NEWSDESK: Former All Black coach Graham Henry has revealed he became physically sick when he realised the IRB had appointed a dickhead to officiate the All Blacks 2007 world cup quarter final match against France. “Watching the tape, I counted 40 missed penalties, and that pass was a mile forward for the try. Dickhead. Even Raewyn thought so,” said Henry.
“If a bloke is that much of a dickhead, you’ve got to question his ability to ref a world cup quarter final.”
An IRB official who did not wish to be named, ruled out any behind the scenes dickhead-conspiracy. “Rugby prides itself as a sport in which everyone can participate, including dickheads. Wayne is living proof being a dickhead is no barrier to becoming an international referee.” Current All Black coach Steve Hansen refused to be drawn on Barnes, saying he’d prefer to concentrate on the dickheads his team were likely to face in the rugby championship.
Henry’s book (“What A Flamin’ Dickhead” – AKLGrammar Press, $35.99) presents more evidence on the Barnes-dickhead theory, including Barnes’ high-waisted shorts and running style.
NEWSDESK: New Zealand Chef De Mission Dave Currie outlined his plans to bring home the Haka gold medal at an awkward press conference in London overnight.
A New Zealand athlete who did not wish to be named said Currie has made himself at home in the Athletes village. “Dave’s…. you know. His ‘Barcelona 92’ training shorts have seen better days, and are a bit on the short side these days. It’s hard to get decent sleep with ‘Ka Mate Ka Mate’ coming through the wall at 4am every fucking night.”
Currie appeared unaware of any athlete unrest, or indeed that the Haka was not part of Olympic competition. “Our toughest competition will be the Aussies,” said Currie.
There’s a new dawn in Auckland. It’s not a second harbour crossing made up of trained dolphins ferrying commuters to the city on their backs (sounds cheap Mr Joyce!), or a ‘no arseholes’ rule in the Viaduct, set to transform the area into Tuesday night Invercargill main street within a week.
No, it’s the return of the prodigal son, world cup winner John ‘mad butcher’ Kirwan, back from Italy and Japan and, much to Twitter and headline writers’ amusement – the abyss.
The best thing for Kirwan is there’s no matches for almost a year – the feelgood factor the Blues could generate by not actually playing rugby could well last until twenty minutes into their first match in 2013.
I hope JK goes well – but posts like these and comments like these it’s clear the Warriors, who announced a series of youth programme and community initiatives last week are miles ahead in the having-your-shit-together metric. Except for on the field. No-one has their shit together there.
In rugby-teams-that-are actually-playing news, the sportreview-approved Chiefs go into Friday night’s big ‘clash’ as underdogs, thanks to the Crusaders’ cheating ways. In a DAMMING EXPOSE, stuff.co.nz’s EPIC TROLL Mark Reason details all the ways the Crusaders have CHEATED their way to seven titles, including:
Waiting in the car park before games to influence referees by beating them up.
‘Signalling’ at Bridge
If the Chiefs do overcome the CHEATING Crusaders and go on to win the title, the Chiefs players would no doubt run into the chicks from the Magic, who’d still be downtown on the daiquiris after winning the ANZ Netball Championship. If the Chiefs and the Magic were to go full-Mad Monday together, it could result in a generation of Waikato sporting superstars that would dominate the national sporting scene for decades to come. sportreview.net.nz’s postion is: this must happen.
The Black Caps’ West Indian tours has been somewhat challenging so far. Difficult country to tour. Upheaval in the coaching staff. Multiple injuries. A mixture of jaded old pros and inexperienced youngsters. If the guys aren’t careful, it has all the hallmarks of going full Cairns / Paroroe / Turner.
The Black Caps arrive in the West Indies looking forward to playing some decent cricket.
Ross Taylor receives the latest injury report from medical staff.
Brendon McCallum answers the cry for back up.
John Wright sits the boys down for a bit of a motivational talk.
As I write this, the Black Caps are putting together a decent bowling performance to win the third one-dayer. The West Indies are no one-man team, but Chris Gayle is the key. He can cheerfully take our attack to bits and make it look depressingly easy. We need to get him and get him early – on paper, there’s no reason why our patched-up team can’t beat the West Indies, even at home. Of course, things written on bits of paper are faily meaningless when you’re being carted to all parts of the ground, and have to share your sweltering hotel room with an overly-enthusiastic calypso band. Let’s hope our guys can push on from here.
Back home, there’s now two options for central Auckland test cricket venues. This new one is a stone’s throw from the old one, part of proposed development for the tank farm. There’s no doubt the concept photos are spectacular, and its right-beside-the-water-ness would give Auckland a central city sporting venue at last. It would be great if the Victoria Park and Waterfront groups can work together to make sure this happens in some fashion, and the test-cricket-in-Albany plan is sent to, well, Albany forever.
Last thing on cricket – Mark Boucher has been forced to retire from cricket due to a nasty, nasty injury. Great shame for him, and he’ll be missed by South Africa – but I’ll remember him mainly for this tremendous sledging effort against Zimbabwe.
The sporting media loved the Sonny Bill story, as they got to report reports from those ‘in the know’ – New Zealand rugby’s number one ‘in the know’ sources are the guy who runs the mini doughnut stand outside Eden Park, and Murray Deaker’s postie. They had Sonny Bill going to Japan to play for a corporation renowned for having shitloads of cash and a shithouse rugby team – and they were right. Rugby’s worst kept secret since ‘Stu Wilson is a bit of a twat’ was revealed at a press conference that reached turning-up-to-work-naked levels of awkwardness.
Touchingly, Sonny Bill seemed genuinely sad to be leaving the Chiefs and the All Blacks. Less touchingly, he’s still going. Suddenly he’s all about handshakes and loyalty, when up til now, all appearances indicate he’s mostly interested in negotiating deals for heaps of wonga. It’s a bloody shame, he seems to have fitted in really well at the Chiefs – and things will change on both sides after a year away in Japan and Sydney. I’ve got no idea if we’ll see him back, we’ll see, and we’ll see if it seems to matter as much as it does now. If he really cared about the team and his team mates he says he does now, he might have put that first.
I took sportreview jr to the rugger on Friday night at Waikato Stadium. Highly recommended, $12 for adults and $5 for kids, with a bouncy castle and little giveaways for the up and comers. Shame about the result, but.
In the tour, Bradley Wiggins is in yellow, and appears comfortable on the bike, and jumpy like a cat in a bag full of dogs off it, sweating at cameramen and anonymous losers on Twitter alike. Wiggins is cool-as-fuck, Paul Weller on a bike, all mod sideburns and Jimmy-from-Quadrophenia accent.
The Tour De France seems to be presenting no problem for Wiggins, but the mechanical doping rumours won’t go away.
He’s also the leader and beneficiary of the best managed, organised and funded cycling organisation in the world that, after winning Olympic medals galore decided to produce a Tour winner, and it looks like they may have one. I’m nervous for him, his broken collarbone exit from last year’s tour is fresh in my mind, and I think it’s preying on his too. Hang in there Wiggo.
NSFW language, unless your place of work is Team Sky at the Tour De France, in which case it’s fuckin’ game on.