Nick left this in the comments, and I think it needs a wider audience.
I’ve never been a big fan of the catchphrase, finger lickin’ good.
It dates back to when I was a kid when I saw a guy come out of a bedroom he had briefly shared with a young female and he licked his fingers and then said the phrase.
I have nothing against fingering people, but men licking fingers is never good.
When a woman licks a finger it brings up connotations of fellating, the problem is, that is does for men as well.
So now, thanks to some shitty fried chicken corporation I have the image of Murali blowing someone in my head.
Then, as if the metaphor of him sucking his fingers isn’t bad enough, they plop down a huge white substance, which I am sure is tasty, but does pass more than a casual resemblance to human ejaculate.
I bet a lot of mention discovered new feelings after seeing this ad.
Possibly a few dreams about magic fingers…
I went to Sri Lanka, and I took a camera.
I couldn’t possibly show you every photo that was cricket related, but these are my favourites, they’re unedited, because I can’t be bothered.
Every night Mahela and I drink coke together, you could be this happy if you drink coke. Look how happy we are. Really happy.
Hey man, what’s happening, yeah, coke man, i love it, I’m so fucking high right now, I know you can’t tell, cause I pull it off well, but really I am high. But I look normal, don’t i. I’m not, I’m high. Let’s go to white castle.
Not enough countries have cricket graffiti. This is a win for Sri Lanka.
A rare photo of Saddam Hussein and Murali.
Dude, buy coke for your family. Sugar and caffeine rock.
A free book for the person to correctly name these 4 New Zealand cricketers. Yes that is a trick question, no one can correctly name kiwi cricketers. Nathan McCullum is on the left, ladies.
Look at these dudes working and sitting on trucks while a cool photo of Malinga is in front of them.
I saw these guys at Dambulla. I hope they all fail. Lazy bastards.
I also have more photos of Dambulla, but this is enough for one day, surely.
Yes, I am in Sri Lanka.
Yes, I am in Dambulla.
Yes, I am in the kandalama hotel.
But, no, I do not have dengue fever.
I don’t even have a cold.
Earlier in my trip i did throw up and shit myself at the same time.
In Dambulla, I have felt fine.
Yuvraj, who I saw at the buffet, looked fine as well.
I’m not saying he doesn’t have dengue fever, just that if he had it, it looks a whole shitload better than my food poisoning from earlier in the week.
And to be honest, enough though I have heard of dengue fever, I have no idea what it does to you, for all I know it means you can’t remember the words to Hotel California, but everything else is fine.
More importantly, I am ok.
And just for fun, enjoy this.
What sort of man is Shane Watson?
Not content with turning the Pakistani batting line up into his bitches, he also completely embarrassed his own bowlers with a display of bowling competency.
But to do it on the day the world should be bowing down for Murali, that is just unfair.
Murali had done what he needed to do, took the last wicket in a dramatic way.
He knows how to work a crowd.
Keep them interested thinking that it might just all go wrong, then after a protracted last wicket partnership take the wicket and let the crowd and team mates take over from there.
It was perfect.
The lighting was right, his family were crying, the crowd was roaring, his teammates carrying him and a seemingly slow motion celebration happening around him. All he needed was some music composed by James Newton Howard and a crane shot starting on a close up of his face before moving back to show the whole scene.
But Shane Watson is not a fan of bowlers who deliver the doosra, ask Saeed Ajmal.
And he knew that there was one thing he could do that would dirty Murali’s magic day, and that was him taking wickets.
Nothing ruins a magical day like Shane Watson’s bowling.
He is like rain on your wedding day, he makes everything wet and women cry because of him.
And he knows it.
Six wickets, talk about taking the piss.
Five at Lord’s was bad, but this was one more, scary.
Cricket just feels wrong when Shane Watson is taking wickets.
Before he went out to bowl he knew this was Murali’s day, and look what he did.
Murali deserved better than that, Shane.
No one ever just retires anymore. They are always set to retire.
And Murali is set.
Sources close to him have set him, and so have the Sri Lankan website, so it can’t be long before he confirms that the Galle test against India is his last.
Murali has been slipping for a while now, in 09 he averaged 46 in test matches, which for someone as machine like as him had to be a sign.
He can still bowl, but test cricket might just be a touch too far for the 38 year old.
8 wickets are what he needs to be the first bowler to 800 wickets. If he gets there it will be an amazing last test considering his recent test form.
As for me, I never truly warmed to Murali.
I was there when he was first called.
While I appreciate his ability to bowl so many overs and the size of his eyes, no one else is allowed to bowl with that action. And that bothers me.
Most of the shit wasn’t his fault anyway, the dude just did his job, others campaigned for and against him, and he was used to change a flawed system for the better, even if it is still not perfect.
I already get the feeling that this will set off the debate on Warne Vs Murali, which will probably end up as boring as it is pointless.
Murali may not have been my favourite cricketer, but politics and elbows aside what a servant he was for Sri Lanka.
Some days it felt like he would bowl unchanged for the entire day, add to that living through the whole chucking shit, the boy had guts, so I may not love him, but I do respect him.
I was brought up deep in the bosom of a fundamental cricket family. My father was one, but it went deeper than that, with uncles, my grandfather, and cousins all getting in on the act.
At Christmas, Easter, Mother’s day, Father’s day, Football games, Birthdays or any other reason more than one of us was in the room together the talk would turn to cricket.
It was all passionately discussed, and by passionate I mean loud, and often (at least when myself and big daddy were involved) sweary.
If you wanted to win any cricket argument you had to be louder and more cock sure of yourself than at least one other Kimber, maybe two, and that is never easy.
My uncle Gary was a large, loud, sarcastic shit, a great uncle, but arguing with him was like wresting with an eel. It didn’t matter how good you were, you could never find good place to grab, as he was so slippery.
Even though I never saw him play (well, was never old enough to remember) through all the stories over the year I feel like I was there watching them all.
The day he threw the bat (which weighed over 3 pounds) about 70 metres after a dismissal. His running of a single as the ball was thrown over the head of the bowler when it was being returned to him. How he, my dad and my other uncle ran Campbellfield Cricket Club. And his work at leg slip.
Gary would talk about leg slip like it was the one position in cricket that could save us all. Talk of the catches he took there went beyond mere legend; they became part of the Kimber DNA. Should one of the non-cricket fan Kimbers find themselves one day in the leg slip position in a backyard game of cricket, they shall instantly just feel like they are in the right spot, and stay there waiting for the one that comes fast off the face of the bat.
Part of the allure of all of this leg slip talk was because when I grew up, the position would hardly be used in cricket. I can’t think of a match when a leg slip was used unless there were just 5 fielders around the bat for a spinner and one of them happened to be a leg slip.
While that is still a leg slip, it is more about pressure than leg slip position. Get as many fielders around the batsman as you can and hope he freaks out.
Now I see the leg slip coming back, slowly, but it is there. Peter Siddle has bowled with one more than a few times. Andre Nel used one with Surrey in the first game this year. But my favourite was in the semi final of the IPL.
Yes it was too a spinner, Murali from memory, but being that it was in the latter stages of the semi final, there wasn’t 5 guys around the bat, just two, a slip, and a leg slip.
It just looked so good to me. The leg slip just standing there as an attacking position, trying to catch the batsmen behind his back. The ninja fielding position.
At the time I was commentating on test match sofa and I could barely contain my excitement at this event. Unfortunately, like often happens in T20 cricket, something else grabbed my attention.
There was an emotional pull in seeing it. At the time I couldn’t even think why I liked it so much, but over the next few days it all came back, the chats, the arguments, the yelling, and the lionisation of leg slip.
That leg slip meant something to me, and it was way more than just a reaction to great captaincy from Dhoni.
I could see my uncle smiling somewhere without even knowing why. The smug bastard.
Long live the leg slip.
Picking John Howard for the top ICC job is genius.
You might not think that would be my opening line, but think about it, the Australians have picked the one man who is way more of a cunt than Lalit Modi.
Just finding that person is hard, but then convincing him to take the job takes a special effort.
To be a cricket administrator these days you need to be either dictated to by big business, adept of strangling people with red tape or just evil. The ICC should be ecstatic they have found a man who excels on all fronts.
I can’t think of a more devious flawed con-artist to take the job, but being that the president of the ICC has as much power as the person who runs your local Video store, this is a perfect job for John Howard.
Not that he won’t try and get his hands dirty.
Any of the possible outcomes are possible:
Howard takes over the ICC and sees that the BCCI is the one true power and thusly shoves his nose up their ass and becomes their puppet. He justifies this by saying “while cricket fans may think I am making the wrong decision, as far as the economic situation dictates at this present time there is simply no other option for myself on behalf of the International Cricket Council and that I now feel like I have solidified a strong strategic allegiance with the Board of Cricket Control in India. I am sure that when they sit down to meet they will take the best interests of the world wide game into their minds before they make any decisions based on what suits their own interests best.”
Howard decides that the IPL is the enemy and that it must be broken down so it does not massively destruct the game of cricket. He plans to attack the league on many fronts to divide and conquer, he even declares victory, but it is obvious that he has no real idea what he is talking about and the IPl continues to flourish. Lalit Modi does get fired as the commissioner and Howard then claims that it was his plan all along to make Lalit step down and he thinks that in this current state the IPL is a good for cricket.
Howard declares that Pakistan shall be kicked out of cricket. At first he declines to give reasons, but when asked, the ICC, on his behalf, claim that the whole Pakistani team is involved in match fixing. The media goes into a frenzy, some stating that Howard did the right thing, others staring at the flimsy evidence that is put forward by the ICC. Shortly after an ICC employee admits to faking the evidence and the ICC hires a new PR team.
On Howard’s first trip to Sri Lanka he has to give a speech to their cricket board and interested parties about his previous calls that he believes Murali is a chucker. The speech goes well with Howard humbly apologising, making jokes at his expense and admitting that he was not fully informed at the time of the comment. Most Sri Lankans take it well but Arjuna Ranatunga refuses to accept the apology and drills many hard hitting questions at Mr Howard which makes him sweat in the warm climate and he loosens his shirt collar only for a bullet proof vest to be visible underneath. This does not please the Sri Lankans much.
Howard stops wearing green tracksuits and starts wearing ICC issue pyjamas everywhere he goes.
Nothing changes because the position of the ICC president is the most unpowerful seat in cricket; even the gate attendant at McLean Park in Napier has more.
I didn’t live blog the last Dirk over, as I was tweeting at the time.
Here is the tweets.
Could this come down to Dirty Dirk Vs Albie the racist dragon?
Morkel at the non strikers, the tail is in, 15 off 6, Dirk to bowl
weird swipe, gets 2, lukcy to not hole out or go for 4
another 2, nice swipe again
great yorker, straight to warner, run out, albie on strike 11 from 3 come on dirk you magnificent bastard
Best game of the IPL so far
great ball big man, another yorker another run out, albie is still there
11 off 2, come on dirk
YOu did it dirk, you hairy mother fucker, well done, Australia couldbn’t beat Albie, but dirk does, stick that up your ass hilditch
Murali swings like only he can, Dirk beats him, this was Dirk’s win, where are the naysayers now.