Peter Roebuck writes in the Sydney Morning Herald that in a supposedly packed marketplace where cricket is trying to hold its own, it is doing itself a major disservice with unnecessary rain delays. On Wednesday at the SCG, the Sheffield Shield match between New South Wales and Western Australia didn't get started until 3.15pm.
To approach the stadium in the morning was to observe a few apologetic drops dripping from the skies and to notice that the light was a tad gloomy. Only the lamest soul or someone fresh from a coiffeur would have raised an umbrella. Windscreen wipers were not required. The previous day the temperature had soared to 37 degrees and the batsmen had dictated terms. Now the tussle might be more even. Changing conditions are part and parcel of the game.
Apparently the outfield was damp. Research indicated that beads of water could be detected on the tips of the grass. Poor souls, the bowlers might be handicapped with a slippery ball. Poor lads, the batsmen might have to peer into the gloom. Inevitably news broke that the start had been delayed. Not that the players were huddled in the rooms. Instead they were on the park, loosening their prodigious muscles, preparing for the contest. Some cheerfully hoofed a footy ball around, others practised close catches. No one seemed to find any irony in this exposure to the elements. As far as could be discerned none of them contracted pneumonia or fell flat on their face or cracked a bone.
Peter Lalor in the Australian points out that the very few fans who turned up were understandably unhappy.
When the players did come out to start at 3.15pm one paying customer (there were only 241 others) yelled at Stuart Clark to get a move on. The bowler told the man that it was only 3.14pm and the umpires wouldn't let him. It gets that intimate at a Shield match.
It gets heated, too. With poor Beau Casson bowling at times like John Howard did to the troops, another spectator chipped in with some harsh criticism that echoed around the stands. This time NSW captain Simon Katich gave the bloke a single-barrel blast of advice.
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