Jarrod Kimber's Blog, page 62

Congratulations Sachin on your 100th 100

Recently, like most of you, I've had all 99 of Sachin Tendulkar's 99 international hundreds onto the inside of my eyelids.

It's the ultimate mark of respect for Sachin, and only non believers would do less.

But every time I went to sleep, something bothered me.

One hundred seemed to be missing.

Sometime in 1998 I seem to remember Sachin making a hundred against New Zealand or Sri Lanka in Asia or the middle east or something.

It was about 107 off 144 balls on a pitch that was slower than you'd think, but Sachin had the requisite skill, patience and courage to get through it.

I seem to remember some exquisite drives, awesome work off his pads and he was particularly harsh on the spinners. Yeah, you remember it too, don't you.

It wasn't the best innings of his career, nor the worst, it was just a purely forgettable ODI knock that for some reason, was never put into the ICC database.

Things like that happened all the time, Ian Harvey's 7 wicket haul against South Africa was never recorded either. There was a lot of meaningless cricket in the late 90s, unlike now, and things got missed.

The good news is, with this hundred rightfully recognised, it means that Sachin has made 100 international hundreds.

I knew you could do it, Sachin, or should I say, I knew you'd done it, Sachin.

What an achievement, imagine how old and good you need to be to do that, pretty good, very old.

Now Sachin doesn't need to feel awkward from the moment he raises his bat at 50, web site designers don't have to change the formatting of stats pages to have number of international hundreds on them and the rest of us can go back to not caring how many international hundreds batsmen have.

So, it's all-good now, yeah.

Hail Sachin, the king of kings, the 100 of hundreds, the grand poohbah of the willow, you are statistically freaky in the best possible way.

But no need for too much celebrations, because you scored your 100th 100 ages ago, and it was grand, I'm sure, I just don't really remember it.

Unlike this 107 in Asia, or the middle east, against Sri Lanka, or New Zealand, around 199, or so, which I remember very clearly.

Test Cricket: the musicial

This isn't an exclusive, but I'm making a film.

As some of you may have heard on ABC Grandstand, I'm making a film.

It's about what is happening with Test Cricket at the moment, and it's called (right now) Death of a Gentleman.

If you are interested in the film, we have a website here that we made about 5 minutes before going on air, that has almost no information on it, a pitch we wrote for investors and stupid photos of Sam and I.

We have some funding, enough to cover another month or so, but I'll be back hat in hand to ask for money off you unless some mysterious benefactor with a lisp offers us some cash to complete the film.

The most disappointing thing about this is that at the end of it I may not be able to call myself a failed film maker anymore.

E Cowan 68

He's hairy.

And can be a smart ass.

But he made 68.

During this innings i stopped breathing, shat myself repeatedly, cried, got angry, worried about everything and generally made an ass of myself.

While Eddie was patient, smart and played proper first day cricket at the pace he likes best.

This made me happy.

Actually, it made me miserable most of the time he batted, but now I've survived this innings, like a new born mother with a baby covered in crap, I am happy, tired, and my vagina is killing me, but very happy.

Eddie at the G, yes, a good fucken day.

happy holidays

A lot of people kill themselves over the holiday period.

That's sad.

I've never understood why, it's obvious that February is the month to kill yourself.

Personally, I'd prefer you didn't kill yourself, as that would be one less reader.

So here is a photo of Graeme Smith celebrating winning a tournament to make you fell better.

Thanks to Dale Steyn for taking this picture and giving us this joy.

Wannabe writer gets Test nod: The Eddie Cowan story

There are several reasons you should be willing to sexually please John Inverarity for picking Smooth Eddie Cowan. These are mine.

like you

Eddie Cowan is just like you.

No, you're probably not an overly hairy stoic opening batsman who plays the moving ball better than anyone else in your country while writing every detail of your life into a cricket diary.

But you read cricket with balls.

So does Eddie.

It goes further, because if you comment on cricket with balls, so has Eddie. He uses an equally stupid id that has nothing to do with his real name when he is annoyed with me, or has something that he thinks is humourous, he puts in in the comments.

It doesn't stand out as brilliant or written in iambic pentameter, it's just a decent comment.

cricket with balls' own

We claimed Eddie Cowan before most cricket pundits had noticed he'd changed states.

There were many factors. One was Eddie seemed like a regular human being and not a cricketer, he had a sense of humour, could write a tweet (or comment) and could bat the shit out of the moving ball.

So we anointed him as the third ever cricket with balls' own, the first being cricket with balls' Bryce McGain, who we then got a Test cap for, and then cricket with balls' Holly Colvin, who already had a test cap, but we once let her pick the chicken wing in a buffet we really wanted to eat.

Basically, being cricket with balls' own is a good thing, and even though Eddie flatly refuses to refer to himself this way, although it's never too late, Ed, we know it's this early stamp of approval which has done wonders for this often insecure nerdy athlete.

writer

Lots of cricketers have books out.  Some of these cricketers have read their books, but precious few write them.  Eddie wrote his.

I know this, because I offered to write it for him, but he said he could do a better job.

Now, obviously he couldn't, but that sort of confidence is why he is playing for his country on boxing day.

Eddie's book is pretty fucken good, but he can and will do better.  Eddie will read this last line as me putting down his book.

podcasts

When I asked Eddie to do my podcast he said sure, but make sure I don't get myself in trouble.

I then set him up to get in trouble.

It's a sordid tale that involves a former NSP employee who often walks into changeroom giving unsolicited advice, who at that time was just a weirdo with no real job and bizarre theories about how he could make Sachin Tendulkar better.

I left it in the podcast because it was funny, and made this other man look like a buffoon.

Although Eddie and I weren't laughing when this guy was given a made up job and a position on the NSP, which directly correlated with Eddie not being selected for an A tour.

I deleted that podcast, perhaps the only post of any kind ever deleted for editorial content on this site.

I did it because I wanted him to play for Australia, and a podcast of him mocking a selector may not help that.

batting

For every Virender Sehwag, there has to be an Ed Cowan.

Virender Sehwag bats the way gods should do it.

Ed Cowan bats the mortals do on their best days.

He's not often pretty, and his back lift is probably an obscene gesture in some cultures. But he really tries.

On and off the field. His book is an insight of just how mental he is about batting and getting the most out of himself.

People like this are great drinking partners, in a whiskey on the balcony at midnight kind of way, but they often get in their own wy when it matters most.

Eddie, did not.

His batting was on top form when there was a spot on offer, and with Australia treating the moving ball like that beach ball from Dark Star, they needed him now more than ever.

fitting in

Cricketers are supposed to play call of duty and like Bon Jovi.

They aren't supposed to study fianance, sit in the coern and write diaries and appear on extremely non-approved cricket sites.

If Eddie were in a war film, he'd be the one who doesn't just jump over the hill, but who wears a peace symbol on his helmet while jumping over the hill and giving an inner monologue about the exact nature of war and men.

He's not a cookie cutter guy, he's not the normal athlete, he's something else, and that should be applauded because if those of us on this site can't appreciate Eddie Cowan for being an intense intelligent blocking machine, who can?

Celebrate this decision because someone like us, but with actual hand eye co-ordination and decent knowledge of nutritional requirements, made it to the place we all want to be.

Even if I didn't know Eddie at all, I'd feel a kind of 5% of fucked up weird shit bond with him.  I don't think I'm the only one, either.  He's a cunt and good bloke, a smart ass and an asshole, a thinker and a wanker, the sort of cricketer you take home to mum and get drunk with while arguining and politics and the matrix.

As Hank once said "animals never worry about Heaven or Hell. neither do I. maybe that's why we get along".

Eddie, you hairy little fucker, I salute you.

Do you believe your eyes or Tony Greig's 250 camera shots?

I should point out that I've never been contracted to the BCCI.

But I still don't overly trust the DRS, or UDRS, or anything with the word eye on the end.  Perhaps it has something to do with a ban batch of fish fingers from birdseye as a child.

With that in mind, here is a photo of the Nathan Lyon referral decision that was reversed because the ball pitched outside legstump according to the computer mapping system.

This photo was taken by Andy from his TV in the UK.

So you can't trust your eyes, you can't trust Tony Greig, you can't trust 3rd umpires, you can't trust virtualeyes, you can't trust 250 shots from an expensive camera and let's be honest, you can't trust a picture lifted from a TV you found on twitter.

You also can't trust me, because I'm actually a BCCI sleeper agent. Codename Bedibot.

Australian Cricket Ad Theatre: Ponting's Pills

This is the first in our season of Australian cricket ad theatre. Cricket ads have long been some of the most captivating 30 seconds of entertainment ever viewed. Who will forget MS Dhoni's stunning portrayal of Bhajji, Craig Kieswetter pouring a white liquid on his bare chest, or Shane Watson getting wet hair as Aaron Finch looked on. You won't, because Cricket Ads aren't like normal ads, they stay with you forever until one day when you're dribbling from a forgotten nursing home you'll just endlessly be whispering, Advance hair, yeah yeah.

For the 2011/12 season the Australians have put on a bumper crop of ads that showcase the very best in crickertainment, and where else to start but with Ponting's pills.

Nothing shows that vitamins work more than having a fit pro athlete walk deliberately through a cricket ground. But this series of ads is more than just a slow purposeful walk; it's a wistful recollection of deeds that Ponting has achieved. The only problem is that Ponting is so wistful, so sepia toned, and the INXS' never tear us apart is so loud that you get little more than mumblings of something that sounds like it was very dear to Ponting's heart. Or the ghost writer's.

In one ad he mentions the number 200, in another, the number 13. Everything is else sort of lost as he moves slowly.

Ofcourse this ad isn't about words, it's about the scarf that Ponting wears. What a thick lustrous piece of reddish wool knitted together with care this is. It seems to wrap around his neck 17 times in one of the ads. Why is he wearing a scarf in an ad aimed at the summer market? Well it's obvious really.

The scarf says it all, it transcends cricket and vitamins, it speaks straight to society as a whole as we all move into an awkward and terrifying future together. Ponting is just a man, he has achieved much, and he can look back at his childhood mullet and his parents in the stands with fond memories, but you still need to face the future. He may not be the Ricky of old, but his vulnerability, as highlighted by the scarf, makes us feel like he is one of us. Just an ordinary person who needs a big thick scarf.

We all look back at what we have done, and try and make sense of it all, but all we want is a bit of security, something to make us feel better in this big bad world, something to secure our vulnerable nature, to make us feel like it's all ok and that we will never be torn apart. What we all need is a scarf. Ricky's thick scarf.

And that is why this ad works, and why Ricky Ponting sells us vitamins.

Dreaming of Sehwagology

I hadn't slept in 36 hours. My body was acting independent of my mind, which in turn was discovering new colours as the alcohol in my system swam around unprocessed.

I was perfectly set up to hallucinate.

But I didn't.

Virender Sehwag, our glorious leader, prophet and opening batsman, made sure I didn't need too.

A square drive went off the middle of the bat to the rope even though there was no obvious middle that you could see.

A pull shot off a length that just disappeared from view.

A cover drive that seemed to have been a last minute thought that no West Indian seemed to see.

It was a living dream, it was floating around me, Natalie was his batting partner who was getting singles to get off strike, the O'Death's fiddle player was umpiring and the commentators were Victor Mancini  and Luke Rhinehart.

In your mind, it was all different I am sure.

That's the magic of Sehwag, we all see it different even we when all see it the same.

And his collection of Sehwag smiles, could light up Chicago, or burn down Adelaide.

Oh, how he smiled.

We all smiled.

Anyone who saw that innings put down the razor, hid the rat poison, and put the handbrake on.

If you were in the middle of wiping out a small ethic group, you'd let them hug their children by dipping them in lye.

Serial killers carved smiley faces, similar to that cheeky grin that Sehwag had, into the corpses of their latest conquest.

And, it was only an ODI.

Generally, Sehwagology doesn't really change the world for a limited overs match.

That said, Sehwagology is not just a Sunday only service.

The man preaches when he wants, and even if you aren't ready, don't want to hear it, or are busy, it still gets to you.

It's sehwagology, bitches.

Take it, rub it on your body, make love to the world.

Do it with a smile. Several smiles.

Choose Sehwagology.

Occupy Lord's

 

Whilst I was lost in Lisbon I found a whole bunch of unwashed people sitting in front of some big old building.  At first it seemed too random a place to be occupied, but after a quick look at their shoddily drawn 99% signs, it was clear I had walked into the small, smelly and shabby Occupy Lisbon group.  These people believe that by not washing and stinking out the people in power, they will abolish capitalism.  Maybe they will, deodorant sales certainly seemed low in that area.

 

Mind you, I can't help but admire people who choose not to wash for political reasons.  Even if beating a system probably requires more than a twitter hash tag and sitting out the front of buildings.  Things like guns and pitchforks, or those guns with stabby bits on the end, might help too.   

Cricket is also run by the 1%.  It's about as far from as democratic utopia as you can get.  The decisions in cricket aren't made by democratic organisations, they are made by earnest power hungry administrators, shady former politicians and the TV network executives.  There are good eggs in this group as well, but they don't act for us or have our best intentions at heart.  As fans we don't vote, or generally have any say, the best we can do is ignore a series we think of as meaningless. If the horrific re-animation of the Champions Trophy has proven anything, it's that even our global cricket fan indifference can't effect Cricket's 1%.

The ICC, cricket's United Nations, is made up of a Eunuch like governing body and the individual cricket boards.  Those boards are chronically indecisive, occasionally corrupt and tragically incompetent. Their latest world cup backflip shows that this is not an evil organisation intent on squeezing every last dollar out of cricket, but a disorganized group of people who are lost, out of their depth or caught up in petty feuds.

Ofcourse, I'll still watch the Champions Trophy. A tournament that I openly despise, because while I want cricket to have better governance, or actual governance, I'd watch a tournament staged by Rupert Murdoch featuring spoilt rich children of American millionaires forced to play a community service match on the road into Auschwitz, you know, if it were televised.

I realise that makes me sound like the protester who argues against the WTO before using the McDonald's drive thru. But I'm a cricket fan, and this is my sickness. I pay my TV subscription, wear more than a few replica shirts, have memberships to cricket grounds, and, before some boards let me into their grounds, paid to watch cricket on four continents.

And as a paying fan I have several grievances with how cricket has been run by those in charge.

Cricket Australia have finally joined the franchise T20 bandwagon, allowing overseas investment even though their own review suggested this was a mistake.  Last year they completely overhauled one day domestic cricket in such an odd way that it lasted one season in that format.  They picked John Howard as their next ICC president even though New Zealand had a man in mind and knowing that John Howard's previous political record might mean that a fairly easy appointment would never go through.  And right now they are censoring Simon Katich for talking about what he believes the reason for him not playing for Australia.

In some ways the ECB is a model of competence in modern times.  They sell out their international matches, have fans who actually watch all forms of their domestic cricket, and look after their women's cricketers like no one else.  Ofcourse just below that exterior is their ill thought out deal with Allan Stanford.  The ECB's deal with SKY is a financial windfall, but in a country where cricket has always been seen as an upper class game, is it a good idea to keep the game away from free to air TV and new audiences?  And why hasn't England pushed for Ireland to be a Test playing nation, is it easier to not push and poach their best players?

The BCCI are seen as the cricket world's big evil empire, and anything I write in this paragraph will annoy everyone.  But forget about the BCCI being evil, and think of them more as a group of often-incompetent infighters who don't seem to agree with each other all that often, let alone anyone else.  They ban some media from their grounds, and give others contracts stating what they can or can't say.  Rather than relying on creating a better tournament than the ICL, they used their muscle to crush it and the players who participated in it. Their players are shipped around the world like expendable commodities when it suits the BCCI, or banned from competing in certain competitions on a whim. This is as far from an evil organisation as it is from a unified one, but in either case it's far from looking out for Indian cricket.

Cricket New Zealand don't get much more than local press.  Yet, perhaps they should. This is a group who use capital letters when referring to BLACKCAPS in print as a bizarre and migraine inducing marketing tool.  They very nearly ended the career of their most devastating cricketer of this generation, Shane Bond, when they told him it was ok to sign a contract before then changing their mind and banning him.  Of very recent times they have got involved with a cricket board poorly run that even the ICC had to deregister them once, and will shortly be deregistered again by the look of their recent activities. The joint USA Cricket Association and NZC T20 cricket competition shows us that cricket will do almost anything to try and pry open the American market.

Pakistan Cricket Board have finally ousted Ijaz Butt from their head offices, but what damage has he left behind.  Intikhab Alam called the players mentally retarded and suggested they were not toilet trained.  Yet under his watch these special needs cricketers managed to group together to plan on fixing key elements of the cricket without the PCB stopping them. One of their players trusted them so little he fled mid tour.  Another had a personal medical condition fed to the media.  They were in charge when players and officials were shot.  And these are just the instances I can remember off the top of my head. This is a Cricket Board that gets to vote on the future of our game.

The Sri Lankan Cricket Board lost 20 million dollars after the world cup.  So they had an audit.  Then they lost the disk with the audit on it.  There seems to have been no back up.  Either this is a corrupt cricket organisation, or a comically poor one. This year saw Sri Lankan cricket used for political points scoring as Sanath Jayasuriya was given a bizarre send off after his retirement.  You can't get much more political than letting your politicians play in your national side.   This was followed by Kumar Sangakkara giving the Spirit of cricket lecture and choosing his words as wisely as he could.  You don't have to look too far between the lines to see how disappointed he is with cricket in his country.

Cricket South Africa is currently in the middle of corruption allegations on an almost daily basis. Money seems to be going missing, and accusations are being flung at the CSA all the time.  Far right supremacists who troll on the Internet are using this as proof that government officials are mismanaging the countries resources for their own gain.  It's hard to see how greedy cricket for are claiming this is a black thing, unsurprisingly.  While CSA might have some serious problems, greed trumps race in all situations, as a certain disgraced South African captain let us see. On top of that South Africa seem intent on playing the smallest Test series possible, two against Australia, often two against India, and now only three against England, but as long as their share in the Champions League is ok, who cares.

The West Indies Cricket Board is currently asking for Chris Gayle to apologise.  But have they apologised for their board members using funds for burger king and TGIF dinners?  Have they apologised for unleashing Allan Stanford onto the game? For the debacle that is the Sir Viv Richards stadium? Making their players travel to Durham at last minutes notice for an abridged Test series? Using strike breakers?  Or letting key players pay their own physio bills while under contract.  Perhaps Chris Gayle was wrong to say what he said about Ottis Gibson, but where are the WICB apologies, we're are they being held accountable for their actions?

Then there is Zimbabwe and Bangladesh, two young test countries who are trying to overcome huge hardships to even make it at the elite level.  One is held back by a country with little resources, they other is pushed forward by politicians.  These are two countries I love watching play cricket, but I'd be lying if I thought there cricket was in the best hands.

So what did these associations do when they came together, they made a decision to isolate the top nations from the minnows in the next world cup. This came about not from planning, development and wisdom, but on a whim from two countries who liked the idea of a shorter more exclusive world cup and suggested it.  Shortly after, with what insiders say was not even a vote and no vocal opposition from the few minnows lucky enough to get an invitation, the World Cup had been made into an exclusive member's only club that ignored your ICC world ranking.

Then we the fans made some noise.  It wasn't an organised effort, or a global uprising, there were no pitchforks or gatherings outside cricket grounds. It was just people saying online, "Hey, you know what, we think sides should at least get their chance to qualify in a world cup." and then the ICC did some pretty back peddling, and the world cup was changed again.  Perhaps it wasn't a victory of the fans, and maybe someone in the ICC, Sharad Pawar maybe, just looked at the proposal and thought it looked kinda stupid.

I hoped it was a moment of clarity, sadly, the ICC have now sat back and watched the Test cricket championship die so a tournament absolutely no one on earth has ever cared about can be brought back. The Champion Trophy coming back is not a victory for anything other than confused bumbling.  The ICC allowing this look like a far less cuter version of Wile E. Coyote.

Cricket could not be further from our hands now were it given back to the Gentleman and Lord's.

Maybe it's time cricket's 99% had more say.  Maybe it's time we Occupy Lord's.   Let us  show those in charge know that we are the people who finance this game, and our voices should be heard.  Sure Lord's isn't really the ICC home anymore, that's now nestled in cricket's heartland, but it's the ground that calls itself the home of cricket, and it's a far more grand statement than occupying some soulless building in a non cricket loving country.

However, the good news is you don't have to travel down to St John's Wood with your sleeping bag, a few tins of fair trade baked bins and a guitar you can't play.  You can just email the ICC's independent governance review here governance.review.icc@uk.pwc.com

We can all sit around with our friends lazily whining about the abominable job the ICC has done to run cricket, or we can type down our thoughts on just what we think they should be doing.  We can ask for minutes of their meetings to be made public.  We can ask for a fans associations to be allowed to represent the fans.  We can mention that the world cup is for the world.  We can tell them the true marketing value of Tests. And we can remind them that this is a game that people only make money from this game because of our love for it. 

 

Sure, this could be a waste of time, and even your best suggestions could end as little more than an automatic reply.  But I'm not asking you to recite Woody Guthrie lyrics at 3AM, I'm just asking for you to put your best suggestions into an email before the 9th of December and press send. It will mean that when your suggestion is overlooked you can rightfully scoff and feel morally superior as cricket continues to stumble into its way into an uncomfortable and hostile future.  

 

So, yeah, email this and get it on governance.review.icc@uk.pwc.com

Basil

Basil D'Olivera died.

It wasn't sordid, there was no sexiness, he was just an old dude who was once important to a few people, who is now no longer with us.

I'm not going to talk about how great Basil was, because I don't know. Like what happened with Roebuck, those who do know will line up to tell us because other than boxing no other sport has the writers and love of nostalgia to properly handle an obituary.

Basil seemed pretty good, and an average of 40 with bat and ball at Test level is pretty handy when you consider he might have been 43 when he played.

In fact, it's the whole bullshitting about his age to beat the system that I love the best about him. Like Satchel Paige before him and 2 out of 3 Pakistanis after him, he used his age to fuck with people.

Basil played in that golden cricket time, when cricket was cricket. Players walked, had beers with each other, were amateur, sledging was barely heard of and the gentleman that played the game loved a touch of racism in cricket.

It was Basil's career that showed the hypocrisy from both sides. And he did all while being a top player regardless of his age.

When people talk about the glory days of cricket, that pure beautiful time, Basil pops into my head, a man who was born to play Test Cricket, yet who at one time or another was not allowed to play in two different countries.

Cricket has always been just a little bit fucked up, which is part of its charm.

But it also helps to have men like Basil who will do whatever they have to do to play cricket at the top level.

Cricket is better just because Mr D'Oliveira played it.