it’s city-based is really the only thing going for it. Otherwise, it’s dumb, and it will — I think — have a profound and negative impact on the game, both in the UK and around the word, All for the sake of dumbing it down, making it less the game that we love. It simply does not need that. Sure, you might attract a few more people, but they won’t stick around, because the new format takes away the thing that keeps people around.

I hope I am wrong.

It’s not complicated, but it also is, and that’s what makes it great.

Until next time.

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Update, it appears the World Cup is available for streaming on Hotstar US. I got a free subscription via my subscription to Willow to watch the IPL, and it seems my subscription is still valid. So there you go,

They don’t make it easy for you, that’s for sure.

Previous World Cups have been available to stream in the US via a stream package on ESPN or Willow TV. I think in 2015 it was like $99 for the entire tournament, with a sliding scale charged if you signed up late in the tournament. It wasn’t ideal, but it was worth it. I probably would have watched more of the matches but the tournament was in New Zealand and Australia so the bulk of the matches were on in the middle of the night, which really wasn’t the stream provider’s fault.

This year, however, I still have yet to find a definitive answer to the question: how do I watch the World Cup this year? This is something the American sports fan is simply not used to. It’s easy to both watch on TV or stream most if not all American sports, via package deals or cable or satellite. This includes professional leagues as well as collegiate. And it also includes loads of international sport, mostly foreign soccer leagues but also pro cycling and skiiing and the Olympics of course plus Formula 1 and UFC. In other words, watching sports in America is super easy. And it just keeps getting easier. It’s probably easier than anywhere else on earth. It’s certainly far easier to watch English Premier League matches in the US than it is in, ironically, England. Expensive, sure, but easy.

Cricket? Not so much. I mean, I admit, it has come a long way. In 2007 I had to watch the final in a bar on a channel that literally no one got — Setanta, remember them? — and I am pretty sure I had to pay a cover. All to watch Adam Gilchrist bad with a squash ball in his glove for two hours and then have the match end on a damp whimper after Sri Lanka’s innings were cut short by rain. The next two World Cups were on the other side of the world so while streams were readily available, I still didn’t watch very much aside from the knockout matches. But this year the tournament is in England, with very reasonable match start times of 4:30 in the morning on my watch, and so even if I slept in I would still be able to watch the majority of the chase. So I got my credit card out and was ready to pay whatever Willow or ESPN asked of me.

Not so fast, Becker, said the universe.

I still have no idea who to freely give my money to in order to watch the damn cricket.

Per press releases and some friendly folks on Twitter, I have learned that the US streaming rights are shared by Willow TV and Hotstar, the Indian digital service. On Willow TV’s website they have all the matches listed, but they all say “TV channel or Sling TV only.” And that’s it. No other information on how to stream the matches.

So I went over to Sling TV’s website and looked at their packages available and saw no information about Willow TV. Finally, after a little digging, I found a World Cup page, for $10 a month you can get Willow TV via Sling and watch the World Cup. Fine. Okay. But I do I need a Sing TV package and the Willow TV channel? Or do I just need one? And if so, which one? Or do I need a Sling TV package, a Sling TV Willow TV subscription AND a Willow TV streaming subscription? Or is this like the IPL where my Willow TV subscription granted me access to Hotstar where I could watch those matches?

I am at a complete loss. I am willing to pay the money, but no one can tell me who to give it to. It’s so … unAmerican. In America, cable channels and cable companies and streaming services cannot wait to tell you what they offer and how to get it. Or sometimes it’s even easier: flip on the television and watch the game.. Hell, every single NFL game — from the preseason to the Super Bowl — is on free, over-the-air tv. Even international events like the soccer World Cup are for the most part available on over-the-air tv.

But so many hoops, just to watch the cricket.

Are you paying attention to this, USA Cricket?

Now, I get that this really isn’t their fault. USA Cricket might be an ICC associate member, but that means nothing when it comes to streaming rights of big tournaments that they aren’t even appearing in. And, honestly, right now, they have bigger fish to fry — with bright futures for both the men’s and women’s teams. But if they truly want to grow the game in the US — and it authentically seems that they do — then they need to make sure people who want to watch the best cricketers in the world, are able to do so, without too much trouble. I get that that they might not want to advertise a product that is superior to their own — MLS is probably still pissed at Fox Sports for making the EPL so easy to watch — but high tides raise all boats. Want to grow the game here? Make it easy for people to watch. People in America love sports. All sports. Put the semi-finals and final on TV, give them each a couple days of the ESPN hype machine and I guarantee people will tune in and a lot of them will dig it and a lot of those folks  have kids and the rest of the narrative writes itself.

Anyway, I think I have figured it out. I need to subscribe to a Sling TV package ($15 a month for the first month, $25 a month after that) and then add the Willow TV channel to the Sling package ($10 a month). So when you add it all up, for the two months I will need it, it shakes out like this: $40 for two months of Sling, $20 for two months of Willow TV on Sling, and $20 for two months of my regular Willow account which I know I could cancel but they make it so damn hard to do so it’s literally not worth it. Add it all up and it will cost me $80 to watch the World Cup this year.

$20 less than it cost me four years ago.

So I guess I should stop complaining.

But it still shouldn’t be this hard. And I am still not even sure the above will work.

Maybe I will just listen to the games on BBC radio instead.

Until next time.

 

I have not posted here since April 29. 18 days without a post. To be fair to myself, I have been frightfully busy with work — both my day job as well as some freelance. But that is really no excuse. There is always time to write. Always. There is always 20 minutes or an hour. All one needs to do is get up a little earlier, or stay up a little later. There is always time, always more time.

But I just have not written here. I have not written anything, save my journal. Not a letter, not a blog post, no work on my novel, nothing. And no desire to either. Which is the scary part. I want to write, mind, but I just don’t have the desire to, and yes they are two different things. The desire, in fact, for a lot of things, is missing. I feel clouded over, dulled, distracted.

And that’s the thing about depression, sometimes the cure is even worse. When I could barely lift my arms because I was so sad, I could at least still write. Now I still can’t lift my arms, and I am not even writing. It’s a disease that doesn’t make any clear sense to anyone: the depressed, the people around them, or the people that treat them. Everyone tries — well, some people try — to get better, or to help others get better, but there is no silver bullet, and sometimes the proposed cure is worse than the idea of spending the rest of your days unable to lift your arms.

I write about suicide now and again on this blog. Suicide and its sad connection to this game we love. And whenever I would write about it, I would write about how I could never understand that level of darkness. When it’s so dark you truly believe you will never see light again. I understand that now. I also understand loneliness and why it kills people. Don’t worry, I am fine, well, I will be fine anyway.

So I am here. Again. Forcing the laptop open, tying myself to a chair, wrenching open WordPress and trying to get back what the drugs have taken away from me. There’s been this thing that’s been around forever, this glorification of the depressed writer. Or writers who are scared to get better because they think they will stop writing. Or their writing will get worse. That they will become just another happy joe schmoe. Well I am here to tell that that is all bullshit. And if a writer believes that — truly believes that — then they are a fraud. I cannot tell you how badly I want to get better.

Hanif Abdurraqib wrote about the not-so-tenuous relationship between writing — and writers — and depression. He likened depression to a game of tug-a-war: sometimes you are on the losing end, sometimes the rope is slipping through your fingers, sometimes it is burning them, sometimes the opposing team is dragging you through the mud. But you are always — always — doing your best work when both your hands are on the rope. Lose that grip, and the work suffers, maybe even stops altogether, maybe even you stop altogether. And so we are all better off when we keep our hands on the rope, do what it takes to get better, to keep that grip, because that’s when we are at our best, as writers, as people. And because dead people can’t write.

And that is why I am here. Because not only do I do my best writing when both of my hands are on the rope, but because writing is how I keep that grip. It’s what keeps me going, what excites me, what motivates me. Even if no one ever reads it. It doesn’t matter. I am here. I am writing. And both of my hands are on the rope. I might be sad today, and I will probably be sad tomorrow, but I am not going to be a better writer if I stop taking these pills. Because if I do, not only might I stop writing, but I might stop altogether.

More cricket soon.

***

Other posts in the Why We Write series.

Why We Write

Why We Write, part 3

Why We Write, part 4

No idea what happened to part 2, or if it ever existed in the first place.

In September 2017, English cricketer Ben Stokes and his teammate Alex Hales were involved in a fight outside a nightclub and was subsequently arrested, tried and acquitted. He was also fined by the ECB and served a match ban. And on the cricket pitch, he really hasn’t been the same since — both internationally and domestically. He averaged in the mid-40s in the seasons before his arrest, but hasn’t gotten back there since. And while never one to put up huger numbers with the bat, he also hasn’t a century since 2017. He’s an all-rounder and his bowling has suffered too.

Hales, for his part, was not charged for his involvement in the fight. But the incident still haunted him. And he turned to recreational drugs. And today the ECB banned him for 21 matches — which of course will include the 2019 World Cup. The connection between his involvement in the incident and his drug use is, of course, conjecture — though conjecture supported by several esteemed cricket journalists — but one that cannot be overlooked. Both Hales and Stokes’ heads are still firmly stuck in September 2017 in Bristol, and they are both still wrestling with demons that came to life that night.

I think this makes them very human. Very much like everyone else in this world, and very much unlike athletes in other sports. And I think this is true for not just Hales and Stokes, but all cricketers. Which I think is why I — and others — like the game. The players aren’t supermen. They don’t look like super models. They look human. Their sweaters don’t fit right. They have paunches.  Their smiles can be shy and awkward.

They look like us.

And they suffer like us too. Battling anxiety and depression like athletes in no other sport. Just like everyone does. Sadly, also like us, some of them lose those battles. Per the Guardian, “English cricketers are almost twice as likely to commit suicide as the average male and have a suicide rate higher than players of any other sport, according to an international study.”

While this is surely cricket’s dark, sad side, it also makes it more human. More accessible. Somehow realer. These are people out there playing this game, not nameless, faceless athletes. We care about them, we cheer them on, we don’t heckle or haze. We support, and applaud, and want more than anything for them to bat all day.

Here’s hoping Alex and Ben come back soon, and stronger, and okay.

Until tomorrow,.

The news today is that the US men’s cricket team has, by virtue of their defeat of Hong Kong, qualified for ODI status and a spot in the World Cup League 2. This means a guarantee of loads of international cricket for the burgeoning side over the next few years. A real blessing for a program in desperate need of such a shot in the arm.

Xavier Marshall’s hundred in the first innings set the table, and when Hong Kong failed to get off to the start they needed in the chase, they settled in and tried to protect their run rate, as they still have a chance to grab one of the last two top four spots, which would grant ODI status, as Oman claimed the second spot shortly after the US did.

Tomorrow, the US plays Canada — who are also still in the running for the coveted top four — with a chance to seal second or even first place in the tournament, giving them a spot in the final on Saturday.

The US men’s emergence from the shambolic ashes that was USACA is one of cricket’s best stories so far this year. They’ll now join ODI stalwarts Scotland, Nepal and the UAE in the World Cup League 2, and play 36 matches over the next three years, starting this summer. What a boon for the game in this country.

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Also of note is this Cricinfo story about the shrinking Australian summer cricket window. Not due to global warming, but due to other nations wanting in on the a piece of the pie that Australia has monopolized since the early 80s. Seven Test playing teams share the same summer window, but Australia has ruled over them all thanks to the fat TV deals they are able to ink. But now that all might be changing, as it appears as though Australia will likely have to travel to India for an ODI series in January, 2020: the height of summer down under.

This is all just another example of cricket’s bizarre nature. Every sport has its inequalities and they all do their best to appease the TV folks, but cricket does both quite like no other. For while in other sports the teams are restricted to a hard and fast season, in International Cricket there is no season. So it is ripe for chicanery and greed. Everyone wants a bite of the same apple, and they are all manipulating the system as best they can to get it. And, sadly, the big three — Australia, India, England — seem to always win out. Usually at the expense of a lesser Test side, but also, occasionally, at the expense of one their fellow big threes.

It’s all nonsense. Just play the cricket.

It makes me, sometimes, miss baseball and its structure of 162 games, playoffs in October, the end.

Until tomorrow.