Finals Day:
Pakistan slip up on Scottish banana skin

Scotland vs. Pakistan is all that stands between me and some German beer... It's been a long week.

Under normal circumstances a playoff with Pakistan on the final day would signify a successful week for the Scots. However, this Pakistan team have put in some 'idiosyncratic' performances. Of course the coming months will see numerous articles in 'en bref' in which a J. Khan (either/or) decries the fall from grace of the former powerhouse and pledges to ensure the next crop of players reclaim lost glory. What an enthralling read that will be. I can't wait.

Back to today though and who will win is anyone's bet. You can also bet on the possibility of a footfault at 6-2 in the second game of the first match. It may or may not happen, that's all I'm saying... Lah-ti-dah

Aamir Atlas Khan vs. Alan Encyclopedia Clyne

Clyne was looking mean early on, moving the ball quickly into space, not allowing the talented Khan to settle. The mindset of the Pakistani was difficult to comprehend. Seemingly happy to charge about and smash the ball nickward but entirely relaxed as to the outcome of said attempt.

If Clyne gave him any width or time then Khan looked more than capable of finishing the rally, however the Scot was in a miserly mood serving up few such morsels. The hard nosed Scottish number 1 kept the tempo high but also caressed the ball short with ease, punishing evey wayward Pakistani attack. Game 1 to Scotland.

The same pattern in Game 2. Clyne did well to keep his composure as his opponent produced the sublime, less sublime and sublimely nonchalant. But the Scot balanced absorbing the onslaught with reventing it by executing well-timed attacks of his own. Khan was dangerous but Clyne was clinical and took a 2-0 lead.

The third came and went as Khan found his mojo. Outrageous flicks and scything kills, the Pakistani shotmaker treated the front court like a bowling green, no bouncing please, just rolling. For the first time Clyne looked unnerved, understandably frustrated at his opponents new found relationship with the nick. Before you could say 'casual brilliance' it was 2-1.

Khan kept his momentum into game 4. Both players are lightening quick to the front, Khan ghosts in almost weightless (literally, the lad must weigh about 20 kilos) while Clyne is all power and spring. Clyne held his nerve, weathered the storm and as Khan's hot streak cooled, reasserted control.

Punishing Khan ruthlessly, the magician became the lovely Debbie, cut in half in an uncomfortable box. A 5-7 deficit rapidly became a 10-8 lead for the Scot and he closed out the match 3-1.

Small vs. Iqbal

The first game was high tempo and all-action. Small settled quickly and took command of the T. His heavy length pegged Iqbal back and as a result he gained full reward when working the young Pakistani short.

Iqbal's length was too short so although his attacks were more frequent and accurate enough too, Small could cover them with relative ease. The Pakistani did find the nick once or twice but dabbled with the floor and roof too. A competitive game from start to finish but Small was always in control.

Iqbal battled harder at the start of the second, chased with renewed vigour and forced Small to work hard for each rally. Initially Small looked unperturbed he spanked a crosscourt forehand into the nick with a level of disdain usually reserved for Max Mosley's bottom.

Next a leaping between-the-legs volley length would have surely made the News of the World, if it still existed. However, Iqbal's persistent eventually drew Scottish errors and as the game progressed the Pakistani spent more time on the T controlling the rallies. A hard fought game to Iqbal, 1-1.

Having auditioned for the Italian team yesterday, Small threw his hat in the ring for an Egyptian call up in game 3. All flicks and nicks it was exhibition stuff from the veteran, a trademark head-fake or two thrown in for good measure too (a flash of grey in the wrong direction!). The game was still well contested, Iqbal moving the ball to all four corners with control and precision but Small time and again produced the perfect finish (insert inappropriate metaphor of your own choice...sorry mum). 2-1 Scotland.

Small stayed positive in the 4th but exhibition squash is tiring and Iqbal, maybe sensing a drop off in the Scots energy levels, retrieved like a man possessed, keeping the ball in play and extending the rallies. Hitting into space he tested Small's resolve but despite some nauseating chases the Scot kept the car running. The full range of strokes were on display, and not to be overshadowed the ref got in on the act too with an outrageous decision in Small's favour.

The scoreline was close throughout but Small got to 10 first. However, two match balls went begging and it was Iqbal who kept his composure, finding the right shots at the right time to take the game on a tie-break.

A fifth game battle looked on the cards, and with the Scot tiring and Iqbal working the ball with aplomb, the safe money was with Pakistan.

However, from the first rally the adrenalin seemed to ebb from the youngsters system and Small re-asserted his authority. Perfect length, precise counterdrops and feathered volleys, almost flawless squash. He raced to 10, and this time closed out the match.

A huge win for Scotland, shame it was only for 21st. The Pakistani post-mortems will follow but in the meantime, beer.

              News of the victory goes around the world ...

Day Six:
Solid win for Scotland over Argentina

Scotland has a great deal to thank Argentina for. The hand of god warmed the hearts from Edinburgh to John o' Groats and if the Scots knew that Thatcher would introduce the poll tax, we may well have lent a hand in the Falklands. However, the Scottish team were taught a Spanish lesson yesterday and will wish to avoid a similar masterclass today, even if it is delivered in a slightly different accent.

Crawford/Pezzota

Pezzota is blessed with great hands and a natural swing. He seems to feel the ball on his strings and moves it round the court with ease and creativity. And this is exactly what he did for most of the first game with Crawford unable to capitalise on his superior speed and movement. One of the few Scottish points came from a cheap stroke, the irony, given yesterday's molestation, was felt by all. An impressive first game to Argentina.

A shocking start to the second for Scotland but the run of play was broken by another howler of a stroke to Crawford. Pezzota hit back with two quick points, as Crawford struggled to move him from a dominant T position. Pezzota continued to volley at will and was playing some tidy squash. He combined good width and length with feathered straight drops from the midcourt and some cute boasts from behind. Crawford battled back towards the end of the game but couldn't break his opponents composure and the game was Pezzota's 11-7.

The third followed the same pattern but for the first time errors crept into the Argentinian's game. Crawford remained solid so the result seemed to rest in the balance between Pezzota's winners and tins. In the end it was the winners that had it, the game and match to Argentina, 11-9 and 3-0 respectively.

Clyne/Arcangelo

Clyne started with bounce and vigour. Like a lemming but intent on winning not dying. His opponent, a big athletic animal, more tiger than Puma, especially in his stripy Tshirt, played a measured, methodical game but struggled to extend the Scot. Clyne punched the ball to the back, keeping the tempo high but sliced the ball in short when the opening emerged. A comfortable first game to Clyne 11-3.

A much more contested game as Arcangelo chased everything down putting his long reach to full use. However, Clyne was able to twist his tall opponent and drag him deep into corners where even the longest of limbs struggle to extend. Despite some determined retrieving it was Clyne's game once more.

A professional execution job in game 3 gave the match to Clyne as his opponent tired. An outrageous backhand volley crosscourt nick was the highlight, even Clyney smiled, although his opponent was maybe less pleased for the wee man.

3-0 Scotland. 1-1 in ties. Decider time.

Small/Roude

Now that's more like it. Agile and hairy, Juan Pablo Roude is the Puma this author's been waiting for. No tail though. Shame. Small is looking far too tanned to play for Scotland these days... perhaps he's preparing for a change of allegiance to his new residence? This would give the FIA the option to rid the Italian team of Italians once and for all! For now though Scotland needs him.

The opening exchanges were cagey. Both players looked to find the back wall and a length game, interspersed with some mistimes in the tin, was the result. Small settled the sooner, first of all finding the volley and, gaining confidence, a working boast too. His opponent padded around the court with ease but struggled to find his range, attempted attacks too frequently finding the tin. Small took a scrappy first game, 11-4.

Small started the second confidently, finding some excellent length and width, and pegging his opponent into the back corners. But suddenly Roude settled, less tension in his face and his racquet arm allowing him to find some nice angles on the boast and a cleaner length. But Small's an experienced campaigner (i.e. he's old) and a skilful one. He kept his younger opponent guessing with some nice variations; a delicate tickle (or trickle?... I never know) followed by a dying crosscourt and the game was Scotland's.

More of the same in Game 3. Small dominating the length exchanges, frustrating his opponent into errors and mistimes. An outrageous return-of-serve-crosscourt-slap-in-the-nick by Roude broke the pattern momentarily but Small resumed control at 7-2. His heavy crosscourt saw him home although Roude provided another magic moment with a towering lob (insert mountain based cliche here, preferably referencing the Andes or Patagonia) which hit the nick and rolled along the back wall. Even Scottish coach Roger Flynn smiled with appreciation but his grin widened moments later as Small secured the win 3-0.

A great battle between two proud nations but ultimately a solid win for Scotland to take forward to the final day's play.

Day Five:
Spanish Matadors avoid another
Scottish Claymore goring ...

It wouldn't be an international team event if Scotland didn't play Spain. Like ex-lovers in a small town they just seem to keep bumping into each other and the result is always painful. In recent years Scotland have more often than not sneaked a win, Spain's last victories came at the 2006 Euros (yes, plural. Two wins, one tournament. Spooky).

Time for a cliche or two. Since then the Spanish Matadors have been gored by the Scottish Claymore. But despite Scotland's recent dominance, the Spanish have displayed good form this WMT and may well fancy their chances.

Clyne/Golan

Well how do you think this started? Yeh, like a bag of microwaveable popcorn, but more energetic. However, on top of the outrageous pace and ridiculous retrievals Borja's accuracy in the opening exchanges was supreme. He worked the ball short with majestic control despite the very hot and bouncy conditions. Clyne took longer to settle and find his range and by the time he started to ask some questions of his own, the game had gone.

Game 2 continued in the same vein, both players using the whole court and covering it well too. This pair like to use their speed and athleticism to break their opponent's will and with both turning the screw things only got tighter. Again though, Borja dominated early proceedings and was able to control the midcourt. Clyne fought hard and towards the end of the game it was the Scot asking the questions. However, the Spaniard knows a thing or two about how to chase it down too and secured the game 11-6.

The pace dropped at the beginning of the 3rd, down from breakneck, to somewhere between solid and frenzied. Both players kept it straighter, trying to evade the volley or at least force it to the back of the service box. Borja's working boast, always flirting with the tin but never catching it, allowed him to work Clyne forward and he used his pace to hunt the next ball. Clyne kept him guessing but couldn't break the Spaniards resolve. A great match but Borja's experience counted in the end.

Crawford/Garbi

These old foes have played each half a dozen time over the last few years, they're contrasting styles and demeanours usually lead to an interesting battle. Garbi came to battle with a napkin round his noggin and a pink sweat band... a controversial decision before a ball was even hit.

Crawford looked to find the line and length that makes him such a steady campaigner while Garbi was on his best behaviour too, waiting for his opportunity to attack. Crawford pinned the Spaniard back early on, picking the right ball to attack and dominating the T.

Garbi countered well, putting pace on the ball from in front, particularly enjoying the crosscourt flick and, if given a bit of width, a hammered straight kill. On top for most of the game, Crawford made some uncharacteristic errors from 6-5 up and Garbi cashed in with a couple of ferocious winners. The game was Garbi's in a flash.

Game 2 and Crawford was back on the boil pegging Garbi in the back corners, lengthening the court and allowing the Scot to pick off some excellent winners to the front. Garbi's length was less precise but he continued to put pace on the ball and chase hard. Again the measured Scot took control but once more Garbi charged back level, and in the ensuing chaos snatched the game too.

The pattern continued in the third, Crawford taking the initiative with Garbi now hanging on for dear life. The Spaniard seemed to be tiring and as a result looked to shorten the rallies, pouncing on anything in the front court and aiming counter drops at the nick. He found two or three which kept him level up to 6-6 before Crawford found some penetration from the front of the court, hitting through the Spaniard's despairing dives.

Game to Crawford... 1-2, is that the toot of a train I hear in the distance?

As an aside, the refs deserve a special mention at this stage for plunging new depths of ineptitude. The midcourt is difficult to police when the ball is spraying and the players tangle, but two very simple points are worth remembering - if a player sticks out his fist and pleads for a stroke, then it's usually a let, if the same player stands over the ball every time he takes it short then that's the time to think about a stroke, rather than a no let. But maybe they didn't have time to discuss interference at their conference, what with all the German beer to drink.

A harsh indictment? Perhaps, but not as harsh as their victimisation of Crawford, one of the fairest and cleanest players around.

Game 4 and that train looks to gather momentum as Crawford races to 4-1, dominating the midcourt and finding some nice angles at the front. Garbi suddenly finds some energy though and surges back with extra weight of shot and renewed purpose. Two quick rallies to Crawford settle the nerves, two monsters to Garbi and we're level at 7. A cheap stroke and Garbi has the lead. A top of the tin drop and the Scot is level. A scragged crosscourt off a last gasp lunge takes Garbi to match ball but an absolute framer saves it for Stuart.

Straight drop in the nick, match ball 2, one in the tin and we're level again. Two scrappy rallies and that's it, the comeback train is de-railed, the match belongs to Spain. The eagerly anticipated decider is not required this time...

Congratulations to the Spaniards, and time for the Scots to regroup.


 

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