cricket with balls

Over at cricinfo there is the complete and uncut Lawyer’s edition of what Lalit Modi said in response to the BCCi’s second show-cause notice.

I’ve read it, and somehow I survived.

It is really long. I obviously don’t like long. I like short. Like this sentence. Or this one.

But you still need to know what is says.

So here it is boiled down to twitter length nuggets.

“Giles thinks our shit is because of a personality clash. I think it is because he is a cunt.”

“Differences between Giles and me came in connection to me calling him a cunt, and him calling me a dodgy bastard.”

“I don’t give a fuck about some English idiot who can’t wear suits that fit, give me my league back.”

“Giles is a prick, but I made you millions and you guys are still giving me shit. That’s cold, dawg”.

“In this particular even I did nothing wrong, and here is 7417 words to prove this. Suckers.”

“I really am a good guy, trust me on that. You should give me my job back, or I’ll send more emails this long.”

There are probably really important details in his email, but that is the thing with things of this length, yawn.

Lalit is fighting for his career, and this is the email of someone fighting for his career.

The good thing about this conflict is you don’t have to pick sides, you can hate Giles and Lalit and then have a glass of mountain dew (or put Vodka in it and call it Goat’s piss).

As for the email, this is a hardcore apologia. Nerdy children should read this for when they want to get out breaking their mum’s vase in a mock indoor test match.

It isn’t the first apologia I’ve read in recent times, the last one was “written” by Ricky Ponting in the form of a diary.

Lalit and Ricky don’t like each other, but when it comes to explaining away why other people are in the wrong and they are in the right, both of them are very similar.  They write very long things that put me to sleep.

Maybe they aren’t so different. They should start a club.

Lalit Modi has now taken his pissy little administracratic grudge match with Giles Clarke to the next level by suing him for defamation.

I have no idea how rich Giles is, but his suits never fit, and that is never a good sign.

The problem with Lalit just suing Giles, the man he barely contains his hatred for, is that he is leaving out at least 70% of all cricket fans.

I cannot believe that even those who like the IPL haven’t defamed Lalit just once or twice.

The last time you mentioned him to your mates you probably defamed him.

There, you just did it again, didn’t you?

In modern cricket there is no one easier to defame than Lalit, he practically demands you to have a go at him.

I’ve never been sued for defamation (it amazes me too), but Lalit would be a good place to start.

Lalit knows what it is like to be on both sides of defamation after twittercusing Chris Cairns of match fixing. Although I believe he is still yet to be served for that one.

As for the reasons of the Giles lawsuit, it seems a bit unnecessary, Giles is accused of saying Lalit was trying to take over world cricket and English cricket, if you are a well funded politically minded cricket administracrat and you haven’t ever thought of taking over English or World cricket, you aren’t really trying.

I plan on taking over world cricket all the time.

It is just I have no money, contacts, or natural Lalit business sense.

I don’t think Giles’ comments really changed anyone’s mind on Lalit, the good thing about Lalit is most of us found it easier to not like him from the start.

There are very few occasions in cricket that rain is good.

If your team is losing is one. If the game is already heading towards a tedious draw is another.

Generally rain is no good at all for cricket.

But T20 is different.

Think of T20 like a gremlin, not an actual gremlin but the gremlins from the 1984 film “Gremlins“.

In that film the little creatures start off as tiny cute little Mogwai. They are largely inoffensive and children love them.

But there are rules of keeping a Mogwai;

Don’t feed him after midnight.
This one makes no sense, how does the Mogwai know what timezone he is in, and more importantly, isn’t it always after midnight whether it is 1 minute past midnight, or 23 hours and 59 minutes.

Don’t expose him to bright lights.
So he is a nocturnal animal, but he can’t eat after midnight…

Don’t let water touch him.
Apparently his own saliva and the water that is included in most foods is ok.

The thing about T20 is that rain should ruin it, but like the Mogwai, all it does is turn this inoffensive cuddly toy into a merchant of death.

My single favourite thing about T20 cricket right now is how crazy it all gets when the rain comes down.

It shortens the game, ensuring we don’t have to live with all those boring “middle overs”.

It means one team has a massive chip on its shoulder, and generally increases their performance.

It makes the game closer.

It makes the whole contest farcical and manic.

Andre Fletcher’s batting was reminiscent of many of those Gremlins when they first get their freedom.

Scotland used the Gremlins last year when Iain O’Brien got his notes mixed up and gave Scotland the perfect start in a Gremlin affected 7/7 match.

Even yesterday, when the rain ended the game early, Andy Flower was pissed off at the Gremlin’s making Ireland’s job easier.

It is a shame Lalit is probably not around anymore, he is one person who could probably bring rain into the IPL, although the IPL has its own monsters.

Made by Ceci, the good witch of the east.

Today cricket died a little.

The man that we all love, the man that took cricket from the arthritic fingers of the ICC and turned it into money, the man that made talking on two phones at once an artform, the man is suspended.

Suspended is tying it in a bow and getting a clown to deliver it. One way or another, Lalit is on his way out.

Lalit Modi is the man I have tried to emulate as much as I could.  In bizzaro world I am him and he is me.  We have an unspoken bond that would make the most lust filled teenagers blush.  If you cut him, I bleed.

Right now I am bleeding as various people are following Lalit with Lawyer sharp machetes trying to cut him down for ever.

Behind him is a trail of shredded paper that says things about tax, impropriety, political favours, tweets, lawsuits, spot fixing and all those dirty little secrets that lots of people have suspected.  All the good things in life.

Not all of it is his, perhaps none is, but the man has run out of favours, and when you have burnt as many bridges as Lalit has, favours are important.

Like all of the most maverick cricket administracrats, Lalit flew to close to the sun.  We know that the average administracrat is a smooth talking, quick minded, angry, slick individual, but Lalit was so much more.

He tweeted.  He smoked.  He bullied.  He improvised.  He libeled (allegedly). He was the power, the throne, and the bump you hear in the night.  His raw suxual mojo was too much for the stuffy shirt brigade and like Bettie Paige he was held accountable for being whatever every official wanted to be.

Now all we can do is cry while cricket has lost an Armani wearing gladiator, someone who showed us all that in cricket, the pen is mightier than the bat.  While others sat around letting cricket just happen, Lalit got in there, replaced some organs, gave it a plastic surgery and bought it a sexy outfit.  He was cricket’s prince Charming, nicer than Mr Darcy, more emotional than Edward in twilight, hotter than Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing.

While Lalit was around, nobody put cricket in the corner.

Without Lalit the IPL would have been a terrible waste of money, instead in the Aaron Spelling like hands of Lalit, the IPL is, well whatever the IPL is.

Losing Lalit leaves a whole of despair and isolation in my heart that may never be healed.  Sure there will be other slicked back officials coming in and changing the game as we know it, but Lalit was my first.  It was he whom I gave myself to, and as I lie here naked all I can think about is the great times we had together.  Those whipped cream filled nights will be what I think of every night as my head touches the pillow.

Now that he is to be killed, and his body to be fed to other eager potential commissioners, I think the IPL should honour him from next year on.

Surely as much as some of you hate him, none of you would begrudge the IPL for having a “Lalit moment of success”.

As Elton John said, “Your candle burned out long before the legend ever did”.

Dance hard, my tiny little dancer.