Duncan’s book

So then. No going quietly into the shadows for Duncan Fletcher, whose autobiography is exposing Andrew Flintoff’s drink problems (among other things). But where do the public stand on the whole issue? I’d be interested to hear everyone’s thoughts.

Fletcher says he’s been let down by Flintoff, that Fred was too wrecked to even throw a ball (let alone catch it). This is woeful behaviour for a sportsman, especially one described by Brett Lee as a supreme athelete. But why didn’t Fletcher – the most powerful man in English cricket – nip it in the bud at the first offence?

And why was Flintoff given the captaincy ahead of Andrew Strauss? At the time, we all bought into the fanciful notion that Flintoff alone could help us retain the Ashes; a leader of men rather than a tactician. He’ll drag the players with him through sheer brute force, we thought. So, it seems, did Duncan. Or was Fletcher so concerned with Flintoff’s levels of drinking that he thought the captaincy might rein him in? Either way, he – and David Graveney – must be accountable. It was a gross error and has cost England, Flintoff (and Strauss, let’s be honest) severely.

Who was he out drinking with? Yep, Ian Botham (who naturally doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with sinking 12 bottles of Chardonnay. In an evening). Me and my miniature mate Dan from the magazine were discussing this today, and he reminded me of a piece Simon Hughes wrote in relation to Flintoff’s World Cup boozing:

Before the last day of an England Test in 2004, I was on the pitch chatting with Andrew Flintoff when Ian Botham strode over. “There he is, the world expert on batting,” Botham chortled, referring to me, “the bloke who used to fall asleep fielding at long leg. True, you know! [Unfortunately it is]. Now then Freddie, you and Harmy are coming out with me tomorrow night!’ Flintoff nodded in approval.

When the two had gone their respective ways, Michael Vaughan wandered over. I congratulated him on his second century of the match. “Thanks,” he said. “Nice track, innit. What was Botham saying?”

“Oh, he was promising Harmy and Freddie he’d take them out tomorrow night,” I replied.

“Oh no he’s not,” Vaughan said. “They’re not going out with Beefy! There’s another Test match in three days’ time.”

Vaughan’s authority is his greatest asset. What will Duncan’s book bring tomorrow?

Homeless Andy and his can of Fosters

Rather tenuous link to cricket this, but bear with me (and the original writer). It raised a smile:

“No we don’t open until 11:30 I’m afraid,” the doorman said. “As far as I know there are no plans to open any earlier – just as well, really, I can only drink so much!”, he joked.

If upmarket was the wrong direction, maybe downmarket was the answer. Just a short walk from the Ritz I finally found a place to catch the game with a beer.

Andy, a homeless man in his 40s, was enjoying the match on the widescreen TV in the window of the Trocadero, Shaftesbury Avenue.

His can of Fosters, he explained kindly, came from the local Spar store on Haymarket – open from 8am every morning.

So, stood in the drizzle, one can for me and one for Andy as a thank you for the tip, we caught the highlights of the day on Sky.

“I think we got best seat in house”, Andy said.

I’ll drink to that.

I’ve watched cricket, and attempted to, in some funny ways – (lugging ancient LW radio up hills, waving mobile phones desperately in the air to find reception) – but never this. Yet!