Happy Perthday

I was planning on writing about both games I've been lucky enough to attend in Perth - the final game of the SA/OZ ODI series followed by NZ's frist crack at the vulnerable Aussies.

Screw that. It's not every day we travel to Australia - the far end of it at that, and win.

My seats for both games weren't cheap - so let's ignore the title of this blog while we give thanks for shade on a 38 degree Perth day. The view from the top of the Prindiville stand is one of the best in the ground.

NZ supporters were few and far between and I was not about to throw on my ODI shirt when surrounded by yellow clad aussies. Yes, call me a wimp and I'll just agree with you.

There is nothing threatening about our bowling attack, and given the groundsman's prediction of a belter, I was surprised at how tightly we bowled. Add to that a typically tidy fielding performance and at one stage it was looking like Oz would be bowled for around 150. I felt a little less comfortable with things as they edged over the 180 mark. We could well struggle, and as it turned out, we didn't make easy work of it at all.

I guess the Broom dismissal has to be mentioned. To me, the TV evidence doesn't lie, and that's really all I can say about that. There's no shame in admitting a genuine mistake is there Mr Haddin? I can only assume that Australia are looking at a different set of footage than the rest of us.

Given that we are experts in the art of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, I wasn't too surprised at how things turned out. As wickets fell towards the end, I sunk further into my seat and kicked my ODI shirt further out of sight.

The final overs went on for an eternity. What was it you had to talk to Nathan Bracken about after every single ball, Ricky? Finally, the last six balls arrived, and I would have happily taken a draw at this point. What had looked simple four overs ago now looked like it would all go horribly wrong. Enter Danny. How he struck that four is still a mystery, but thank God he did.

Much screaming and jumping followed, and not just from angry Aussies. We'd won. The feeling was indescribable. It still is. There's nothing quite like getting one over on the old foe.

Special mention to the beer snake of doom and the streaker who went all the way.

Now it's off to Melbourne. Who knows? Maybe we'll win again.