Reading list

– Barney Ronay on the IPL:

Sehwag is simply a primal talent. He swatted one of Yusuf Pathan’s lightweight off-breaks for an enormous six over mid-wicket. He uppercut violently over cover. Sehwag does this kind of thing anyway. He doesn’t need cheerleaders or a man shouting things into a microphone.

– Harry Pearson on wingers that look like True Blood extras. And KD Laing:

Take a peek at film of George Best back in the day when he looked like the fifth Beatle rather than some chubby geezer who played session marimbas on the second Eagles album… all of them lads who guarded their mercurial image and seemed to live for the day they provoked the rampantly romantic Barry Davies to squawk ecstatically: “Oh, my word, and you have to admire the sheer impudence of the boy!”

I can’t think of ANY way this encounter will be huge

This is the excerpt of your first post template…

– a TV comments man writes for sportreview.net.nz

Ok, Ok, Ok. Something’s wrong, REAL wrong. It’s going to be pretty frickin’ hard for me to do my job here. I just can’t see any way this struggle is going to be massive, classic or bruising.

It’s a mid table clash – no-one’s going up, no-one’s going down, literally nothing is riding on the result. There’s no match-ups for representative honors, or scores to settle. This isn’t going to be an arm wrestle, the cocking players are warming up like they’re going to ENJOY THEMSELVES out there. Whoop-de-fuck, get the monopoly board out.

I might as well head home and clear the bottles out of my bed.

I mean, it’s Super Shitting Sunday. The crowd expect some bone crunching action, and yet, it looks as exciting as nine hours in Rotorua International’s transit lounge. I’ve done it, I know.

The coaches? Those fuck-knuckles have a – get this – mutual professional respect. Fuck it. There’s been no outbursts, no slagging, no argument over who’s the underdog. Come ON! I was *this close* to shitting in a bag and cycle couriering to the dugout, let me tell you. That would have mixed things up a bit.

So fucked.

I’m not seeing a range of options here. If this struggle isn’t going to be titanic, that means I’ve showered for NOTHING. I even got ClearEyes from the night chemist on the way home last night. If anyone wants to cock punch a prop and blame it on the opponent’s full back, I’ve got some Sky City chips up here for ya.

Ah fuck it, what’s the point? This match is going to be as much fun as my engagement. Let’s just do a bomb threat and head to the Cossie, they’ll be cranking on a Sunday. Can anyone do an Irish accent?

Cricket Sadist Monthly issue one out now

Issue one of Cricket Sadist Monthy, the latest horse’s head from the Cricket With Balls stable is available now, featuring this here site’s contribution, ‘Kiwi cricket heroes of the 80s, where are they now?’. Here’s a taste:

Ewan Chatfield
Chatfield’s weeknight current affairs show ‘Chats’ was the scourge of NZ politicians and business leaders for many years. His hard hitting interview style was modelled on his bowling, with a nagging line and length, wearing down his opponents until they made a silly mistake. Unfortunately, his personal life was much like his batting.

You can order the actual magazine or download a PDF if you just can’t wait.

Links on Friday: Spurs songs

Because Spurs Are On Their Way To Wembley, we feature Super Tottenham’s greatest musical moments eva.

Ossie’s Dream features a bewildered Argentinian trying to say Tottenham and failing at 1’55”

Glen n Chris channel Crockett n Tubbs. Badly.

Paul Gasgoine puts on the world’s dodgiest shell suit, rides about on a boat and winds up in the Bigg Market. All to sing a truely appalling song. These guys must be gutted.

Bonus – Gazza gives the best post match interview ever, not long after he did this.

Reading list

– Jeremey Coney interview:

“I did get on the field in front of Bay 13 at the MCG. I can remember having an exchange with a hostile crowd down there. I did give some back – which was stupid. “Ah, look, we’ve got a young goose here, there’s only 35 shoplifting days to Christmas, Cornery,” they shouted. Then they started to throw marbles and they were pinking me on the back of my jersey. There must have been a hundred marbles around me and I thought I was going to roll an ankle. Then they started throwing pies when they ran out of marbles. And that attracted the birds. I had undulating ground underfoot and above, flying wildly around me, were birds swooping to attack these bits of meat. It was a disaster. And it was from that day on that I was solely a slip fielder.”

– Gideon Haigh’s sweet tribute to England’s Chris Tavere:

“As an ersatz opening batsman, Tavaré did not so much score runs as smuggle them out by stealth.”

– How A $500 Craigslist Car Beat $400K Rally Racers:

“I once asked Bill why he insisted on going through every spectator section crossed up and with the engine banging off the limiter. “Dude,” he said, “I don’t care if it costs me a couple of tenths. It makes the fans go nuts.”

– The top ten Roy Keane battles:

“The two had been grappling for an hour or so before McAteer responded to a Keane foul by miming writing motions, mere days after the midfielder had said he’d rather buy his son a Bob The Builder CD than Keane’s autobiography. Soon afterwards, they chased for a loose ball, Keane elbowed McAteer in the head, and off he trudged.”