England’s cricketers stepped groggily off the plane at Heathrow yesterday. What to do with their three precious days back home before they fly off to Dhaka? A spot of golf? Some hoovering with the baby on their hip? Anything but reflect on World Cup campaigns past.
England’s history in the competition is, umm, chequered. It is not that they haven’t tried: they’ve roped in nice, round, jolly, fellows like Ian Austin – if only Samit Patel had been born 10 years earlier; tall thin grumpy chaps, one-day specialists, and Test-match-to-the-core men. There have been happy coaches, sports-jacketed managers and track-suited team directors.
Discipline has been lax, firm or non-existent. They’ve fallen off pedalos in the Caribbean, thrown up on the field in Peshawar and refused to play in Harare on moral grounds.
None of which has made much difference: despite hosting the competition three times, they’ve never won. Another game invented and lost, and a lack of success in the commercially important one-day game has cost power and influence.
That power and influence flew eastwards of course, to India.
It was in 1996 during the last World Cup to be held in Asia, that this new reality dawned. England had expected to host it, but arrived in India to face New Zealand in dusty Ahmedabad, only to discover that the game was passing them by. Cricket had become big, bold, brash, and full of incident — good and bad.
England’s history in the competition is, umm, chequered. It is not that they haven’t tried: they’ve roped in nice, round, jolly, fellows like Ian Austin – if only Samit Patel had been born 10 years earlier; tall thin grumpy chaps, one-day specialists, and Test-match-to-the-core men. There have been happy coaches, sports-jacketed managers and track-suited team directors.
Discipline has been lax, firm or non-existent. They’ve fallen off pedalos in the Caribbean, thrown up on the field in Peshawar and refused to play in Harare on moral grounds.
None of which has made much difference: despite hosting the competition three times, they’ve never won. Another game invented and lost, and a lack of success in the commercially important one-day game has cost power and influence.
That power and influence flew eastwards of course, to India.
It was in 1996 during the last World Cup to be held in Asia, that this new reality dawned. England had expected to host it, but arrived in India to face New Zealand in dusty Ahmedabad, only to discover that the game was passing them by. Cricket had become big, bold, brash, and full of incident — good and bad.
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