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.

Today England have to let go KP so he can rush home to watch his popette wife can deliver his spawn.

I’ve written before and International cricketers’ WAGs needing to fit their gestation into the Future Tours Program.

Sadly, they have not listened and Mrs KP is now going to produce her little KP during a ICC tournament.

Instead of making a big deal about it, the ECB are handling it with properness and decorum.

This is obviously the wrong way to handle it.

For one, KP is being allowed to go home.

KP is box office.  People love to see him fail and make runs.  People love the drama he brings with every slightly nerdy red bull run. He is England’s franchise player.

By allowing him to go home they are robbing themselves of him for at least one game, which might not seem like much, but during a tournament as jam packed as this one, it needs as much KP as you can squeeze in.

This is how I believe Lalit would handle the situation.

KP would never be allowed to go home.

Instead Mrs KP would be flown out, on a private plane, to barbados.  The camera crews would be tipped off as to when she was traveling over, so that there were heaps of shots of her and her team of medical professionals (good looking Indian Doctor and team of 6 blonde nurses).  For the next few hours news stations would be showing these clips on a loop.

Then Mrs KP and the team arrive and are hidden away amongst much secrecy.  Hopefully by this time the private jet, sexy medic team, shots at the airport in London have whipped the media into a frenzy.  I could imagine Sky Sports Tim Abraham outside the team hotel saying, “We’ve been informed that Mrs KP is fine, but there is still plenty of Mystery around as to why Mrs KP has been flown over. Some of the more out there conspiracy theories is that the team are to eat the placenta in a team bonding exercise.”

On twitter Lalit could have laughed off that.

Instead what Lalit does is organise a tent to be out on the ground, a medically sound tent, so before England’s next match Mrs KP can be cesarianed on the ground, for decency and medical reasons it will be not be shown to the crowd.

After she has given birth, the baby will be suitably cleaned and attired.

Then KP shall exit the tent, him wearing his English kit, the baby in a teeny tiny replica shirt (with Pietersen on the back).

KP shall then lift the child into the air, Lion King style.

At this stage the only people on the ground, who aren’t in the tent, should be KP, baby KP, and the cameraman and crane operator who are shooting the momentus occasion with the Michael Bay shot of tracking around KP and baby.

If the ICC tried to stage manage this event Mrs KP would give birth in a community hospital to a intern on her first day on the job.

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.