Why you should always talk to the groundsman

Given the likelihood that both sides seem to be heading for Bellerive with unchanged elevens, one might suspect there isn't a great deal to ponder in a preview.

Well, there is a bit, as far as the ongoing evolution of the Australian side, but those issues have been fairly widely canvassed.

The question marks remain over Hughes' place opening the batting, Ponting and Hussey as long term prospects and who makes way for a returning Cummins when he's finally fit.

Throw in the possibility of Watson and Marsh coming back for Melbourne and you've got a predictable set of issues that will be partially clarified over the next couple of days.

The biggest question over the game at the moment seems to involve the playing surface at a ground where some tracks needed white stripes painted down the middle and reclassifying as autobahns.

The advance publicity suggests the strip this time around will be a fair bit livelier than that, but appearances can be deceptive, and one assumes Ross Taylor knows what he's doing when he says he hasn't taken a look at the track the day before the game starts.

Maybe he's sent bowling coach Damien Wright, who spent a decade playing for Tasmania, claiming 127 wickets at an average of 26.92 in Hobart, to do that in his stead.

Alternatively, he may well be looking to avoid local disinformation, but a reluctance to examine the surface and consult closely with expert local knowledge seems to run directly against Hughesy's Number One Priority when it comes to playing on turf.

You should always, if possible, talk to the bloke who's in charge of preparing the wicket. Doing that delivered my 1992 NQ Primary School side a State championship. Had the opposing coach done the same we would have lost.

We'd had a rain interrupted carnival that year, and a combination of factors had us back on turf after two days on astro, playing a side we were probably going to beat on the wicket that was going to be used for the final the following day.

We weren't guaranteed a place in the final, since we needed to win this game and have the right result in another game, so we concentrated on first things first when we went out for a look while the groundsman was busily rolling the pitch.

In situations like this it also pays to play dumb, which isn't difficult when you only come across turf wickets at State carnivals, so you preface your questions with remarks about a total lack of turf wickets at home before raising the key issue of what it's likely to do.

That's a major concern when you're looking at something that has the consistency of around the plasticene rather than the rock-hard concrete end of the spectrum. Having left a thumb imprint on the edge and made the preliminary play dumb remarks I raised the key issue.

"Be lively for the first hour, then it'll flatten out," I was informed.

"And in the afternoon?" was a predictable supplementary question.

"Slow and low," was the reply. "And it'll get slower and lower as the afternoon goes on."

"So," I concluded, "you win the toss and bat."

A nod was all the confirmation I needed, the relevant instructions were passed on to the captain who did his bit by winning the toss and everything else went to the script.

Having defended 120-odd on a track where the batsmen were having trouble hitting the ball off the square when the final wickets fell I sent a couple of runners over to check the results of the other game, where a kid named Shane Watson may well have been making sure Metropolitan West beat Darling Downs.

We'd beaten Met West, Darling Downs had beaten us, but we'd had the bye on the day when rain washed out all games. We got no points on a day when everybody got three for a no result rather than six for a win or one for a loss.

Had they been able to play that day, Met West and Darling Downs would probably have won, and they would have been playing for a place in the final. Darling Downs win and they're in. Met West win and we're in.

As indicated previously that result went the right way and we were into the final. It was my first go as coach, but I'd been there the previous time NQ made the final and just went down defending a total of ninety.

So it probably comes as no surprise to find us out at the wicket while the roller was going up and down the next morning.

The predictable inquiry followed and produced an assessment of not quite as lively as yesterday in the morning but slower and lower in the afternoon.

On that basis it looked like a case of win the toss, bat and take out the carnival.

The opposing coach and captain appeared on the scene, poked, prodded and left thumb prints, exchanged significant glances and departed without a word to the groundsman.

They then won the toss and sent us in, anticipating a swag of wickets for their big quickie, who managed a couple.  There was a Year Six kid named Nathan Hauritz bowling relatively successful darts, and you mightn't have thought 114 was enough batting first, but we'd seen what happened the day before, and if it was going to be slower and lower anything over a hundred was probably a winning score.

As it was, we rolled them for around eighty-four.

Now, there's nothing to suggest we're looking at a similar scenario in Hobart over the next couple of days. Michael Clarke has indicated he might be tempted to win and bowl, though he might also change his mind.

On that basis, I'm really looking forward to the pitch report...