Tags: all blacks
First famous for his elegant play, then for his boozing and temper, Belfast’s Alex ‘Hurricane’ Higgins died this weekend. From biographer Bill Burrow’s interview with the Guardian:
What’s your own personal favourite Hurricane story?
I think it’s the legendary piss-up with him and Olly Reid where they were having a drinking competition and Olly Reid made him drink a bottle of aftershave because they’d run out of alcohol. So he drank a bottle of aftershave, and the quid pro quo was that Olly Reid had to drink a glass full of washing up liquid as a pretend crème de menthe. Apparently Oliver Reid was blowing bubbles out of his mouth, but he [Higgins] had last laugh – he played a snooker tournament the next day and said that when he bent over and farted, they thought he was Jesus.
Tags: snooker
Tags: dingo deans
NEWSDESK: Celebrations around Muttiah Muralitharan’s 800th test wicket were tempered by criticism of his 237 wickets taken against blind children and their pets. “You have to ask how many wickets Clarrie Grimmet or Dennis Lillee would have got against blind children and their pets,” said Des Jandal, cricket correspondent for the Perth Morning Whinge. “What would run through a hamster’s mind when they saw DK Lillee steaming in off the long run at them?”
Outspoken cricket blogger Tristan Chortle-Creasly of jollygoodshowwhat.com has analysed Murali’s technique. “He gives blind kids the slow straight one, they can usually hear anything that spins. Dogs, he’s looking to pitch it up, give it some air and try and get them leg before. The allegations of ball tampering with a bier stick were never proved. He uses the same technique against cats as he does against New Zealand, just a stock leg cutter, sooner or later they’ll get themselves out.”
Murali’s supporters say you can only play what’s put in front of you, and his outstanding record against Zimbabwe, Bangladesh, Chris Martin, the visually impaired and quadrupeds cannot lessen his achievement.
In the last two weeks, while sportreview.net.nz has had its cyber thumb wedged firmly in its virtual arse, we’ve had a World Cup final, dramatic scenes on bikes in the French Alps and the Pyrenees and the All Blacks have treated the Springboks like Frodo treated the Cuba Street fountains.
Like the 1995 All Blacks, who made the tragic mistake of going to a dodgy seafood restaurant the night before their South African final and contracting mass food poisoning in the process, Holland made the tragic mistake of going to see the Karate Kid remake and contracting a bad case of Wanting To Kick The Shit Out Of Everything Syndrome. WTKTSOOES severely reduces your ability to play football, and your ability to think clearly – Mark Van Bommell was found ten minutes before kick off attempting to Kick The Shit Out Of a soft drink vending machine in the players’ tunnel, while Wes Sneijder wanted to Kick The Shit Out Of himself, and it took several men to pull him off himself.
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| Arjen Robben is so crippled by Wanting To Kick The Shit Out Of Everything Syndrome, he is still on the pitch at Soccer City trying to decide between kicking the shit out of Nelson Mandela or a puppy. |
| Meanwhile, Spain’s tactical approach was kind of like inviting the girl of your dreams on a date to play Spirograph – sure, you’re going to make a lot of pretty patterns, but you’re not doing your chances of scoring any favors. |
| Looking back, this World Cup will be remembered as one of the most football-free World Cups ever. Between the vuvuzelas, the ball dodgier than a three week old boiled egg and the fucking octopus, there wasn’t a lot of *actual* kick-ball-score-goal-football to talk about. All the big European stars looked like they’d rather be in Ibiza or Hello Magazine and couldn’t wait to get the first plane out of the biggest sporting event they’ll likely play in. At least the French had the style to flounce the fuck out of Dodge with a bit of flair. As Sione Lauaki says about the days he could beat people up without ending up in the paper, things aren’t what they used to be. Roll on the blooming Champions League already. |
| Back home, the All Blacks provided one of the biggest sporting surprises since the Dean Lonergan’s apparent absence of permanent brain damage by beating the World Champion Springboks not once but twice. The results shook people who make their living by thinking of things to say on telly for the half hour before test matches start to the core, and has seen a complete 180 degree re-alignment of the games’ top two powerhouses. With two defeats first up, South Africa fine themselves in a situation stickier than Shane Jones’ iPad. The All Blacks now have ‘bragging rights’ which, in the modern era, takes place mainly on social networking sites: |
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| The All Blacks’ decision to employ online coaches (Conrad Smith appears at 44 seconds) to maximise their ‘bragging rights’ has been hailed as genius, and is sparking talk the All Blacks could go fully viral in time for the 2001 cup. There hasn’t been this much All Black noise online since Grizz Wylie had too much scotch at his Marlborough crib and made an anonymous reverse charges abusive toll call to John Hart in the summer of 1994.
Meanwhile, the Australians, already regarded as outsiders for this year’s Tri-Nations, have no ‘bragging rights’ whatsoever, nor ’skillz’ or ‘cred’ ‘online’ and are playing ‘catch-up tweeting’ before clearing a single nostril on the field: |
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| In Europe, the Tour De France has had cobbles, slick roads, crashes and more dastardly moves than Winston Peters sorting out his minibar bill. People everywhere are talking about Alberto Contdor’s sneaky maneuver around Andy Schleck while his chain was half way down the mountain, a move that went completely against the unwritten rules of the sport. Sport is full of unwritten rules, as outlined below: |
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| Luckily for cycling fans everywhere, there’s always Jens Voigt, who manfully took one for the team by falling off his bike. A Jens Voigt faceplant from his bicycle brings the sporting world together like only an Australian cricket test series defeat or Colin Montgomerie looking cross can. Voigt’s selfless act, and determination to cycle to Paris like a callous circus freakshow, dragging his useless, useless legs behind him has warmed the hearts of sports fans everywhere. Vive le Tour! |
Tags: all blacks, FIFAWC2010, tour de france
Tags: FIFAWC2010
NEWSDESK: All Black second five eighth Ma’a Nonu today suggested All Black coach Graham Henry live in the same house as, buy matching outfits with and marry former Rugby League international Sonny Bill Williams. “Oh! Sonny Bill! Want to get dressed and go get breakfast? Or shall we just watch DVDs all day? Let’s do that,” said Nonu.
Williams, who is targeting a midfield spot in the All Black side, is renowned for both his flair with the ball and his physical defence. He courted controversy in 2008 when he walked out on NRL outfit the Canterbury Bulldogs. “Did you order flowers? They’re for me? Oh you. Let me put them in water, then I’ll cook your favorite risotto,” Nonu told reporters. “That’s Graham and Sony Bill, that is.” Williams has signed with the New Zealand rugby and Canterbury through until the 2011 Rugby World Cup, after which Henry and Williams will probably get cheap flights to Fiji for a romantic getaway, said Nonu.
Tags: all blacks
Tags: all blacks, magazine
| England’s Golden Generation’s peak lasted about fifteen minutes, from when Micheal Owen, 12, ran through the Argentinean defense to when David Beckham tried to kick Simeone in the nuts. He missed. |
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England’s previous Golden Generation turned to custard when the successful vox-drums-bass-guitar formation was changed to a more European vox-drums-bass-guitar-guitar line up, resulting in an early exit from Glastonbury in the semi finals |
| Instead of, you know, developing young talented players and nurturing them until they were ready to win World Cups and that, England (who probably should have just built a team around Matt le Tissier) instead decided they’d just pinch the Man U youth academy and call it a Golden Generation.
David Beckham, Paul Scholes, Michael Owen, Steven Gerrard, Rio Ferdiand and, erm, Gary Neville (unluckily, Ryan Giggs, who would have been handy, was given suspect directions to a Welsh training camp as a youth) were going to take on the world and show ‘em that Tel and Baz England hadn’t forgotten how to beat them foreigners at their own game. Or something. All they needed was a manager. That’s where it gets complicated. |
| First, England tried an English manager. Big mistake. Glenn Hoddle was like a swan on meth, elegant and stylish from a distance, but the closer you got, the more likely he was to bite your nose and fling shit at you. Kevin Keegan was fantastic at geeing the lads up, but hopeless at tactics, selection, media management, winning games, being generally coherent, brushing his hair and riding a bike. Steve McLaren was like teeth perched on a pair of legs. None of them, with the exception of Hoddle’s early days, none were much chop at managing football teams. |
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| Then, seduced by the continent like an London businessman tipsy at a Parisian working lunch, England turned to foreign managers. Big mistake.
First there was Sven-Goran Ericksson, who has somehow managed some of the biggest clubs in Europe without anyone being able to ascertain if he’s actually any good. Strangely, his ‘biggest feats as England manager‘ wikipedia section omits shagging Ulrika Johnson. Sven spent most of his time in the hot seat shagging, making incomprehensible statements and giving the Golden Generation a sense of entitlement to rival David Beckham’s hairdresser. His 2006 world cup team were outplayed by their own WAGs, and Sven was out of a job. |
| Fabio Capello, despite a CV rammed with titles and Champions League trophies, had issues learning the language, and the culture. Seeing his players crowded around a telly willing Susan Boyle to a Britain’s Got Talent title and playing as themselves on the XBox was hard to take for this proud, sophisticated and urbane man. His squad’s obsession with the goings on in a boring Manchester pub boiled over in South Africa, as this extraordinary video reveals: |
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| England’s Golden Generation now lies in ruins, like Cesar’s Rome, Mountbatten’s India or McCartney’s Wings. Despite dominating the Champions League and the tabloid headlines with their clubs, this gilded group never gelled for their country. And as the next generation coming though seems more interested in fucking about with their phones and threatening each other with knives, they may need a hero from down under. |
Tags: FIFAWC2010, kevin keegan
That’s yer lot. If just getting to the World Cup was climbing Everest, then three draws, including one with Italy, is getting to the summit, throwing up a bach made from number eight wire, slamming some sausies on the BBQ and cleaning your fingernails with the ice pick.
For me, the All Whites’ cup has been about expectations, and changing them, rapidly. First we were happy to be there. Then we were ecstatic to get a World Cup point off Slovakia. We kind of left ourselves nowhere to go from there, because drawing with Italy (who were poor and old, it must be said) was beyond the wildest expectations – expectations that were ratcheted up to a whole new series of notches when it dawned on everyone we could actually go through to the knockout round. And now we’re all a bit glum now we’re out, and this wonderful ride is over.
Cactus Kate reckons we should have some perspective, but anyone saying this is our greatest sporting achievement is just after easy column inches. You have to *win* something to be OGSA, but we’re right to get excited all the same (I bought the feckin t-shirt). These guys have done us proud, punching WAY above their weight and put the icing on the cake of a very special year in NZ football. We’ve got more of this coming, team, and I’d expect to see some of these All Whites getting snapped up to play in Europe, and good on them. Let’s just hope Ricki Herbet can be convinced to stay, I love him.
It hasn’t always been pretty viewing, to be perfectly honest, but that’s football – we played our own game, and considering we were aiming for ‘not getting dicked’ going in, this is as good as it gets. On thing that struck me during the all-encompassing post-mortems in the office, watching James McOnie moshing with the brilliant, brilliant crowds in the Republic and seeing little kids wearing their All Whites kits despite the wintery blast, is that supporting the All Whites is fun and rewarding – can you say the same about supporting the All Blacks lately? Be honest.
Last thing, I’m pleased the All Whites have resisted doing the Haka- stark contrast to our Olympic and Commonwealth Games teams, for whom a Haka is an acceptable form of greeting when passing a teammate in the hotel corridor on a night trip to the loo. Like Ryan Nelsen says, “No-one wants to see skinny white guys do the Haka.” Fair play.
This interview with Those Guys Dressed As Kiwis is worth a watch, just to see John Campbell being called “JC” and “Cambo”
Eliminated New Zealand ‘sort of world champions’ – I laughed at this, but hesitated to link, as the site is much funnier than this one. Please come back when you’re done!
Zinedine vuvuzela take down – I lol-ed
Tags: all whites, FIFAWC2010
