Jarrod Kimber's Blog, page 63

buy eddie's book, dammit

Cricket has jut lost an obdurate literate first class work horse top order batsman with an alternate take on cricket, but there is another one.

I've never read Peter Roebuck's book, but I have read similar efforts from 'Norman Mailer from a posh school' Ed Smith and 'Dileep Premachandran without the western pop culture influences' Aakash Chopra.

Chopra and Smith right some clever words, but they aren't really one of us.

Cricket with balls' Eddie Cowan is one of us.

He's got that natural funny piss takey delivery, he's not afraid to say something that might land him in trouble, and he is just the right kind of narcissist for this sort of book.

The other 3 are intelligent earnest individuals trying to unravel cricket through their writing, Eddie is trying to do that, but without disappearing up the giant anus of id.

If you go to buy this book on kindle, it comes up with "customers who bought this item also bought" Australian Autopsy, as the first result.

That's pretty strong evidence that readers of here will like Eddie's book.

Now I'm not a fan of the cover, or title, and I think Eddie will become a 10 times better writer than this book shows, but this is a quality book about a dude trying to play for his country while trapped in his own head.

If you want to know something about shield cricket, or are a tasmanian fan, there is something in here for you, it also has the best bromance since S Collins and j kimber.  Ed's relationship with George Bailey is something special, and could have only been ruined by Ed detailing the moment when they truly embraced their feelings.

So, take a look and buy it if you think it's your bag.

Think of it as a book written by that friend of yours who you first drank absinthe with, who's just a little too picky with women and puts you down so well you have to like him. But you know, about cricket.

If you want to amazon or kindle with it.

Aussies can find it closer to home.

Or if you can't find it, go into a bookstore and give them the ISBN 9781742233154.

But you should get it, because it's Eddie fucken Cowan's book.

Roebuck's Howl

People who know Peter Roebuck far better than I do have already written about their personal experiences with the troubled Allen Ginsberg type figure of world cricket.

I only met Roebuck once, which is weird considering the amount of time we spent in shared press boxes. Writing about that one meeting, where he was very nice (bit of a close talker), doesn't make much sense.

What I can write about is how Peter Roebuck had a small part to play in cricket with balls.

Most here would know that there aren't many more aggressively didactic propganda machines that cricket in Australia.

This machine was in operation for years, even when Australia was rubbish.

By the mid 90s it was an oppressive machine telling me everytime I picked up the paper, watched the TV or listened to the radio that Australian cricket was the Alpha and Omega.

They weren't wrong, Australia was better than a truck load of Dixie cups.

But they completely overlooked anything that didn't fit the narrative.

It was as if Australia was a utopian cricket team that could do no wrong.

And mostly it was, but when something didn't go right, or something else was up, no one seemed to notice or care.

It was a weird time to be a cricket fan in Australia.

Then there was Roebuck, one of the few voices in Australia who ever pointed that on occasion Australia was not the only thing that mattered in cricket.

Sometime around 2000 I remember an ABC radio stint that Roebuck did. Someone said to him, "surely Adam Gilchrist has to be thought of as perhaps the best Test batsman in world cricket". It was a ludicrous suggestion.

I could imagine others in the Australian Cricket Machine eating that up, or at least treating it like it was worth considering.

Roebuck wouldn't have any of it. Instantly he popped out the names of Lara, Waugh and Tendulkar. Then he talked about how much easier it was to bat at seven. Then he'd barely been in around in Tests for very long. He did it in his own analytically angst driven way, like his brain was going slightly quicker than his mouth and he was trying to spit all the facts out.

That was Roebuck to me, the dissenting voice.

That moment, and hundreds more like it, made an impression on me, and although Roebuck didn't have much to do with my minority opinions, it was just good to know it wasn't just me having them. That cricket was cricket, and that it wasn't just a chance to prove Australian superiority.

I didn't always agree with Roebuck. Sometimes I thought he was about as far from right as was humanly possible, and it's hard to believe that he started thinking of himself as an Australian over the last few years.

But, he had the balls to say what he thought, and not just mindlessly nod in the direction of the gospel of the Australian Cricket regime. He really thought about things, and then he spoke or wrote about them pretty damn well.

It was easier for him, because he wasn't Australian. Although, I doubt that made him any more likeable to the vast majority of Australian cricket fans.

Not that he was ever going to be that popular, his uneasy intense manner, posh accent and spanking of 19 year old boys in his care were always going to limit how much love he got.

It's that dark side of Roebuck's personality that may be the next story in his death. When the report of his death first was written, that line about the policeman was more ominous that Roebuck's last published line.

Like Allen Ginsberg, it doesn't really matter how important some people may think their work was, that young boy tag doesn't disappear, especially not when you're known as Spanky.

Ginsberg once said "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness".

Roebuck had one of the best brains in cricket, and it is now destroyed, starving, hysterical and naked.

That he killed himself, was involved in illegal actions with young men and perhaps even more doesn't change the fact that years ago he also did things that had an impact on me.

Life isn't ever clear cut, and history will remember Roebuck its own way, but for me he was a dissenting voice with some serious issues that eventually got him.

Just another bullshit cricket blog

Cricket with balls almost died.

The website that started by accident, almost ended the same way.

This would have been one of the most poetic things to ever happen on this site.

If any website that talks about cricket in a bullshit anarchic way without any real direction which is only popular amongst the smallest portion of the sport's fans were to die by fucking up, it should be this one.

What a way to go, stumble in, bumble out.

Instead cricket with balls was saved, and moved.

It looks different, but I'm pretty sure it's the same sort of bullshit, just here.

In a classic Hollywood way, I didn't realise what I'd lost until I was losing it.

My few days after the site went down were basically consisting of doing doing the Internet version of running through the airport trying to stop that special someone from getting on their plane to insert odd far off destination.

Luckily, the proverbial plane was delayed, and I ended up saving the site.

So here it is, as unprofessional and nonsensical as ever.

I'd like to thank the Chinaman for all his help with the site over the years. And with him gone you an expect more stuff ups like this one. the rest of the comments and posts will come across shortly, if I don't fuck that up too.

While I was gone some shit happened (Clarke, hey, who knew) and I saw some of the most earnest reactions to a corruption case ever.

One person said it was the day cricket died.

Cricket doesn't die. It may not always live, but it certainly doesn't die.

If Leslie Hylton couldn't kill it, do you really think three well paid numpties getting caught with their hands in the cookie jar is going to kill it?

And cricket with balls is much like cricket, only not so much.

It won't die because I fuck up my renewal on the domain name, it will just have good days and bad days, depending on my mood and what films have come out recently.

Sometimes I'll be busy working for others, and sometimes I'll just want to sleep for 14 hours awaking only to masturbate and pee.

But once a week, at least, I'll write something that isn't entirely penis, and occasionally you'll read it.

It's the way it always should have been.

It's cricket. It's bullshit. It's balls. And you can't ask for much more, or you can, and I can tell you to fuck off.

Jrod

Cricket Australia get two from two

It's been so long since I agreed with Cricket Australia that this feels weird.

But twice of recent times I've found myself agreeing with them.

It feels odd.

Like finding out your pedophile uncle has had himself chemically castrated, twice.

When Cricket Australia announced Pat Howard as the GM of team performance I thought it was a staggering non fuck up.

He wasn't a good ol boy of Australian cricket, he wasn't some guy who was picked because he'd been hanging around Australian cricket long enough and most importantly his role was one that needed to be filled by someone who actually knew what it was.

Howard was a top choice.

So knowing that the chairman of selectors was going to be picked I was expecting something truly horrible.

I was expecting Neil Harvey to be rolled out and for him to immediately recall Sam Loxton. Or Greg Chappell being rehired and given a magic wand.

Instead the first ever full time chairman of selectors is John Inverarity.

John fucken Inverarity.

It seems like such an oddly perfect choice.

It almost feels like they did it by accident, and only found out once the press release had been sent out.

Because Inverarity is professional, respected, intelligent, schooled, clinical, trust worthy and the exact sort of person Australia need to take over from the Bert and Ernie show from Greg and Andrew.

I can't see how they could have picked someone much better.

That doesn't mean it won't go to shit. That Inverarity and Howard are the right choices is a good thing, but that doesn't mean that they wont be tainted by the Cricket Australia alternate reality.

But they should be happy, they got it right. And that hasn't been Cricket Australia's way for a while.

They should be pouring orangina over each other's naked body in happiness, and they would be, but the Krab is hard to get past.

It seems that when Simon Katich wants the news cycle, he digs into the cycle just like how he digs into the crease for Australia.

Well, how he used to dig in for Australia.

See how I still turned this negative.

It's a gift. Hopefully one that CA doesn't also have.

Cricket Australia get two from two

It's been so long since I agreed with Cricket Australia that this feels weird.

But twice of recent times I've found myself agreeing with them.

It feels odd.

Like finding out your pedophile uncle has had himself chemically castrated, twice.

When Cricket Australia announced Pat Howard as the GM of team performance I thought it was a staggering non fuck up.

He wasn't a good ol boy of Australian cricket, he wasn't some guy who was picked because he'd been hanging around Australian cricket long enough and most importantly his role was one that needed to be filled by someone who actually knew what it was.

Howard was a top choice.

So knowing that the chairman of selectors was going to be picked I was expecting something truly horrible.

I was expecting Neil Harvey to be rolled out and for him to immediately recall Sam Loxton. Or Greg Chappell being rehired and given a magic wand.

Instead the first ever full time chairman of selectors is John Inverarity.

John fucken Inverarity.

It seems like such an oddly perfect choice.

It almost feels like they did it by accident, and only found out once the press release had been sent out.

Because Inverarity is professional, respected, intelligent, schooled, clinical, trust worthy and the exact sort of person Australia need to take over from the Bert and Ernie show from Greg and Andrew.

I can't see how they could have picked someone much better.

That doesn't mean it won't go to shit. That Inverarity and Howard are the right choices is a good thing, but that doesn't mean that they wont be tainted by the Cricket Australia alternate reality.

But they should be happy, they got it right. And that hasn't been Cricket Australia's way for a while.

They should be pouring orangina over each other's naked body in happiness, and they would be, but the Krab is hard to get past.

It seems that when Simon Katich wants the news cycle, he digs into the cycle just like how he digs into the crease for Australia.

Well, how he used to dig in for Australia.

See how I still turned this negative.

It's a gift. Hopefully one that CA doesn't also have.

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listen to nonsense i said with others

I've recorded three podcasts of recent times.

That's a lot of me talking shit.

For some reason I forgot to put them up here.

So here they are.

The first is one I did with Subash over at the Cricket Couch.  I talk about my book and just how India and Australia have shown just how being unprofessional and stupid can fuck you up.

Another one was part of my new speaky gig at cricinfo where I got thinking women's county seamer Charlie Shreck to chat about his hair and county cricket.

And the first one in that series was me chatting with cricket with balls' smooth, yet hairy, Eddie Cowan about Australian cricket and batting orders.

So, if you have a spare 3 hours to kill, kill them with me in your ears.

listen to nonsense i said with others

I've recorded three podcasts of recent times.

That's a lot of me talking shit.

For some reason I forgot to put them up here.

So here they are.

The first is one I did with Subash over at the Cricket Couch.  I talk about my book and just how India and Australia have shown just how being unprofessional and stupid can fuck you up.

Another one was part of my new speaky gig at cricinfo where I got thinking women's county seamer Charlie Shreck to chat about his hair and county cricket.

And the first one in that series was me chatting with cricket with balls' smooth, yet hairy, Eddie Cowan about Australian cricket and batting orders.

So, if you have a spare 3 hours to kill, kill them with me in your ears.

[image error]

The green cap fades

There was a time Steve Waugh walked the earth and changed the way people thought about hats.

Specifically caps.

Some people ignored him, and they wore a floppy white hat and felt just as Australian as the others. Eventually a rule was brought into the team to ensure that no head would be unbagged for a session.

This faded sweaty odd shaped cap seemingly had mythical powers, perhaps given to it directly by Steve Waugh who putty his money where his perfectly manicured bouffant was when buying one of Victor Trumper's many caps.

At that point it was as if the whole human existence before hand never mattered. Even though there was a time it may have been given out to people on tours and some players were given heaps of them and lost them or gave them away for fun.

Thanks to Steve Waugh's help, the baggy green could now make a boy a man, man a man a god and make a god an ashes winning product that could be used for many wide ranging products.

It shit all over a top hat, with or without a rabbit coming out. It was the ultimate millinery piece.

At that point in time Australians also got very interested in their flag, and Australia day, two other things that they'd happily never taken much interest in before.

Australia was changing, and you were now UnAustralian (on a side note all people who use the word Un and then their country's name should be beaten to death their country's mascot) if you didn't love the flag, do something Australian on Australia day or worship at the frayed bits of Steve Waugh's cap you were somehow less Australian.

It was ofcourse just as bullshit as claiming that putting the baggy green on the head of a young cricketer made him a better cricketer than someone wearing a black, maroon, blue or pink cap.

Australian cricketers would have been just have good had they been forced to put on a hat made out of discarded chicken wings. Although flies could have been a problem.

That didn't matter back then, people bought it. Even when after the first session of the day players who liked floppy hats changed their headwear without magically become shitter cricketers or committing treason.

Cricket Australia used this false prophet over and over again. Their first foray into the digital world was baggygreen.com.au. They sold ceramic versions. They changed the way baggy greens were given out. They stopped giving them to touring players. And they only gave out one at a time, not a bag full.

Plus, they called their last two strategy plans "from the backyard to the baggy green".

Now even Cricket Australia has abandoned the baggy green. Their no plan isn't about baggy greens, it's about the skateboarding surfer dude, the BBL.

It's no longer traveling the Steve Waugh path from out back to the top of his head, it's now spending Thursdays nights at the BBL, and can't connect with the Australian team.

Cricket Australia doesn't do things on a whim, they market research their focus groups, so when they turn from the baggy green, you know something is going wrong.

The baggy green is no longer the cure to all that ails you, Cricket Australia's holy grail for marketing and performance. It doesn't make cricketers better and it doesn't bring in the kiddies who want to be like Steve.

It's almost like it is just a piece of material that was shaped into a cap and has no magical, mystical or otherwordly qualities in it at all. And that it just happened to be worn by talented Australian cricketers who were proud to represent their country.

This is why people replace caps, because no matter how good they look at the start, eventually they fade.

The green cap fades

There was a time Steve Waugh walked the earth and changed the way people thought about hats.

Specifically caps.

Some people ignored him, and they wore a floppy white hat and felt just as Australian as the others. Eventually a rule was brought into the team to ensure that no head would be unbagged for a session.

This faded sweaty odd shaped cap seemingly had mythical powers, perhaps given to it directly by Steve Waugh who putty his money where his perfectly manicured bouffant was when buying one of Victor Trumper's many caps.

At that point it was as if the whole human existence before hand never mattered. Even though there was a time it may have been given out to people on tours and some players were given heaps of them and lost them or gave them away for fun.

Thanks to Steve Waugh's help, the baggy green could now make a boy a man, man a man a god and make a god an ashes winning product that could be used for many wide ranging products.

It shit all over a top hat, with or without a rabbit coming out. It was the ultimate millinery piece.

At that point in time Australians also got very interested in their flag, and Australia day, two other things that they'd happily never taken much interest in before.

Australia was changing, and you were now UnAustralian (on a side note all people who use the word Un and then their country's name should be beaten to death their country's mascot) if you didn't love the flag, do something Australian on Australia day or worship at the frayed bits of Steve Waugh's cap you were somehow less Australian.

It was ofcourse just as bullshit as claiming that putting the baggy green on the head of a young cricketer made him a better cricketer than someone wearing a black, maroon, blue or pink cap.

Australian cricketers would have been just have good had they been forced to put on a hat made out of discarded chicken wings. Although flies could have been a problem.

That didn't matter back then, people bought it. Even when after the first session of the day players who liked floppy hats changed their headwear without magically become shitter cricketers or committing treason.

Cricket Australia used this false prophet over and over again. Their first foray into the digital world was baggygreen.com.au. They sold ceramic versions. They changed the way baggy greens were given out. They stopped giving them to touring players. And they only gave out one at a time, not a bag full.

Plus, they called their last two strategy plans "from the backyard to the baggy green".

Now even Cricket Australia has abandoned the baggy green. Their no plan isn't about baggy greens, it's about the skateboarding surfer dude, the BBL.

It's no longer traveling the Steve Waugh path from out back to the top of his head, it's now spending Thursdays nights at the BBL, and can't connect with the Australian team.

Cricket Australia doesn't do things on a whim, they market research their focus groups, so when they turn from the baggy green, you know something is going wrong.

The baggy green is no longer the cure to all that ails you, Cricket Australia's holy grail for marketing and performance. It doesn't make cricketers better and it doesn't bring in the kiddies who want to be like Steve.

It's almost like it is just a piece of material that was shaped into a cap and has no magical, mystical or otherwordly qualities in it at all. And that it just happened to be worn by talented Australian cricketers who were proud to represent their country.

This is why people replace caps, because no matter how good they look at the start, eventually they fade.

[image error]

Kindle finally becomes relevant with Australian Autopsy's help

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I know you are thinking that Kindle is stupid.

I once thought the same.

Now I don't as I have the chance to get money from it from selling Australian Autopsy to those people who like to feel the warmth of a machine while they read.

Australian Autopsy is even better in kindle form than in book form because when you are reading it on the tram no one can look over and go, why is that freakoid (yes, that's what they'd say about you) reading a book with an autopsy on the front.

Now you can read it on the sly, it will feel like my words are being fed to you in a mischievous and dirty way. Like I'm whispering naughty things into your dream as the person reads the latest Clancy Patterson Byrne best seller.

It will just be our little secret, and if you're good, I might even cuddle you at the end.

So Kindle me, hard.