Category: greatest hits

Opening the sportreview.net.nz crypt

Digging through my crap at the weekend (as you do), I stumbled across a few school essays on Cricket I wrote aged about ten. Comforting to see my spelling’s about the same. And my drawing is only barely better. If only I’d had PowerPoint in those days, eh?

First up – ‘How to bowl a ball’, a shot aimed squarely at any Australians that might read my schoolwork:

How to bowl a ball 090908

Then, there’s ‘The Final Over’ the breathless tale of me taking on the Aussies in a ‘friendly one day test’. Small boys are obsessed with Cricket equipment, aren’t they? I was handed a ‘tan and beige uniform, white helmet, bat, pads, shady hat and cap’. I’m surprised a box wasn’t mentioned.

In my excitement I forget one day matches have only two innings – I bowl, then bat, then I take a winning catch. I was good then. I also brazenly thumb my nose at any namby pamby anti-tobacco types, I was going to play in a ROTHMANS mini series. Have a read, you can click to make it bigger.

The final over 090908

sportreview.net.nz Black Caps coaching application

Sportsfreak and Cricket With Balls have both applied for the Black Caps coaching job – that seemed like a nickable idea, so here’s mine.

Jeremy Coney, on his first tour to Australia, was given some money to buy himself a pair of cricket shoes. He came back with a twelve string guitar. This is the model for my coaching regime.

Let’s face it, we’re a small, remote, Rugby obsessed nation with no meaningful domestic scene to speak of, and we punch above our weight as it is. We’re going to embrace humor and guts, and get on with it. I reckon we’ll do brilliantly.

Our players will all be free to play in England, India, even (especially) Australia if it means they front up for the Black Caps and score runs and take wickets. All up and comers must play a year in Ireland at my old club to get some solid life experience / piss down them.

From now on, NZ Cricket’s priorities will be tests, then everything else. We’ll play with style and imagination, and we’ll never take an embarrassing towelling again.

These are the kinds of players I’ll develop:

The Latham. No nonsense opener who knows how to stay out there and make runs. Can also bowl dobbers.

The Wright. No nonsense opener who knows how to stay out there and make runs. Is also really funny.

The Fleming. Captaincy genius. Works opposition batsmen out to the extent they can’t fart without a fieldsman being on hand.

The Crowe. A ‘where did he come from?’ batsmen with shots so elegant the Aussie quicks weep into their moustaches.

The Jones. Guy with style as ungainly as using an ironing board to change a lightbulb in the dark, but scores runs.

The MacMillian. Fearless, swashbuckling shotmaker. Can also bowl dobbers.

Brendan McCullum. I’ll have two, please.

The Hadlee. Makes the ball talk, saying stuff like “You’re shit. Get back in the shed”.

The Harris. Folk hero batsman who specialises in getting us home against Australia in the tight ones. Can also bowl dobbers.

The Dan. Every team needs a guy in glasses. We may need a fat guy also.

The Bond. We just need someone really, really quick.

Other initiatives include:

The Dobber academy. We’ll play to our strengths and produce a nation of slow mediums that can tie down an end and take vital wickets.

Marketing will be immediately handed over to Mike and Paul of the Beige Brigade – this should have been done years ago. NO music will be played at the grounds when cricket is being played, ever

TV and radio commentary will be handled by Leg Break and the Mike on Cricket lot, along with Jeremy Wells. JRod will do the interviews / keys in the pitch bit.

That’s my application. Remember, a vote for a smart-arse blogger coached Black Caps is a vote for New Zealand, pies for lunch, beers after work, and beating Australia.

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.

sport review best of 2007

I’m stoked 2007 is over, sports-wise. After three World Cups and a big yacht race for no trophies, we’re left to pick up the pieces after a year of early starts, late finishes, big build-ups and crushing disappointments. What have we learned? Nothing, if you believe Henry’s reappointment was a mistake (which I don’t), but 2008 will be very interesting indeed, with Robbie Deans leaving the rabid for success for the slightly shit. So bollocks to 2007, but it’s time to get over it.

Luckily, blogging-wise, I’ve really enjoyed it. Getting a cartoon in the paper was nice (another one soon!). I liked this one. And this one. This wasn’t a good idea.I loved making up news stories.

In 2008, I really need to get my shit together with a proper domain (keep your eye on sportreview.net.nz) and WordPress, particularly before sportreview jr. comes along.

Here’s my best for 2007.

Sporting moment
Hard one. A couple of America’s Cup races were pretty amazing. I’m too childish to nominate Fiji v South Africa. Oher than a few Berbatov goals, it’s looking pretty bleak. I’m going for Luaki handing off Richie McCaw – it’s been that kind of year.

Web
Guardian Unlimited (football and sport) remain my go-tos for sport news, writing, and youtube clips. Locally, the Dropkicks podcast is the best in NZ sport on the web. I love the communities springing up at Sportsfreak and The Silver Fern – I wish I had more time to participate. I joined Facebook, and found it great for finding the long lost, but kind of annoying otherwise. I discovered last.fm. I really enjoy Public Address and Jason Kottke, still.

Links on Friday
– Richie Benaud on the underarm
– Zombie vs Shark
– Never poke a big cat with a stick
– Full Metal Wii
– The Mack vs the Nuge

Albums
Person Pitch – Panda Bear (thanks, Fraser), Happy Ending – Phoenix Foundation, Sound of Silver – LCD Soundsystem

Book
The Yiddish Policeman’s Union – Micheal Chabon

Films
Superbad, The Devil Dared Me To, Hot Fuzz

Top three songs on last .fm
Ramble Tamble – Creedence
Fourtunate Son – Creedence
Sleepwalk – Santo & Johnny

Office voice of doom really looking forward to work on Monday

SRNZPA: Christchurch product manager Tom Hopping spent Sunday planning his Monday morning at work, following the All Blacks’ shock World Cup exit. “I knew all along we’d lose – now is my time”.

“First off, I hope I run into number one Graham Henry fanboy Dan from accounts in the car park, I wanna get stuck into him about the rotation thing” said Hopping. “Then, I’ll make coffee really slowly in the kitchen just to pick the sales team off with a few ‘I told you so’s’. I’ll get straight on the email after that, I can cover a lot of ground fairly quickly that way”.

Hopping has maintained the All Blacks would fail to break the 20 year World Cup hoodoo since 2004. “I was packing myself after the Lions tour, we were looking pretty sharp for a while there. I’m rapt everyone’s dreams are shattered now”.

The water dispenser or the photocopier were both candidates for morning tea from 10.45 to 11.00am. “At the water dispenser, people would have to listen to me for, I’m guessing, about 30 seconds on average. I can’t get that kind of time at the printer, unless there’s a paper jam. That could buy me a good couple of minutes. I’ll just have to make that call on the day”.

‘Heads will roll’, ‘Gutless wonders’, ‘It’s ’99 all over again’, along with strangled choking noises will form the basis of Hopping’s Monday morning arsenal. “So many people are wrong, and I’m right. Monday’s going to be the best day ever. I hope no-ones away sick, but I ‘spose I could clean them up Tuesday or Wednesday”.

Lunchtime would signal the peak of Hopping’s cavalcade of vindication – “I’m going to get a phone card and give Millsy a bell on his mobile, he’ll be just getting off a plane in Paris. Hopefully he hasn’t heard, and I can break it to him myself, that’d be the icing on the cake. Isn’t it great to be alive”?

What do you MEAN ‘the jerseys were hard to tell apart’?

I’m Dan Surchzek, Senior VP, Adidas Minority-Ass Sports Division, Pacific rim. Last night, Dan Surechzek slept like a fuckin’ baby. A heavily sedated baby. But this morning… it’s 7.15am and there I am, takin’ a shower after my 14 mile run to the office, and the phone rings (yeah, my fuckin’ iPhone’s waterproof). I take the call – it’s New Zealand on the line, but this ain’t some some hairy-dick hobbit wanting his ring back, no, they’re screamin’ “Dan! We got ourselves a fuckin’ SITUATION!”.”You can’t tell the jerseys apart!” they’re sayin’. “The All Blacks and the only other team in the world with similar colors are playing, and you fucked it up, Dan!” they’re tellin’ me. The thing they don’t realise, right, is that Dan Surchzek NEVER fucks up. Sure, there was that one time in college, but if you wanna join Pi Lamda Kappa, man, those are the risks you take. No-one FORCED the kid to run off that car park roof in blind terror. He chose his own path. He’s gotta look at life in a wheelchair as an opportunity, am I right? It’s up to HIM now.

Anyhoo, as we all know, when the shit hits the fan, El Surchzekio goes straight into solution mode. I get Vantella-May to bring me a triple shot mocha no cream, with some Avocado on toast on the double so I can think, and roll the tape. If New Zealand has got a problem, my 8.30am Racquetball game goes right out the fuckin’ window, lemme tell ya.

Here’s the deal. On one side, we got Richie McCaw and the All Blacks. On the other side, we got some bunch of fuckin’ pussies from Scotland. Hang on… hold the fuckin’ burrito – Surcheckarino’s spotted the problem straightaway – you Kiwis just don’t know how to watch Rugby. Sure, the whole thing’s a mess of grey and black and blue and grey, but you gotta forget about that. Forget it. Listen close. What are the All Blacks wearing? That’s right, a three fuckin’ dimensional garment with bodymapping technology. Made out of ClimaCool. IT! DOESN’T! FUCKIN! MATTER! About the color! And I haven’t even mentioned the Powerweb. Are you guys blind, or what?

And Scotland? Scotland got Canterbury jersys. With piping. And a chest-zone-separate-and-lift-power-strip. And what are those jerseys made of? That’s right, Temex Polycotton. You guys got me out of the shower for this? You’d have to be retarded not to tell the difference. AND a fuckin’ moron. Temex! ClimaCool! Temex! ClimaCool! It’s not so hard, is it? Sheesh.

I am so fuckin’ on. I get New Zealand back on the line, and after a bit of the ol’ Surchzek hairdryer treatment, they’re soon seeing things my way. Lemme tell you guys, we don’t spend an absolute shitload on R+D for some shit for brains with three sheep in his ass to interrupt my shower and tell me they can’t tell a ClimaCool from a fuckin’ Temex. Fuck me. Sideways.

Still, that fire’s out, and I can still make my 9.45am Pilates class. And hey – I mean, this is Rugby right? At least it wasn’t Hockey, or Basketball, then we’d have a REAL fuckin’ situation on our hands. Hasta manana, amigos.