Somerset vs Sussex, Pro40, Clash of the Titans, Highlights etc.

It’s a lovely evening at Somerset for this pro40 game. Trescothick and Kieswetter set about avenging themselves for the Twenty20 Final on a pancake surface.

17:00 – Tres out for 26 chipping a slower one from Wright to Goodwin.
The Leading Edge, unsurprisingly, likes Wright, he’s got genuine pace and bowls with real fire. Something the Sussex attack really lacks. Kirtley on the other hand is hard to like. He runs in with all the panache of a duck.

17:30 – Wright and Smith take on the bowling powerplay. Smith’s variation is class. In a brief interlude the camera pans around Taunton confirming that it is the nicest of the county grounds sitting amongst rolling hills with perennially blue skies and a church spire overlooking the action. Its better than Grace Road at any rate.

17:36 – Commentators take some time out to recommend Shane Warne’s column in the Times. If I was that kind of annoying woolly liberal type I’d have a rant about the ‘Murdoch Press’ monopoly.

17:38 – Kieswetter gone to Wright. Went for the club down the ground and fed he fielder instead. Is Wright the new Flintoff?….. no… he’s not.


17:48 – Nash fields at deep mid-wicket prompting the Leading Edge to recall the chant invented by Sussex fans for him. “NASH…..Aaaaaah, aaaaaaaaahhh, saviour of the universe!”

18:17 – Apparently Lalit Modi refused Northants entry to the ‘Champions League’ even if they had made the final of the Twenty20 on the grounds that they were too boring. Somerset’s spot looks in danger though as they deliver some yawn cricket and Sussex put the breaks on.

Yardy’s darts from wide on the crease are effective put terribly dull. Thankfully Beer is at the other end to give it some flight.

18:49 – “James Kirtley starts the over with 2 excellent slower balls.  Superb bowling”.  Erm, Paul, Allott, baby, I think you’ll find that 62mph is about Kirley’s optimum pace.  Jimmy Kirtley follows up that commen with a couple of 80mph yorkers.  Good on you Jimmy, don’t let The Leading Edge destroy your frail, frail confidence.

18:53 – I like Yasir Arafat.  Fast, straight and full.  More please, Yasir.

19:11 – Somerset end on a mildly disappointing 238.  Can’t not agree with Bob Willis: “Sussex will chase this down easy”.  Succinct and sexy, I expect nothing more from our Bob.  In other thrilling news, Ian Ward, who is completely dwarfed by the giant that is Bob, has shaved his head.  ‘Allo, ‘allo.

19:15 – Jesus, the break throws up shock after shock  Will Beer in televised wrist-spinning masterclass with Shane Warne on Sunday…during the Ashes coverage!  A-whoop!  At a Sussex game I thought it would be hilarious to start a new chant for Will Beer based on the iconic lyric from this mid-90’s dance classic.  It failed.

19:33 – Oh Lord, Rory Hamilton-Brown is so utterly pure cream.  Back foot straight drive for four, right past the bowler.  Followed by a six over long-on.  What a legend.   Ho ho ho, now he holes out to mid-on.  Oh, Rory.  Nevertheless, perhaps a legend in the making.  In the Twenty20 quartre final, he was getting some stick/encouragement from the crowd for being a ‘pretty boy’ etc, and I even let out a loud groan when we he came onto bowl.  He took 2 wickets in his first over and the man-of-the-match award.

I wonder what the chances of Big Bobby Key Lime Pie and our Rory opening the batting for England?

19:54 – Ed Joyce and Murray Goodwin lookin’ classy as ever.  Justin Langer pointing in that particularly authoritatively Australian way.  I’ll stick with Bob, I predict a Sussex win.  Easy.

20:12 – Oh my, 70-4.  Joyce and Smith in.  Shurely this will be the matchwinning partnership?  A little, classy, left-handed Irishman who scored an ODI century for England and a massive, throbbing right-handed Barbadian beast of a man.  Sssshhhurely?

20:30 – Smith out for 2.  The Leading Edge should hired as a TV pundit, with this amazing curse of ours.

20:58 – Sussex are going down.  Only Joyce left.  It’s all doom.  Well, perhaps not, but this blog needs no excuse, and is thirsty beyond belief and the call of the local all too alluring.  Cheerio.

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