cricket with balls

It seems like Matty Hayden is now selling theme park tickets to the kiwis.

Sportreview doesn’t like this, you can read all about why he doesn’t like it here, but the gist is, he thinks it is a bit shit and he’d like to take the piss.

So, his competition is to see what you can photoshop in behind Hayden to properly take the piss.

According to the rules, “Points will be awarded for 1. being funny and 2. making Hayden look like a twat.”

And then you can send in your work to richard (at) sportreview dot net dot nz and if he likes it he’ll put it on his website.

There is a prize, an equally shit DVD no one has ever heard of.

I want this DVD, so here is my entry.

What do you do if you are a cricket team who everyone expects to win things, but who suddenly find that the world is against you? People keep doing inconsiderate things like dismissing your very expensive batting line up for almost no runs, or hitting your equally expensive bowlers all over the park, and it feels like the whole world is against you.

In such circumstances, there is only one man who can save you. He might not have played any first class cricket for almost three years. He might have spent most of those three years on the golf course. And he might be almost 41 years old, but the only thing to do is to send for St Brian of Lara, saviour of slightly-rubbish cricket teams for the past two decades.

Surrey obviously feel that the only way to salvage their season is to call upon the man who spent most of this century dragging the West Indies side around on his back. The great saviour himself has deemed their interest worthy of a quick stroll over from his home in Trinidad to see what all the fuss is about.

And that fuss, in a very large part, must be about money. Surrey are happy to spend it in the hope of attracting even bigger crowds to their T20 games. Lara is happy to receive it if the price is right, it seems.

All of which is a bit odd. Lara is older than and has played less recently than any of Shane Warne, Matthew Hayden or Adam Gilchrist, all three of whom have struggled (by their own high standards) in the IPL this year. And Surrey don’t exactly have a good record with their off-the-wall T20 signings – anyone remember Chris Lewis’ comeback?

Of course, nothing has been signed yet, and it is quite possible that when Lara sees that he will be captained by Fotherington-Tomas, coached by a man who makes the WICB look like pussycats and put up with Andre Nel snarling around the place, it might lead him to return swiftly to the clubhouse.

On the other hand, for the first time in my life I find myself hoping that something does work out for Surrey. The prospect of Lara playing T20 cricket (a format which he has never played) is too enticing a prospect to ignore.

I wasn’t going to write anything this evening. I wasn’t even going to turn a computer on. I have more important things to worry about, such as:

My wife is out with a girl she has already described as ‘cute’, and I have an overactive imagination;

I’m supposed to be co-writing something with a workaholic, I’ve written jack shit for the last 5 days and I’m worried he might come for me with a sharpened pencil;

My t-shirt drawer needs rearranging, because I’m not sure if my ‘SuperFred’ shirt is still wearable or not.

But then I made the mistake of turning on ESPN Classic and watching ‘Cricinfo’s Top Ten Most Hated Australians’, and it made my blood boil.

I hasten to add that this is not because it featured Cricinfo’s own Andrew Milller, who I feel sorry for because ESPN always contrive to make him seem like he just got off the special bus (I know he hasn’t, because the aforementioned cute girl is one of his friends).

It’s not even because of the presenter, who is one of those instantly dislikable people that you feel obliged to punch at least once per syllable. (I’m not naming him. I object to him having the oxygen of oxygen, let alone that of publicity).

It’s because the entire show was so fucking wrongheaded it wasn’t true. Haydos at number one? Come on! In the imaginations of one or two hacks, maybe, but most England fans couldn’t give a toss about the bible-bashing, barbeque-basting big guy. He was just one more Aussie to get rid of, a little bit obnoxious maybe, but nothing more.

Ditto Merv at number two. Only the truly brain dead saw him as anything other than a comedy villan. He was a decent bowler who had the odd good day, but ultimately was known more for his tache and ability to swear than as a cricketer.

Steve Waugh bored the pants off us, both on and off the pitch. Warne we feared, not hated – we may not have approved of his private life, but we all wanted to see him bowl. And Greg Chappell was lucky to even be in there, given that you seemed to need to have been seen on colour tv to be considered at all.

The real howler, though – the mistake that devalued the entire show – was having Border down at number 9. We hated AB in England, hated him with a passion Warne could only dream off. He was arrogant, obnoxious, a man who frequently seemed to go against the spirit of cricket. You won’t find anyone who laughed harder than I did when he was bowled by Richard Ellison on that glorious August evening in 1985. And yet he could bat you out of a game with ease, even when playing in one of the most talentless Aussie sides in history. God, he was annoying.

The show also lacked some of the other real hate figures from the past. Where was Chappelli? Bradman? Boon, even? If this was supposed to be the ten we hated, I dread to think who they think we might have liked.

Dear Matthew Hayden,

Thank you for giving up your precious family time to come over here and earn a shedload of money at the British licence fee payers’ expense.

Thank you for your continual winding up of Geoff Boycott, it makes us feel good to know that it is not only us who think he is an insufferably self important twat.

Thank you for your insights into the game we love. Your story about being in the middle with JL and hearing your daughter scream in the stands because she had fallen over was genuinely moving.

But if you are going to pontificate all over the airwaves, at least learn the freaking laws of cricket. The reason that Hawkeye can predict the flight of a ball after it has made contact with a batsman’s leg is that the law says that an umpire should assume that the ball will continue in a straight line from the point of impact. So whether a ball is swinging, or rising, or dipping, doesn’t matter. If the ball is moving left to right, Hawkeye draws a line of the flight that the ball would’ve taken, irrespective of the chances of it swinging a bit more, dropping like a stone, or being pushed off course by a particularly strong bee. It does this because the umpire performs the same mental exercise. If it looks out to the umpire and it looks out to Hawkeye, the fact that you don’t think it was out is (a) irrelevant and (b) the minority view anyway. So shut up whinging about the technology and get back to what you do best – Boycott baiting.

Matty sleeps in his bed, beside him is his Andrew Symond’s approved wife.

A large beam of unexplainable light wakes him, but not the little lady.

matty tries to adjust his eyes to it, but it is just too bright, eventually a shadowy figure emerges, he cannot see a face, but the profile is familiar.

It is one he has seen in every church he has ever been in.

Matty: Jesus?

Jesus: That’s me.

Matty is instantly calmed by the dulcet tones, which leads him to believe this must be Jesus.

Matty: Why are you here?

Jesus: I came to talk to you about your career, your legacy, and your future.

Matty sits up in the bed.

Matty: Oh thank you, I did it all in your name.

Jesus stretches his neck a little at this.

Jesus: Yesssss, that is the problem, you see people do a lot of things in my name, murder doctors, start wars, ignore the genius of Nine Inch Nails, and hate gays, even the entreating ones, and I let it all go through to the keeper.

Matty nods.

Jesus: The thing is, none of that really bothers me, but your behaviour, the bullying, the sledging, the cookbooks, and the righteousness really pissed me off.

Matty: But I just wanted to win cricket games, and sell some books.

Jesus: I know man, don’t get me wrong, you are successful; it’s just that a lot of people don’t like you, and you say you like me.

Matty: I just played hard, but fair.

Jesus pauses, and lets out a small sigh.

Jesus: Obnoxious weed, all that Graeme Smith stuff, Zimbabwe, appearing on Stuey’s show, that was pretty embarrassing to me.

Matty: That wasn’t just me; Harbhajan is an obnoxious weed, why aren’t you speaking to him.

Jesus: He is out of my jurisdiction. Anyway this is about anyone else, this is about you, and a way you can save my name and redeem yourself.

Matty looks confused.

Matty: o….k

Jesus: It’s like this; I’d like you to come out against sledging.

Matty: No way.

Jesus: Way.

Matty is quiet for a minute, and then shakes his head a little.

Matty: I don’t think I can do that.

Jesus: Fair enough, its not like I am your lord and saviour or anything, I didn’t die for your sins now, or anything like that.

Matty holds up his hand.

Matty: Ok ok, it is just that this sounds a bit Un-Australian to me.

Jesus: It is Un-Australian.

Matty: Well I am Australian, and it is hard to go against my own people.

Jesus: Yes, yes, but I am Jesus, I mean for fucks sake, man, Jesus.

Matty holds up his bad in the style of the international “my bad” way.

Matty: You’re right.

Jesus: So it’s a deal.

Matty nods.

Jesus: Shake on it.

Matty and Jesus both lean in for the handshake, and for the first time Matty can get a good look at Jesus’ face.

Matty: You’re not white.

Jesus: I never said I was.

Matty: Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend; it’s just that I thought you would be.

Jesus: Your mistake.

Matty: Where are you from?

Jesus puts on a shit eating grin.

Jesus: I’m the Son of God, remember, it’s in the books.

Matty: Yeah but what race are you, like where was your mum from?

Jesus: India.

Matty: No fucken way.

Jesus: Way.

Matty just sites there shaking.

Jesus: Bet you feel like a dickhead now, dontcha?

Matty: My whole life, my life, my whole life….

Jesus laughs at Matty, and then turns to leave the room.

Jesus: Jeez I love my job.

And Jesus was gone.