January 31

What Happened to the Big #1?

Ahhhh! What a glorious Summer. That is if you are South African or if you love to see Australian cricket taking a boot in the ribs, head and groin. Yes we are down and writhing in pain.

We only managed to win one test — the final test in a dead rubber — and one limited overs match. We did win both 20-20 matches but that only emphasizes my point really. The South Africans even sent a second eleven onto the park last night. Didn’t matter to us. We managed to lose as badly as we did on Australia Day, thank you very much. Even I gave up hope when the asking rate went over three runs per over.

So where now? Losing the series 4-1 means that our number one ranking is gone. We can regain it by winning the first one-dayer against New Zealand tomorrow but we don’t deserve it. Besides, given our performance so far, a victory against New Zealand is far from a given. Our top order, with the exception of Ricky Ponting, has failed consistently this Summer and even Ricky failed to capitalize on good starts more often than not. This is, ironically, the only bright spot for us – the top order can’t keep failing. Right? Right? So our batting will improve. Just don’t talk about the bowling.

January 26

Australia Day – Eclipsed (Partially)

Australia Day was Master Builder’s day. He woke up as excited as he was on Christmas Day. His excitement grew as we started preparing our picnic. On the menu was damper, chicken, bacon, fruit and lamingtons.

Game Guru and I began with the first item on the menu. Damper isn’t exactly the most difficult item in a chef’s repertoire. It is, after all, nothing more than dough cooked over a camp fire. Outback food. Swagman food, even if he didn’t have his tucker bag full of jumbuck. It should be easier still in a conventional oven with a thermostat.

An hour later we trimmed the menu by one item: damper. Let’s just say that lead is but air compared to our concoction. Luckily there’s a local rip-off, err, grocery store that stays open to fleece, I mean, serve people on holidays so we managed to salvage the bread option on the menu: good ol’ Aussie French stick and good ol’ Aussie continental loaf.

Master Builder and game Guru helped the Librarian with the lamington. Thankfully, that turned out nicely and so did the other items on the menu.

An added bonus this Australia Day was the promise of a partial eclipse. Master Builder was ecstatic. He had read about viewing eclipses in a bowl of water so he decided to take a bowl specifically for the purpose to the picnic grounds. We also took the “Super Eclipse Viewer” which I painstakingly built out of two pieces of cardboard and a small screwdriver. The procedure is top secret but you may be able to glean a hint or two from other places.

Master Builder had a wonderful time at the picnic even though K__ and her family were there. He only experienced a very minor tantrum when a tiny bit of potato salad invaded his arm. He also enjoyed the partial eclipse which seemed to come and go without anyone else in the park noticing. The Librarian, too, was quite excited by the tiny image we got on the “Super Eclipse Viewer” although Game Guru was totally unimpressed. The bowl of water, though, was unsuccessful due to the angle of the sun. Even that didn’t phase Master Builder.

So another Australia Day came and went. And Master Builder made me smile.

January 26

Australia Day – Spoiling the Party

We had to win the match to level the series. We may have lost our test cricket muscle but we were still a formidable one day side. Supposedly. The Australia I know didn’t even show up. Where was the intensity? The determination? The common sense? Australia Day should have seen all of that but we insisted on inviting South Africa to the party. They came and they watched the host staggering around and falling all over. Then they stole the silverware.

Watching Australia bat was an exercise in torture once Ponting and Mike Hussey lost their wickets. The level of ineptitude displayed by our middle order was breathtaking. They heaved. They flailed. They missed. On a good batting deck, in front of a parochial Australia Day crowd, we could only manage 28 off a slow bowler’s ten overs. We now have the happy knack of setting up scores in excess of three hundred only to fall well short. Spectacularly short in this case. The final score of 222 was an apology of a run chase: “sorry about making you bat lads but they did pay their money.”

I didn’t get a chance to further torture myself by watching our bowlers trying to defend 222. I might have lost a perfectly good flat screen TV if I had. South Africa only lost two wickets. They passed the total with more than ten overs to spare. I wonder if we can even defend 400.

Well done, South Africa.

Australia, take a good, long look at yourselves.

January 21

The Most Powerful Man In the World

Once in a while something groundbreaking happens and when it does the whole world sits up and takes notice. And we did take notice of Barack Obama. Today the whole world sat up and watched as Mr Barack Obama became Mr President, the most powerful man in the world. It must have hit him like a tonne of bricks. I would have run as fast as I could to a safer, kinder, less stressful place.

There are already so many positives in this man: he sounds intelligent which is a good indicator that he is intelligent; he seems to have his priorities straight — actual scientists handling science; he doesn’t have Sarah Palin as Vice President. And he included me in his speech. Well, not me exactly (I’m not a citizen of the USA after all) but he did mention non-believers and I’m happy with that.

So we look forward to the next four years. Will we look back on President Obama’s tenure with fondness or will he be just another empty vessel? I for one have high hopes.

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January 18

You Just Can't Go Back

Time doesn’t have wings. That would merely enable it to fly. Time has rocket engines and streamlined fins and a nasty habit of getting faster as I grow older. Yesterday I was a young lad chasing and catching a firmly struck cricket ball. Today I’m a middle aged man and that cricket ball would streak to the fence before the command from my brain reached the muscles in my legs. Thankfully, I’m not alone. All the other lads and ladies that formed my circle of friends are in the same temporal boat. Thanks to Middle Bro’s endeavours this boat pulled up at our favourite boyhood park at 4:00pm sharp. Or 4:30. or 5:00. I did say that we are middle aged.

Not everyone made the grand reunion, of course. Tamberhorse prefers the virtual world these days; KS is difficult to track down; several live too far away or were too busy. In the end only Bredo, JC, PL and LT joined Middle Bro and me. Some of us brought our families, or a representative portion thereof. We had a remarkably good day.

It was an evening of nostalgia. The glory days got a thorough working over; I’d like to think that the glasses we used to look back weren’t rose tinted. I could clearly see the young men and women — boys and girls, really — behind the graying hair and the growing paunches. We are a couple of decades older. At least. And we look older but somehow we still looked like we did years ago. The glasses are, perhaps, a little rose tinted.

We laughed.We played. Time flew. And we went our separate ways.

It will probably be another decade before we all meet again.

You just can’t go back.

January 14

Oh Pedro, You Are a Barrel of Laughs

To Pedro Jose Maria Simon Castellvi, the president of the International Federation of Catholic Medical Associations.

Dear Pedro.

I want to thank you for opening my eyes to the evil that is contraceptive Pill. Absolutely horrendous to think that the Pill releases “tonnes of hormones into nature” via female urine and that this is “a non-negligible cause of male infertility in the West”. You have evidence, of course.

Which you haven’t shown us.

But who needs evidence, eh Pedro? Your word is just fine, of course, just fine. There’s a little thing that’s bothering me though. How exactly are we becoming infertile, Pedro?

Are there a significant number of men who indulge in urine beverages — piss weak beers don’t count — on even an occasional basis? Is there some sort of toxic hormonal cloud that emanates from female urine that dissipates in the atmosphere? Why is it that these hormones only become nasty in the atmosphere? Don’t they affect us when we, well, dip our wee wees, if you get my drift. And why is this a problem only in the West? Is the Eastern contraceptive Pill a man friendly beast?

I await your answers with bated breath. In the meantime I would suggest that you refrain from raiding your medicine cabinets.

Now excuse me while I go pee. It’s okay, Pedro, I’m a male.

January 7

Test Cricket Wins

The series was lost but the final test match at Sydney was very much alive. For Australia there was a chance to restore a litlte pride; for South Africa there was a chance to wrest the number one spot in the world rankings. What we got was another wonderful example of the best that only test match cricket can offer.

The roller coaster ride that began in Perth and continued in Melbourne didn’t stop at Sydney. Every time one side looked like taking the initiative the other side would wrest it back. This was test cricket at its very best and when Ponting declared with Australia 375 ahead he gave us every opportunity for a finale that was worthy of a remarkable series.

Granted, the pitch was dicier than both Perth and Melbourne. Granted, the injured Graham Smith was unlikely to bat, so South Africa were effectively one wicket down before they even began the second innings. The question was not so much could South Africa win but could Australia take nine wickets — or ten if Smith decided to fight through pain.

The scorecard shows that the Aussies did take the wickets. The scorecard does not show the drama that we witnessed after tea: the threatening dark clouds; the ninth wicket stand between Steyn and Ntini that took their team to within ten overs of saving the match; the fact that Smith braved the pain in his finger to try and save the match. These are memories that will live on long after the shorter games are forgotten.

So well done South Africa for winning the series in such emphatic style and grace. Well done Australia for salvaging some pride in the final test. The world rankings show Australia still at number one. What this summer has shown is that the ranking is shaky. The prospects are exciting for world cricket.

Long live test cricket.

January 4

We Are All Going to Die! Again!

I have just returned from a Web sojourn to Religious Tolerance which has an excellent section devoted to “end of world” predictions. I am happy to report that we can throw away all our bills and IOUs because none of us will be alive on February 14. To be precise we are all going to die on the 13th day of February at 23:31:30 UTC. There are two wackos “seers” who make this prediction based on the bible, monarch butterflies and Unix time, among others, so it must be true. I will enter this event in my electronic calendar with a reminder set for 23:00:00 UTC so that I can get a good seat for the arrival of the horsemen.

But February 14 will arrive (the horsemen came but were convinced to postpone the Armageddon gig due to prayers, don’t you know) and we will scramble to pay our bills. But don’t fret. According to an “astronomer” at Mount Wilson Observatory, the Oort Cloud is playing host to a small star with a huge “me” complex. According to the kook “astronomer”, the resulting stampede of comets will trample Earth underfoot on August 29. Another one for my calendar.

August 30 will arrive, of course. But fear not because there’s always 2010, 2011 and the big one in 2012. Can’t wait.