How can it get to six weeks before the start of the English county season and it still not be confirmed whether the Twenty20 tournament finalists will be able to play in the Champions League (CL)? An article on Cricinfo this week has suggested that the ECB did not respond in time to the invitation for two teams to participate in the 2010 tournament. This is aside from the fact that the tournament dates are set to clash with the finale of the County Championship, the 40-over play-offs and the England ODI series against Pakistan.

All these problems stem from when the ECB decided to reject the offer to become co-commercial right owners of the CL alongside the Australian, South African and Indian governing bodies. This has already cost the ECB millions in revenue. The decision effectively meant that we are simply ‘customers’ rather decision-makers. The reason for the original decision? Alan Stanford. We may as well have invested all our money in The Lehman Brothers at the same time.

All these issues are resulting in a growing feeling of resentment from the players towards the ECB. The CL is a huge pay-day for those who qualify. The ECB are refusing to accommodate the CL by means of rearranging county fixtures. Admittedly, this would be a logistical headache, but the aggressive posturing by the ECB by way of stating that the fixtures will not be adjusted not only irritates the players, but also fires a shot in the on-going power-battle between Asia and England. One feels that this is a battle that the West is destined to lose, taking into account the fact that other powerful nations have aligned themselves with India already.

So what are the consequences in England of lack of CL participation? Well, there are already signs of a shift in players’ approach to playing the game. Twenty20 specialists may become freelance cricketers, playing as overseas players for number of domestic teams, therefore increasing their chances of qualifying for the lucrative annual tournament. Such are the timings of the South African, Australian, New Zealand, IPL and English domestic tournaments, a player could conceivably play in all five of them, participate in the Champions League, retire from 50 over/1st class cricket and still be better off financially.

ECB and their problems aside, the way that the game is being run from the Continent is also concerning. The number of unofficial quotes and leaked reports that come from various sources, keeps everyone guessing as to what is actually going on, and draws into question whether anybody actual has any sort of planned agenda. Apparently this week, the ECB were informally approached about hosting the 2010 Champions League. (Surely, this would be hugely controversial if they also refused to budge on the County fixtures effectively not allowing the County teams to play, yet still finding the facilities to host). The very next day, Cricket South Africa announced that they were hosting the event, only to be later denied by Lalit Modi. No doubt the subject of who will host the 2010 tournament will drag on. It is scheduled to commence in about seven months time. When the venue finally gets announced, be sure to hear of an ongoing saga about security measures, and team safety. Will there be enough time to put everything that is required into place? Other major tournaments, (admittedly they often have two or four years of planning), seem to have everything in place much further in advance. The CL at this stage however, are unsure as to their venue and their participants. Fairly important commodities I suggest.

I am currently sat on the balcony of my sister-in-law’s apartment in Bangkok. We had the intention of stopping over to see the family here for a couple of days on our way back to the UK. However, due to the short-term nature rearrangement of the return flights, we find ourselves in Bangkok for six nights. It was going to be seven!

It ended up being not such a bad thing. I have been pretty ill over the last few days – antibiotics and everything! Trying to negotiate two stints of 11 1/2 hours flying, all within 24 hours, would probably not have been a good move.

My last Saturday in charge of the East Coast Bays saw me watching from my car as I undertook a self-imposed quarantine from the the rest of the team. As I drifted from cold sweat to hot sweat, and back and forth to the toilet, the performance of the pitch was just as depressing. After a number of weeks of growth and encouragement from our batting line-up, we reverted back to traditional Bays ways, by falling to 135 all out. Suburbs New Lynn, our opposition, were more ruthless in their chase than we were penetrating in our defense, and cruised pass the total before taking a 40 run lead into the second day. They were four wickets down, but would have been one if it wasn’t for their generosity in the run-out department, handing us three easy dismissals.

Over the last five weeks they have definitely missed my bowling and possibly missed my middle-order contributions with the bat over the last three days cricket. My philosophy as their coach on a Saturday has always been to leave it to the captain. I have contributed when asked but, once the warm ups have been completed, I have mainly switched on as a player only. This made my contribution from the sidelines largely inhibited and a very frustrating experience.

Back to normality in a few days then. Single figure temperatures, possible white precipitation. I look forward to digging out all my thermals from the loft in time for our preseason friendlies!

Well, my time in New Zealand will be coming to a premature end in a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, my hamstring injury has continued to hamper me, and I have made the decision to return back to Northampton about a month earlier than planned in order to rest up from playing, get regular treatment and continue my rehab exercises.

I will miss many things here. Some of the most entertaining have been my trips to the gym. I have blogged about this in the past, but when you work-out by yourself it is a great opportunity for some ‘people watching’ as well as some deep-thinking.

My mood in the gym has a direct influence on my decisions. For example, if I am feeling extremely energetic, then for my run I will choose a treadmill next to someone who looks to have extreme athletic ability. At MISH, my regular gym, these type are very common. It is the base in NZ for many of the national representative athletes. When I’m running along side someone who has the same ability as me, as a minimum, it pushes me to run harder and further. Purely so I don’t embarrass myself and I prove to be of the same ability level as them. I don’t want to look inadequate.

The other extreme is when I feel a bit low on energy and self-esteem. There is sure to be a pensioner on one of the treadmills and all it takes is 10 minutes on a level that is double their inevitable walking pace. They have to go slow in order to prevent their hearts from exploding out of their chests. Even after a meager 10 minutes, the look of ‘ooo…. you are a strong young man’ is enough to boost my ego and move onto the weights.

I see the same people if I go to the gym at the same time each day. There is one gentleman whose attendance is admirable. The fact that I am always there to see him hopefully demands similar mutual respect. Every day between the hours of 12 and 1 he would be there working extremely hard.

My acknowledgment of him took the usual route. In the same way as when you visit a urinal and you must never ever chat to the stranger next to you and most definitely must not look down, there are rules. After about a fortnight it was acceptable to offer a nod of appreciation. Another week further on one may verbally greet one another. After a month, and a good month at that, I was in the position to ask him to ‘spot’ (watch over me) whilst I upped the ante on my weight-lifting. Even in this scenario chatter must be kept to a minimum. This is more for safety reasons that any other. If concentration was broken and niceties exchanged the lifting of heavy weights can become dangerous.

Now we were practically brothers, I was able to engage in further conversation. I almost regretted it. Jimmy was his name, and he was Northern Irish (a perfect stereotype for the New Zealand locals). He moved over here to work in IT and Telecoms for Sky TV. He doesn’t do this anymore. He still worked for Sky, but now worked in “censorship”.

“Oh,” I replied. “There doesn’t seem to be the same water-shed rules over here, as there are in the UK. Is that the area you mean you work in?” I had quickly noticed that day-time nudity and swearing was not uncommon on New Zealand TV and radio.

“No. Well actually,” (cue embarrassed giggle), “I work for the adult channels, and monitoring what hits the screens.” Stunned. My silence was perhaps deliberately interrupted quite quickly, as he noticed my jaw lowering to the floor. Jimmy went on to chat about how big an industry it was, despite the fact that law states they are not allowed to advertise the channels. This gave the conversation a more credible angle, and we went on the discuss business more generally and Jimmy reminded me his specialist area was actually IT and telecoms. However, until he was asked to join that department again, his job was basically to watch porn and assess its, err, quality.

I see Jimmy regularly, and he is more than happy to keep spotting me. It takes all kinds.

The Australian Open has never failed to enthrall me. I love Wimbledon, the history and the Englishness of it, but for me the Australian Open is cool. It seems more colourful and more flamboyant. Its definitely a warmer/sunnier climate and yet it is just cooler.

This tournament has demanded even more interest from me due to the success of Andy Murray.

The whole Scottish or British debate really does rile me. Partly because it is largely a Scottish phenomenon. It riles me because I consider myself British and despite the fact that Andy Murray does not endear himself to the general public as a personality, he is one hell of a tennis player and he is also British. Therefore I support him.

I will support England over Scotland when such an occasion arises and I would expect any Scot to reciprocate this. In the same way I support Colin Montgomery (incidentally, he also self-portrays as quite a grumpy man), Chris Hoy, and David Coulthard, I would expect the Scots to support Tim Henman, Justin Rose, and alike. Unfortunately, in general, this does not happen. The Scottish support is usually for the English teams’ opposition, or more specifically, support for English failure.

Why can’t we, as a British nation, embrace our various nations rivalry on such occasions as the Six Nations and the Commonwealth Games yet also come together and support our Great British heritage when individuals are competing in international tours such as the tennis, golf and motor-sport?

To be further controversial about the tennis, I read that in the Australian Open, as is also the case at Wimbledon, the men and women get paid the same amount of prize-money.

I do not wish to come across as chauvinistic in the slightest. I understand that the number of hours put into training by men and women are on a par, and aside from the majors, matches across both genders are a maximum of three sets. The amount of extra time a male tennis player spends on court does not really justify the inequality in pay that used to occur. Unfortunately, number of hours worked is not the major factor when determining rates of pay in this world. If this was the case then nurses that work 14 hour shifts and those who split 18 hour days between two jobs would earn the most.

The truth in tennis is the same as in the rest of the world. If you are faster and/or better than the person next to you at something, then you demand more money. I am not trying to define ‘better‘ tennis here. The TV revenue, ticket sales and TV figures go along way toward doing this for me. All of the above lead to money generated by advertising. It’s called supply and demand. The truth is that the majority of people, be they the general public or the director general for a TV company, would pay more to see or advertise during, a top flight mens match, than they would a woman’s equivalent. Its the same thing as the top male golfers demanding appearance fees in certain tournaments whilst the woman’s game hardly gets TV coverage. Effectively, the way it now works regarding prize-money in tennis is that if one person pays £50 to watch a women’s match and £75 to watch a men’s match, then the prize-money gets distributed as £62.50 each.

Of course, the prejudice that is shown in the way society differentiates between the two genders, in sport in particular, is not and has not been constant through time. It may well change. In fact, women’s tennis was becoming vastly more popular to watch, until it became so predictable with the Williams sisters dominating. If you take the marathon, the women’s world record has been fast approaching the men’s over the years. Over time, results and money invested may well demand equality. However, until that happens, at risk of offending many people, I feel that the male tennis players are missing out. Not so much at the pinnacle of the sport where players are multi-millionaires, but when the discrepancy filters down to where lower-ranked players are trying to make an honest living.

One thing that I do have on my trip to New Zealand is plenty of ‘down-time’. My professional priorities over here are the East Coast Bays Cricket Club commitments, my own personal training and my private coaching. The East Coast Bays hours of work are mostly in the evenings. My personal training takes up approximately two hours a day and the same can be said of my private coaching on the whole. This provides me with some good time through the day to do some ‘extra-curricula’ activities.

When the weather is good, we are spoilt for choice when it comes to cafes, beaches and heading out to relax with a coffee, good book and a swim. When the weather is poor, suffice to say that New Zealand TV is terrible. I am currently watching the movie ‘Enchanted’. This is not my choice. However, at 8.30pm on a Sunday evening, having flicked between the cricket and the Australian Open tennis all afternoon, I am lacking a strong argument to watch what I would like. So Enchanted it is. Is it a cartoon? Is it a comedy? Is it a musical? One thing is for sure: it’s not a classic. It’s comically cheesy at best. At worst it’s infuriately frustrating.

Talking of cheesy, has the musical drama ‘Glee’ hit the screens in the UK yet? I’m still trying to work out if this show is classic satire or the epitome of a stereotype.

I am in the middle of a two week break from bowling whilst I try to get over a niggle that has just niggled too much over the last few weeks. Luckily I have been the leading run-scorer in the two day competition for us, so my participation as purely a batsman was never questioned. Unluckily, I was promoted to open the innings, where we have had trouble every game this season. After three days of showers the wicket was sticky to say the least. I tried to leave well and get forward but after lasting six overs and managing to squeeze four runs from somewhere, I was bowled by one that moved in after watching several move away (past my outside edge).

The niggle is a slight concern at the moment, but I have decided that if has not cleared up in a couple more weeks, then I will come home a month early. This will give me six weeks of daily treatment and no pressure to bowl until the start of the English county season, and the best chance of being fully fit for Northants. If the injury does improve, then I look forward to staying out here until mid-March and building up some good stamina and bowling fitness outdoors whilst the rest of my county colleagues struggle with the cold weather and the not-so-realistic simulation of playing indoors.

I have a session of physio treatment booked in for early tomorrow, followed by a good gym session. I feel pretty energised after a relaxing Sunday on the coach. And I will probably find myself asleep quite early, judging on how this film is turning out…. zzzzz.

I’ve been witness to several strange occurrences during my time in New Zealand. Quite a few of these have been in my regular gym.

I go, on a daily basis, to the Millennium Institute for Sport and Health, or MISH as it is known locally. I’ve often wondered if companies discover a name first and then coincidentally discover a catchy acronym or whether they find a memorable word and then pull out all possible associated words to see what they can come up with.

It’s the classic “Chicken and Egg” situation, or as Del-Boy once said the “Bacon and Egg” situation. One example might be when UK Gold the TV channel eventually changed to a comedy channel (presumably when they had run-out of Eastenders and The Bill re-runs). They conveniently became the painfully dragged-out “Go-On, Laugh Daily” channel. When whoever discovered this phrase presented it to the appropriate committee, I can only hope that they could not think of anything better, and therefore had no other options but to accept the concept. The Kiwi’s have done quite well in adjusting the old sandwich favourite BLT (Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato) and added Avocado. You can now order a BLAT at any good high street cafe.

Anyway, back to MISH. To begin with there is a sign in the showers. It reads: “Please do not spit in the showers. Thank you.”

Firstly, why do people need to be reminded not to spit in public showers and secondly, why do MISH feel the need to thank any of the low-life that might consider this?

Whilst we are on the subject of showers, it does infuriate me when there is no where to hang your towel in the shower area. I end up having to hang it on a pipe, if someone else hasn’t beaten me too it. This was the case at MISH. However, when I got into the cubicle, low and behold the towel hook was on the back of the door. Now what is the point in that I ask?! Why do I want to have a soaking wet towel at the end of my wash, or why would I want to shower having to be careful that water doesn’t deflect onto my towel?! It makes the whole showering process very frustrating for me over here.

During my first visit to the changing room, I noticed that the gents had an ironing board, iron and hair-dryer. Very nice I thought. Equality at it’s best I say. This morning I was disappointed though. Not because these amenities were absent but because of a number of issues which started off slightly amusing and finished off very nearly horrifying.

It involved a little man who was ironing his shirt when I returned to the changing room after my work out. The uncomfortable thing was that he was completely naked. Obviously completely at ease with himself and over the next 10 minutes was evidently too at ease. Why wouldn’t you part-dress? Even just some Calvin Kleins or old Y-fronts.

I showered and returned to the communal area where I started drying myself – with my towel, as one does. Not the little man. He was using the hair-dryer. He used it all over. And I mean – all over. He blew his little friend hanging from a mini-forest in his mid-drift. He also blew his forest. Then, you know the other hairy bits on the back of your legs and the uhm, underside of your groin, that are really difficult to dry? He blew there too. I was watching, eagle-eyed, for any touching of electrical equipment and human skin. Not that I was ever going to use the thing again. They supply anti-bacterial wipes in the gym area to wipe down your equipment. If only they did a similar thing in the gents.

Finally, he finished and took out his hair gel. Still naked. He squirted a liberal amount in his hand, and rubbed his palms together. I was about to get up and say, “I hope you don’t plan of putting product in your….” when he thankfully just stood in front of the mirror and styled the hair on his head. Still naked.

The first half of the trip has flown by when you think that it may only be eight weeks until I return to sunny Northampton. My exact return date is unknown at the moment, but it is sure to be no later that mid-March. The majority of the squad report back on Monday 9th March. When all my mates are completing the various fitness tests on this day I may choose to delay my return by a couple of weeks! Seriously though I have permission to stay those extra two weeks if I feel I would benefit. I must weigh up whether traveling back home to bowl indoors for a couple of weeks would be a good option when I could be playing competitive cricket outdoor here.

2010 involves many things for me to look forward to and no doubt many things of which I have no idea. What I do know is that Northampton hold the answers to these and the return home will hold as much anticipation as the flight over here.

I am currently waking each day up to blue skies and a maximum daily temperature of at least 20-22 degrees. It all seems very wrong at the start of a new year.

I seemed to miss being home at Christmas more this time round, after previously spending two Christmases in the southern hemisphere in 2001 and 2006. This one was made worse by the UK seeing it’s first proper white Christmas in my lifetime. Having said that I have not missed the apparent chaos that has followed: Grit rations, school closures, tail-backs, and most alarmingly, temperatures around -10 degrees!

Anyway, back in the land of sheep, (of which I have seen very few I might add – and strangely, the largest flock I have witnessed was in actual fact pink!), volcanic rock, Sunday afternoons on the beach, and an accent which I still struggle to distinguish from Australian; the holiday season has been mostly relaxing. The lead up to the summer break involved some up and down cricket from East Coast Bays whilst my form remained good amongst it.

We qualified for the one-day competition quarter-final which is this upcoming Sunday against arch rivals Takapuna. Adjacent to the one-day games we were narrowly beaten by Parnell when we came out the wrong side of a very important toss and we also dropped points after a week of torrential rain and the abandonment of the completion of our other match. In the same week, other teams managed to play and claim a crucial advantage.

My contributions have been pleasing. I have been consistent with the bat and ball. 44 not out, in a losing cause and three wickets in the final match before the Christmas meant I passed 500 Auckland Cricket Ass. points and earned my East Coast Bays very own ‘Baggy Green’ with the number three embroidered. (two team members beat me to it – I like to think that this was due to me missing the first two games of the season!)

My three week break over Christmas involved some travel and some cricket with the Auckland Aces. I was invited to Twenty20 practices and to play in their Twenty20 inter-squad selection match. I was never in contention due to Ravi Bopara taking the overseas spot for them. If you ignore my second ball duck in the final over (if contact was made, the ball would still be traveling over the Auckland harbour bridge as you read this), I bowled nicely and clean bowled Lou Vincent in a tidy four overs.

Yesterday was two weeks since we arrived in the obviously extremely beautiful city of Auckland. The use of the word ‘obviously’ suggests that is has not quite been confirmed yet, and you would be right. For the last two weeks, it has failed to stop raining!

I exaggerate, but only a little. We have enjoyed one day of total dryness (aside from the residue from the previous days downpour), and the sun was out for most of this day too. Otherwise the weather has been patchy at best. We have managed to drive around the most beautiful areas of the North Shore, which is where we are based. We have also visited the city a number of occasions as well as the gorgeous Mission Bay which sits directly opposite the dormant volcano, Rangitoto Island and the North Shore.

Mission Bay is extremely popular in Auckland because it is the City side of the harbour, but the truth is that the North Shore has a number of bays just as, if not more beautiful, if only locals were more inclined to cross the harbour bridge every now and then. It means that the North Shore has these picturesque bays that remain relatively quiet and uncrowded. I should point out that, with only 4 million people in the whole country, New Zealand is seldom ‘crowded’. Oh for the locals to experience the London Underground or the above-ground congestion charge. They would then, and only then, experience ‘business’ or a true ‘rush-hour’. A journey that takes 25 minutes instead of 15 does not, in my opinion, constitute a traffic jam.

As for the cricket. It would seem that the Kiwi’s will play an amateur Twenty20 competition in absolutely any conditions. I hesitate to call it cricket. It’s more like a scene from the Glastonbury music festival when players slide along the floor to collect the ball in the outfield. A perfectly timed cover-drive, if followed by an arrogant pose whilst eyeing the ball all the way to the boundary, on these outfields means that the batsman has missed out on a quick single before the ball reaches the advancing (short) extra-cover.

This is not to suggest that the standard is not good. It is. It seems very good. But it is a little difficult to judge how good the bowling is especially, when the bowlers cannot run in off their full run-ups for the fear of not actually reaching the crease due to taking two steps back for every one forward. Should they reach the artificial wicket, then the mud from their trainers transfers to the astroturf and thus the trap is set for the next attempted delivery.

The format for the last three weekends, of which I have been around for a couple, has been to play two twenty20 matches in the day. East Coast Bays CC, who I am representing, managed their first win in my first match, lost the next two before the final match got abandoned when even the artificial wicket began to sink into the over-flowing water-table! Although it is at times comical cricket, it is after all cricket. And the other option would be for no cricket to be played at all for the first three weeks of the season.

Next week it is on to regular 50 over cricket when, I am reliably informed, the conditions are taken into account much more stringently. It is the last match on an artificial wicket before the season turns to turf for the remainder of the season. This makes total sense having witnessed the rain since I have arrived.

I have also taken part in the net sessions for the Auckland Aces, who are the local 1st-class team. Unlike in the UK, the professional season starts some weeks after the amateur season. This is to assure the best weather for what is a shorter season due to less teams, but it also improves the standard of club cricket when all the Aces pro’s are available to play.
The different approach to New Zealand professional cricket see only 12 full-time players at the Aces but then a further 10 ‘amateurs’ that make up the rest of the squad. They still have a 2-hour net session, which is what you would expect in England, but each bowler works for longer, and every batsman gets a longer bat. If the amateurs are available, then they join in the session too. My involvement is a huge help to Paul Strang, the head coach, who is glad of the extra bowler.

I hope that future blogs are filled with stories of runs, wickets, catches, but mostly sun and dry outfields!

How much can happen in two weeks?

Aside from the Northants suffering from ‘sour grapes’ duly outlined in my other blog titled ‘Sour Grapes’. (The accolades have been pouring in since I arrived at the title), the last two weeks have been a whirlwind…

The blasted hole in my kitchen ceiling/bathroom floor has eventually been fixed. The insurance people have eventually seen the light and realised that millions of people pay their premiums for an actual service, and not simply to line the pockets of large companies even more. It took a while, but once I explained to the lovely lady on the phone in outer-Mongolia how the business model for insurance companies worked, they realised it was not the ultimate ‘money for old rope’ scenario they had hoped for, and duly sent me a cheque.

Whilst I’m ranting…, why is it that when you order something through the internet, that could be located anywhere in the world, it is able to be delivered ‘next day’? However, when I speak to my mortgage company whose national HQ is approximately 1.5 miles away, I get the response “I’ll put that in business post to you right away Mr Wigley and it should be with you within the next 7-10 working days?” Everyone can work out that 10 working days is actually 2 weeks.

Alongside my house being made habitable for my lodger, and squatting with my girlfriend’s family, (squatting is a huge disservice – we were treated like royalty!) two other major things were happening.

Firstly, my aforementioned girlfriend became my fiancé. Naturally, we had to fit in at least two celebratory gatherings within a week. The first at the local pub, and the second when my parents were able to come and join us. This more than made up for the fact that I would be missing the regulation month of ‘letting oneself go’ and golf, post-season.

It was a win-win situation really. The reason I miss the period this year is to embark on my off-season trip to Auckland, NZ. Hardly a chore. This was the second major thing to happen – packing to go.

What a stress. The engagement was a much welcome distraction from packing and decorating. Although it did not remove the fact that both other things had to be completed by the weekend.

We were both very organised in packing really. We had to be because the night before we left was the End of Season Dinner at Northants. It was a good opportunity to say our goodbyes to a few people who we will not see next season. Most notably, our strength and conditioning coach, Ross Dewar and his fiancé. Ross has taken up the same post at my former club, Worcestershire. He will love it there. It’s a great place to live and bring up a family, should that be his next step after marriage!

I always like to get to the airport very early. Partly because I absolutely loathe queuing but mainly because I really really need to get a seat with extra leg-room. This mission was accomplished. What is does mean is that you get 3-4 hours in duty-free with no intention of buying anything. During this time we had a loooooong breakfast whilst taking it in shifts to wonder round the shops and leaving the other person to guard the ridiculously heavy hand-luggage, made heavier when my other half decided to buy every bottle of water that Boots had in stock.

I am now on the plane, with a couple of agonising hours before we land in Bangkok for a three-day stop-over, safe in the knowledge that if we have forgotten anything major, there is little point worrying because it is nigh-on impossible to get hold of it now anyway.

I look forward to updating you with news from my season and trip generally, in Auckland.