Monday 1 October 2012

End of season tour: Corfu


Well now, I've been wanting to come here for donkey's years. It's a long, illustrious history cricket has on this island - stretching back about 200 years - and unlike the other ex-pat cricket hot spots around Europe, you're guaranteed to play locals, who have their own tradition and attitude to the game. Brief history here.

Trepidation as we arrived at the marina ground, to find a big Asian dude waiting for us ahead of his team mates. He didn't look very Greek. He wasn't. He was Pakistani. And it was 32 degrees, with not a cloud in the sky. And we were hungover to hell.

I opened, and his second ball rocketed into my glove. Wondered if my finger was broken, but didn't dare look. We were on astroturf so I wasn't worrying too much about seam movement, but he was getting some nasty bounce. Boy could certainly play, but I'd felt in good nick throughout the second half of the season since the outside-of-cricket-but-actually-totally-about-cricket issues had been resolved.

I shifted my guard out of the crease and to leg stump so I could trigger move back and across, and within a few balls he'd clocked what I was up to and started pitching the ball up a couple of yards fuller and swinging it back into me, forcing me to rock from there onto my front foot. Fortunately I'd actually worked on this bit of my game in nets this year, in anticipation of playing some higher level games that never happened. One KP/Viv ping through midwicket from outside off got a nod of approval from him. It's the little things, innit.

Lots of ok seamers at the other end, all Greek, all of whom I reckon would have been dead handy in England as they presented a good seam and hit a decent length; on astro there were no real terrors. However, but for a stern rule on wides down the leg side, we'd have been going pretty slow: wickets were going at the other end and I wasn't timing too much. After 12 or so overs, I figured it was time to get a move on, which turned out to be pretty easy on the astro. In about three or four overs I'd gone from 20-odd to my 50; but for a perfect yorker I was already fancying my chances of hitting a rather unexpected ton before the 30-over innings was over.

Moral of the story is I didn't know how to bat on astro before and I don't know now. The problem is this: you can basically smoke any ball on a good length out of the park. You'll probably get out sooner or later, but it's rather hard to say when, and in the mean time you're liable to hit so many I wonder if the correct approach isn't for nos 1-6 to smash everything they see and for 7-11 to eke out whatever they can if there are too many wickets down, since you're hardly likely to get beaten playing defensively.

My plan was pretty much the standard one of trot along off the bad balls then get a move on in the last 10 overs, but conscious of the fact it was tour, like a twat I'd already managed to run someone out, and people either needed a go or wanted to see some fireworks, I probably hit the accelerator a bit early.

It didn't work - new, unset, batsmen came and went, we didn't set enough, and Mr Pakistan smashed our bowling to absolute fuckery (minus him it would have been a different game, but I'm not sure who'd have won). Not quite sure what level he'd played but I've rarely seen a club level guy hit it that hard. Still, it was a pretty decent game given that on a weekend like this the cricket's only half of it.

Then I got repeatedly bitten by a mosquito, went into anaphylaxis, and ended up in hospital.


Not too much to say about this, other than that it was rather horrible to start with, got very scary at about 2am, Greek nurses are angry, shouty people, and you should always remember to take out travel insurance unless, like me, you're a total fucking idiot.

The next day I was released, whereupon I made the final three balls of the second game, which apparently wasn't very good as they were very bad, but I did get to sit in the central square, surrounded by the stunning twin Venetian and British architectural testaments to the island's history.


Nice. Some Afghan kids came over and challenged us to a game of tapeball, which I would absolutely have LOVED to have played, but sadly I was still feeling pretty fucking dreadful. Another little insight into a recurring theme on this blog - the way cricketers do live up to their national cricketing stereotypes. These kids bowled nicely, one definitely from the flowing-Akhtar-locks-and-try-to-hit-100mph school, and all of them wanted to send that ball HOME and clearly considered any other result a massive failure on their part. One of them did so, repeatedly - he made 73 from eight (8!) overs, looked absolutely class, and surprisingly we failed to chase the 100 total.

Doubt I'd have made much difference but I'd have loved to have given it a go. The fact you can bump into some people from a country your own has been systematically fucking over since, well, 1842ish and bond over a ludicrously esoteric sport in the middle of a Mediterranean town is just extraordinary, isn't it. And if you want to know the story of where they're coming from, here's a cracking long form piece for you.

Yeah, it was shit, the whole slightly life-threatening, bank-balance-ruining side of things. But disregard that 15 hour period? Loads of fun with some good mates, a beautiful place, wonderful weather, great food, excellent night spots and some decent cricket. If your team hasn't been on a foreign tour yet then a) I have literally no idea what you're playing at and b) Go to Corfu.

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