Ashes Summer Musings: Vol III
Guns and Roses and Memories and Patience.
Guns and Roses and Memories and Patience.
Saturday 24th June 2023
With all souls feared perished inside a deep sea submersible that reportedly “imploded” on its way to The Titanic and Russia in the midst of a military coup, I’m sure you’ll join me in agreeing that it’s a fabulous time to be alive. I often ponder on the “News” as a concept. Leaving aside biases, conspiratorial thinking or just plain apathy, consider the fact that you are as likely to be hit by lightning as to be at the actual scene of the “news” event you then see on your television, so therefore the vast, vast majority of “news” is beamed to you via the electrical signals of a television or tablet, internet or blob named “media”. If you didn’t watch said news does it therefore not happen or have an impact on you is a similar philosophical argument as to trees falling in forests, but we don’t have time for such silly ruminations today.
Unless that forest happens to be in Russia and we’re on the brink of World War III for the 78th year in succession.
What if I told you that the same “News” organisations that report on a world that we never really see, reported, for some considerable time now and with the straightest of faces, that Russia have trained a Norwegian dolphin to be a spy?
A spy!
It’s a fabulous time to be alive as I’m sure you’ll agree.
Today’s diary entry will be in reverse order and as my old friend Hunter S Thompson would no doubt have exclaimed “and why not”, so we’ll begin at the end of another quite brilliant day on planet earth with Guns’N’Roses headline appearance on the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury. I tend to tune out of the yearly Glastonbury festival unless Radiohead are scheduled to appear and so hadn’t seen or heard a musical note until this evening, and then for only twenty minutes of marvellous nostalgia and the evoking of deep memories from decades ago. Confessing one’s sins are good for the soul apparently so I must therefore admit to missing the Arctic Monkeys headlining on Friday evening and according to many a wise sage in the world of the internet, stinking the place out. I’ve seen those Sheffield firecrackers on three separate occasions over the years and had the time of my life at each and every gig, so perhaps it was for the best that I avoided their set on Friday and it was only by chance that I stumbled over the headline set of Guns’N’Roses this evening. For the twenty minutes or so I watched they were magnificent and if only they’d ended their set with Knockin’ on Heavens Door rather than continuing with their bloated finale. English born guitarist Slash can still wield a mighty axe, even a handstand before he exited stage left at the end of their set, but it’s to their lead singer Axl Rose that we turn for his distinctive whistling introduction to their best song Patience, and a song that evokes so many memories from so many years past.
I was a long haired college student when I first listened to their epochal album Appetite For Destruction before diving headlong into a fandom for the rest of my college days and into an early twenties of honest to goodness work for the first time. Still living at home with a Test Match cricket loving mother who preferred operatic tenors to screaming Americans, I fondly recall her mimicking the opening to Paradise City before disgustedly turning away as Axl’s whistle once more signalled the heaviest of metal guitars to commence. She had a fondness for Patience but this was nothing to the adoration I had, still have, for that song, and so by luck or providence I flicked the TV channel at exactly the right time as yes, you’ve guessed it, Axl’s whistle gently introduced us all once again to those quietest of acoustic guitars, and a little patience. The memory fades more than a little these days but I’m relatively certain (without delving into The Matrix for confirmation) that Patience was either a B-side on a 12 inch single that I had on a rare import record and/or it was part of a rarities/non-standard album of fellow B-sides and cover versions. I’m almost certain one of those is correct but what I am comprehensively certain of is that for twenty minutes I disappeared into a reverie for the late 1980’s and the memories for a grand old lady who introduced and then encouraged my interest in cricket, a sport she adored, and the grandest of all games.
Working in reverse order as I promised I would we come to the first of two cricketing delights as the day’s highlights from the third day of the Ashes Test Match between England Australia was another day of high run scoring, headline acts of a sporting nature, and an all time record performance for the ages. Starting the day 255 runs behind on 218–2, England finished the third day’s play still 92 runs behind but, within the eccentricities of the game of cricket, having completed their 1st innings with a huge total of 463 to trail their Australian visitors by just 10 runs after one collective “dig” with the bat each. Aussie openers Beth Mooney and Phoebe Litchfield then crashed and caressed their way to 82–0 by the close of play to set up an imposing overnight lead of 92 runs and entering day four with all ten 2nd innings wickets in hand. Australia are firm, firm favourites, yet the day belonged to a 32 year old lady from Dover on the Kent coast.
Just as yesterday did.
England opener Tammy Beaumont started today on exactly 100 not out and by the Lunch Break had extended her personal total to 144 not out and her England team now just 165 runs adrift of Australia’s 1st innings total. By the Tea Break she was 195 not out having survived with a cricketing “life” when on 159 and although wickets were falling all around her, as the team’s began the third and final session of the day England were now within touching distance and just 45 runs behind. Having already by this point set a record for the highest innings score in an Ashes Test Match by an English lady, 5 runs later Tammy Beaumont became the first to score an Ashes double century before becoming the tenth and final wicket of the innings as she, in the cricketing vernacular, tried to “slog” quick runs at the end of the innings. A remarkable feat, sporting or otherwise, Beaumont then resumed her place in the field at the “Bat/Pad” position as Australia batted once again, and she continued to be on the field of play for three straight days!
Three will become four tomorrow as Australia resume in a prime position to, cricketing vernacular once more, “bat the opposition out of the game”. Based upon the three days of play hence far, we can expect Australia to score in excess of 300 runs and thus setting England an almost impossible run chase of 400+ runs on the last day. Despite Beaumont’s superlative display, England are in trouble ahead of the fourth day of this Test Match and if the World Champion Australian ladies click into gear tomorrow, the fifth day could be one hell of a day in the cricketing dirt.
All of which is for the future.
For the very recent past we venture to yet another game of cricket and this time in an afternoon of scattered sunshine, a mountain of memories, and a bribery scandal. Returning from the trip to the cinema that will complete this diary entry shortly, we passed our local cricket club and with a game in progress and a pizza as a bribe for a son indulging in my sporting madness, we watched half an hour or so as our local team (Wellington) sank from an already dismal total of 83–6 to 101–9 against their visitors from nearby Shifnal by the time we made our exit in search of a pizza. As we made our way slowly around the boundary edge we saw three perfect wickets (two clean bowled and one stupendous leaping catch) as I marvelled at the memories a simple local league fixture such as this could create. You have the small but perfectly formed traditional Pavilion, a hive of activity for members, spectators, family members, playing waiting to go into bat or those that have already been sportingly defeated on a field of play alive to the chirping sound of encouragement, banter, laughs and good cheer from the fielders. As cows and sheep graze on nearby fields and spectators dot the boundary’s edge with chairs and tents, children and dogs are also in plentiful supply as a world within a world plays out in all white and in all its quintessential English glory.
I couldn’t help but retreat to the memories of my playing days of decade’s past and the many regrets I carry for a game that when I stopped playing, I disappeared from completely. I should have coached or helped with the coaching of a team or at the very least become involved with a local team, helping at practice, a little umpiring maybe or very definitely the vital role of keeping the score and completing the match scorebook. I used to love that doing that! My team’s batting? Great! Shorts and t-shirts, feet up on a chair and the scorebook my trusty companion as at number 11, I won’t be needed for batting duty for a good time to come and I’d rather watch my mates score a bagful of runs as I watch anyway. My bowling skills can wait for a couple of hours. I’ll just be over here with my feet up, drinking an ice cold drink and meticulously detailing the dots and dashes, the 4’s and 6’s, the wickets and the maidens, that make up a cricketing scorebook.
Oh for such innocent times.
And so we’ll end at the beginning of a day that started out with a bacon sandwich (as is tradition) before my son and I scooted to our local cinema to see Asteroid City, Wes Anderson’s 11th cinematic offering as director. I even managed to conceal the big secret that I’d already seen it and breathed a huge sigh of relief as we left the beautifully dark confines of the cinema as my son loved a film I feared he’d hate, and I too, on second viewing remember after my secretive first watch yesterday afternoon, rather warmed to a film I may have mis-judged on first glance, really enjoyed second time around (as well as marvelling at my son’s reactions to the film) and by the third time in a soon to be future, I’ll no doubt be completely in love with.
From breakfast to a surreal film to two games of cricket, a bribery scandal, the beautiful company of my son and some guns and roses, a little patience, and a whole host of memories.
All in all, Saturday 24th June 2023 was a fabulous time to be alive.
Thanks for reading. More musings from The Ashes to follow in the coming days and weeks of this Summer. For non-cricket related musings, here are my three most recently published articles:
Pictorial stroll from Bratch Locks to Stourton Locks
15th June 2023.medium.com
Sunshine filled greetings from Ironbridge
Wednesday 14th June, 2023.medium.com
A rolling stone on the Trent and Mersey Canal
Tuesday 13th June 2023.medium.com