Cricket in the Jungle

Written for in November 2016.

After Tristan Allen’s excellent 2013 piece on Australian club cricket, the TFT editors – there were then two – asked other ordinarily talented cricketers living abroad to write short pieces on their own experiences.  Having recently moved to Singapore, that small city state just one degree from the equator, I readily agreed.  To our editor’s great frustration, it has taken me a full three years to produce the piece: a wait almost as frustrating as my habit of dancing down the wicket and then producing a forward defensive!

Singapore is both very hot, and very wet.  We have no need of weather forecasts or “Apps with rain radars” here as the daytime temperature is always a reliable 31°C to 33°C.  During the two annual monsoon seasons, it rains – very heavily – each day: normally for 15 minutes at exactly 2pm!  Thunderstorms occur on 40% of all days, and the humidity is horrible.  It is impossible to walk anywhere for more than 5 minutes without developing a sweat reminiscent of an overweight Lancashire league opening bowler in the middle of a 15 over spell.

There is also an extreme shortage of cricket pitches here.  There are only two cricket squares on the Island – which is only 1/3rd the size of the area encircled by London’s M25 motorway.  Most games are played on horrible artificial strips with tennis ball-like bounce.

Singapore (Blue) vs. London (M25)

At the same time, demand for cricket is very strong.  There are large numbers of super keen Australian and Indian cricketers here.  I play for an Aussie team, ANZA, which puts out five XIs: four league XIs and one social.

The solution arrived at by Singapore’s cricket administrators – whose fondness for over rate penalties would strike fear into the Chairmen and Captains of the Surrey Championship – is to play two 30 over games, on each ground, each day.

Games are played according to the northern hemisphere seasons, so as to permit the egg chasers an opportunity to play their so-called sport in “Winter”.

As an accumulator of only limited talent – who generally requires at least 30 overs to score a fifty – this shortened format initially put me off.  After allowing myself to be blackmailed into playing, I discovered it wasn’t the only thing I should have been worried about.

Wicketkeeping in Singapore is a nightmare.  The humidity makes 20 overs feel like 50.  After three or four overs, sweat starts dripping down into your eyes to such an extent that I have started wearing tennis headbands of the style made famous by Bjorn Borg and Craig Woodhouse.  Dizziness kicks in after 10 overs if one does not keep on top of dehydration.  Some sides have taken to switching their keepers after 15 overs in an attempt to alleviate the burden.

Singapore Cricket Club, Singapore

The other great worry is snakes.  My teammates at ANZA tell an alarming story about an – English -teammate who wandered into the light jungle surrounding the ground to retrieve a ball.  Moments later he screams “Snake!”, sprints across the square into his waiting Lexus and accelerates off towards the local hospital.  He was never heard from again.

I enjoy playing for an Australian side.  I haven’t experienced the f-word tirades Tristan describes during his time in Blacktown, Western Sydney.  But then most of the Australians I play with are on the same side as I am.

Most of the teams we play against are predominantly Indian.  Something that brings me neatly on to our greatest disadvantage, and the main reason we currently sit third bottom in the league one spot above another ANZA XI:

Our opponents are 10 to 15 years younger than we are, net, and do not drink beer.

We are currently outside the relegation zone, but will go down if the team currently in last place win their final game next weekend.  The only positive that we can take from the season is that we’ve somehow managed to finish above a higher ranked ANZA team, who have been nicking players when short.

I have managed some runs, but have struggled for boundaries.  The leg glance still works, but my off drive has sadly been absent without leave all season.

J., 2/11/16


In the beginning was the Rosé

Produced for in November 2016.

And the Rosé was good.

The first use of the word Rosé to describe pink wine is unknown, however we do know that the first wines of this style appeared as early as 7000 BC.  Dark, high tannin, Red wines did not appear for another 4500 years, and White wines even later.

Rosé’s precocious appearance is due to the simplicity of its production.  Under the skin contact method, all that is required to achieve Rosé’s striking colour is a light press of freshly harvested red grapes.  This can be done by hand, or feet, with no requirement for complicated machinery.  Very little maceration is necessary.

While various techniques are now used for Rosé production, most have the same concept at their core: brief contact between grape juice and red grape skins.  Winemakers can achieve different colours from Pink to Salmon to Orange by varying the length of this contact.

One exception is the Champagne region of France, the only wine producing area of the European Union where it is permissible to produce Rosé by blending Red and White wine.  This is illegal elsewhere in the European Union.

France produces 27% of the planet’s Rosé with the vast bulk of this being produced in warm southern France: Provence, the Southern Rhone (particularly Tavel) and Languedoc-Roussillon being the most important.

Example: Georges Duboeuf Fleur De Rosé 2014 ~ Languedoc-Roussillon, France

Example: Lavau Côtes Du Rhône Rosé 2013 ~ France

The Cotes de Provence is to Rosé what Champagne is to Sparkling wine.  87% of wine made in Provence is Rosé, with most produced in a delightful fresh salmon-pink style which John Szabo describes as “dangerously drinkable”.  Matthew Jukes accurately describes Provence as the “finest region in the world for this style of wine”.

“Speaking of Provence, that paradisical region of sun-kissed slopes and lavender meadows remains the locus of Rose’s spiritual soul” Mark Oldman, Oldman’s Brave New World of Wine

Example: Mirabeau Côtes De Provence Rosé 2015 ~ Provence, France

Example: Aix Rosé “Domaine De La Grande Séouve” 2015 ~ Provence, France

The red-skinned Grenache grape dominates Rosé production in southern France.  It is popular because of its relative lack of anthocyanins – plant colorants responsible for the red, purple, and blue hues evident in many fruits.  Cinsault, Syrah (Shiraz) and other grapes are also used.

English wine writer Jancis Robinson believes Australia has a fondness for “swashbuckling” deep pink Rosés.  These are hard to find in Singapore, but Pop Up Wine currently have a couple.

Example: Teusner Salsa Rosé 2014 ~ Barossa Valley, Australia

Across the Pacific, the Californians produce a hugely popular Rosé which some do not realise is a Rosé: White Zinfandel.  “White Zin” is pink, and made from the red Zinfandel grape.  It was originally a byproduct of a 1970s attempt to produce a high tannin red wine, by bleeding off some initial juice.  It now accounts for 10% of all wine sold, by volume, in the United States and outsells conventional Zinfandel by 6 to 1.

Orange wines – sometimes referred to as Onion wines – are also, technically, Rosé wines.  Their name is a reference to the colour of an onion, unpeeled.

J., 1/11/16