When less isn't more, and overdoing the OBE

Give us five
The Test series between Pakistan and India was just getting interesting when it ended. It had got off to a dreadful start, a more flamboyant but still depressing throwback to the high-scoring, ultra-boring meetings between these two sides in the 1980s, but at least that was a recognisable first act, setting the scene, introducing the characters. The second act was kickstarted by Irfan Pathan, whose hat-trick was a supreme example of what screenwriting coaches call the inciting incident. The final Test was riveting for a couple of days, before becoming too one-sided to grip the neutral viewer. And that was that: there was no third act.

It would have been fascinating to see whether India could have bounced back, whether Harbhajan could get a wicket or even a game, whether Tendulkar could assert himself, whether Shahid Afridi could maintain his fabulous hot streak, whether Shoaib Akhtar would revert to self-destruct mode, whether Sehwag could stand the heat of another bouncy pitch, whether the two young wicketkeepers were flattered by the flat pitches, and whether Ganguly and Greg Chappell would have ended up hitting each other. As it is, we shall never know. Hanging in the air, along with plenty of respect for Bob Woolmer's new improved Pakistan, is a lingering sense of dissatisfaction.

India v Pakistan is increasingly seen as a clash of the titans, and this year the build-up was even more deafening than last time. In London, The Guardian labelled the series "the Tandoori Ashes"; arriving in Pakistan, Greg Chappell said it was even bigger than that. Socially and politically, it has a depth that no other Test series can match. But it is being sold short in the schedules.

This was the third meeting between India and Pakistan since the thaw in the cold war, and all three series have been best-of-three. Short series are easy to schedule, taking only a month, but the administrators' job isn't to give themselves an easy life - it's to set the stage for epic battles. If India-Pakistan is to take its proper place as one of sport's great rivalries, it has to be given a bigger canvas.

A little and often is a principle that works for many things, and it's an interesting experiment by the new Indian board to apply it to international cricket. Having played Pakistan three times in the past three years, India are now going to face Australia three times in the next three. But all these meetings will be fleeting. Look at tennis: a good five-set match is twice as rewarding as a good three-setter. Less isn't always more.

When OBE is OTT
On Thursday morning, England's Ashes-winning cricketers have a date at Buckingham Palace, to collect the medals they were awarded in the New Year's Honours, and to join the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh for a drink afterwards. It will be a bumper photo opportunity for the media, a chance for the Duke to compare his rusty offbreaks with Michael Vaughan's, and a day to remember for The Lads, some of whom were not in a state to form any lasting memories when they staggered into 10 Downing Street back in September.

Speaking in my official capacity as one of the taxpayers footing the bill, I feel that the reception - which includes the women's team, also basking in an Ashes win - is a great idea. It's the honours I'm not so sure about. It's right and proper that there were gongs for the architects of victory, Vaughan (OBE) and Duncan Fletcher (OBE). The MBE for the International Teams Manager, Medha Laud, is as laudable as a medal can be, and the OBE for the women's captain, Clare Connor, is spot-on. If an MBE hadn't been given to Andrew Flintoff, there might well have been civil unrest. But every other player who appeared in the series got an MBE too. Ian Bell got one at 23; Paul Collingwood got one for appearing in a single Test, with modest returns. Meanwhile, Darren Gough, one of England's mainstays of the past decade, has no letters after his name.

The awards are a symptom of the winner-takes-all culture that has settled over Britain like a band of cloud. Once, victory was its own reward; now it is accompanied by a win bonus from your sponsor, a sudden leap in earnings, and (if your name is Simon Jones) a flurry of stories calling you the ninth sexiest man in the world. The Ashes win was a wonderful thing, but these honours feel overdone.