Thursday, 19 January 2012

Equality

So I was on the bus this morning and spotted a girl strolling the pavement with really small shorts on, if they were any smaller they may as well have been a belt.... anyway she had a bit of cellulite, nothing wrong with that really apart from maybe poor wardrobe selection policy.

Anyway, It made me think though... that women are the masters of camouflage & deception, just go to any woman's cosmetic website, they have a range of products that will make your boobs bigger, your arse smaller, eyelashes longer, lips fuller, eyes sparklier, cheekbones higher and all kinds of assortments of make up!! MAKE UP... the most deceitful product on earth. Anyone who has woken up to a stranger in their bed only to realise it’s their partner they are seeing for the first time sans make up would be lying if they said they didn’t feel slightly cheated!!

But NO ONE bats an eye lid...

but if a bald man  pops on a rug, EVERYBODY takes this piss out of him!! How is that fair!?

I have too much time to think on the bus!!

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Happy New Year Punter!!

Happy New Year Punter!!

What a relief it was to get the nay-sayers off your back. It seems as though in this country once you pass a certain age the knives come out for sharpening. The Australian media has a long history of hounding batsmen (most of them champions) once they lose form past the age of about 32. Stephen Waugh copped it, so to Brian Lara when he visited these shores.


Brian Lara's stunning pull shot

The problem is, the men who sharpen these knives whilst I'm sure have impressive credentials hanging from their study room walls, have little to no cricketing credentials whatsoever. They call upon statistics to support their claims but statistics can be manipulated to create any picture you want to paint. Take for example Michael Hussey, before this series began apparently his position in the side was clouded. After all he had had a lean return from the previous two 2-test series against the Protea's and the Kiwi's. While statistically that is accurate, what is also accurate is that he was convincingly the leading run scorer on the previous tour of Sri Lanka and fought single handedly against the best bowling attack in the world during the Ashes.

Then there are the technical sides of the game they begin to pick apart, with limited expertise to back their claims.

With Brian Lara they claimed in middle age he became jumpy at the crease, Lara had always had an exaggerated back and across movement. It was born out of being bought up playing against much taller men extracting extraordinary bounce, it was a mechanism to get on top of the bounce and allow him to play the lethal pull and cut shots he was famous for.

When Mike Hussey was out of form they claimed he was beginning to show weaknesses out the off stump while Steve Waugh began showing an increasing awkwardness behind the short ball. Even Dravid and the great Tendulkar came under fire when they lost that ever elusive yet critical element 'form' in '08' and '06' respectively.

Now we come to Ponting, while his figures over the past few years have been underwhelming to say the least, something he has agreed to, you don’t write off champions.

For the wolves that have been circling and have an affliction with statistics Punter gave them a smorgasbord to feast upon. No Test hundreds since 2009, an average of 26 in the past two years and so on.

Then came the technical analysis. There were claims the extra weight of his new rug had exaggerated his head movement falling across to the off side, his trigger movement had become exacerbated, his movements were jerky and his pull shot nullified as his reflexes dimmed and confidence was battered after a Kemar Roach throat ball.

The truth is, every batsmen has technical weaknesses, it’s just a matter of minimizing the weak and amplifying the strong. Watching advertisements during the Boxing Day test when Punter flogged a dodgy brand of vitamins which, if they have you believe give you super human strength, flashed images of Punter in his hay day scoring back to back double hundreds.

The images proved to me what I had long believed; Ponting has always been jerky at the crease. It stems from a sharp open faced back lift towards 3rd slip and a baseball style front foot pump which allows him to play his cuts, back and front foot drives, flicks through mid-wicket and that famous swivel pull shot!!

It also makes him prone to exaggerated movements across his stumps particularly early in his innings, opening up the chance for LBW and nicks into the cordon, modes of dismissal we've seen all too often in the past 18 months.     

For me the turning point came early last year in the World Cup semi final versus the Indian's themselves, he had long been out of form and was fighting against playing the way he had done all his career and playing a slightly more subdued game without the dominance he expected of himself.

When Tendulkar went through his battle's he stripped back his technique to the bare essentials, productive foot movement, presenting the full face and shedding the egotistical part of his mindset that wanted to dominate to become a run accumulator. Ponting likewise had to find his way, not easy for two players used to having their way with the world’s best for well over a decade. One adjustment is the selection of his pull shots, gone are the days when he could hook the world’s deadliest from back of a length, now the reality is, like the rest of the mortals he needs to play the shot with an element of discern.

Muddied but not beaten
In these past few innings the blueprint has been laid, this is the way forward for Ponting’s career. It was appropriate to see the street fighter from the back alleys of Mowbray, stand up and receive generous applause shirt muddied and spitting dirt after the scrap of his career!!

Monday, 2 January 2012

En-gah-lund (Part 5)

The following weeks things slowed down a little as the responsibility of employment took over. My initial weeks were spent acclimatising to taking calls on the 'frontline', frontline was put in place so clients could speak to a person instead of an automated machine message. Im sure Im not the only one who's been caught out on a late night trying to get home only to be answered by a robot saying 'We have your address at 7 Gambir Sq, Bondi, is this correct?'... 'No, its not fucken correct I dont live in Sydney you silly tart!!'

Anyway it was a good opportunity to get to meet some non cricket related colleagues. Within one short week I had already been invited out to join them for a Friday night drink at their regular haunt the (Egg and Spoon!?) and before you knew it was downing pints and enjoying the gaming machines on offer. The machines in England are much different to those down under, for starters the games were normally of the quiz variety and required some sort of brain function and took time to get through. Secondly you were playing for a pittance so there was never any chance of financial gain, so unlike Australia it wasnt a case of mindlessly slapping away the kids inheritance and college fund.

Between shifts I was still able to fit in the odd game of cricket, on one such weekend I turned up late on a Saturday afternoon to watch the conclusion of the first's team game. After a bit of a Friday session the previous night I was slightly dusty and engaged in a hair of the dog. In England its not unusual to have a beer with a 'top', otherwise known as a 'Shandy' this made it sweeter and makes for easier drinking and unlike Australia requesting it is not followed by queiries regarding your sexuality.

After the firsts had finished I was joined in the bar by the club's premiere batsmen keeper and according to himself also the clubs finest drinker Mark Hatting. 'Hatty' wasnt the world’s biggest man (roughly my size) but pound for pound could match it with anyone, so of course backing my ability, it wasnt long before the challenge was laid.

We settled into (Sleazy corner) with Mrs Sterlo talking filth and ordered some greasy pizza's before last drinks were called at 10:30. When confronted with this for the first time I was somewhat shocked, it was a far cry from the nights at Western Districts which finished well into the :am.

However on this occasion, Mennis had in hand a spare key he had acquired and we all made our way out to one of the sightboards where we waited for the cleaners to finish hoovering the clubhouse before we snuck back in. Truth be known, they were fully aware what was going on and there was an unwritten rule that said if we didnt take care of the clubhouse and tab then the key would be confiscated.

So Hatty and I continued with our beer swilling before pulling up stumps before our game the following day, declaring it a draw and leaving with a new found respect for each other. They made their way home while I made my way to the changing sheds to make myself a Bear Gryll's style bed out of left over thigh guards, miscellaneous pads then topping it off with a series of wool knit sweaters for blankets and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I woke up ROUGH, I mean REALLY rough. Now I have had my fair share of hangovers but this was something else, the seriousness of the situation was confirmed when minutes later I rushed to the change room toilets confronted with a question no man should have to answer...'Do I spew in to crap or crap in to spew?' After a moments hesitation I decided that I could handle snapping one of into some chunder but there was no fucking way I was spewing into a freshly spray painted toilet bowl. DIS-GUST-ING!!

Somehow I manoeuvred myself from the toilets and underneath a shower in an attempt to ready myself for the days play, I lay in the feotal position on the floor for the next 45 minutes with my body temperature fluctuating between FREEZING FUCKING COLD to BOILING BLOODY HOT with only the slightest adjustments of the tap.

Luckily for me the game was called off because of heavy rain, not that I could have have taken part anyway. Anyone who has spent time around cricketers knows they are not the most sympathetic of creatures and my state was the cause of great mirth around the change room. When Hatty caught wind of my state he walked in with arms raised claiming the championship with a TKO.... I was in no state to argue and when I heard once the game was called off he backed up that day I agreed he was a worthy champion.

Meanwhile I was bundled into the back of Mennis' car making my way back to his place to be laid on my death bed, his mother simply said 'what have you done to him?!' when she saw the shell of a man I had become overnight. At this stage the water I was ingesting wasnt staying put and the only relief I could gain was in the form of a cold wash cloth on my overheating forehead!!

On the Monday I felt only slightly better and was able to manage some water but food was still a 'no-no' so I called in sick and felt sorry for myself watching movies for the rest of the day.

When back at work on the Tuesday still not 100% I was asked to complete a 're-admission' into work interview (a rather invasive protocol) to answer questions on my illness. When quizzed:

 'What do you think was the cause of your illness?!"

I could only reply:

'I couldn’t be sure but I think it must have been some of that greasy pizza from Saturday night!!'