To the Stani batsmen who can't bat

We’ve had it about Pakistan’s batting being total rubbish before. And instead of any reiteration, I can present you yesterday’s scorecard as a solemn testimony.

Since we all know it’s better to guide instead of slamming and criticising someone, I’ll nobly express a few batting solutions for the Stani batsmen:

- Don’t bat anymore. It’s ridiculous and inhumane when someone forces you to do a job you can’t, so why not stage a massive protest and simply refuse to do it?
- Learn how to bat.
- Watch a movie made about Pakistan’s bowlers. It’s a tragedy and shows how they contemplated suicide when you batsmen cocked their efforts up for the umpteenth time. Watch it till you cringe of shame and weep at all the cruelties you’ve done and promise to be better in future.
- Learn how to bat.
- Get a dictionary and learn what focus means. Yeah, stoopids, the thing you do when driving on ridges or attempting to shoot a rare partridge for dinner. Not when you’re dancing a crazy bhangra.
- Go to America to play baseball if you’re so keen on madly sashaying with your bat.
- Learn how to bat.
- Have a one metre wide bat made so you can’t have your stumps flattened, lie flat on the pitch so you can’t get LBW’d, and use bats that can extend by 5 metres through a push-button so you can’t get run out.

Apart from learning how to bat, the Pakistani batsmen wouldn’t be keen on doing the rest, so please, for all what cricket is worth to Pakistan, learn to bat.

It’s good to be without a Number One

There isn’t a best team in cricket.
Yes, the ICC Rankings tell you so, but don’t believe everything what the ICC says. The ICC might even tell you the tooth fairy still exists and that the campaign of getting cricket to Rio Grande in the south and the borders of Russia in the north is going extremely well.

If you quit watching cricket a few years back, tired of watching the Aussies making a merry potpourri of every team they faced, then I call you back, happily announcing that the bad times are over. The bad times were one team looked over the rest like a Genghis Khan, and the rest could just silently murmur their prayers.

Now it’s a time where about some 4-5 teams are sitting at a round table with equal artillery at hand, battling it out to be the best. It makes for some bloody nice competition where they all get involved in a mad fight, you only see mowing arms and clouds of dust, and then all come out, battered and bruised. And then you still don’t know who the best is.

It also means you can shove them into another fight without the results being predictable. A skinny guy might actually give a bigger bully a bloody nose, ask Australia. It’s often good competition with interesting cricket, and now who doesn’t want that?

Of course with a vacancy at the No. 1 spot some have resorted to bragging and trying to get there with the big words. Which is wrong, because there is no best team:

Australia are only a silhouette of their past, they lost an ODI series to the Pommies, a Test to the Stanis and still haven’t won a T20 cup.

India’s bowlers are being put in a grave by the Lankan batsmen, and until they can’t creep above the sand, India won’t be number one. Even if they have a batting order that beats an elephant in weight.

South Africa suck this year and still don’t have a trophy in their cabinet. They’ve got good gadgets at their hand, but need to utilise them better. I seriously won't mind these big-tournament plonkers to become the No. 1, but for now it's only a pipe dream.

And about the other teams, I don’t need to explain. Not that they’re bad, I just don’t feel like it, and me telling you they aren’t the best either is enough. Isn’t it?

Prince Twatto Charming

There was a strange repulsive thing about Twatto, something that caused only his fairy grandmother to like him. Maybe it was because of the advertised sleek goldilocks he adorned his head with or maybe it was because of him being prince of the land of Down Down Under. Though all of this was loathsome, most agreed it was because Twatto was an accomplished face-puller, but not in the amiable way of Mr.Bean.

But there was more to that. Twatto was a broad-chested chivalric prince who proudly rode on his white steed and looked fit to slay a hundred, but the image tarnished when a foe from the Caribbean kingdom, Pirate Gaylos, said he looked big and strong but was soft within. Twatto cried. Now he would be the cowardly lion dwelling in the Land of Oz.

Twatto, however, wouldn’t break down so easily. He had the best armour made, got the sapphire-ornamented sheath and sword of the martyred Matt the Brave, and despite his fairy grandmother’s pleas, enlisted as a front-line knight. And he fought. He fought with an aura of integrated gallantry and brutality, and in fortunate times comfortably trampled his enemies.

He actually became a good warrior, but the hearts of the people of Down Down Under didn’t open for him. Maybe it was because stories went around of how he bawled when once the Chalcedony gem in his ring got scratched, of when he threw a tantrum when he missed the performance of piercing 5 throats in a row-he got 4-and then blamed another for it. Twatto even once kissed the Caribbean Pirate Gaylos out of happiness after the latter was defeated, and then with pouting lips told him it was cherry-flavoured lipstick.

For his services, Twatto was crowned Prince Twatto Charming, an occasion where he displayed an overflow of tears, and eventually married his Princess Fiona. King Rickart of Down Down Under gave his compliments, the other noblemen nodded approvingly, and Twatto went ahead with his job, fanciful and supercilious. And to the displeasure of the peaceful civilians, he lived happily ever after.

The End.

Prince Twatto Charming. "Yo ladies, wanna dance?"

The Good Cricket Week That Was

It was a wonderful week of cricket, and they don’t come around often these great cricket weeks. I missed some action, but am packing these news tidbits together here.

The Stanis won a Test against the Aussies and how brilliant this was doesn’t need explanation. It was so damn formidable they took to the streets in Pakistan and celebrated like crazy teens having won a scholarship to America.

Murali got 800 wickets against the Indians, as I expected. It’s a good thing, because 800 is a much nicer number than an annoying 799. What would he have said if someone asked him how many wickets he got? Se-ven-hun-dred-nine-ty-nine?
And now if ever anyone talks about it, I can proudly say he never got me out. Even once.

Figjam (KP) got snubbed by Hampshire because they preferred the balance of some younger lads. It means they have been kind of noncompliant to what the ECB wanted, and KP possibly won’t get any match practice now before the Stani Test. Aamer and Asif, I hope you guys are listening and are prepared with a mean plan.

Haroon Lorgat, the ICC chief executive fellow, has said there might be a Test Championship in 2012 or 2013. It’s to revive interest in the format, but he hasn’t told us whether anybody will actually watch. I will, but will shift my bed before the television then first.

Yesterday I saw cricket being mentioned for the first time in a Belgian newspaper. And it was only to tell Desmond Tutu, former Saffa cleric and activist , would like to spend some of his time watching it now he’s retired. Ignorant fools.

Last is a bit of Saffa news, which had to be included even though they are apparently doing nothing these days. But the dangerous effects of idleness are showing up:

Biff and Bouch are gone off to some place where they’re dressing a third person up in wacky outfits. And Smith is gradually transforming into the real Granny Smith: He's a rather misformed Granny, don't you think?

AB is so bored he decided to have his fit ankle operated (a friend made me realise this) and so he spent his time in hospital playing on his Blackberry and twittering. And now he’s got it in his head to use the time with his swollen ankle to promote his debut CD. Which I’m warning you, will be out on the 2nd of August.

And Dale Steyn has opened his account on twitter too, but apparently doesn't know it's meant to tweet with. Apart from one toilet break, he hasn't told much.

Pakistan failed...

...but nearly succeeded in messing up this Test match.
It means they’ve won their first Test against Australia since 1995 and that’s 15 bloody years.

That they have won today means so much that I don’t know what to write about it. Let’s just say they were friggin brilliant with the bowling, typically clumsy with the batting and in the process of winning the match, remained awesomely wholesomely Pakistani.

But for now, it’s time I get myself a pyala of chay and a box of mithai.
After all, Pakistan winning is such a rare treat.

This is a picture I have to get framed.

Let’s all put Shane Watson in jail

Whenever Watson is thrown the ball and starts his run-up, I expect a moment of delight. It will be one where Watson’s bowl is elegantly dispatched for a four through the covers or where a monstrous six is clobbered right over his head with disdain.
And then I wait for the expression on his face.
When his lips begin twitching and he cries like he’s missed the train.
It’s the best part of it all.

Now when something happens on the contrary, you have to understand that I will naturally be disappointed.
Especially when he gets a fiver or a sixer against the Stanis. Then I believe it’s just time to call the cops, have Watson taken away from the cricket field and carried to the jail in a potato sack. And put tape on his mouth in case he gets it in his head to cry.

Yesterday Watto showed the other Aussie bowlers how easily you get yourself wickets with full-swingers. He was the hero climbing out of the debris and rubble, initiating the plan and eventually hauling his mates out on three metre wide shoulders.

From one perception, it was heroic vindictiveness, but from another, it was the obliterating, the slow finishing off of ambitious Stani hopes, and therefore, unforgivable spoilsportism. Pakistan’s pace bowlers were crying in the changeroom and Stani supporters had to shut down there tv sets, all because of this Watson taking wickets. How dare he, the criminal.

You may call me a mean bigot now, but I can’t do anything about it.

With Shane Watson, it was hate at first sight.

Believe it or not, Pakistan can bowl

After the Pakistani bowlers had finished eating at the innards of the Aussie batsmen yesterday, the scorecard read 88 all out.

Print it out, get it framed and put it in your decoration cupboard. It’s something you might not see again for 50 years.

You also might want to put a picture besides it of how the Aussie batting line-up looked after the job was done: But don’t do it if you’re a proud Aussie supporter. If you are, lock the scorecard away in Davy Jones’ locker and sink it to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

But even if you forget the batting, remember the bowling.

It was bowling that overmastered the batting in every way.

It was a memorable thing, a rare treat for Test lovers.

Brilliant.

A Day with the Proteas

Hello folks!

Today here at Dummy-tv we are going to spend a day with the wonderful Proteas who had a terrible season. We’ll stick with them at the signing session, golf day and CSA awards until we get kicked out. Of course we won’t let them till after dinner and you have to understand why and we’re very excited since we saw this board:

So now here at the signing session we’ll have a word with Hash..oh wait, we see Roelfie standing in a corner and sulking, we’ll talk with him first.

D-tv: Hello, what’s the matter?
Roelfie: Dey toyld me do dake my Plotea chirt off...
D-tv: We don’t get you, wouldn’t it be better to take your thumb out of your mouth first? Yeah, that way. Thank you. So what were you saying?
Roelfie: They asked me to take my Protea shirt off, as everyone else was dressed casually. But they don’t get it...
D-tv: They don’t get what?
Roelfie: How terrible it is to haven’t worn it almost for the entire year, I miss the shirt okay? Now please let me cry ahead...
Okay, we won’t disturb this gentleman anymore, and now we’ll just show you the new cricket gear that’s just arrived from the laundry.

We tried to cheer Roelfie up by saying we'll take a photo of him.

We’re off to the golf now and see how good the Saffers are at imitating Tiger Woods.
Doesn’t look like they’re too successful at it; Jakes and Biff have been riding around in golf carts since we arrived and won’t get out. And ayayay..what do we see now, AB has hit Bouch in the eye with his stick..they’re trying to relocate his eye now. Disgusting stuff.

If you play golf standing in one line, there are bound to be accidents.

Now for the big thing, the CSA awards!
We’ll stroll around a bit and try talking with a few Proteas...oh there’s Rusty, let’s catch him. Wait, it’s better we don’t, he looks like he can’t smile and he's trying to be James Bond and that’s a dangerous thing.

WARNING: Stay away from this freak

So people have started to leave, we’ve done our dinner and now we’re going! We’ve also got a competition for today’s show, and it’s related to this picture.
Can you guess who he is and what’s he doing? No, you won’t win a prize, but what the heck! Can’t you at least give it a try?

Why the Saffers were so bad this year

If you are wondering why the Saffers played this year like someone trying to run a marathon with a dropping baggy jeans, you just have to look at the CSA annual award nominations. It seems like they only played with a team of four guys.

The nominations look something like this:
Standard Bank International Pro20 Cricketer of the Year: AB de Villiers, Jacques Kallis, Charl Langeveldt
Standard Bank ODI Cricketer of the Year: Hashim Amla, AB de Villiers, Jacques Kallis
CSA Test Cricketer of the Year: Hashim Amla, Jacques Kallis, Dale Steyn
SA Cricketer of the Year: Hashim Amla, AB de Villiers, Jacques Kallis, Dale Steyn

So Hash alone has got six, Jakes four, AB three and Dale two. And apart from these players, only Langeveldt appears in any category.

Except four, all should be kicked off the stage

I think this gives me enough right to climb on top of the Sandton convention centre building tomorrow and shout where the heck were Cap’n Biff, Duminy, Bouch and the rest all hiding. It doesn’t mean they didn’t do anything the entire year. They just didn’t do enough.

Can you imagine what would have happened had these four not performed? SA cricket would have been a limbless body, a tiny toy car flattened over by the English and Indian juggernauts.

And I wouldn't have smiled.

Letter to the new Stani cap'n

To : Mr. Butt (not myself, the one half my size)
From : Mr. Butt (myself)
Topic : Captaincy letter

Before we get started with the serious business, allow me to remind you that we’re not related at all, which means I retain all the rights to harass you in whatever way. Remember that you are captain of the Pakistani national team now, and this is no joke. It’s more than a joke.

You’ve had a number of other captains as an example, so I’m not sending you a dossier of captaincy jobs. If your memory hasn’t cracked as yet despite the very turbulent but soon-to-be-solved-situations-by-me in Pakistan cricket, I’m sure you remember them. If you don’t, inform me now and I’ll appoint someone else. No one will even notice, after all, we change captains more frequently than our government does policies. And don’t assume I’m politically related.

Now please go and try to behave for a while together with that bunch of toddlers. You can do whatever you want except for quitting and crying because everyone’s fighting, and then disturb me. I’m going on an official holiday to Fiji for a few weeks and start yoga.

Regards.

(You can't blame me for any errors in the letter format because I'm not supposed to remember whatever I did at school.)

Ta-ta Captain Shahid

Yes, yes, the Stanis lost by 150 runs, but that doesn’t need mentioning, does it? We all knew from before they were going to lose. Move on.

There’s a bit of more interesting news which the unpredictable bombshell which is Pakistan cricket decided to throw at us: Captain Shahid is retiring. From Tests.

These are the reasons for his retirement I could think of, ranging from the credible to the incredible:
* Captain Shahid is no good at Tests. It doesn’t really matter whether he’s there or not.
* Captain Shahid isn’t interested in playing Tests. And when Captain Shahid isn’t interested in doing something, he’ll play in the scatterbrained way he did yesterday.
* Captain Shahid is a noble man and was only doing the stupid job for his country. And when he’s becoming a stupid at the job, it’s better someone else started doing it.
* Captain Shahid respects tradition. His predecessors left abruptly and without notification, and never stayed longer than a few months. Why should he?
* Captain Shahid’s body has started to unhinge. Like all other smart guys (Bondy and Freddie for instance) he’s hanging up his whites to play easy-peasy limited overs games.
* One of Captain Shahid’s ears is blocked and hence he can’t throw stuff out anymore. If he doesn’t quit, his head may burst.
* Captain Shahid thinks wearing white clothes is too sissy.
* One of the young rascals in the team said he’d start WWIII because he doesn’t like Captain Shahid, and before the team started fighting like Kilkenny cats, he thought it was better to go. We told you Captain Shahid is a noble man.

Among other things, we also got the news that in addition of having two ears, Captain Shahid has also two minds.
"...I was in two minds. You can say I was not strong mentally."

He’s a wonder, our Captain Shahid.

Batting scares the Stanis

I don’t know what the Stani batsmen think about a bat. They might consider it to be a baguette, a lollipop or a flamingo that the Red Queen of Alice in Wonderland uses. It can be anything but what you use a bat for.

They all got out for 148, which shouldn’t surprise us. They most of the time bat either like they’re alien to batting or are a group of pundits missing the news bulletin. But when they did it yesterday, it’s got two reasons for being absolutely outrageous.

Number one, it’s a shame when you do it after your bowlers do so phenomenally well.
It’s like co-working on an assignment and after the first student has done his job, the other gets bored and thinks making paper airplanes out of it will be more interesting.
And then they wonder why the Stanis are always fighting with each other.

Secondly, they allowed Shane Watson to be the bowling hero and their tormentor. If you collapse like a cardhouse against bowlers like Murali or Steyn, it’s understandable. But Watto? No. If you play a blind mice’s game of Watto’s bowling then you’re no good at cricket. And now he’s even got his name on the Lord’s honour board.

Shame on you Stani batsmen, shame on you. Go to the mountains of Tibet and try to be religious hermits for a while.

Afridi's ears

Of course you already knew Afridi is something of a cranky screwball.
Whatever he is, he isn’t exactly normal. Sanity and Afridi are an oxymoron.

Today looking through Cricinfo’s front page, I came across this quote:
" Allah has given me two ears: I hear with one and throw it out with the other. Whatever happens on the ground, we will know soon."

"See, I told you guys I'm human; I've got two ears!"

And this was in response to Ponting saying he’ll have Afridi sorted out pretty quickly.
What Ponting said was obviously not smart. It doesn’t make sense. Because Afridi is cricket’s colour-changing chameleon, a fluctuating wonder, an undecipherable creature whose brains will be up for auction one day at America’s Psychological Research Centre. You can’t deal with him because there is no one way. You just have to be patient and hope for the best.

Coming to what Afridi said, the first part tells something common. Unless you’ve had a bloody fight with a vicious neighbour cat I doubt whether there are many ways in which you can be one-eared. But the second part is interesting; it reveals Afridi uses one ear as a receiver, in his head there is a funnel which acts as a passage, and the other ear is a hose’s end. It means Afridi used to be a disobedient little tyke as a child and any kind of vocal harassment doesn’t work with him. He is a bloke who lives in the present and free from outside forces.

And when you’re playing Australia with a team like his, it can’t be a bad thing.

Spain and the Saffers

Thank God it’s all over. The barbaric, peace-killing vuvuzela fiddlers, the sports newspapers littered with football, the oracle octopus, the mad football obsession- over and done with. It’s time cricket got a chance to breathe again after all this monstrosity.
And to be honest, yesterday’s final was all I watched of the FIFA World Cup 2010, because despite being a born football foe I was curious to know what this spectacle was all really about that people found more interesting than England playing Bangladesh.

So Spain won and in typical courtesy, congratulations to them. From other sources I know them to be a good unit which has been unlucky in the major world events, but yesterday did the big job. And then I had to think of the Saffers. Yes, the cricketing Saffers in whose country the whole thing was hosted and many of them were watching it all happening live at the stadium. I hope they cringed in shame when they saw Spain lifting the trophy.

Later, browsing through a social network site, I saw a comparison of the Saffers with Spain. Both a bunch of talented sportsmen, both feared units, and both a bit unlucky at the big stage; until yesterday for Spain then. It led to a question; could it be then that cricket’s notorious so-called chokers will finally win a World Cup? I don’t know. No one knows. But it would have been good if Biff, ‘Woogie’ and all the rest, sitting there and watching Spain win, took a parcel of inspiration home with them. And then remember to use it for the big cricket event in India.

And for the winning, please don’t suggest they should use Paul the octopus. I’d rather fry him and make a seafood pasta of the bloody beast with green parsley and Romano cheese.

The Vindictive Tigers

We all knew from a while something was wrong with English cricket. The T20 World Cup victory, the series win against the Aussies...it wasn’t really normal. We nearly got deluded into believing the Pommies were a resurrected unit out on a kill, but the Bangla Tigers pulled them down with a big bite in their bottoms. And it hurt.

A total of 236 looked a bit mediocre, but so did England’s batsmen. They faltered and floundered, and it was all left to Good Old Man Trott to save them from a humiliating defeat. Save the Banglas of course. He made a good job of it, and though momentarily acting to take the game away for the Pommies, he delighted hordes of cricket fans with that last-over cut.

The Banglas went berserk and their coach remembered how to smile; after 247 days without a win he nearly forgot how to. If now the Banglas manage to clinch the series it will be a phenomenal memory and victory, one which I hope will start the steady decline of the Pommies back to the ODI unit they used to be, at least until after the next World Cup. Apologies for the meanness.

Anyway, yesterday was a good day.

The Army goes rolling along

No, it ain't an American army, but it's a group of men who could have been Tommy or squaddy if cricket ever needed to be protected. Possibly from footie fanatics.

Shahid Afridi
Afridi was born with a pistol in his hand. He later got enlisted in the army but they eventually kicked him out because he started eating the ammunition. But a man called ‘Boom-boom’ and not allowed the pleasure of fiddling with a bazooka in his hands? Seems like downright insanity.

Paul Collingwood
That’s right, what are you going to do with a half-starved rag like Colly who will probably just fall flat on his face if he ever has to hold a rifle? But the Gingahead can endure. He can survive. He can stay without food for a month, and he’ll still not be dead. And if the whole unit is killed, starved to death, Colly will emerge, tatters of cloth on a stick, and tell the world his story of survival. Epic.

Dale Steyn
Julio is the perfect aim-man; he will make his bullets swing towards the enemy even if they are out of range. Plus, he will wrestle all the crocodiles in the swamp when his army mates have to pass through. It’s handy having such a guy around.

Afridi cries at the injustice of him being given a bat instead of a bazooka.

Ricky Ponting
Ricky was runner-boy first, but gradually became lieutenant because his division was so bloody good no one ever even lost a finger. And when he did, he thought pummeling enemies down wasn’t enough, so he first spat in his hands and after the foe was a bloody bag of bones he just spat again in the face, and walked triumphantly away. Currently he’s figuring out how to kill the coup plans with Pup at the bottom of it; they’re just so darn jealous of his command...er...captaincy.

Shane Watson
Because you need someone to cry for you like a milksop at the collective funeral.

Daniel Vettori
Dan was just supposed to be the army doc, but then they started begging him to cook food as well, wash dirty garments, and dance a mambo on Friday evenings. Then they also asked him to make the attack plans and once when they took him to battle as well, it was all left to poor Dan as the foolish army fell in the rival trap and Dan had to carry them out, one by one. It’s so gut-wrenching of having this guy as your permanent factotum, that it is a matter which needs to be urgently reported to Amnesty International.

Chris Gayle
Chris and a rifle would look really cool together, but Chris only kills when he wants, and when he wants you can never now. On other days, he just hangs his hammock outside and waits till a soldier creeps up from behind and asks him what his last wish is. "Seriously, punk?" says Gayle and he lives to sleep another day.

Dilshan and Gravity

I discovered this video about Dilshan keeping. I think it's clear now why he doesn't do the job anymore. He would have a busted head by now.

The eye popper is leaving us

I missed a whole lot of Murali’s career. When I got hooked on cricket, the first thing that awed me was that those bulging tennis balls in his sockets were as impressive as his mysterious bowling.
(I meant to insert a self-made picture of Murali here, but blogger was stubborn in the uploading of it. Maybe it was too hideous?:( )

We all will remember Murali as the spinner who overtook Warnie’s record, the bowler who has been lambasted and criticised for his controversial bowling action, and the player that gave Sri Lankan cricket a more fascinating image. They will be less likeable without the oldie’s presence.

But in my view, Murali was an eerie assassin on the pitch, who loved to captivate his victim by showing eyes that spoke of cannibalism (please, don’t take this literally) and even having got his opponent, revealed no more emotion than an obscure smile. He may not have been a Hitman, but he definitely went well under the title of a silent assassin.
And now at the end of this post I realise it looks more a funeral eulogy than a tribute. Whatever.

Ciao, Murali.

Stanis on the loose

Not a match report this time around because it wouldn’t be any good to post one of a match which was almost a replica of yesterday’s. Shahzaib Hassan again got out for a duck and Nannes was the only bloke to be not out. And the scores weren’t that much different.

What was noticeable though :
* Our fisherman of the previous post managed to catch a sardine.
* Pup made a quick 30, which means the selectors aren’t firing him anytime in near future.
* The Aussies didn’t want to treat the match as a real game, shuffled the batting order, and thus got rightfully spanked for underestimating the Stanis.
* Aamer is a guy who can bowl seriously well. He might be the world’s best bowler after five years and even then he will only be seventeen.
* Afridi takes adrenaline tablets before a game so he can keep working like a crazy clockwork.
* The Stanis won two games in a row, which is queer, because they normally dictate over the inconsistency badge. They might even win the next 10 games against the Aussies now.

Everyone will be talking now of how the Stanis have bagged that coveted, ruby-enveloped jackpot called ‘momentum’ and of how they might finally win a Test series. One thing however; momentum has never been an issue for the Stanis. They have been known to conjure it up when there was none, and also have been known to squander it even though the momentum was falling out of their pockets. They love to keep you guessing.

Dummy Report: Stanis vs Aussies Twenny game

It might be slightly misinformed but I’m currently situated in a place where people can’t differentiate between baseball and cricket, and the telly shows neither of them. But for such folks there is Cricinfo and thus I solely could base my report on their stuff. It’s almost a tragedy, but I’ll be becoming a spectator again so I'll whine a little less.

What it was: A T20 game played by the Stanis and Aussies at Edgbaston which was supposed to be a neutral value, but became a second Staniland as thousands of greenies revenged themselves on their former colonists and invaded the English stadium.

What happened: A few played a bit of cricket; Umar and Warner did some batting, Aamer, Gul and Tait a bit of bowling and Afridi fielded. The rest just prodded around.

The Don of the Match: Jnr. Akmal. He played the kind of brilliant little knock that will give the PCB police now reason enough to abduct him again as he’s being irreverent to the Stani traditions of playing. Those green lips do reserve some wackiness though.

Lessons and Conclusions:
* The Stanis aren’t doomed by the Aussies now because they avoided an unlucky number 13-in-a-row-walloping.
* Talk of Shoaib Akhtar being back was twaddle because he bowled like a fisherman on sea in a towboat and out to catch a shark. And he got devoured himself.
* Ajmal won’t be having nightmares anymore of Hussey being out on a quest to destroy his career.
* Afridi still doesn’t know that imitating a potty umpire standing with his legs wide open won’t give him more sponsors. And someone tell him we’re sick of it.
* Clarke isn’t a T20 batsman. Someone tell the batty selectors as well.

"Hahahaaaaaaaa! Australia looked just this small before us, didn't they?"

Hiding-moments: Warner scything 5 in a row and Jnr. Akmal smacking the DJ over the park.

The no-fun thing about the match: Australia got all out in the nineteenth over and lost by 23 runs, which means it was nothing but an abridged version of a dull ODI game. Give us a thriller maaaaan.

A Captain's Diary

Date: 24th of June, 2009

2 days before the Third Windies Test

03.30 am-
Bugger! Was dreaming of the 2008 England Test series when Johan stormed in. I asked him whether Jakes was snoring again, but he told me he had a nightmare where Harro tried to strangle him and asked me whether he could sleep on my bed. I told the scaredy-cat to sleep on the rug because I need the entire bed for myself. Then dreamt about the Centurion Test and Gingahead trying to fry me in onions. I will reconsider Johan’s selection for the next test now. He should by now seriously know the offence of disturbing a captain’s nap.

10.00 am
Whoops, I’m up! Thought I must be the first one at the table, but the boys had already breakfasted and were taking a dip in the pool. So much the better, I could munch a dozen nougat cookies and sausages without Corrie, the annoying spyshotter, noticing. So bad, at least Micky shared the same sentiments about food.

12.oo
Somersaulted from the jumper in the pool, but no one applauded my gymnastics and then I discovered the boys were nowhere. Only saw the water-refilling tank being pushed here, can’t say what their business was. Ah, whatever.

02.30 pm
Lunched and then went off for the training session. Corrie wanted to do push-ups so I said I would do surveillance of the boys. He asked me what the hell he was there for.

05.00 pm
Played footie and practised in the nets. Checked my twitter and OMG!!! I’ve got 31000 followers now! That’s one-third of Warnie! Did y’see that, you ostentatious football! Bwahaha...

07.45 pm
A rumbling tummy forced me to the kitchen, but couldn’t find my apple pie anywhere. Jakes must have pinched it, the fat tart. Seriously, leaving your food unlocked is like suicide these days.

"I know, Jakes, I know you love apple pie as well. But you just have to ask

me first, okay?"

08.00 pm
Got a phonecall from Albie. "When I’m getting a place, skip?" he asked. I felt like telling the moron he is only suited for pyjama cricket, but luckily his little Kepler got a dirty diaper and the call got shut. I’m going to honour that kid by putting him on my list of favourite Keplers. He will be the first one.

09.00 pm
Went up with the boys to the cinema room to watch Blood Diamond. It ended up in a fight; Dale wanted something more gory but Morne said he wouldn’t leave without knowing whether Cullen will now kill Bella in the new Twilight episode, and when Bouch quipped the vamp will chop her head off, it took us an hour before we could stop him crying. We settled for playing some cards in the end.

11.00 pm
Up to bed now. And oh yeah, I have to lock the door before Johan gets it in his head to sneak in again tonight.

When the Stanis got caught: Part Two

The PCB does want them to suffer the same fate as King Louis V, but constable Beefy Butt realises that his job will be finished as there will be no Stanis to harass for a while then.

So the PCB police then uses its traditional methodology of scaring the crap out of the Stanis. First they put the Heretic’s fork on a table and then the tongue-ripper for naughty boys who tell cock and bull stories, which makes the Akmal bros have a nasty shiver. Afridi just looks indifferently away. After all, his sniffing-ball explanation was so smart it would have made Holmes look like a dotard.

Then a thumb cruncher for obese fingerlickers, an eye-pincher for little guys that ogle ladies and finally the big burping machine which swallows you up and makes you disappear from a cricket pitch for years (I’m telling you, they made Imran Nazir disappear by this. And probably MoYo as well). They tell them stories of Jack the Ripper and Khan the Mongol, tell them how they will end up like fruity red pulp, how the Aussies are coming this summer again...

Of course the Stanis aren’t detained. They never are. They are again hopping around like the four sillies in the Wizard of Oz, except for Younis. The PCB police said he’d been a bad egg and they still had to spank him with all the bats he ever got centuries off. And all what Afridi could say is that he bloody can’t do anything about it. Shame on you, Shahid.

Spit and Spat

The series between the Saffers and Windies gave the same doze as Hundred years of Solitude. It was one of the kind which would fade into match archives and statistics and in gratitude of it being over we all did good deeds today. However, neither Big Benn, nor Steyn, nor Roach wanted it to be devoured to oblivion, and so they protested.

Now we all know that Big Benn has got problems. He doesn’t understand why we have to listen to anyone. Neither does he understand how to stay good for a day. He doesn’t even fear Chris. But blame the commentator’s curse as well. Just when they were mumbling how Benny had turned into a good boy, Benny got a devilish streak in his head and decided to prove the ignorant numbskulls wrong. After all, he was the praying mantis waiting for a fly to buzz by.

It was a Phalaborwa fly who has wrestled with crocodiles in the past, and when Benn provoked him, he spit. It was a wrong thing to do even though he was the birthday boy, and now he’s sitting with a big man-of-the-series trophy on his lap and all his match fee gone. Not funny, Steyn.

The next day, Roach jumped on the stage, completely uninvited. He bowled a good bouncer to Jakes, and Jakes said "Good ball there". That made Roach fume. Didn’t the Jackass now it was not good but supa-friggin-awesome-ricocheting-good?
The next ball was equally good, and this time Jakes didn’t say anything, so Roach wanted him arrested, but no one would agree.

"Oh, so you don't know what supa-friggin-awesome-ricocheting-good means, eh?"

To be honest, Roach looked quite ridiculous. It was the behaviour of a silly pumped up teen who gets ready to break a nose when someone steps on his shoelace. He was trying to be a macho, but failed, in a way like showing off your arm muscles before they slump down like the wind going out of inflated balloons. Next time better luck, Roach.