First Brendon McCullum helped himself to a hundred and fries, then went back for a double and a shake. Further South that Gayle dude cracked a triple. Not that he knows who Bradman is, but by accident he fell short of the hallowed 334. Speaking to Gayle, I’m told he wanted nothing to do with slow-coach Tubby Taylor’s 334.
Basically, Mc’s double and Gayle’s triple drew it for the islanders. Now the Lankans can go bat to oblivion but they still can’t win the match. A thousand is on the cards, expect Sangakkara to make a case for a sixth day as he pursues his first five hundred plus score.
Elsewhere, Pakistan playing another home-away series, in idyllic sub continental settings drew one unexpectedly. In comparison to the scores on display, Younis Khan settled for a lowly 131. A true match saving innings, wasting everybody’s time including his. He even smiled, in spite of batting with Misbah.
Showing posts with label Chris Gayle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chris Gayle. Show all posts
November 17, 2010
July 27, 2009
Pansies of the Caribbean: 1
What can we do with West Indies' cricket? Dissolve it, I say. Windies’ cricket ceased to exist a long time ago, its place was taken by a likable joke. One of those romantic comedies, which star an A-lister, but you know there isn’t much substance, and he’s just doing the funnies for the monies.
These stars would rather be anywhere else in the world. Even in the ICL. But then, nothing measures up, so they tend to fall short too – take for instance, Brian Charles Lara and his bottomed out Bombay ICL show.
What, even while BC Lara was in the national side, it appeared he was challenging himself, while the other 10 kids were being challenged by the sport.
Strangely, even through the Lara years, you had the freak shows with captaincy and the West Indies cricket board (WICB). Hooper was dragged out of wherever he was (Australia?), and Jimmy Adams was held back from joining commentary – while both Hooper and Adams captained, neither were long term options. And they always had to contend with the Prince. Why am I thinking Michael Jackson, even I don’t know?
Once Ambrose and Walsh retired, the Windies were retarded. Not the team they claimed to play as – ‘Islands in the Sun’ or ‘Carnival Cricketers’ would have been apt, to call it West Indies not on.
Now here we are in the Gayle years, and he’s not even in the side, forget captaincy. Instead there’s a team of timid Pirates – yeah, could be far more marketable as The Pansies of the Caribbean. But that’s for a laugh, not the solution.
The solution came from one of the Island’s cricket boards, Trinidad and Tabago, was it? They floated the idea, (good timing, Windies cricket is sunk) of an independent T&T team. Their own national side, independent of the West Indies’ team.
To hell with romanticism, I like it. Here’s to T&T. Let’s go Guyana! Bring on Barbados. Jump for Jamaica!
There you have it, some readymade sides, while some teams like T&T will benefit more, what with the two Bravos, a young Simmons, and perhaps an older and wiser, Lara; I reckon, this will help cricket in the Carib come to terms with reality, snap from the past.
This could be a reality check for the ICC and world cricket: get beyond obscure new cricketing nations, set your own mad house in order first. Also, Bangladesh could embark on an entire series of series across the islands. Together, they could play and grow as cricketing nations. I’ll be happy, just to know that was the best Leeward Islands’ team playing.
You could also read 'West Indies vs West Indies' over at BCC!
These stars would rather be anywhere else in the world. Even in the ICL. But then, nothing measures up, so they tend to fall short too – take for instance, Brian Charles Lara and his bottomed out Bombay ICL show.
What, even while BC Lara was in the national side, it appeared he was challenging himself, while the other 10 kids were being challenged by the sport.
Strangely, even through the Lara years, you had the freak shows with captaincy and the West Indies cricket board (WICB). Hooper was dragged out of wherever he was (Australia?), and Jimmy Adams was held back from joining commentary – while both Hooper and Adams captained, neither were long term options. And they always had to contend with the Prince. Why am I thinking Michael Jackson, even I don’t know?
Once Ambrose and Walsh retired, the Windies were retarded. Not the team they claimed to play as – ‘Islands in the Sun’ or ‘Carnival Cricketers’ would have been apt, to call it West Indies not on.
Now here we are in the Gayle years, and he’s not even in the side, forget captaincy. Instead there’s a team of timid Pirates – yeah, could be far more marketable as The Pansies of the Caribbean. But that’s for a laugh, not the solution.
The solution came from one of the Island’s cricket boards, Trinidad and Tabago, was it? They floated the idea, (good timing, Windies cricket is sunk) of an independent T&T team. Their own national side, independent of the West Indies’ team.
To hell with romanticism, I like it. Here’s to T&T. Let’s go Guyana! Bring on Barbados. Jump for Jamaica!
There you have it, some readymade sides, while some teams like T&T will benefit more, what with the two Bravos, a young Simmons, and perhaps an older and wiser, Lara; I reckon, this will help cricket in the Carib come to terms with reality, snap from the past.
This could be a reality check for the ICC and world cricket: get beyond obscure new cricketing nations, set your own mad house in order first. Also, Bangladesh could embark on an entire series of series across the islands. Together, they could play and grow as cricketing nations. I’ll be happy, just to know that was the best Leeward Islands’ team playing.
You could also read 'West Indies vs West Indies' over at BCC!
July 10, 2009
Freddie, Yuvi, Roy, Boom Boom and the cool maan.
‘Ricky
is from Tasmania
But it’s tricky
for those who’re from Talisman-ia’
“Freddie is their talisman”. Through the Ashes, through the English summers, through every game that Freddie plays, you’re bound to hear, that cockney sparkle in Bumble’s voice announce, “make no mistake… Freddie is England’s talisman” It’s as if the word talisman was made to coexist with Freddie’s exploits. It didn’t matter how much or how little he did, he was Freddie Flintoff, he was England’s talisman – “and any ball now, any ball now, England could be released”
If Freddie is doing too little, or indisposed, that is easily explained by injury or lack of support from the other end – the price Freddie pays for being leader of the pack and being bowled into the ground or falling off the ship.
The closest to Freddie in the Indian ranks is Yuvi. Listen, how similar they sound – Freddie, Yuvi. And how both have similarly underachieved, yet in our heart’s eye, they’re simply the best. They can change the cricket world on its axis, and a game, with a glare. They aren’t entirely about cricket, nor can they be – their appeal is beyond sport, and for them, we are always game. We can't get enough of them – nor can the billboards or the bimbos. They are the quintessential star players.
Across the border, the closest such star that defies logic is Afridi. He has his own jingle – Boom Boom Afridi! It’s part of every Paki banner to every com box in every land that Boom Boom does or doesn’t do his Boom Boom in.
Another fascinating similarity between these players is how we accept them, almost in spite of themselves – “all is forgiven, come home Yuvi” Slack fitness, repeat injuries and offences are easily overlooked, rock star ways are wantonly indulged. It could have been Mick Jagger and not Freddie, and we wouldn’t have known the difference.
In the Windies, their super boy talisman is captain, Gayle. The yellow shades, the Rastafari swagger, every match is a T20 and I will bowl-a-few approach.
Australia had Symonds, and then Symonds had Australia, and then they both had enough – but teams like Pakistan, India, England, and even the Windies continue to challenge themselves.
Is it because these players do not just determine the outcome of a game, they dictate the very commerce of cricket.
Mildfred: What’re you rebelling against, Johnny?”
Johnny: Whaddya got?
They are the Johnnies, the wild ones, the rebels – and it doesn’t matter if they win a game, score a run, or run through the batting, the fact that they’re playing means anything can happen.
It’s as much their frailties as their super achieving powers that make them. We accept them not just because of what they do, but because of what they could have done.
We lost a game but had Yuvi fired we would have surely won. It is always within Freddie’s grasp. And like you saw, if Afridi gets firing you win the World Cup.
These guys do it on their own. With them it ceases to be a team sport. It is a one man show. And that’s what the movies are about. And that’s where we love to live. Because reality bites.
This piece started with this
is from Tasmania
But it’s tricky
for those who’re from Talisman-ia’
“Freddie is their talisman”. Through the Ashes, through the English summers, through every game that Freddie plays, you’re bound to hear, that cockney sparkle in Bumble’s voice announce, “make no mistake… Freddie is England’s talisman” It’s as if the word talisman was made to coexist with Freddie’s exploits. It didn’t matter how much or how little he did, he was Freddie Flintoff, he was England’s talisman – “and any ball now, any ball now, England could be released”
If Freddie is doing too little, or indisposed, that is easily explained by injury or lack of support from the other end – the price Freddie pays for being leader of the pack and being bowled into the ground or falling off the ship.
The closest to Freddie in the Indian ranks is Yuvi. Listen, how similar they sound – Freddie, Yuvi. And how both have similarly underachieved, yet in our heart’s eye, they’re simply the best. They can change the cricket world on its axis, and a game, with a glare. They aren’t entirely about cricket, nor can they be – their appeal is beyond sport, and for them, we are always game. We can't get enough of them – nor can the billboards or the bimbos. They are the quintessential star players.
Across the border, the closest such star that defies logic is Afridi. He has his own jingle – Boom Boom Afridi! It’s part of every Paki banner to every com box in every land that Boom Boom does or doesn’t do his Boom Boom in.
Another fascinating similarity between these players is how we accept them, almost in spite of themselves – “all is forgiven, come home Yuvi” Slack fitness, repeat injuries and offences are easily overlooked, rock star ways are wantonly indulged. It could have been Mick Jagger and not Freddie, and we wouldn’t have known the difference.
In the Windies, their super boy talisman is captain, Gayle. The yellow shades, the Rastafari swagger, every match is a T20 and I will bowl-a-few approach.
Australia had Symonds, and then Symonds had Australia, and then they both had enough – but teams like Pakistan, India, England, and even the Windies continue to challenge themselves.
Is it because these players do not just determine the outcome of a game, they dictate the very commerce of cricket.
Mildfred: What’re you rebelling against, Johnny?”
Johnny: Whaddya got?
They are the Johnnies, the wild ones, the rebels – and it doesn’t matter if they win a game, score a run, or run through the batting, the fact that they’re playing means anything can happen.
It’s as much their frailties as their super achieving powers that make them. We accept them not just because of what they do, but because of what they could have done.
We lost a game but had Yuvi fired we would have surely won. It is always within Freddie’s grasp. And like you saw, if Afridi gets firing you win the World Cup.
These guys do it on their own. With them it ceases to be a team sport. It is a one man show. And that’s what the movies are about. And that’s where we love to live. Because reality bites.
This piece started with this
March 22, 2009
Raped by numbers.
Chris Gayle’s screwy stoned look will haunt me for a long time.
Never mind that the Windies lost a match thanks to the Dyson Lewd method.
It was Gayle who had the bummer trip.
His head whirled, twirled, he saw all them D/L score-sheet numbers collide with each other.
Oh maan, like burning fire in his soul.
Had Bob Marley been alive, he would have done a rendition of “No woman, No cry” for Gayle.
Aptly sung as “No man, No cry”
Gayle sat there, sprawled, legs apart in limbo, as if each one of those D/L equations were taking him, one after the other.
But Gayle didn’t move, Gayle didn’t cry.
He just sat there, as the world went by.
And then an age past by him, and the Poms were in for the salt-on-the-open wounds shake-hand.
It was remarkable that Gayle moved.
Even more remarkable that he stood up, almost half expected him to crumble to dust.
And then they shook his hands, but ask the Englishman and they will tell you:
It was like shaking a dead man’s hand.
So when Gayle later said that he won’t Kill Dyson, you had to believe him.
That was not anger he felt, just a deep pain at being raped by numbers.
Never mind that the Windies lost a match thanks to the Dyson Lewd method.
It was Gayle who had the bummer trip.
His head whirled, twirled, he saw all them D/L score-sheet numbers collide with each other.
Oh maan, like burning fire in his soul.
Had Bob Marley been alive, he would have done a rendition of “No woman, No cry” for Gayle.
Aptly sung as “No man, No cry”
Gayle sat there, sprawled, legs apart in limbo, as if each one of those D/L equations were taking him, one after the other.
But Gayle didn’t move, Gayle didn’t cry.
He just sat there, as the world went by.
And then an age past by him, and the Poms were in for the salt-on-the-open wounds shake-hand.
It was remarkable that Gayle moved.
Even more remarkable that he stood up, almost half expected him to crumble to dust.
And then they shook his hands, but ask the Englishman and they will tell you:
It was like shaking a dead man’s hand.
So when Gayle later said that he won’t Kill Dyson, you had to believe him.
That was not anger he felt, just a deep pain at being raped by numbers.
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