Andrew Flintoff – an occasional sense of occasion.

If the headline is gimmicky, it can be argued, but so is Freddie. He looks all earnest because he knows the importance of it.

You can bet he will look his best in his last test innings today. There will be so much purpose around him, you’d think he could broker peace in the Middle East.

Freddie Flintoff will be the man. Today, tomorrow, and if it gets to day after, which it won’t, unless it rains on everyone’s parade.

This is, as the previous test, another abridged one, that should suit Freddie just fine – he is a limited overs player. But that is not the thrust of this piece or Freddie’s world in this test.

The test has just started for Freddie. He has connected to the sense of a moment. The moment was manufactured by Stuart Broad, the Aussies and whoever else could pitch in.

But we are on the threshold of a London Moment. It will be bigger than Lord’s, it will be bigger than the Oval. It will be the shape of Freddie’s fancy.

What picture will he paint? Will he be airbrushed?

Here’s what I expect, Freddie to arrive at the crease, and regardless of whether he scores or doesn’t, the crowds will be at his command. That will be a moment.

If he plunders with the bat, then it will be a savage, almost apocalyptic moment – and Noah will fetch one of Andrew Flintoff for his ark.

But it will be ball in hand that Freddie will emerge Godlike, a larger manifestation for all mortals to see, believe in, myth will be no myth no more.

As Krishna revealed the universe within to Arjun.

Freddie will seize the moment, the day, the night, and all that lies within its grasp, and beyond it.

The ball will cease to be a ball.

It will be, a moment hurled at the Australians.

And not even the Aussies can defy destiny.

It is written here, but only Freddie knows how it will pan out.



Not from the poms or the convicts, read about the Ashes @ Bored Cricket Crazy Indians (BCC!)

Freddy Steady Go!

Like Ian Andersen on one good leg
Coming down Lord’s hill like one big keg
What you gonna do little Aussie?
What you gonna do?
Here he comes, he comes for you,
Ninety two miles an hour
While up there sits a thin-lipped Andy Flower
Freddy Steady Go!
Freddy Unsteady Go!

No, not quite, not quite
Here he comes, he comes for you,
What you gonna do little Aussie?
What you gonna do?
Ninety two miles an hour
Short and in the face
Out to annihilate the human race
That’s cheating, too heavy too fast
Too many overs, too many overs unchanged
How did he bowl more than four?
What we gonna do, what we gonna score!
Here he comes
He comes for you
Freddy Steady Go!

Such a big bulk of a man
The earth must hurt as he trudges in
He will, gonna breakdown
He will, gonna meltdown
This man don’t belong, not to now
He be some early descendant of the Ape
Will you look at that ball and shape
Ninety two miles an hour
Here he comes
He comes for you
What you gonna do Little Aussie?
What you gonna do?
It’s Freddie. Steady. Go!

Bill Lawry: He’s GAAAAWN!

Thank you Freddie, for having Australia before lunch.

There is a taste to a session, how it unravels, the way the fielders move, who bowls first up – Yeah, Flintoff was there. No chances, new ball at Australia, new day at them too.

Australia wanted to score, but they could barely breathe. Asphyxiation a third party sport, if you watched, there was no way you weren’t sucked in.

And Freddie ballet man, after each wicket, down on a knee, applause! - there was no final curtain – it was encore after encore.

Such heavy balls he bowled, it wasn’t just speeds of 92 mph, it was the weight of each delivery – Clarke and Haddin, merrymakers till last night, badly hung-over now.

The day was seized, and we watched Flintoff seize each moment of the little day – what the devil got into him now?

Can he survive the next test, does that matter – Flintoff has won Lord’s, broken the 75 year old Voodoo, so let him go lounge.

Could you please make Sir Freddie a drink, he is thirsty. Earlier he was hungry and had Australia.