No Pakistan, No Emirates

Pakistan 523-8 declared
v England 290-3
close on Day 3

Sheikh Zayed Stadium, Abu Dhabi

Thursday 15 October 2015

Twitter @ball_sup

Dry Day #6
All Balls. No Sup.

No Pakistan. No Emirates. Make no mistake. The wealth of the Emirates is built on the labour of migrant workers. Dubai doesn't even have Big Oil.

And of course, the slave conditions insult the liberal & Trade Union me. Stand outside a big shopping mall when a shift changes. Somewhere out the back you'll find the gents & ladies who have just served you in the coffee shop or done you at the supermarket checkout. The front of house, customer facing fellas. All getting on the white company bus back to their accommodation camps.

The customer facing mob. Not, the hidden unskilled, no English, construction & black stuff fellas. They're on the road from their camps before you are up.

We used to say about Apartheid South Africa, "no normal cricket in an abnormal country". Jeez Louise. Should be writ large here in the Emirates.

But, the World turns. We are where we are. But, from my rooftop. No Pakistan, No Emirates.

Islamic New Year today. Many more of my Pakiatani Cricket Cousins in today. Salute. Great social phenomena the Pakistan supporter. I come in peace. As an observer.

In England, we have celebrity fans. Celebrities who are fans. Some of them (Heaton, Webster) helped save my football club in the Ched Evans days.

In Pakistan, they have celebrity fans. Fans who have become celebrities. Here is what you need. The Anatomy of a Pakistan Superfan.

1. The clothes. Green & White is always gonna help. With the Star & Crescent.

2. The headgear.

3. The noise, cry or mimic.

So, no disrespect, but who do we have in today.

A. An old favourite of mine. BBBRRRRRR. His headgear is a sort of Maharaja style turban. You know the type. Got something like a small fan sticking up. His calling call is BBBRRRRRR. Black moustache & lips all aquiver.

B. A new kid on the block. Manic Kookaburra Laugh. He's got a green mohican wig thing going on. His calling call is the Manic Kookaburra Laugh.

C. And a left field candidate. Mad Hat. He's got this mad beige silk scarf/shawl thing wrapped round & round his head. And, here is the thing. No discernible Call. But, double whammy. He takes the Mad Hat off. To reveal MADDER HAIR. Which he displays with side to side headbanging movements. Quo take note. Side to side. Not front to back.

Moths to the flame. Whenever BBBRRRRRR, Manic Kookaburra Laugh or Mad Hat get at it, the Acolytes gather round. Selfies abound.

The mob, unimpeded by a nearby Superfan go for rhythmic clapping. Sometimes with syncopation. Yesterday a drummer pitched up. What a time to be alive.

Mark Wood. How brainless was that? I'm OK with a nightwatchman. But, it's a simple job. Take the strike. Protect the fella at the crease (Cook). Protect the fella in the hutch (Root). Don't play shots. Leave. Make him bowl at the stumps.

Wood has slashed through the cordon. Then played back to a shortish 'un. Half punched. Half hung it out. Plays on.

Brainless.

222/450