Category Archives: Cricket

Sport, So Pure

14 Saturday Dec 2019

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If one watches sports, one notices athletes. Some have beautiful toned sculpted bodies, both men and women. To see them move represents complete grace and beauty. Watching cricket is to observe these beautiful, extraordinary people.

Stand out in the heat 100+° F. Then at a moment’s notice, make that a millisecond, off a fielder runs at a break neck sprint to stop a ball before it reaches the boundary rope and a four run boundary. The bowler makes a delivery after another such sprint.

The batsman will position himself (herself) at the crease and with their wrists, arms, and upper body, bat that pitch where the fielders aren’t.

The game looks so simple. But we know better. So deuce difficult, made to look simple, by these athletic prodigies.

Cricket From Adelaide

30 Saturday Nov 2019

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I was feeling more than a little tired after dinner. I went upstairs to sleep. Realistically, going to bed at 7:30 is a tad absurd, even for me. I did wake up around 9:00. Next thing I know, I’m downstairs and cricket is on, live from Adelaide, at The Oval, Day 2 of the Second Test between Australia and Pakistan. The Aussies are in control, due largely to an incredible partnership between David Warner and Marnus Labuschagne. Both had centuries. Labuschagne was bowled out at 162. He was replaced by Steven Smith. After 97 overs Australia is 434 for 2. Warner is 236 not out. I have never seen run totals like this, in my limited time following this marvelous game.

Part of the appeal of cricket, for me, is the commentary. It doesn’t have the excitement of much sports commentary and play-by-play, just a pleasant measured chat among friends.

I had the usual mix of emotions of sadness and frustration, until I turned on the game. I let it be Summer again as these two sides go at it.

Notes To Self:

1. Make a list of stuff to do.

2. Stop beating myself up.

3. Swim every day.

4. Eat right.

Drama Queen?

27 Sunday Oct 2019

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About thirty-something years ago, an out and proud gay man called me a “drama queen”. He was, of course, right. It kind of went along with drinking or being on a dry drunk,which, until July, 1994, were my two operating modes.

I would say I acquired my penchant for ad hoc theatrics from my mother, who could have given Vivien Leigh(Scarlett O’Hara. Blanche Dubois) a run for her money. Life was one drama after the other. I think God made her crazy to teach me empathy (once I got sober).

I don’t work that way much any more, except I am something of a hypochondriac in my dotage. Every quirk and anomaly means that The Big One is waiting in the wings. (Que Fred Sanford voice , clutch chest and say “I’m coming Elizabeth.”)

I went swimming this evening, planned a dinner for tomorrow while I was swimming laps. Nothing odd there. I’m planning side dishes of baked sweet potatoes and fried apples, which always go well with pork. I thought a slow cooker barbeque would be nice. If a big pit of smoldering hickory logs (to cook an entire hog) is unavailable, cooking a pork shoulder in a slow cooker is an adequate substitute. In addition to menu planning, the swim went well, a minute and a half faster over the same distance than yesterday.

I was paying mild attention to the women playing T20 cricket in the Women’s Big Bash League, but switched to trainspotting in Ashland. I will switch back just to hear the voices of the commentators. Gotta love the Aussies.

Later, Loves ❤

Hello. I’m Back.

02 Wednesday Oct 2019

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I took a week off. The world has not gotten unabsurd. All of the players are still in place. On a positive note, I’m better able to recognize that “It’s not them, it’s me.”, as George from Seinfeld would put it.

I am watching Women’s Cricket, Australia vs. Sri Lanka, in T20I format match. The big difference between the men’s game and the women’s game is that women play the women’s game, while men play the men’s game. Got that? You’ll get the hang of it. The cricket Oval in Sri Lanka is lovely, by the way.

My sleep schedule is still messed up. The lingering hot weather doesn’t help. It should be over by Friday. Still I can hardly wait for the first frost.

Meanwhile, Australia just took a wicket. Sri Lanka has a long ways to go The Aussie women are very good. The Sri Lankan women need to score at a prodigious rate if they are to win.

I could use some sleep. I could use a good cry, also. I could use a good fuck. Of the three, sleep will happen first.

Later, I will share the saga of The Great Suncare Takedown. But not now.

Mancunian Wannabe

05 Thursday Sep 2019

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As I write this homage, Australia is thrashing England in the fourth Ashes Test played at Old Trafford in Manchester.

Way back when Manchester United became a highly recognizable football team, I was more or less indifferent to Manchester, the city they represented. Then, thanks to the gift of YouTube, creators, like Martin of Martin Zero, are sharing their love of this remarkable city.

Manchester is a city of two rivers, the Medlock and the Irwell. There are canals dating back two hundred years. The factories that made Manchester lie idle, if not demolished out right. But the quarried stone remains, her story lives on in these stones and architecture.

I decided I would declare myself a spiritual Mancunian. I found this tee-shirt on Amazon. Now that I have a tee-shirt, there is nothing left for me to do, but renew my passport, apply for a visa, and buy a plane ticket.

Sleep Comes To The Old Man

03 Saturday Aug 2019

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I woke up at Three AM to go to Holy Hour at Four down at my church. Then I came home, started watching cricket, The first of the The Ashes Test Match series between England and Australia. I can honestly say I don’t have a dog in this fight. Both sides are great, with superb individual talents on both sides.

Then around 7:40 I left for First Saturday Mass at the Abbey. The football players at the affiliated Catholic high school were practicing. Football season is four weeks away, whether we like it, don’t like it, or just plain don’t care.

Mass was celebrated by a priest who seemed oddly “out of it”. I think he was OK. I had never been at one of his Masses before and I suspect this was just his style. He was old, in this case, about my age.

Back home for breakfast and more cricket. Then tiredness hit and I finally went to bed.

After sleeping a bit, I woke up, brewed some coffee and am now watching some film footage of Tokyo, in 1934 on YouTube. Japan was a police state, run by a military junta. It had seized Manchuria three years earlier. The Sino-Japanese War, the Asian precursor to the Second World War, would begin in 1937. Peaceful times, I suppose. There are scenes of Japanese military close order drill with young boys in samurai costume. In all likelihood, these children would be dead within eleven years. The vignette was creepy and simultaneously poignant. Wasted lives on display.

J is coming home from work. It is ex-wife #1’s birthday. I sent her a birthday text.

I feel like I have done enough today already.

Cricket World Cup. England Wins.

14 Sunday Jul 2019

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The Cricket World Cup is over. England won. It was an epic final in the One Day International format (50 overs). They tied on the last ball in regulation, won on the last ball of the Super Over. I had never seen any sort of cricket match in any format, prior to the start of this competition. I have had an intense and welcome immersion into this marvelous sport.

The best part of the last six weeks is a welcome break from the internecine bickering of American politics.

World Cup Champion England will not decline an invitation to the White House. No invitation will be proferred. They did have to shake hands with HRH The Duke of York, aka Prince Andrew. And so they did, most graciously. This is Britain, after all.

We saw nations competing who get very little positive exposure in the global media, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and South Africa. Their won-loss records may not have been sterling, but they showed up and played. The stands were filled with loyal fans, who were, well, fans, cheering and exuberant. Much like us. I think this is what Baron de Coubertin had in mind when he founded the Olympics movement.

The world was not suddenly rid of two-legged swine, boars, gilts, and sows. But we didn’t have to think about them as often.

Undergirding the tournament was money, of course. Prize money, like any other professional sport. But in this moment the money didn’t matter. We got to be children again, whether we live in Kabul. Kolkata, Christchurch, Sydney, or Soweto, Richmond-on-Thames or Richmond on The James.

It was so welcome, like Christmas in July.