Something amazing happened while Emma and I were in Australia: The Australians regained the Ashes, meaning they won the fierce, bi-annual cricket series between England and Australia that dates back to 1882. What’s more, the Aussies swept the series 5-0, which hasn’t happened in 86 years.

Thanks to my father-in-law, Malcolm, I was lucky enough to see two days of the Ashes series (one in Perth, one in Sydney). It was nothing short of riveting.

A single day of cricket play lasts from 10am ’til 6pm, including a break for tea. One cricket match often consists of five full days of this length. This concerned me slightly. I tend to agree with the adage that baseball is fifteen minutes of action spread out over three hours. It only stood to reason that cricket might be the same fifteen minutes spread out over five days. Instead it turned out to be one of the greatest sporting experiences of my life.

Here are a few of the things I picked up along the way:

1) Warney
This Ashes series was the last for several mid-30’s-aged Aussie cricket greats—and one last chance to stick it to their biggest rivals on the way out the door. One of the retiring players was Shane Warne (a.k.a. “Warney”), said by many to be the greatest bowler (pitcher) ever to play the game. Watching Shane Warne at this Ashes series was like watching basketball live for the first time and seeing Michael Jordan’s farewell game at the NBA Finals. Here’s a shot I took of Warne bowling, followed by a YouTube clip of one of his trademark, nearly-impossible-to-hit spins.

I felt equal parts embarrassed that I’d never heard of Warne before, and blessed that I got to see the man play.

2. Barmy Army
England supporters comprised nearly 50% of the sold-out crowds, despite the fact that the matches were being played some 10,000+ miles from home. The first thing I noticed upon entering the cricket grounds, in fact, was the English singing. Tens of thousands of English fans singing “God Save the Queen” is nothing if not stirring.

Our seats in Perth were not far behind the Barmy Army, who came over from England to get very, very (very) sunburned, and sing, and sing (and sing) for England. I’ve never seen a team get so demolished, for days on end, with its fans still so spirited. Despite the fact that most cricket purists are annoyed by the always-noisy Barmy Army, I couldn’t help but love ‘em.

3) Av It
There was one Barmy Army member in particular who cracked us up endlessly. He held up two signs, AV and IT (’Av It!), the American equivalent of which is probably some combination of “Let’s Go!” and “F*ck Yeah!” He had the loudest voice I’ve ever heard, screaming “‘AV IT!” six or seven times at full volume, a call and response with several hundred English fans, after which he’d flip his signs over to reveal a new message, turn to the nearest patch of Aussie supporters and yell, “Oi! Oi! Oi! NO NONSENSE! Noooooo NONSENSE!”

After each set of screams, he’d slump into his seat, exhausted—until the next lull in cheering, when he’d leap up like his ass was on fire, and start again.

Since I only got shots of him from a distance in Perth (see above), at the Sydney match I wanted to get a closer-up shot of the Av-It guy. I climbed up into the midst of the Barmy Army, looking more than conspicuous in my “green and gold” Aussie team shirt, hoping to get my picture. As luck would have it, the Av It guy started up not long after I reached the center of the Barmy Army fan section. And since I was the only Aussie fan in the immediate vicinity, the second part of his cheer was delivered to me personally.

4) Just Like the Old Days
One of the best things about cricket is the history. We took a tour of the Adelaide cricket oval, where the scoreboard that’s been in use since 1901 continues to employ the same internal mechanics—which consist of two guys manually flipping the scoreboard numbers over by a system of cranks and levers.

5) The Don
As I also learned on our tour of the Adelaide Oval, the greatest batsman (batter) ever to play the game was undoubtedly Sir Donald Bradman, an Aussie cricketer who played in the early to mid-20th century. In fact, it’s said that his batting achievment in cricket is unparalleled in any other professional sport. Statistically, to match Bradman’s average of 99.4 runs per game, a Major League baseball player would need a career average of .392; an NBA player would need a career average of 43 points per game. This is staggering. English journalist R.C. Robertson-Glasgow said of Bradman, “Poetry and murder lived in him together. He would slice the bowling to ribbons, then dance without pity on the corpse.”

Bradman very narrowly missed a career average of 100, due to being bowled out in his final game before scoring the four extra runs needed. It’s said that, being that this was his farewell game, Bradman missed the final ball due to the fact that his eyes were brimming with tears.

“Of course, that’s rubbish,” Bradman said in 1996. “I was certainly emotional, but I wasn’t that bad.”

6) Cricket Stateside
There is actually cricket in the U.S. I’ve seen South Asian guys playing in the parks in the furthest reaches of Brooklyn. There’s even a United States Cricket Association, whose mission statement is as follows:

To promote the game of Cricket at all levels in the United States of America, develop national teams that will be competitive and successful in international competitions and to become the symbol of excellence in sports throughout the world.

They’ve fallen a little shy of these goals so far, to say the least. The most staggering thing to me, however was the absolute absence of any reporting of this Ashes series anywhere in the U.S. media. Granted, no one really knows (or cares) anything about cricket in the States, but here is a major professional sports result that hasn’t occured for 86 years—essentially on a par with the Red Sox winning the World Series—and there’s not a mention of it anywhere. Not even in the furthest hinterlands of the NY Times’ Sports section. There were local high school equestrian results, but no mention of the 5-0 sweep, with the retirement of one of the greatest cricketers of all time.

We’d actually come back to the U.S. before the end of the Sydney match, so I was desperate to get some sort of live update of the last day of play of the Ashes series. The cricket was nowhere to be found on any of our 200 or so satellite channels. The video feed from the biggest Australian cricket site wouldn’t play through U.S. Internet service providers. I ended up listening to the last of the series on a live Internet audio feed from the UK. This actually consisted of a cricket fan in his apartment in Manchester, watching the game on TV and broadcasting an amateur sportscast of his live commentary. It would have to do. I sat hunched over my laptop late at night in anticipation of the Aussies’ imminent sweep, listening to this faraway commentary on an even further away game, finally accepting the fact that I’d become what’s known in Australia as a “cricket tragic.”

7) Next Time….
I was really blown away by the English fans, many of whom were in Australia for the better part of a month for this Ashes series. They sang until well past hoarse, and generally added a level of excitement to the match that was utterly contagious. As much as I wanted the Aussies to pull off their amazing 5-0 sweep, I felt bad for the English who’d traveled so far and cheered so hard for their team, only to witness such a uniformly disastrous result for their side. My own father in law, Malcolm, had told me that coming to Australia for the Ashes was one of his “life’s dreams.” The good news for him is, after their loss of the Ashes, England went on to beat Australia in two subsequent “one-day” matches. They’ve lost the Ashes, but regained some pride, at least.

And so the rivalry continues. I can’t wait for 2009.

[Thanks a million for the tickets, Malcolm!]

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