Thursday, March 3, 2011

Lines Written on England's Loss to Ireland at the M Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore at the ICC Cricket World Cup on Wednesday 2nd March, 2011.

Excuse the inexplicably long title, I'm probably trying to be Wordsworth or something. Anyway, whilst listening to the cricket yesterday, becoming incredibly annoyed and taking it out on the Xbox, I realised I needed to do my Creative Writing work for this week. I couldn't be bothered, so instead, I came up with this: 

It was the day of the birth of Andrew Strauss
Thirty four and already a three times Ashes winner.
He won the toss and chose to bat,
On a wicket fit for many a spinner.

It all started off so nicely
With the ball going to the boundary like a dream
With KP and Straussy at the crease
It was enough to make any England fan beam.

And then, suddenly, a misjudgement
Strauss out for 34 on his birthday,
A wicket for young George Dockrell
As Strauss yearned for the Tests of May.

Pietersen, England's latest opener
Soon became restless and ill at ease
He decided to play a reverse sweep
As he suddenly came over with brain freeze

Pietersen marched back to the pavilion
And in came Ian Bell,
On the back of a "controversial" UDRS decision
That gave India hell.

"Finally an Englishman at the crease"
All the sceptics do say,
Forgetting of course that dear Ireland,
Contain players from Australian bays*.

Trott and Bell began to rebuild,
As England looked to score big,
Both passed 50 in good time,
As Trotty, the pitch he continued to dig.

And then the moment of England's demise,
The decision to take the Powerplay,
One wicket fell, then another and another,
Much to everyone's vast dismay.

There were no boundaries like the India game,
As England continued to get out. 
The runs dried up, no singles, no twos,
And Irish fans began to shout.

The 50 overs came to an end,
And England finished eight down. 
Nobody anticipates the result to come
Not even in old Dublin town.

The boys in green started poorly,
As Anderson got Porterfield first ball
An inside edge it would seem,
But England hadn't bargained on big Paul.

The ball begins to crash to the boundary
As Broad struggled to find his length and line,
After many a stomach injury and bug, 
He tries to reassure England he's fine.

England's recent fielding has been strong,
But here it's a bit of a flop,
As misfield after misfield does occur,
And catches begin to drop.

And then on comes Graeme Swann,
A man who rescued his floorboard bound cat,
Ireland are reduced to 111-5,
As they fail to get ball on bat.

But England cannot expect the innings from KOB,
Whose hair has gone from ginger to pink,
He hits Swanny for two sixes,
As he forces England to rethink. 

He has his eye on the century,
The quickest in World Cup history,
Irish fans begin to dream of revenge for Morgan
And an astonishing victory.

Kevin O'Brien continues to hit sixes,
As Anderson, Broad and Yardy get tonked round.
England's only answer is Collingwood,
But he too gets hit out of the ground.

Ireland creep closer and closer,
As England begin to fear the worst.
Kevin O'Brien has made sure
That any remaining Ashes bubbles have burst.

Strauss is left to scratch his head.
Anderson hasn't got a clue.
Tim Bresnan can't find his yorker,
Leaving England fans feeling blue.

In the end Ireland were victorious,
Which is a great thing for associate cricket,
As for England, it's back to square one
And remembering how to pick up a wicket.

*Note: Not entirely certain if that's true, just wanted it to rhyme, poetic licence and that.
PS: Apologies for typos, not knowing what day it is and other things.