An Explanation Behind Twatto's Performance

I had even forgotten the Aussies were playing the Banglas today. I'm quite honestly not even giving much of a toss about the series; I've said before watching weaker teams getting themselves steamrolled isn't exactly one of my hobbies.

Shane Watson of course knows that and so he scores some 185 runs from 96 balls. Including 15 fours and 15 sixes. Will you look at that? I mean, CAN you even look at that?
I first thought Cricinfo had become a victim of a cyberattack to give me such incredible stats, but it turns out it is all true. I shouldn't be relinquishing my idea of dragging Twatto in a potato sack to jail anytime soon.

I do suspect two reasons behind such an insane innings however.

1- Twatto saw the nice pink outfit I've created for him and therefore played this beast of an innings in an attempt to impress me, so that I consequently have mercy on him and do not get him to wear it. On second thoughts though, he might have tried to impress me because he actually wants that I do send it to him because he feels the Desparate Housewife Outfit from company Team Barbie will suit him. Either way, he won't be getting it for free.

2- This was all really a campaign to kick out Bangladesh from the next WC and get Ireland in. Twatto felt if he could literally smack the Bangladeshi bowlers in the ground and mutilate them for life, the Banglas would not be able to play in the next WC. So that's his way of contributing his cent for the Associates' cause.

So, nothing too special about his innings.

Time to move on with life, people.

Hideous Outfits are A Crime

Decided yesterday I'd tune in for a bit of IPL entertainment and hello, the 'Kochi Tuskers Kerala' are playing.

I think I'll try to decipher the genius behind the using of a three-word name for a sports team, but then the Kochi openers walk out and I'm offered something far more important to contemplate over.

Because I see this:



Now if you'd ask me what 'this' is then I'd tell you this is one of the greatest embarrassments in the history of colour matching. This isn't even innovative or funky, this is plain crap. And I don't know how many are willing to sacrifice their eyes for seeing Kochi play, I know I'm not.

I know it doesn't take much genius to understand what is wrong with this thing, but I still felt it needs to be criticised here because getting your team to wear this is a crime.
Quite seriously. I don't think it is okay if someone is made to look like an absolute nutjob before such a large audience (unless we're talking of politicians here.)
BB McCullum should have clung to his bedpost in obstinacy.

I, however, have to see some optimism in the industry of making hideous outfits. It means there is a possible chance of us ever getting to see Shane Watson play in this:

Desparate Housewife Twattonette of Team Barbie, ready to change the world with a magic wand.

Start A Revolution and Kill the ICC

There's been plenty of brouhaha created by cricket's most incompetent and easily dislikeable dunderheads- the ICC. And not for the first time.

Kicking out the Associate Chickens without the slightest ounce of respect and concern beats it all though. This is a hotchpotch of mercenary aims, avarice and depravity all masked by the pretence of 'doing what's best for cricket'. The ICC are in effect criminals and the kind of criminals who cannot be negotiated with. And they do have evil bosses too.

Plus, they regard us true cricket fans as dead germs on the bathroom. Yes, that's what they think of you and me.

Therefore, I propose we start a revolution for cricket's better fate and in a bloody takeover, kill the ICC. Right now, it's the best solution possible because history tells us when they absolutely won't listen to you, you just have to take out your bazooka and deal with matters this way.

Go ahead and shoot the ICC like the spectacled villains they are.
And while you're at it, try looking a bit like a leprechaun.

Comic: 6 Reasons Why World Cups Are Both Great and Horrible

At last, I managed to finish a first comic.

Read, enjoy, give feedback and spread the love friends.


First, Why They're Awesome:

1. World Cups mean 24 hours of cricket and popcorn.

World Cups mean no more having to watch stinky movies on HBO. World Cups mean something cricket-related will always be on the television and your cricket addicted guts will devour it all until the Yeti will break into your house and take you to some snowy mountains to be devoured along with pasta.



2. During World Cups People Talk more About Cricket Than Paris Hilton and Politics

World Cups are big and exciting, so basically everyone thinks it's cool to start talking about cricket. Hearing so many people talk about cricket the reminds you how cool and awesome cricket is and that it is destined for world domination.

3. Associate Chickens* Get A Chance to Kick Down the Bigger Bullies

The Associate Cricket Nations normally live in a world where they play chicken vs chicken matches. Not in World Cups. In World Cups they enter the coliseum with a mad bison. They usually get trampled over like a handicapped bug, but sometimes emerge as victorious, and the sight of them making necklaces out of the slain monster's intestines is incredible.

*associate chickens are the brave associate cricketing nations as explained in this post.

And now we come to the part which explains why World Cups suck.

4. Associate Chickens Get Slaughtered And Crushed And Mutilated

And this happens more than point 3 with the stronger countries shamelessly behaving like psychopathic dinosaurs who haven't eaten for days.

5. The Advertisements, the Advertisements with Cricketers and Ravi Shastri

This could probably be applied to any big sporting tournament, but the 100 times-in-a-day repetition of some 10 ads and Ravi Shastri bellowing his eternally preserved favourite phrases makes one so mentally deranged and hungry for living a life under a dark cloak of obscurity at the end that it needs to be mentioned.

6. Dealing with having your team kicked out of the tournament

Life starts feeling like one gigantic ball of slime. You'd better be born a rhinosaur millions of years ago or be dead. Especially when you exist with the knowledge that there are people around who can still be drugged with the reveries of their team winning the final.

                                                                  

                                                                          The End.

On One Win and Two Losses and Little Happiness

Right, I decided it's time to come out of my hiding.

Not that I was hiding in any case though, I mean come on, can you imagine me as a gigantic milksop becoming a recluse just because first the Saffers slaughtered themselves and then the Stanis crashed out too? Of course not.

I quite fancied the opportunity of spewing so many emotional tirades out here, but didn't have time for that. So instead I passed the week feeling like some really rotten egg. But now I have to talk about three things, here we go.

On India's Win Yesterday

I felt like a snotty curmudgeon.
But then those Indian players were such jolly nice fellows for dedicating this Cup to Sachin in their emotional outpourings and gustos, because then I could picture the more endearing reality of Sachin being the sole reason for India's win and Sachin floating around the stadium like a winged Cupid spreading love and goodness and all was well for me.

Plus, I could smugly think how South Africa has been the only team in the tournament to have beaten India, the WC champs, which makes us kind of better than the champs.

Plus, Gary Kirsten was Sachin's sidekick in winning the tournament and he's South African. We're absolutely getting him as our coach now, oh yes.

Plus, I grudgingly have to admit India were quite good. And because of the nice Indian people I know this win has slightly become more bearable. (But you really haven't, Harbhajan Singh.)

On Pakistan's Loss That Day

Why the hell didn't you take the Powerplay? Why the hell didn't you take the Powerplay? Why the hell didn't you take the Powerplay? Why the hell didn't you take the Powerplay?
Why the hell didn't you take the Powerplay? Why the hell didn't you take the Powerplay?
Who and what the hell do I believe? Rehman Malik, the people, stupid decisions?

On South Africa's Loss the Other Day

It went like this:
"Aaaah, we're winning this. Yes, 220, I'll take that, I'll take that....oh, Hash's gone..good work Biff and Jakes..NOoo...go, go AB....SHIT...I hate you for all eternity Faf...please, please, please, Botes and Peterson, I implore you..do BAT...another gone..noo...they're losing this...no they aren't....yes they are....shut up they aren't...YOU SHUT UP THEY ARE...and why am I watching this in a friggin hotel room where I can't even break the television? Damn, they've lost....right, hold back your tears Sunny, hold them back...there's other folks in the room..manoevre your way carefully out...go straight to the bathroom...now you can...WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAVE TO HAPPEN?"

But as usual, I forgave them.

And at the End

The World Cup is over, finally.
Bring on a 90-match torture of IPLling I say. YES.

Sachin Tendulkar- like King Arthur, Merlin the Wizard and a nice Hobbit.
So more like a fairytale character than a cricketer.

Ps- First comic will be coming out soon..and it's about the World Cup...

The Beauty of It All

I was supposed to be neutral in this game.

But then there were wild scenes of Lance Klusener and Allan Donald going bonkers.

 And Australia holding the cup in 1999 grinning like green frogs.

And again in 2003.

And again in 2007.

And then there was this disturbing image of Ricky fondling a fifth World Cup and kangaroos with bloodshot eyes jumping around the world, and at this moment my sanity returned.

Australia had to lose.

For the sake of cricket.

For the sake of a new champion.

For the sake of a Pak-India semifinal.

And maybe for the sake of seeing the World Cup being reflected in the swaying Head and Shoulders sponsored hair of Afridi, Kamran Akmal swooning at the beauty of the moment and Shoaib Akhtar chosing not to become a popstar in return.

Lovely.

Ps: Yes, no regular posting these days, I know. Just a little busy and might be away for the next couple of days as well..boohoo.

Winning and Winning

Match One:

Under tense circumstances, (but still being brashly optimistic) the Deshis take the field. The South Africans post a goodish score.

A goodish score is obviously not what the Deshis wanted and so they play the "Heck, we're never going to make it" game and bundle out for 78. Lopsy and Robbie P are so formidable that them living in obscurity some 2-3 years back looks like a miracle.

At the post match presentation, Shakib utters that eternal word of captivating beauty, that word which has dabbled on the lips of countless criminals and rabble-rousers, and in typical movie sense, ultimately led to their their redemption: "Sorry".
He doesn't get any redemption but at least makes it safely to the hotel with his team.
That's better than redemption.

Match Two:

On a naughty wicket in Colombo, the Stanis take on the Aussies. The Aussies think they'll do better than the Deshis and go on to score a hundred more. But, "Sorry", says Umar Akmal. "I've got to be the MoM today and praise me and my bro. Gotta win this game".
The Aussies lose.

Yes they do.

First time since 1999 in a World Cup.

Feels good.

An Ode to Shoaib Akhtar

The earth goes bellowing and screaming
"A stampede of bisons?"
"King Kongs swarming around in tons?"
No twits, it's mad monster Shoaib that runs.
Runs around in skinny pants of cheetah skin,
Throwing up chaos, living his life in sin.

Badass badie the mad monster is,
But better than Godzilla to watch.
So oh, how we will miss him,
Miss him when he's left.
But then he had not much life left with which to brim.
Or more accurately, the limbs weren't a match
For all the toils of a cricket match.

Yet we will remember what batsmen used to remember
"Oh, the screams, the thumping hearts-
That awful time before the mad monster's over starts."




Red Bull gives you wiiings.

Ps- The last two lines of the poem come from Max Fatchen's poem 'Look Out', a poem I'm crazily obsessed with. And no, of course he didn't talk about a mad monster bowling, I changed that part.

Windies, the Heartbreakers

Really, that didn't feel good.

The Windies just drained my anticipation of celebrating an England elimination through the gutter.
Sulieman Benn, you effin giant, why do you run like you're to be dealt with the bat of Vivian Richards? I can't comprehend why. Neither what England are doing in this World Cup.

I've had this feeling about England being the intriguing clowns of this World Cup, but clowns who eventually fail when it's time for their final big act. I so anticipated about being confirmed about this, but now I might have to wait till the quarters for that to happen.

And for all the right reasons, I hope they play a quarter final against the Stanis. Imagine that, cricket's two greatest jesters taking over the field and displaying the most enjoyable kind of insanity and buffoonery. Plus, to finish all this Stani-doppelganger business and see who the real Stanis are.

It's bad, bad for the Windies too. Gutted for them on missing out on a chance of becoming heart throbs. But still, they get the picture of the match.
It's Andre Russell who walks in the air on rocket shoes.

Biff's Hatemail

Sender: Just a Saffa supporter..will make no mention of Minki and your weight.

Hello Boofus Biff,

Did you just notice that nickname? It's alliterative. I love alliterations.

But since you're not a literary person and therefore might get easily bored, I'll quickly jump to the serious business. In addition to that I promised above that I won't mention the fact that you're an absolute walrus who appears to devour watermelons as candies, I will also not try to kill you with online-operated laser technology.

So, it's safe to continue and read. And we can talk serious business.

You've been pretty crap of late, haven't you? I mean, your batting- one hopeless gigantic pile of horrendous crap. I don't know why that might be, cricket experts are telling me it's a temporary mid-career phase and that your average will soon start ballooning again. But...that doesn't solve the problem. Particularly when we are playing a bloody World Cup.

Then there's another problem. We can't drop you because you're the captain. Though I normally support the policy which states that captains are not undomitable creatures who reserve a place in the team for all eternity regardless of how they play, I don't want you to go as yet. You're a bit of a good captain and chucking you out right now would feel like kicking out a senile and rusty emperor in the last year of his rule. That's so very impetuous.

Plus, because of you, Illegal King Hash has to speed his innings and sometimes resort to playing silly shots. The same goes for AB and our 'fantastic four' or top order isn't really a fantastic four when only two dudes are performing, And then our middle order has the capacity of sucking big.

And yes, Jakes is being a fat useless walrus too. But not as useless as you currently.

Cheers,

A serious well-wisher and giver of free advice.

Ps: "Smith is a total chop, if he bates like this in the quarter finals we coming home.Drop the chop now and get someone that can bat.Smith is the ACHILLIS heal of the team"

Pps: I didn't write the above comment. Did you really think my spellings are that bad?

A Case of Errupting One's Brain

I'm high.
I galloped over galaxies in the sky
Where Indians were frying Nehra into a braai.

The stars melted into pots of gold,
Bronze statues of Robbie P stood everywhere,
A couple of Steyn ones were also near.

Rainbows came cascading down,
Illegal King Hash became the sun at dawn,
The world was glorious with a gold-tipped crown.

The load was great, my skull grew fissures.
There was kaboom and my brain spat out,
Tidbits of it on the wall.
But for a joy well fought,
A bit of brain less wasn't the end of it all.

The Poms Are Kind of...

The Poms.

HAHAHA.

They're one bag of riddles and absurdity in this World Cup.
Otherwise they wouldn't have lost to Ireland and the Banglas, but at least Andrew Strauss can go back to being all diplomatic about his campaign to resurrect the weak cricket nations.
Or saying "We still believe we can".

All teams apparently believe they can win this World Cup. It's an essential statement every captain has to make but most of the time translates to 'No, we don't really because we know we're crap and all and we feel queasy when it comes to big games, but we have to say it to look self-confident and optimistic, which is so trendy for every sportsman.'

So the Poms might have to believe they can, or the British press will have the time of their lives (criticising is so much easier than praising unless you're a thoroughly trained sycophant)- therefore, the Windies absolutely need to win against them.
Comparisons to the Stani team are appearing alongwith a victory reminiscent of 1992 so they need to be stopped NOW.

There's only one Stani team and that's it. The Poms need to be proven as a bunch of amateurs in the field of being interesting and insane.
They're slowly becoming even likeable for some.

And this is something I felt like making. Because at least yesterday I could laugh heartily.

The joy of watching Strauss despair.

Ps- Rubbish title, I know. It's the Poms fault though.

On Choking And A Saffer Problem

Time I finally wrote about a few horrors.

The first horror I had *that* day was the obnoxious catapulting of this tennisball of a thought in my head "Now I'm going to have to hear that word again." It sometimes feels even worse than South Africa actually losing.

I've read writers rambling about removing the choker word from cricket's lexicon because it's become cliché, but don't expect journalists to abide by that anytime soon. Oh no, the word choker alone induces a series of uncontrollable laughter and images of slap-stick comedy losses performed by the Saffers over years. Don't let's do away with that.

The thing is, if choking is just a form of losing, and one where a loss occurs for a team that was expected to win and among other things succumbed to anxiety and agitation, then it would be a pleasure if it were used for other teams as well. Because every other team now and then loses this way. So maybe South Africa did choke that day, but so have others. For examples, read the King's post.
For now, I'm stopping about this exhaustive thing.

Coming to serious business, South Africa do have some genuine problems and the biggest one is that their middle/lower order is like pudding for kids. Too wobbly, too unstable.
Interestingly, it's one of the reasons Boucher was left mulling in SA, so we could have a bazooka of a batsman taking over and stabilize this order. Didn't happen then because neither Faf nor Ingram nor Van Wyk are superman batsmen. They're okay, but just not blokes like Razzaq or Mussey. And blokes like them we need.

It's not a question of skill I reckon, but it's like they're too afraid to parade around relentlessly with a bazooka. You need guts for that and currently they're doing a good job of not employing those. Wimpiness is our middle order's greatest weakness now I think, and though it's not impossible to win a World Cup while that factor remains, it can make the task a whole lot difficult. And it's not as if it isn't difficult enough already.

So to our batsmen, go borrow a few matchsticks from Cap'n Shahid and have a few fireworks. Fireworks looks pretty.

Pretty indeed.

This is Eating Me Up

We had South Africa's game yesterday, a lot happened, and I still haven't posted. So I thought I'd let you all know I'm not hiding (come on, why would I?) only have some bloody work to do. No time, no time.
Hopefully serious posting tomorrow because I have to spit out a few things. It's corroding slightly inside.

In the meanwhile I found this interesting picture to ponder over.
Since everyone is so loving it to talk about choking, here's a picture where Faf is caught trying to do it literally. And of all persons, Robbie P.

Why South Africa Should be Supported

If I dictated the rules of cricket fandom, it would of course be obligatory to support South Africa all the time. But for now I'm staying away from pipedreams and just making one request: Support the Saffers Tomorrow.

Why you ask?

I'll tell you why.

Tomorrow we are playing the Poms. As you all know, the Poms must be beaten. If the Poms are beaten, there's a dramatic increase in their chances of early World Cup elimination. Which consequently will result in elimination. Which consequently will result in fewer South Africans, Indians and Stanis wanting to play for the Poms. Which consequently will result in fewer grumpy people. Which consequently will result in a happier world.

You get the idea.

And you will also support them because Illegal King Hash plays for them. Look, he even has a white palace.

Sunil Gavaskar's Masterpiece

I'm guilty of not blogging after the Saffas' game yesterday and it's got slightly to do with the game being in the morning. Morning games often mean I'll miss them and then have to catch up with the arduous task of trying to get some decent highlights somewhere.


Anyhow, I didn't miss much.

The Boofus Biff was scratchy again, Haircules got out quickly again (yes, 'again') and Hash and AB as usual had to do a revival job in their own fashions, one as I read on Cricinfo like a 'sage' and the other like a 'surfer boy'. There's nothing particular about that except for that it invokes a image of King Hash the Illegal meditating in a yoga posture on AB's surfboard, who's gliding over the sharks in yellow-and-red striped swimming trunks. I mean, just like the unbearable colours on his website.

So I'll save your time and just bring to notice the best moment of the match.

It was a piece of Sunil Gavaskar's commentary brought to my notice while reading a forum. It's peerless in being uncomprehending and hilarious, which is actually quite difficult to do nowadays considering Danny Morisson and Co. exist.

It goes like this. AB who is playing the amazing energizer bunny rabbit again, loots Loots (sorry for the pun, I couldn't resist it) for three consecutive sixes.

Memories of Gibbs hitting six sixes are immediately conjured up as AB reaches the possibility of doing it and Robin Jackman quickly says "Now don't let us mention it yet."

Gavaskar then thinks he should say something too. So he takes Jackman's sentence as a cue and starts prattling on about Gibbs' six sixes and the possibility of AB doing it too.

Either he's become deaf by sitting in the commentary box besides Ravi Shastri, or he's a bit slow.

The Poms Had A Cunning Plan

Strauss appears in the doorway of the press room.


"Before we start this, I implore you all to stay absolutely silent while I speak. Kind of like shutting up."

Before a nonplussed audience, he then smugly parades to the table and drops himself in the chair. He smirks.

"I know all of you reporters here think I silenced you for a sincere apology. That is bollocks, total bollocks...STOP IDIOTS. You do not write this. You write what I tell you to write, that's how it works. Just like my team plays how I tell them to play."

The room starts buzzing with murmurs of match-fixing.

Strauss beams now. His cleverness just knows no limits, he's twirled these media fatheads around his finger; he knows it.

"Aha, gents, your socks have jumped off your feet now, haven't they? But that's how it sits. We deliberately lost yesterday so....STOP IDIOTS. In the name of the Queen don't write match-fixing. You'll phrase it as 'The Benevolent Self-Sacrifice of the English to the Irish'. I'll tell you all why."

Strauss takes a pause to allow the anticipation for the grand moment to sink in. He smiles at the thought of how he's kicking ass better than Colin Firth.

"Gents, I ask you these serious questions. How many interesting matches we've had so far this tournament? 3. Did we play all of those three? Yes. How many times were minnows involved? Twice. How many times did we win? Once. If that doesn't ring a bell in your heads, you're all bigger prats than Colly who's the only one who thinks we didn't lose deliberately for the better good of cricket and therefore a MUCH greater cause."

The room starts buzzing again.

"Yes people, pick away a tear at that. I, Andrew Strauss, single-handedly decided to bring back cricket to life. I scored that 158 against India despite losing more calories than Bressy has in his entire body. I dropped O'Brien yesterday. I am the new Gladiator and together with my loyal Poms, we'll revive cricket including Associate Cricket. Colly we will of course banish to Ireland because he's a ginger and probably even a leprechaun and can therefore not be a part of our campaign. That's how it sits, now write your stories and Toodles to y'all."

He dashes to the door where suddenly O'Brien enters, rips of Strauss' head and puts it on a stick.
"I was amazing. I was Genghis Khan with pink hair. I was why Ireland won and the bloody English lost. That's what you write down, nutters."

He marches out and Colly follows out, throwing gold coins to the audience.

"I shall be the saviour of cricket and have a statue of myself made at Madame Tussaud's."

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.