there’s gold in my box

The most interesting part of todays vb series showdown was waiting and listening for Boony’s little gruff, crackly comments. I found him quite hard to decipher (was he slurring?) but I loved the little electronic beeping that went on prior to a pronouncement. At one point it sounded as though he was saying – ‘theres gold in my box’ – assuredly true but he must have been slurring, a vb Boon doll wouldn’t say that would it? The only thing I was exactly clear on Boony saying was ‘today’s code word is bat’. He said this 8 times and it was all a bit like, ok Davo I heard you the first time. Meanwhile, there were reports coming in from other Boon doll foster families that he’d been telling them how much he enjoyed nachos when the tv wasn’t even on. Which must have been frankly terrifying.

I know that the conspiracy theories are out there – that the Boon doll army is going to come to life and take over the world during the second final. I myself have often dreamt of the Boon figurine standing quietly on the coffee table suddenly starting to shake uncontrollably and eventually bursting into flames and burning the entire block of flats down. It seems a reasonable paranoia to hold.

But the relief came with such personable well humoured gems such as ‘they’re playing totem tennis’ – I guess in reference to the Sri Lankan batting effort. Heals and that Nicholas fellow were wearing Boon moustaches in the commentary box which helped everyone relax.

commentary (DEANO!)

DEANO’S posted a comment on my blog!

I’m a little concerned that one of his arguments for the use of technology in umpiring decisions is that some people are gambling a lot of money on the game. Really, if you’re gambling then you’re taking a gamble. Whether someone’s winning or losing big bucks on a cricket match because of a poor umpiring decisions or poor shot selection or poor field placings is all pretty much the same to me. A smart gambler will surely be studying the form of the umpires as well as the players. It still comes back to the point that umpires add a whole extra dimension to the way a cricket match moves. For the serious gambler this must be attractive – the extreme thrill of seeing cold millions slip away in a split second’s judgement. So many points on so many levels at which chance can instill itself.

Still, while I cannot understand Jonesy’s arguments for the use of technology in umpiring, it must be said that he’s a top bloke for getting involved in this blog – I am very happy and excited by his engagement and conviction.

book review

Steve Waugh : out of my comfort zone / Steve Waugh

genre – psychological thriller

Our hero is filled with intense and incessant self doubt, the life presented in this autobiography is pervaded by the threat of failure and an unshakeable feeling of insufficiency. Something has to give.

The story reaches it climax at the 1999 world cup.

– There’s a minute area on the bat which, when found, doesn’t vibrate in your hands as you connect with the ball but rather just allows it to become one with the timber for a split second before it catapults off into the stratosphere –

Continually returning to concepts ideas or zones of emotional affect but in different complex relations with other points – ball-bat-hands-mind – the book is hauntingly similar in structure to Deleuze & Guattari’s a thousand plateaus. It is a book of repetition – mind-ball-hands-bat – from out of that repetition there is a slow development of a character’s immense life. Another kinship, to Proust this time. This is truly a thriller of philosophical & (anti) psychological literary genius. Though the book probably appears to be ill written this is undoubtedly a trap. I eagerly await the next 5 volumes.

20 out of 20

Oh what irresistible fun the 20 20 match turned out to be the other night. What an inane giggly joy it brought about and sustained (for at least 23 or 24 overs out of the 40). How splendid the Australians looked in their grey or gun metal or … hell the uniforms were SILVER. The intense moment of joy when one realises it actually says MARTO on the back of Marto‘s shirt, or PUNTER on Punter‘s… the intrigue of trying to discover who SARFRAZ really is, or the daytime identity of the cleverly disguised MR CRICKET

I think it’s the same or a similiar joy (as least quantatively) to the one Punter antcipates so earnestly in the field (the joy of the sharp piece of fielding, the direct hit or the impossibly quick snare). This adrenalin filled anticipation was made palpable by the superb socio/psychological experiment carried out by Channel 9 whereby the team’s captains were wired for sound and briefly at points throughout the commentary were asked to answer questions from the commentating team. Ponting was prowling about like a hungry tiger bouncing up and down and walking backwards and forwards and in cirlces, waiting for the ball to be delivered and something great to happen, talking at 160 km/hr.

The only disappointment of the evening was that Ice Cold 3000 didn’t get to play. It was unfathomable really, the high drama of 20 20 would seem perfect for a player with Nel’s professional theatrical experience. He should have at least had a mic, and a camera following whatever sneaky, dastardly tricks he was getting up to while everyone else was thoroughly distracted by the game.