cricket with balls

With Sachin out there selling a book with his blood in it, I thought it was time for me to get in on the act.

If you would like a special edition limited release copy of When Freddie Became Jesus you can buy it for $10,000.

Every copy will have a genuine sample of my sperm in it.

Not just on one page either, I value my customers, I’ll spread it out, inside the front and back cover, and spread liberally throughout the book at random intervals.

There will only be about 7 books with this special little gift in them, they will be numbered and signed (in pen).

For those who can’t afford $10,000 dollars, we also have an urine stained selection for $500 that comes with a bonus pubic hair.

I expect these to go fast though, as they are limited to about 25, well I think I can do that many.

Can you think of anything better than reading a book and having the author right there with you, his bodily fluids positively flowing out of the pages.

The ultimate reading experience.

It has taken them a little while, but Cricinfo have finally got around to reviewing When Freddie Became Jesus.

It seems that they like it. You can read the review here, just before you go and buy another copy of the book

You think I feel dirty for writing that, don’t you? Well, you’re wrong.

Now, it is fair to say that opinion on Bell is pretty much divided. Jrod, for example, wants to keep him naked in a gilded cage. This isn’t legal, but probably should be. Balancing this view, you have the likes of Suave who want to remove him from the gene pool, preferably with fire. This isn’t legal, but probably should be.

Both, of course, are wrong. Wronger than a baby seal sandwich. Because the one thing that you can’t deny about Bell is that he’s a determined little bugger. Like the fly that keeps bashing its head on the window, in defiance of the logic that going through the open window above it might present a better option, Bell has hung on to his international career despite all of the obstacles in his way. When you are born short and ginger, and are then sent to a minor public school – so minor that you are the most notable alumnus – the temptation to give up on life and become a bank clerk must be strong.

Not Bell, though. No matter how many times you tell him that he’s not quite good enough to play international cricket, he tries to prove you wrong. Before today, one of the big complaints against him was that he only ever made big runs if everyone around him was doing the same. Yesterday, for the first time, he made a century when no-body else did.

OK, so it was ‘only’ Bangladesh. But it was the ‘only’ Bangladesh who posted over 400 in their first innings, as against an England side who only got that far because of a seventh wicket partnership which featured at least four decisions which were manifestly wrong in favour of the batsman. An England side for whom Fat Boy Bresnan will be the second top scorer.

This tour was supposed to be a sinecure for the England team, a nice rest before the rigours of the summer and winter. It has been nothing of the sort. For one or two, this may be the last time they pull on a Test shirt. For Ian Bell, it might just be the tour where he cements his place in the side. No-one has been as consistent wtih the bat on this ‘easy’ tour, and international runs count, no matter who you make them against. Could we have just witnessed the moment where Bell confirmed his place over and above that of another ginger-haired lad?

Most of that is true.

One time CWB writer Andrew Fernando has started a blog.

His latest post is about him describing Satan to a little kid:

“Around two years ago, a kid that I looked after asked me what I thought Satan would look like if he took human form. I thought about it for a while and gave a somewhat descriptive answer. “He would be of average height,” I said, “maybe even a bit on the short side.” “He would be pretty hairy, have dark, devious, squinty eyes and a permanent dickhead-like expression that made you instantly dslike him.” “He would also definitely be Australian,” I added. My young companion concurred.”

Andrew has also managed one of best first blogs of any cricket blogger, in that he ignores cricket and talks about Kate Winslet.

So get over there and check him out.

More importantly than Andrew’s blog is the fact that my book has made its film debut.

Ahmer Naqvi has made a student film that is all about being locked in a room.  Compared to some student films I have seen – often made by me – this seems pretty handy.

You can see my book being read with boredom at the 1:44 mark, or in the animation with Shahid Afridi at 3:30.

The Room from ahmernaqvi on Vimeo.

Sure this is a lazy post, but I am working on the magazine, so shit happens.

Andrew Flintoff just gave an interview to BBC Radio, in which he admitted that he was planning for the possibility that he might not be able to come back from his current knee problem.

This is, quite possibly, the most interesting thing that Flintoff has ever said in an interview – certainly in an interview given whilst sober. Previously, he’s always been hugely bullish about his prospects of coming back from any operation. It seems that the op he had the day after the Oval Test failing and having to have a second, more major, one has knocked his confidence, even in himself.

It is also clear that either he doesn’t contemplate coming back as a batsman only, or that the knee is so bad that, if it can’t be fixed, it is pretty well going to prevent him doing anything.

The next interesting thing that he said was that whatever he does, it won’t be commentary. Which is good news for everyone as (a) his time as England captain revealed that he wasn’t one of the game’s greatest thinkers or tacticians and (b) we won’t have to listen to his dull northern monotone clogging up our airwaves.

32 is hellishly early to have to end your career, though – especially in this day and age. Strange to think, too, that both he and Brett Lee, the couple who provided one of crickets iconic moments of the last decade, could be going out of the game together, too.