The Serve

Roll up for the clash of the titans

It has taken five weeks. Five weeks of empty stadiums and empty match ups. Until this. A rivalry so fierce it renders previous form useless. It’s Australia v Ireland, or more accurately, Australia against a bunch of Aussies wearing the Irish jersey. This is what the World Cup is all about. If you thought Australia against Australia A was must see TV a decade ago, if you watched with awe as Ian Rubin and the Russians famously played the Kangaroos in the 2000 rugby league world cup, oh boy, you will be in your element.

To the normal man tonight’s contest may seem like a mismatch. Uh uh. What you don’t know are the personal battles that have simmered for years.

Take Jeremy Bray and Stuart Clark for instance. The feisty batsman has the nickname ‘words’ and he has it for a reason. Years ago at Hurstville Oval, Bray strode out to the crease confidently for St.George and started on the Sutherland quickie. First ball was nicked through the vacant third slip for four. Vicious comments such as “Take that back over the Tom Ugly’s bridge” were flying thick and fast from the now Irishman. The tens of people in the crowd were on edge. Clark was oblivious. At least he pretended to be. Next ball Bray’s off stump was repositioned to the keepers feet. As he departed, Bray stood upright, chest out and said “I’ll be back”. Clark again pretended to be unaware of the bubbling rivalry, happy to chat among his teammates. Bray is playing tonight, Clark is not. Bray 1, Clark 0.

Dale Langford-Smith and Nathan Bracken used to be close. They were inseparable while playing for the New South Wales Under 17’s. One event changed that forever. The pair were short-changed a Big Mac at a McDonalds drive thru. Langford-Smith offered Bracken the one Big Mac they received, while he would take the McNuggets. Thinking this courtesy would be reciprocated with a “No mate, you take the burger”, Bracken accepted the offer graciously.

They never shared Maccas again.

The captains share the most volatile relationship of all. Trent Johnson and Ricky Ponting have never met, but Johnson returned to his home town recently, Wollongong, where Ponting’s wife hails from. Both happened to be at the Bourbon Street tavern one Thursday night. What luck. The captains of two fine cricket nations in such a confined, cramped space. As luck would have it, both were buying drinks at the same time. At least they were trying to. That Bourbon Street sure gets pumping, with the sea of humanity and Haddaway blazing through the speakers. Service is minimal. After several minutes, Johnson is agitated and introduces his bar tactics. He leans towards the barman, then maintains eye contact at all time, hoping for a return ‘You’re next, buddy”. Nothing. He sticks his right hand out with a fifty sticking out, ready for purchase, then pretends he’s next and starts speaking to the barman at the same time as the petite girl to his left. A courteous apology follows, but still no luck. Don’t they know this is the captain of Ireland? Finally, it’s his turn, but what’s this? Ponting has been chatting away merrily to a mate for the last five minutes and hasn’t shown any interesting in fighting for attention at the bar, but the barman notices him and instantly hit’s him with “What’ll it be Punter?”. Ponting orders, continues his conversation, then takes his drinks and leaves. Just like that.

Johnson eventually got his drinks, but he has not forgotten. He has waited for this day. The day he can get revenge for the time he had to hear his mates say “What took you so long?”, because of Punter. All tournament Johnson has carried a picture of Ponting and a picture of a glass of bourbon, looking at each before going to sleep.

Retribution has never tasted so good.

Brendan Fevola belting the Irish barman. Brock the dog stampeding Croke Park a few years ago, ruining that hybrid rules match. Such a vicious sporting history between the two nations. One thing is for certain.

Tonight, cricket will be the winner