Today was the day that the squad for the First Test was announced. My phone didn’t ring much before or after, which is never a good sign. Compared to all the hoopla associated with the annoucement of touring party, the naming of a twelve for a home test is not so dramatic – there are even more spare cricketers rattling around the country than there were in England or India earlier in the year, so anyone could get the tap on the shoulder later on.
It looks like Puff and Unlucky at the top of the order, with Hollywood hobbling along at Number 3. The Captain will just have to go with the flow and take his bad back to No. 4, with the flamboyant Trapper and the not-nearly-so-flaboyant debutant Mr G fighting it out at 5 and 6. Wicky will bat at 7, followed by Tatts, making a big comeback, then The Freak, The Natural and Plopper making up the bowling attack. Jacka is very likely to be holding the drinks, a skill in which he ranks more highly than either bowling or batting. The Captain seemed to want to also name the England Team on Chef’s behalf, which seemes a bit wierd, unless Deep Third has started feeding him classified information as well. That would be bad – I need every reason for an invitation into the dressing room I can get.
So, that’s it. My name was not on the list. Looks like I’m stuck just outside the core group, but without the prestige of being “in the touring party.” I imagine that means us fringe players will have to run in a virtual “Reject Club” for the summer. A daily Google Hangout wouldn’t be quite the same.
The Prof sent me a one-word text just after the annouNcement: “Predictable.” I can only assume that means he took a more adventurous approach in the sweep back at his home club, and missed out.
Later in the afternoon The Prof was on the phone, to my surpize attempting to make arrangements for our stay in Brisbane during the Test. I tried to point out that Thea was expecting me back in Sydney after already being in BrisVegas for a week playing QLD in the Shield. He would have none of it. It’s clear he knows something I don’t, so I agreed that his personal travel agent could fly me back up there on Test Eve, and I’ll tell Thea that I’m on stand-by or something. There are enough injuries and players over age 30 to make that quite believable.
Two days to go here in Brisbane, then home on Sunday.
Bring it on!