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Ashes to Ashes

Damn and Blast! Those rotten Poms have done it to me again. They've lengthened my insomnia-wracked nights by lying down once again on the cricket field. Hopeless they are.

Here I was, looking forward to 25 days of Ashes Test match cricket on the radio and what happens - third Test, all over in three days.

Well, with their latest rout the series stands at 3-0 to the good guys - and we've yet to have five days of a Test.

True, it's a bit silly to believe the Pommie papers when, pre-tour, they trumpeted their pale wannabes as real contenders to win back the treasured urn. Fat chance.

My mate W.G. Grace (I bowled at him when I was a young fellow) will be rolling in his grave at the shame of it all.

Still, young Steve Waugh has done the honourable thing and decided to give the home side a bit of a chance in the fourth and fifth Tests by pretending to have a calf injury.

His wincing in pain and being stretchered off the field may have convinced some, but I know the real reason. As his cricketing mentor I've spent a lot of time with Steve - teaching him to bat, giving him a few pointers on leadership - and he knows how I was looking forward to lying there listening to the ABC's ball-by-ball coverage.

So, as a mate, he's given the Poms a chance in order to let me hear five days of each of the remaining Tests.

It may not help them, but thanks for thinking of me mate!

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com