Smith disgusted with everything

SRPA: Popular commentator Ian Smith pulled no punches after Wednesday’s Grant Elliot run out controversy. “I’m absolutely disgusted at Paul Collingwood’s decision making. To think this guy is captaining England, birthplace of the game… it really makes you wonder. That kind of thing has no place in the international game” said Smith, adding he wouldn’t mind smashing Collingwood’s face in.

When asked about the Kiwi’s chances of taking the series at Lords he commented “Hold your horses. The Black Caps’ lack of sportsmanship after the match was sickening, I almost  vomited kebab all over Mike Atherton, it was that bad. That kind of thing has no place in the international game”.

Being disgusted at both teams over a single incident is new territory for Smith, but one he’s comfortable with. “Look, I’m fucking disgusted on a daily basis. If I can’t be deeply, deeply critical of one team or player, no worries, I’ll be gravely disappointed with everyone, if that’s the way they want it.”Smith was also greatly offended by a lack of eclairs at the afternoon buffet, and his taxi ride home at the conclusion of play.

Links on Friday

Can Piswiddle win the ashes? – Mitchell and Webb cricketing stupidity ahoy

Some guy wandering around booting footballs into places he shouldn’t, brilliantly.

Little Gary Neville takes life awfully seriously – here he is refusing to shake hands with old mate Peter Schmichael, who went to play for the other guys. He doesn’t look too bothered, though.

Photoshop comp – Unpopular movie-based video games. Har.

Portrait of the blogger as a young drunken idiot

Having embraced this revolutionary scanner technology, I’m going to fire up some photos from the vault. You can click on the photos to make them bigger.

This was one one of my best sporting days out ever – New Zealand v Australia in the 1999 Cricket World Cup in Cardiff. Me and three of me besht mates made the train trip from London the night before, and after an evening out dodging short, angry Welsh men wound up to punching point by pissed antipodeans trying to steal their girlfriends, we woke up and made our way to the ground. Possibly the biggest cheer of the day came early when then-Wales Rugby coach Graham Henry (still the Great Redeemer at that stage) and Raewyn came past trying to find their seat.

Graham Henry 200608

We had great seats, if a little side-on. Behind us sat an English cricket boffin in a ‘I got dressed in the dark’ pink shirt. He’d bought his hand written notebook of handy stats, and scribbled away happily all day. We’d get questions like “Whatever happened to random under-20 player that toured England seven years ago we didn’t have a fucking clue about? I thought he might have been playing?”. Bless.

Behind us and to the side – an Aussie wearing only a mullet and Aussie flag boxers – I shit you not. He had an amazing array of songs and chants and mixed it up all day, not repeating himself once*. We soon discovered the beer tent, and spent most of the accumulation period getting fairly arseholed under the warm Cardiff sun. I forget what we were having, but it was served in proper plastic pint glasses. Very civilised.

As for the match, Geoff Allot took out the openers, and except for Lehmann’s Micheal Beven-impressions, the Aussies had nothing, really. 213 was the target and the between-innings beer queue murmurings were cautiously optimistic. Until we came out and started losing wickets. The Aussies were going through us like Kim Hughes goes through tissues, until Roger  Twose and Chris Cairns started turning things around, taking singles until they caught and passed the run rate, and started playing shots. In the haze, I can remember Cairns twice hitting Warne back over his head into the river running behind the ground. Glorious. Cairns went with a dozen or so to go, but we were all but there.

Pitch 200608

When the winning runs were hit, there was nothing to do but run on the field. I turned to shake hands with Pink Shirt, and he waved me on, saying “Enjoy it lads”. We bloody did, getting the obligatory ‘lying on the pitch!’ (above), and the ‘in front of the scoreboard on the day we wasted the Aussies! The bloody Aussies!’ (below) photo ops. Then it was back to the train station for the three hour journey home with the Aussie fans. Nice.

Scoreboard 200608

Then we lost to Pakistan in the semi, the Aussies somehow won theirs, and they only went and won the bloody thing. Still, I’ll always have Cardiff.

*this isn’t true.

Links on Friday

Some tennis guy kills a pigeon. Turns out one of the players is part of the scientologists’ avian wing. Bet he wishes he had Tom Cruise’s number now.

From their mad-eyebrowed coach to Tierry Henry, France were crapper than sandpaper undies at Euro 2008. Even their coach driver was woeful.

Here’s a great list of 100 things to love about sport. Baz McCullum gets a mention, but they’re awfully rude about the All Blacks. Strangely, hearing “Why does love do this to me” at 110db at a Rugby match isn’t there – must be #101?

Those American elections go on a bit, eh? This is much better.

If you’re going to get flogged, get flogged in style

Me no blog much lately. New baby and all that.

Tell ya what though, it’s great for watching sport. Unless that sport is cricket. Here’s Kevin Pietersen making Scott Styris look like a one dimensional medium pace journeyman who’s retired from all non-pyjama cricket in a ‘come get me’ shout to any cashed-up Indian league after a one dimensional medium pace journeyman. At least ‘Scotty’ isn’t the first he’s done it to.

And hey, cruising youtube I stumbled on this guy – he does Macca’s Warney stance and captain Dan’s pull and cut shots. It’s brilliant – and handily, 2 minute’s distraction from the fact we’re getting flogged at any and every format going. If we had a hit against England at the local indoor cricket centre, we’d be leaving with tails between legs. It’s bloody depressing. I even found myself reading Adam Parore and silently nodding, for god’s sake. Yes, it’s that bad.

What’s the solution? Fark knows. Hopefully once the wee man (he looks like a batsman,  not like the old man) settles in a bit, a bit more smart arse-bloggery will help a bit. Righto.