A Pakistan 'the Good, the Bad and the Ugly'

The way the Stanis are winning these days must be scaring at least some teams their pants off. Because the Stanis are winning despite their typical derangements, and any team which can win without playing very sane and consistently adhering to the ritual of doing something oddball, is, well as I said, SCARY.

Yesterday's game was one where the Lankans might have been tipped to win, but instead they now have to rue the loss of Chamara Silva who has reportedly been strangled. Hahaha, Sangakarra laughs manically, he hates tortoises.

Towards the goodies, badies and uglies now.

The Good

- The Stanis winning. Their madness is the most likeable when they win, and we need likeable madness in cricket. Oh, absolutely.
- Batting. The 'Stanis can bat' tag is now permanent.
- Misbah-ul-Haq is batting like he's the bloody captain and that's great because he isn't.
- Shoaib Akthar. He told me if he's going to take a fiver this World Cup, he'll give me a free flight over Madagascar.
- Hafeez getting runout. I didn't see it, but apparently it was the best case of a couple of players' brains getting stolen by an evil bogeyman (you have to believe in those) for a few seconds.
- Cap'n Shahid. I think he can bowl.

The Bad

-The fielding. Today I'm introducing the 'Stanis can't field' tag.
- Umar Gul. Ever since I heard about his legendary reverse-swing, I've seen a bowler being loved by the batsmen more and more. Too, too expensive.
- Misbah-ul-haq still has the audacity to try and play *that* shot.

The Ugly

Kamran Akmal looking like a pistol in a jumping pose. Pistols fire and cause destruction but Kakmal was crap yesterday so it's a shame he's trying to look like one.

"Go get that ball, ye scoundrels or I'll fire myself."

Say Hello to Imran Tahir

Ladies and gents and chickens and hens, South Africa have just introduced their new and immaculately polished product. It's golden-sprayed at the top and is claimed to be a leggie.


It's called Imran Tahir.

You are very welcome to think that I'm a very late+lame advertiser or product introducer (I've never been a brick in marketing names. You're welcome to enlighten me), but that's probably because my other occupations have still not been reported to the police.

Anyhow, Imran Tahir.

I'm not going to delve into how bloody awesome he is, or the angles and peerless techniques of his bowling. It is enough to know that the Aussies are trying to kidnap him, so we are guarding him in a cage made of T-rex bones and the Boofus Biff himself keeps the keys with him. Ps- don't even try Ricky. The BB bites and doesn't even brush his teeth.

What I'm more interested in saying is that South Africa should actually play him now that they've let us all say hello to him. Does it feel great to say 'hello' to a new bloke only to later learn he's been locked away in some murky cellar? I think so not.
It looked slightly insane to play with three spinners against the Windies, and not because we reputedly only have doorknob-fiddlers. The idea behind it likely was to put the three of them under scrutiny. Not so stupid then, but none of them really failed. Robbie P will still be the guy having to move out, and probably because Botes thought he'd take a couple of wickets. Cunning robot.

The second thing about Tahir was him kissing the Protea badge, while he is a Stani. I'm very cockahoop about him playing for us, but he can keep those Figjammy works away from the public, else the public is going to think he's cocky and a traitor. And he doesn't look like a cocky traitor even though I'm massively opposed to his suspicious-looking dyed hair.

I thought you'd say hello to his wife too, who is also the reason why he's in the Saffa team

Just Remember the Name...

Sadly, few will remember the embarrassing Pom exploits we had yesterday (except for people who have an overobsession with being nit-picky and writing essays on fielding errors) but that's how things are. People rarely remember the things they should and quite often remember things they shouldn't because what we shouldn't is almost always so darn interesting...
Okay, I'm wandering away there, but it might be due to the last stage of fever that's currently biting off the edges of my brain. But I like to think I'm still perfectly sane.

Anyhow, I was talking about remembering something that ALL of you should, and it's not the Pommie gobsmackery. It is the name of Holland's hero yesterday which I've been seeing shamelessly mispronounced and misspelled (one s or two ss? I really can't be bothered).

Calling him Tendo is the easiest way out and I'm okay with that because he uses it on his own website and it's the best way of referring to someone when you have no freakin idea how to spell or pronounce his name.
But when you say 'Ten-Doo-Skatay" then I'm just declaring war. Haha, yes, hide under your quilts you criminals known as Sanjay Manjrekar and Nasser Hussain. I'm coming over to give Dutch lessons till you look like orange bunny carrots.

And if the rest of you don't want to have Dutch lessons and look like orange bunny carrots, call him Tendo or "Tun-doo-s.." This is horrible. I realise there is no 'g' sound in English like the one we have in Dutch. Which means none of you can pronounce it. And I should forgive you all.

This must qualify as my worst post ever and it's because of a fever I think I have.



Just call him Tendo. He appreciates that.



Who Wants an Associate Chicken Legpiece?

I know that's weirdly titled, but that's how I was thinking when Sehwag was gobbling up Bangladesh like marshmallows. And then I had to ponder over the poor fate over the not so strong sides participating in the cup, and how their genocide will gradually start, and how I will be left with a queasy stomach...


Ps 1-But not if it's South Africa doing it. I'm allowed to be biased.
Ps 2- My word, just see how Kenya were roasted today.

So that actually had me thinking whether the poor lads were better off playing a World Cup or not. If I were a chicken, which is something very queasy to imagine, I'd hide under berry-bushes rather than have myself fried into a BBQ. I would of course be a very coward kind of chicken but it'd at least save my life, but that's CLEARLY not how the Associates think.

They're brave chickens.

They want to fight the tigers, the elephants and the king kongs of the world.

They usually end up being fingerlickin' good tidbits, but sometimes they actually can peck out the eye of the monster they're facing.

And that's why some of them need to be given the opportunity.

But now the ICC doesn't want plucky chickens to parade in cricket world cups anymore and have reduced the number of teams to 10.
In one way that's okay considering I don't have to see chickens being devoured so often which is repulsive and slighty boring.
But it's not very nice to the Associates who aren't really fond of being left out like that. Some bloke from Cricket Kenya said:
"We are disturbed about the whole issue."

I told you they are brave chickens. Now they're cuckoo chickens too.

It's not smart if you want to develop cricket in other countries, (but it's not as if the ICC was ever very concerned with that anyway)- 12 teams could at least have been allowed. Or if that is too big a request, what do the smart gents think of allowing the Associates play against the Test nations apart from a WC occasionally?

It's necessary because without the chickens cricket isn't really global.

And because I love chickens.

After the Opening Ceremony

I looked somewhat like this.

Less colours and dance, and probably an elephant race with the captains would have been pretty damn cool.

But they don't do damn cool things then so very often.

Furball Monsters for WC Support

I'm slightly bored.

Or maybe I don't have much of an idea what to write so I'm staying silent, but staying silent for a bit too long gets all too weird, so I thought I'd say hello with this post and most nobly ask all of you whether you'd want one of those silly furball monster cartoons to show your support- like the one I have in my sidebar.

I know most of you are grownups...but still. You don't need to get all grownuppy in a World Cup. So if you feel like, ask me what you'd want to be written in the support banner and let your gigantic support for your WC team shine high and eye-dazzlingly bright through this monster on your profile pics of whatever wonderful social network, website or thing on the internet you're using. You can also paste it on your waterbottles if you want, of course.
That makes you so more childlikey and so less grownuppy which is pretty cool.

Okay, I'm going mad, but here it is:

Ps. I know the original message being erased isn't looking neat but that's easy to be changed. Didn't feel like doing it right now.

Salman Butt the Commentator

After hearing the news that Salman Butt is going to be doing a commentary job for a Pakistani sports channel, I must confess I seriously feel he has the audacity of a true bastard.
And he doesn't even look like one.

So what would one do if one's misdeeds were placed all exposed before the world to see? Normally, the criminal cringes first with shame. And then he does his best to become a recluse and save his face to become the endless target of deploring looks and a PCB chairman's froggy smiles. (Ijaz Butt teddies are even up for sale nowadays to hug the poor criminals whom no one wants to hug).

Salman Butt is clearly not following that normal procedure and he cites him having the need to earn a livelihood as the case and using his 'experience'. If he'd be sharing his unusual and rare experience of how to act suave and then get involved in spot fixing, then that's believable. But his cricket knowledge? I'm not sure how many would want to hear of that.
The only fun watching him on TV would be trying to discover the tiniest traces of remorse on his face, which is unlikely.

And oh, he doesn't deserve half a million for the job.

Lalalala, say the ICC. We're not listening.

Hello, I'm Salman Butt your commentator for the night and will present you with my nauseating views on how to earn money through any use or misuse of cricket.

The Endless Confusion That Imran Tahir's Hair Creates

Imran Tahir has hair on his head. I'm sure you noticed.

But yesterday, before he left for India I noticed it's like electrocuted dry grass.
Why does it look like electrocuted dry grass?
Has Imran Tahir an over-obsession with hair gel?
Does Imran Tahir have an even greater over-obsession with hair dye?
Does Imran Tahir's hairdresser regularly treat porcupines as his clients?
Does Imran Tahir look in the mirror before he leaves his house?
Did Graeme Smith scare Imran Tahir by appearing in a ballet outfit at Shane Warne's musical?

You tell me.

Everything seems possible.

Hi, I have weird hair.

Pakistan's Batting is Perplexing Me

It's been a while and some of you must have noticed, but the Stani batting scorecards are no longer the bloody sheets with mathematical figures that predictably surprise you. And that they no longer are, is what surprises me.

A while ago, about 5 games in a row of an ordinary Pakistani season went like this in terms of batting:

All tipsy-turvy and crazy the way it's supposed to be.
But now, since the past couple of series, it's like this:

In the series against South Africa earlier, they didn't record a single below 200 score.
In the series against NZ, including the Tests, they've done it only once.

I haven't paid much attention to the current series, and just noticed a few good individual scores, but I think it's time to start believing in miracles again.

And remove the 'Stanis can't bat' tag.

A New Outfit and How Graeme Smith Murdered His Cake

I think it's forbidden to keep high hopes from outfit designers to do anything half-decent.

Because however much you try to think they'll probably have learned from the stinker of a uniform they previously created (morone french green for instance) they will amazingly succeed at creating something even more revolting.
Such as the new outfit of the Proteas

Clearly the importance of good attire is nothing to them.

It's so horrendous that most of the Proteas weren't even bothered to look in the camera, and I actually figured out a whole lot going on there. Certainly, and the focus will particularly shift to Graeme Smith who was the B-day boy and something sinister going on.

                                                                 The not-so-little discoveries

The anticipation.

The dogged determination.

The eventual murder.