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I want to work in cricket.

Not because it makes me rich, not because I’ll ever play for my country, and not because I think it is a cool job.

I do it because cricket is something that I love.

Since I was a child it has been the one constant in my life.  My first overseas trip was for cricket.  When I was a kid I slept with a new bat in my dead.  My Friday afternoons were all about working out the best fielding positions for the next day.  I spent days on end sitting the MCG with no one else watching the vics.  The delivery of the cricket gear catalogue was more spiritual than anything else in my life.

Right at the moment I don’t like cricket.

I fucken hate it.

I’m so sick and tired of this shit.

It makes me sick.

This whole thing makes me doubt the game I love, the game I grew up with.

Cricketers should be paid more, but there isn’t a cricketer in this test match who will make less than I will this year.  Or last year, or the year before.

But this isn’t just about money.  It’s the Fucken nerve, the Fucken spinelessness, the Fucken abuse.

I’m so Fucken angry at these assholes of cunts.  Those who set it up, those who benefit from it, and those who do it.

I’m assuming that most people reading this, and the person who wrote it, would play for his country for free.  Or at least, what ever a plumber gets.

Some people are just cunts, and they don’t deserve cricket.  And cricket sure as shit doesn’t deserve them.

I cannot fully articulate how angry I am right now.

The game I love has never been clean, but this just seems worse.

Probably because it is in a test match.

But it just feels Fucken horrible right now.

Like someone has cheated on me.

I’m not naïve about spot fixing, I’ve written more than a few pieces about it.  I know it goes on.  But in pointless ICL, IPL or Pro40 games.

This is way Fucken worse.

I’ve never forgiven Hansie Cronje, and I sure as shit wont forgive anyone here either.

No one is guilty yet, that doesn’t make this any better.

I’ve read the transcripts, seen the video and read all the articles.  I want it to be fake, but it doesn’t feel fake.  It feels wrong, because when i read or watch it, i feel sick in my stomach.

I talked to a friend on the phone, both he and I knew that fixing was around, but this still rocked both of us.  I could barely talk, he was breaking down.

We are grown men, men that love and work in cricket. But this just hits you, even if you thought it was a possibility. Even if you thought it could have been happening.  To read the details just hurts.

My game, fucked.

Maybe some of the details from NOTW are wrong, but something has happened, I saw those no balls live, I don’t need news channels showing them to me with a photoshopped circles around them.  They looked dodgy at the time, we even joked on test match sofa that it was like the no balls that David Saker used to bowl on purpose back in club cricket.

Fuck.

This is just complete shit.

I can’t be bothered with it.  There is so much to say, but I’m too Fucken angry, probably even more upset.

Cricket, I love it, but I fucken hate it. Right now.

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Mr Pakistan, a dashing figure with long flowing silky smooth hair and a three day growth, enters the room. He was fairly unsure of why he was there, and he also couldn’t remember how he got there, but there he was, in the room.

It was a white room with a signed picture of Paris Hilton in the corner, although the signature was from Shoaib Akhtar. There was also a chair, and Mr Pakistan sat down. As he did a projector started up and on it was Mark Nicholas swaying from side to side.

“Hello, Mr Pakistan, it is delightful to have you with us”.

Then Mark Nicholas just appeared in front of Mr Pakistan only inches from his face.

“Amazing and incredible, isn’t it?”

Mr Pakistan went to answer, but he didn’t understand the question and he was hypnotised by Mark Nicholas swaying in front of him.

“Today promises to be a special day”.

This is when Mr Pakistan decided to get up and leave, but he couldn’t. Instead Nicholas pushed him off the chair.

“Magnificent.”

With that a naked Jonathon Trott walked in. He was only naked from a genital and nipple point of view. He did indeed have covering on himself; he had cricket gear made out of used tampons. Enough tampons to make sure that Trott’s pads still looked oversized.

Nicholas walked up to Trott, gave him some biltong, and then gestured for Trott to lift each of his feet.

“This will do nicely.”

Nicholas puts Trott’s feet down, and puts his helmet on, before kissing the side of the grill.

“Here comes Jonathan Trott, who has been in spectacular form of late.”

Trott then starts mumbling to himself and circling Mr Pakistan on the floor.

Mr Pakistan seems quite confused by all this. He shouldn’t be.

After the longest time Trott seems to nod to himself and then gets up on Mr Pakistan’s chest. Mr Pakistan is in extreme pain, he tries to move, he can’t, he tries to scream, he can’t. He just has to stand there as Trott walks on his chest, taking this devastating pain.

Then Trott looks up and gestures to the umpire for leg stump. Mr Pakistan is thrown by this, and looks around and realises that he is on a cricket field, on the crease line, and then the pain gets worse as Trott marks his guard down Mr Pakistan’s chest.

“Brilliant”.

Over and over again.

Even though there is already a red mark on Mr Pakistan’s chest.

“Here comes Stuart Broad, what can he bring us today.”

Broad is wearing a giant nappy, and he carries two large buckets.

He stands over Mr Pakistan, and gives him a semi smile, before taking out a ball from one bucket, dunking it in what could only be faeces and then throwing it as hard as he can at Mr Pakistan.

Luckily, Broad fumbles the first few throws, and misses.

Mr Pakistan – who at this stage is realising his chest may not be able to take much more of Trott – is relieved that Broad can’t finish the job. But then a brown ball hits him in the face. And then another. And then another. Then, one more. And another.

Ball after ball hitting Mr Pakistan who can’t use his hands to stop any of them.

“Stuart Broad is putting on a masterclass today”.

Mr Pakistan cannot believe how much pain he is in, his chest is red raw, his face is swollen and cut, and has human waste seeping into his wounds, this is truly the worst situation he could ever be in. Then Trott splits his chest wide open.

The brown substance from Broad’s balls is now seeping towards that opening chest wound. Trott continues to take guard.

And why is Mr Pakistan in this situation? Is it his fault? What has he done to end up with this sort of punishment? I couldn’t have done anything to warrant this.

“Broad and Trott have become an unstoppable force.”

Also, Mr Pakistan thinks, how did they get Mark Nicholas?

Eventually Broad looks tired, but Trott stays strong.

“Broad is out, he has to go now, what an effort from the young man”.

Mr Pakistan is happy, but Broad doesn’t go, he just keeps on throwing balls at what is left of the face of Mr Pakistan. Mr Pakistan, who is still so paralysed he can’t close his eyes, eventually has them closed for him by blood and crap, and he just feels the balls hitting him as Trott continues to open him wider and wider.

“Simply the best from Trotty”.

Then the balls stop. Broad must have gone thinks Mr Pakistan, but he can still feel Trott on his chest.

“And here comes England onto the field, can they match the brilliant record breaking partnership that Trott and Broad produced earlier.”

Mr Pakistan is so freaked out by all the events that have gone on, that with English team arriving imminently to give him even more punishment, he decides it is better to just give up, and he dies. Right there, on the pitch, right as England make it to the middle.

England don’t seem to notice, they go about their business. Their business is re-enacting the entire High School Musical films.

There is poor Mr Pakistan, broken, dead, shit covered and having his lifeless body humiliated by out of key singing by Graeme Swann in the Zack Efron role.

“Oh boy, England are on fire now”.

All bad things must come to an end, and England stop their singing and leave the field. Except Trott. He goes back to the crease, and continues to mark his guard.

“What a special day of test cricket. We are blessed to get to see a day as magnificent as today. We hope you’ll tune in tomorrow”.

Dedicated to my wife on our wedding anniversary.

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Today I had the displeasure of seeing Stuart Broad make a hundred.

That is all.

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Not long ago I wrote about the Cricket Australia plan to dice up the one day game.

What do I care.  I don’t like one day cricket that much and I’ll hardly see any of the games.

But, the players have much more an interest in it, so why not let them chat about it.

So here is two differing opinions from current Australian domestic players.

Due to contracts, I have to not name one of the players, I’m sure you’ll understand why.

Positive:

I’m sure @CricketAus have put a lot of research into it! Something new and exciting for both fans and players! Can’t wait

Aaron Finch (when asked thoughts on the new one-day format).

Negative:

45 over, split innings cricket… its like your girlfriend stopping mid-blowjob saying she needs to do a shit, then you being able to smell it the whole time she continues. Sure, you can probably still get some enjoyment out of it. Just the lingering smell distracting you takes away from the contest at hand, and turns it into not a real blow job. There’s going to be a result, both teams won’t enjoy it as much as a blowjob without the stench, but there may indeed be an audience that will spectate this stinky-blow-job arena. It will at first be to see just what it does indeed smell like, but many will sing its praises as a new type of fetish that they will subscribe to religiously. Cricket Australia will market the ’shit’ out of the blowjob, so you are left questioning whether there actually was a dump, maybe said dump smells quite good, or maybe even it was you who did the dump.

Fear not though lovers of a real sucking, for the blowjob is not yet dead. The Indians love to recieve a proper gobby, and have no interest in smelling the shit. In years to come this will be the type of hairy armpit, bushy minge blowjob that many sit back and watch together for a laugh secretly trying to hide their semi-erect penii in their stonewash jeans, while Cricket Australia think of the next kinky plan to ruin the great game of sucky sucky.

As usual, cricket with balls gives you both sides of the argument.

Fair, balanced and fucked up.

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”At no stage have they told any selector that his job is being dissolved, discontinued. One of us has to drop off, not anyone has been told who that one is going to be. Our future is in someone else’s hands. Obviously we would like to know who it is. If it is me that gets dropped off the list, I have enjoyed my time with the Australian cricket team, it has been absolutely fantastic. What happens going forward is out of my hands.”

Merv Hughes

OK, you’ve now read that.

Let me do this to it.

”At no stage have they told any player that he will be getting the axe. One of us has to drop off, not anyone has been told who that one is going to be. Our future is in someone else’s hands. Obviously we would like to know who it is. If it is me that gets dropped, I have enjoyed my time with the Australian cricket team, it has been absolutely fantastic. What happens going forward is out of my hands.”

Any cricket player ever

I feel sorry for cricketers that they have to live and die  by old men who have agendas, but that is how cricket is.

That is how life is.

Your job as selector is to select the team, that means making tough calls on people’s careers.

But, Merv, someone has to select the selectors.

And now you are on the end of what you do to other people all the time.

As one cricketer may or may not have said to me, “My heart bleeds boys, it really does, now go back to the 2s, get some runs and hopefully we can chat later in the summer…”.

You surely can’t complain.

This isn’t even a full time position you currently hold. You have a real job, I assume.

If it was full time, Merv, then you’d have been made to pay the couple of bucks a month to get a foxtel subscription to watch the international cricket you currently don’t see.

If it was full time, Boon and Cox would have to give up their jobs helping out SA and Tas.

If it was full time, Hilditch wouldn’t be walking dogs on the beach while test matches are being played.

Boys, I do feel sorry for you, but one of you will have to miss out. G Chappell is obviously the future, and we need to fast track him into the system, this doesn’t mean the end for you, obviously Hilditch is on his way out, so maybe one of you can go back, get a bunch of good decisions under your belt and get a call up.  No one ever said the life of a selector was an easy one, but you’ve made it once, you can make it again. A lot of great selectors were dropped early, and they fought like hell to make it back, there is no reason why you can’t do the same. .  You’ve done well, but this is mostly for selectorial balance, you know, horses for courses.

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