Adelaide - Requiem For Duff Batting
Red Rose, thou are sick!
The Indivisible Warne
That beats you in flight
When you bat without gorm
Has spun out thy draw
Of English joy
And the Green Baggies
Does thy life destroy
With apologies to William Blake The Sick Rose
The English Disease
Like syphilitic medieval kings, Englandsuddenly went mad. No apparent cause,
no seeming attempt to stem noble pause
in bedlam's frenzy to lose without stand.
Fumbling wickets tumbled from their own hand,Misery’s drubbing unconceived before
they gouged their own wounds to bone. Running sores
of needless cuts, hooks, pulls and slashes banned
by dressing room: empty-headed retarded
births within teeming middle of crisis
induced by syphilis's half-brother, hubris.
The day’s sure draw before all this started:
licentious defeats grow infectious,
chaste play's honour fouled by these haughty lechers.
inspired by Greg Baum, Sydney Morning Herald, report of proceedings
- "Like medieval royals with syphilis, they went suddenly mad"
The Adelaide Oval Wednesday 7th December 2007
return to understand
go back to the emptiness of defeat
you might learn something
seats tipped-up, crowd roar gone
a cockatoo, songbirds call above
drumble of traffic, clang of scaffolders
dismantling temporary stands
you demolished with your batting
A smear of dried ice-cream
stench of spilled beer around the bars
a nasal trail into the arena
its wicket perfect as it always has been
Why have I taken you here?
No flags of Saint George. No
Wigan, Norwich, Cheltenham
No sign of ourselves.
The scoreboard retells the story
168 for 4, a six wicket victory
they won't take down for a while
Taste the simplicity of defeat
ing yourself. Swallow its emptiness.
Stay till you understand
how never to fail yourselves again.