Tagged with county cricket

County Cricket is not for everyone – says Indian Fan

I just received this email from an anonymous Indian cricket fan:

As an Indian fan, I am really sick and tired of all this quiet introspective talk of county cricket.

The tournament is a joke. It isn’t played in prime time. They never advertise it. It isn’t even on youtube. Cricinfo hides it away like it is some disabled family member.

County Cricket only really appeals to boring old Englishman who drink tea and eat crumpets. They all sit around and talk about the Queen and read the Telegraph. Wearing bacon and egg ties. They aren’t real fans. They don’t get up and scream, there is no passion in them.

The lack of advertising during play is embarrassing, the commentators never shout, and at the grounds no one dances.

I can’t say I’ve ever even heard of a celebrity attending a county game, and they certainly don’t own any of the teams.

Have you seen how long the tournament goes for, it feels like the whole bloody summer.

Singles are given polite applause, what sort of nonsense is this.

I even heard a story of someone reading a book at a game, no respect.

You also know that the people who started County Cricket did so to take over world cricket, don’t you?

Say what you want about Lalit Modi, but at least his suits fit well, what’s your excuse, Giles?

Other than these rabid cucumber eating Englishman, why would anyone care about it?

If I want to go see second rate South Africans and Public School boys play, I’ll cough up some real money and watch the English Cricket Team.

So I’m sorry, County Cricket, but you aren’t for me.

A. Non.

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intrigue and mystery in basildon – how essex players entered the dark side

In June of 09 two usually well recognised Essex figures wore costumes.

The tall one with the soulful eyes was dressed up as Neo was in the matrix; the cute little one was dressed as Hancock (before his transformation).

They drove in a rented car to a kebab stand in Basildon. When they left the car they both looked over their shoulders and scanned the local area for people that looked out of place. It was 2am, so they were the only two who were not in some sort of alcoholic distress.

The kebab stand owners sore them approaching and after a quick pat down by a burly man with an apron on they were let inside.

When inside they are sat down in front of an older guy who is almost saturated in grease. He looks up, and then laughs at their cheap costumes.

“Who the fuck are you two spose to be, fucken amateurs”.

The soulfully eyed Neo goes to speak but the man saturated in grease holds his hand.

“You don’t speak, I’ll tell you what I’ll tell you, and you’ll nod”.

Both men nod.

“You guys are fucked, I have the photos, and I’ll put them up on the internet as soon as I’d spit, y’hear me?”

Both Nod.

“Ok, this is how it will play the fuck out, ‘Neo’ you come on to bowl the 35th over, just bowl normal like. You ‘Homeless Eddie Murphy’…”

“It’s Han…”

The large man in the apron smacks Hancock in the head.

“You, pussyfeatures, you’re opening up, face the first over, play five dot balls, and then go out on the sixth one. Now I need you to sell this, so use that fucken puppy dog expression you use when you usually go out to make this look nice and legit like.”

The saturated grease mean nods at the large man in the apron, and he drops two packages of cash advances in their laps.

“Now, be nice lads and fuck the fuck off”.

Hancock and Neo get back in their car, check in their packages and cannot believe how much money there is in there, they are so excited they hug.

Then Neo starts the car and they leave.

As they get far enough away, Neo turns to Hancock and says, “You owe me 25 Quid for the rental, Pussyfeatures, now that is funny”.

“This is a made up story, Basildon is not a real place, and Kebab owners don’t usually fix matches, as Dick Wolf would say: Although inspired in part by a true incident, the following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event.”

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Yorkshire

When I arrived in the UK i decided to support Surrey.

This was because of two reasons, I don’t hate the colour brown and I live near the Oval.

Now with Surrey in the cess pools of human depravity known as division 2 with a captain i would rather punch that cheer, I have jumped ship.

At first I thought I would just remain team less, like one of those annoying football fans who says, “I don’t support anyone, I just love the game”.

Bollocks to that.

And when I thought of changing teams there was only one side it could have been, Yorkshire.

All the Australian cricket books of my youths made the English out to be a tea sipping team of pansies who wouldn’t get down and dirty for their country.

The one exception in these books was Yorkshire.

Cricketers from Yorkshire were given full warrior treatment, they were manly men not pansy public school boys.

They were, more often than not, good and tough enough to play for Australia according to these books.

This was my early indoctrination, but it went further, my dad was Boycott obsessed.

Not Boycott the man, but Boycott the batsman.

When people asked my dad if they wanted me to bat like Viv Richards he always said no, I want him to bat like Boycott.

I then spent years breaking my dad’s heart by hitting every ball in the air and giving my wicket away to any boy with a cute smile.

On top of all that I think I even read a Fred Trueman book when I was young.

It was all about Yorkshire.

This current Yorkshire team is not quite in that league.

Bresnan can’t take a fat joke, Adil can’t keep himself in the side, their best player is a South African pigeon killer and they appear in division 1 rather than really push for the title.

Yet I am still drawn by that great inbred arrogance.

It reminds me of home.

So it is Yorkshire for me.

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Want a piece of Jesse?

Not you ladies, although I am sure you do, and more than a few men.

I’m talking to the county cricket sides.

Cricket with balls has the latest scoop before it hits the presses, that Jesse Ryder wants a county gig.

I think Surrey should ass Bhajji, and pick up Jesse, but that is only because i live next door to the oval.

But I am not god.

So if you are a county side, call Jesse’s people, they are ace, and book the human headline.

Think of all the benefits:


You get Jesse.

His bandanas.

His runs.

His wickets.

His cheeky little smile.

His cricket charisma.

And a future cult leader.


What county team wouldn’t want that.

Maybe Kent, for obvious reasons.

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Essex mug their players

As part of Essex’s pre season preparation they were to travel to the Middle East to play in a tournament, sounds good.

Alas, they had no money, bad.

There is a credit crunch you know.

So it was cancalled.

The players decided they wanted to play, apparently, and have donated their off season non playing grant towards the trip.

Following so far.

Essex are broke, players have cash, Essex cancel game, only for players to pay for a pre season preparation game, not a post season holiday, but part of their preparation for next years county championship.

According to cricinfo, some players were asked to pay to play,  and did not want to pay a couple of thousand quid to go,  but now have “donated” their grant money towards the trip.

But this is where it gets great.

“I don’t think one should read anything into this in terms of the financial stability of county cricket, that’s simply not the case. It’s just that this is a very challenging time for us personally.” Said some administracrat from Essex

Now why would anyone think that players paying for a pre season trip would mean the financial stability of county cricket is shit house?

Imagine if your work came to you and said, hey we want you to do a training course, that will benefit you and us, and all you need to do is give up some of your pay.

Some of you may do it, although i doubt those sort of people read my blog.

People tend to think their bosses should pay for things like training and preparation for their jobs.

Imagine that.

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quarantine alert

Did you know that Stuart Law has herpes?

Paul Nixon has Sars.

Shane Bond has the bubonic plague.

And Jason Gillespie has syphilis.

Do you know how these players got sick, the ICL.

I know.

It’s a dirty, dirty competition that is literally swarming with bacteria and disease.

Much like Manchester.

Luckily the BCCi are saving their cricketers from these diseases.

They are banning all their precious commoditised from playing county cricket with any “ICL” afflicted players.

So Piyush Chawla can’t play for Hampshire, because diseased antipodeans like Shane Bond and Ian Harvey might infect with and he will never be the same again.

But the BCCi has not gone far enough.

They are allowing county players who have played in sides with ICL players to play in the IPL.

That is terrible quarantine, the diseases will now flow from the host to the carrier players and end up in the IPL and kill them all.

KILL THEM ALL.

Scary stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree.

The BCCi should go further, they should ban contact with all people who have come into contact with the ICL.

Oh, that means Tony Greig and Dean Jones, whoops.

If we have to, we have to, think of the children.

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