After cooking, and eating the dinner, we settled down to watch a Danish TV show called 'Anna Pihl'. Basically, it's a bit like the Bill, only better. It's also in Danish, so if you want to watch it, you'll need to get a DVD with subtitles. Or learn Danish. (I recommend the first one, that's what we did).
Tomorrow England are playing Australia in Hobart in an ODI. So as such, both teams would be training at the ground today, in preparation. I've already mentioned my poor attempt when meeting Strauss, Collingwood and Trott the other day, but today I was better prepared. I had little banterous gambits to say to the players, and my cool Graeme Swann t-shirt on. I was set.
As I arrived at Bellerive, I realised I had nothing to get signed. In the past I'd get them to sign a random scrap of paper, but I'd only lose it or something. In preparation for tomorrow's game they were setting up a merch tent, and I asked them kindly if I could have a mini bat. While probably against the rules (and a bit cash in hand), I ended up getting an mini bat with the Australian logo (didn't have any other choice) and a Sharpie for people to write on it with. Just as I finished giving her my money (and literally 1 minute after getting to the ground) I saw a bleach haired bloke getting into a minivan. It was Luke Wright.
Regular readers of my blog, listeners of my podcast, or people who talk to me about cricket know I don't much care for Luke Wright. In fact, I actively dislike him. He's not a bad man, but I just don't want him to play for my country. So as I saw him getting into the bus, for a split second, I thought about just ignoring him. Signing autographs would only encourage him to keep playing cricket - something I don't want him to do. But I thought better of it, and shouted "Luke!" at him. I gave him my lovely new mini bat, handed him my Sharpie, and asked him to sign it. I then looked into the bus. 7 or 8 England players were sitting there, ready to go back to the hotel after finishing training. I passed the bat around the bus, and got their scrawlings on the bat. Yardy. Tredwell. Davies. Bell. I also gave it to bowling coach David Saker, who said "nah mate, you don't want me on there". "Nice shirt, by the way" he continued, pointing at my custom made tshirt of Graeme Swann. "Cheers" said I. This was going much better than the other day.
The first bus drove off into the Hobart afternoon, and then a few more players started coming out. As the only England fan (and probably the only person above the age of about 13) there, I was straight in and first up to them all. Pietersen. Bresnan. Trott. And even Graeme Swann. (He didn't seem to notice I was wearing a shirt with his face on it). The other day when I met Straussy, I was told to remind him, Finny and Moggy that they haven't done their Middlesex questionnaires. Finny and Mogs came out together, so I jokingly let them know that Lorraine wanted them in. Finn sort of seemed to recognise my face (but had no idea where from), Morgs had no idea, but both smiled, signed my bat, and got onto the next bus. Strauss came out last, and when I told him about the unfinished questionnaires, laughed and told me "Let Lorraine know I will do them... in about 3 months though!". So - Lorraine - Straussy will do them, but in about three months. I tried.
With all this excitement going on, I'm amazed I found time to do anything else. But I did - I was the sole representative of England in what someone dubbed "The Ashes rematch". There I was, 1 Englishman against 6 Aussies, and I bravely fought hard for the three lions. Admittedly, my opponents ranged from about 12-15, but some of them were useful. Those of you who have seen me play cricket will know I can be a bit inconsistent, but something about that foam ball and plastic bat meant I was bowling like Laker and batting like Bradman. Unfortunate to be given out lbw (was always going to miss leg stump), I then wreaked havoc amongst my young adversaries, with the finest display of left arm spin in Australia since Ashley Giles. I was also sledging with the best of them, giving each of them a send-off, and greeting each of my boundaries with "and that's a great shot from Alastair Cook". After a while, they decided to stop playing, and wouldn't give me a game. I don't know why.
While all the England players were filing out, the Aussies were filing in. This got the group of young Aussie fans very excited, but while they went for Pup and the others, I noticed someone in an England shirt. Matt Prior, who was only called into the squad yesterday, had been doing interviews while everyone else left, so he'd been left behind. So I went over and had a chat. I don't really remember what was said, but I remember him remarking that I was taller than him, and I remember saying "if only I could grow a beard like that" to him. Which is fair enough, because he's got a beard I can only aspire to grow. After a car (which had been sent back for him) arrived, I wandered over to watch the Aussies train.
Without going into details, they did some fielding practice, then they had a net session. And I got some random autographs and pictures with some of them (despite them not really understanding why a guy in a Graeme Swann shirt wanted a picture with them). For the record, the nicest Aussie was oddly Shane Watson, a man who I've been calling Twatto for the past few years. I'll stop that now, because he was cool. Incidentally, my least favourite Aussie is now Doug "The Rug" Bollinger, because he turned me down 5 times for an autograph. Racist.
Here's some pics.
Me and bearded hero Matty Prior
Some nice Aussie fielding
Watson started belting balls at me. Never been so scared in all my life.
That's all for today blog fans. S'thee later! Will
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