Is this cricket?

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In WA Colin Barnett wants to hook into sharks. In NSW Barry O’Farrell is the star in Casino Royale, while Tony and Chris are educating the rest of us on how to perform an ugly backflip. It’s December and everything’s arse up.

It must be an end of year thing. The nation is punch drunk with broken promises and is now bracing itself for the final knockout blow: the best ever fireworks display, ever to be viewed on New Year’s Eve in Sydney. Twice as big … bigger, better, best! From the Opera House, “WOW”, and the Harbour Bridge, “”WOW”. You’ll even be able to send “love U” text messages to the Sydney Harbour Bridge pylon. Now that’s a personal greeting. “Triple WOW”. It’s all part of the touchy, feely, sugar-coated ‘showy’ finish to another year – Sydney’s way of glossing over all the detritus dished forth on 364 previous days.

Cynical Sime? Christmas grouch? Mid-life crisis? Now, that’s a winning trifecta!

It’s hard not to argue that the news cycle is predictable, full of sensation, death and destruction, and that the political landscape is depressingly barren. Thank heavens for SA.

Here, smack bang in the middle of The Adelaide Oval, green shoots have appeared, for the start of the second Ashes test. Under normal circumstances, and given the shellacking in England I’d be cock-a-hoop, but the convincing win in Brisbane by Australia has been somewhat tempered.

The ugliness in social discourse has even pervaded parts of the Australian cricket team, particularly the top order. I’m not talking about bum fluff growing below the nose, but more about the swash buckling cavalier attitude of some opening batsmen. It’s just not cricket, in the Test Match form of the game at least.

Playing it straight until the shine fades from the ball is a pretty simple strategy to follow. It’s not boring; it’s bedrock to each game. Players who can’t wait should be given the T20 treatment and be hooked swiftly to Chanel 10. That's the place for hit and giggle cricket, the modern-day, pyjama circus. It provides the perfect quick fix for itchy-bum spectators who can’t sit still and need to pack a thousand things into one day.

Not content with bludgeoning classic stroke making and consigning it to past eras, some cricketers have added a potty-mouthed element to their game. It’s called sledging, or dredging. No holes barred, arm-breaking comments, anything to assist in sending the stumps flying or better still, a player home. 

Getting in the face of one’s opponent is not new. Dennis Lillee giving it to Javed Miandad back in the 70s was a classic confrontation and a great piece of theatre. Somehow it was far less controversial than today’s fracas. Past altercations were just as fiery out in the middle but that’s where the heat stayed, on the pitch, not constantly reignited like a New Year’s Eve fireworks display.

If you shop at Harris Farm you appreciate fresh flavour, great variety, consistent quality and plenty of special deliveries. I’m a huge fan, as I am of Ryan Harris. ‘Ryno’ is no relation to the supermarket family but possesses all of its qualities. There’s a lot to like about our number one bowler. He goes about his business in a no bullshit kind of way, is the pick of the bowling crop, and quite possibly the entire team because of the way he plays the game.


Time to declare. I’m taking my bat, ball and I’m going home.

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