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My new-found conversion to English cricket – and Aussie cricket fans My new-found conversion to English cricket – and Aussie cricket fans
(about 17 hours later)
I remember singing Jerusalem at school, and watching, as a number of my classmates belted it out full pelt, one hand on their hymn books, the other on their hearts, with our music teacher stooped over his keyboard, transfixed. All of them were momentarily immersed in a collective, patriotic high. Back then, I felt it was irrational to get swept away and I just mouthed along, but didn't fully engage with the sentiment behind the words. So imagine my surprise last night when listening to Test Match Special on the radio, hearing William Blake's words sung by thousands of people, and feeling a strange urge to stand up and sing.I remember singing Jerusalem at school, and watching, as a number of my classmates belted it out full pelt, one hand on their hymn books, the other on their hearts, with our music teacher stooped over his keyboard, transfixed. All of them were momentarily immersed in a collective, patriotic high. Back then, I felt it was irrational to get swept away and I just mouthed along, but didn't fully engage with the sentiment behind the words. So imagine my surprise last night when listening to Test Match Special on the radio, hearing William Blake's words sung by thousands of people, and feeling a strange urge to stand up and sing.
The difference is that this time I am following the Ashes from abroad for the first time, and from Australia of all places. It is odd affair, and sentimental, in a way I had not been at all prepared for. In the past, I have argued that if Norman Tebbit's idea of a "cricket test" was ever realised, I would fail miserably. My loyalties, at least when England meet the West Indies, always lie with the latter. And yet, watching England play Australia in the dead of the Australian night, amongst the bar-goers of Sydney and newly made Australian friends, I have never felt so proud to be English. Never so tense, so glued to a game of cricket that I have invested myself in. The difference is that this time I am following the Ashes from abroad for the first time, and from Australia of all places. It is an odd affair, and sentimental, in a way I had not been at all prepared for. In the past, I have argued that if Norman Tebbit's idea of a "cricket test" was ever realised, I would fail miserably. My loyalties, at least when England meet the West Indies, always lie with the latter. And yet, watching England play Australia in the dead of the Australian night, amongst the bar-goers of Sydney and newly made Australian friends, I have never felt so proud to be English. Never so tense, so glued to a game of cricket that I have invested myself in.
Unlike in England, the games are broadcast here on free-to-air TV, but for the most part I have taken to BBC radio, tuning in to the calypso theme tune of Soul Limbo, listening to Aggers, Blowers, Tuffers and a despondent Glenn McGrath discuss the ebbs and flows of the match, spattered with quaint musings on pork pies, lemon drizzle cakes and Boycott bingo. It's all so brilliantly absurd, so indefinably English.Unlike in England, the games are broadcast here on free-to-air TV, but for the most part I have taken to BBC radio, tuning in to the calypso theme tune of Soul Limbo, listening to Aggers, Blowers, Tuffers and a despondent Glenn McGrath discuss the ebbs and flows of the match, spattered with quaint musings on pork pies, lemon drizzle cakes and Boycott bingo. It's all so brilliantly absurd, so indefinably English.
For a series so fraught with bitter rivalry, the natural expectation for an English supporter on the subcontinent would be to face a barrage of animosity. And yet, for all the sniping and the fervent desire to see the English destroyed on the field, it has mostly been me who is the aggressor. In the pub on Saturday, when the first test hung in the balance, and England were in to bat, I was told I was "ungentlemanly", as I defended Stuart Broad's decision not to walk after he clearly edged a ball to slip. As the barman poured me a beer, he looked on in mild disgust as I explained that Broad was well within his rights to stand his ground. And for all the muted cheering every time an English player smashed a boundary, there was not one raised eyebrow. One thing I have learnt is that watching cricket can be a much more solitary, contemplative act here. For a series so fraught with bitter rivalry, the natural expectation for an English supporter in Australia would be to face a barrage of animosity. And yet, for all the sniping and the fervent desire to see the English destroyed on the field, it has mostly been me who is the aggressor. In the pub on Saturday, when the first test hung in the balance, and England were in to bat, I was told I was "ungentlemanly", as I defended Stuart Broad's decision not to walk after he clearly edged a ball to slip. As the barman poured me a beer, he looked on in mild disgust as I explained that Broad was well within his rights to stand his ground. And for all the muted cheering every time an English player smashed a boundary, there was not one raised eyebrow. One thing I have learnt is that watching cricket can be a much more solitary, contemplative act here.
Of course, occasionally the animosity can boil over. I sat in a pub a few weeks watching the British Lions in a warm-up match. They were winning by a comfortable margin. The cameras cut to a sea of red shirts and a drinking partner remarked there were "too many British cunts" in the crowd. But I only needed to look at him for a second, before he slapped me on the arm and apologised profusely. Of course, occasionally the animosity can boil over. I sat in a pub a few weeks ago watching the British Lions in a warm-up match. They were winning by a comfortable margin. The cameras cut to a sea of red shirts and a drinking partner remarked there were "too many British cunts" in the crowd. But I only needed to look at him for a second, before he slapped me on the arm and apologised profusely.
Perhaps the lack of swagger can be explained by the fact that the Australians currently find themselves in an unfamiliar situation. For the first time in years, Australians have had to accept that they are on the back foot in Anglo-Aussie sporting ties. At a dinner over the weekend, I got talking to an Australian woman who told me she had considered supporting England now after the Lions success, Andy Murray at Wimbledon, and now an expected Ashes series victory.Perhaps the lack of swagger can be explained by the fact that the Australians currently find themselves in an unfamiliar situation. For the first time in years, Australians have had to accept that they are on the back foot in Anglo-Aussie sporting ties. At a dinner over the weekend, I got talking to an Australian woman who told me she had considered supporting England now after the Lions success, Andy Murray at Wimbledon, and now an expected Ashes series victory.
The most bizarre aspect of the situation is that I find myself conforming to a national stereotype I once berated, only to learn that my preconceived ideas of another nation were just a fabrication: the Australians I watch and listen to the cricket with are nothing but open-minded and accommodating of my now insufferable national pride.The most bizarre aspect of the situation is that I find myself conforming to a national stereotype I once berated, only to learn that my preconceived ideas of another nation were just a fabrication: the Australians I watch and listen to the cricket with are nothing but open-minded and accommodating of my now insufferable national pride.