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Ponting boring - official

Saturday, November 15 2003

I caught part of a rather strange programme on The Discovery Channel a few days ago - it was called 'He's Got to Have it' and it featured some crazy people testing out some crazy gadgets and bouncing them off a tame celebrity who makes a five-minute appearance at the end in order to be fobbed off with something which he will never use.

The guy with the task of selecting which of the toys he would like to have this week was none other than Greatest Living Englishman, Phil Tufnell who has given up terrorising English county batsmen for the altogether more testing field of International Celebritydom.

The gadgets reviewed on behalf of The Cat were:

Some ridiculously useless Palm-Pilot thing which takes photographs and records messages but has no built-in alarm to wake Tuffers up in time to use it.

An incredibly reckless monstrosity from (no surprise) New Zealand called Chris Cairns's captaincy The Zorb, an inflatable ball you climb inside in order to roll headlong down hills with absolutely no control and most probably fall from an enormous height, then you get someone else to push it all the way to the top in order to start all over again. No, I was right the first time. Just like Chris Cairns's captaincy.

A combined digital radio/MP3 player

and a coffee machine which looked like a chest-expander and seemed to be far too much like hard work to be of any use to The Cat.

Phil wasn't even offered The Zorb, so I lost interest in the programme. A pity, really. It seemed to be made for him - the ideal place where he could have a kip at the drop of a long-hop.

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England arrived safely at the team hotel in Colombo ready to do battle with Sri Lanka next week. The team were greeted in traditional manner - garlands of flowers were hung around the necks of every player except one. When the flowers appeared in front of the chest of Vikram Solanki, he kept edging them to first slip.

Duncan Fletcher, in defence of Solanki's poor form, said "I have told Vic to go out and play his own game." Er, that's the problem, then.

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Andrew Flintoff's three successive 'man of the match' awards against mighty Bangladesh have elevated the big guy to the dizzy heights of No. 1 in the world all-rounders list.

I don't even need to add any snide remarks to make that funny. Ian Botham must be turning in his grave.

What's that you say? Botham's not dead? You could have fooled me. Have you heard his commentary?

Regarding all-rounders, Ian Blackwell's ample girth cannot sit lightly anywhere with Michael Vaughan's 'Lean, mean, fighting machine'. Anyone for liposuction?

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Talk about boring. Which player holds the record for the lowest number of fours in a One-Day International century? Amazingly, it's that slouch Ricky Ponting with just a solitary boundary.

Against India in the TVS Cup game at Bangalore, he barely found the ropes on one occasion as he crawled to 108*, an innings which included no less than seven sixes.

The player whose record he broke? Fellow Australian grinder, himself (against Bangladesh earlier this year at Darwin when he managed a paltry two fours and four sixes in an innings of 101).

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I understand that plans are afoot to increase the number of teams competing in the ICC 2007 World Cup to 16. Now, if this is the case, the scene could be set for four groups of four with the top two from each qualifying for the second stage, either to be played as two further 'Super Fours' groups producing four semi-finalists or even a straight knock-out.

The third alternative, thought to be favoured by Global Cricket Corporation, is for the eight qualifying teams to compete in a 'Super Eight', meaning even more matches for the fans (and longer holidays in the Caribbean for me).

GCC's logic is thought to go along the following lines...

1. More cricket
2. More chances to sue for their money back.

No prizes for guessing which one's going to win, then.

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The cheers could be heard ringing around Islamabad a week or so ago when the new ICC Test Rankings table was published. Pakistan had moved up to the dizzy heights of fifth, hard on the heels of England and New Zealand who could only be separated with a tyre-iron, but a million miles behind Australia and South Africa.

The reason for the elation? They had moved ahead of India for the first time in over a year. Suddenly, the magnolia trees are in blossom again, Inzy's back amongst the burgers runs and the world is an altogether much nicer place.

South of the border, it's a different story. Heads bowed, the population in general go about their business wearily, even the distraction of the TVS Series against Australia and New Zealand offers little comfort to a country in mourning.

Who said it was only a game?

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Inzy and the Magic Balti

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away called Punjab, there lived a little boy called Inzamam. He was a jolly little fellow, always willing to help out around the house, especially around meal times.

Inzy loved cricket and he was very good indeed, but somehow things always seemed to go wrong for him.

One day, Inzy's mum packed him off with his lunch in a wheelbarrow bag and sent him out to play with his chums who were already picking sides for the big game.

"Ah, here's Inzy" said one of the captains when he saw who was strutting towards them, bat neatly tucked under his arm. "My pick next - I'll have Saqib - he's a better runner."

"But Saqib's only got one leg." came the reply from his opposite number.

"Your point being?"

Anyway, the sides were picked and Inzy's team won the toss, electing to bat first. Our young hero was selected to bat at number four, so he sat down and waited for his turn to be run out bat. His hand rested fondly on the paper bag by his side. "Hmmm, I wonder what mum's packed for my lunch?" he thought.

He opened the bag a little and the wonderful smell of chicken wafted up to greet his senses. "Oh boy, my favourite." he exclaimed. He opened the bag further to see a balti covered in polythene and several chapatis tucked down the side of the bag. He lifted the polythene a little and said to himself "Just one taste", tearing off a piece of chapati and using it to scoop some of the delicious sauce off the edge of the dish.

No sooner had he rubbed the chapati along the side of the bowl when there was a sudden flash. A large, portly gentleman with a flowing beard stood before Inzamam. "Oh, thank you, thank you for releasing me."

Inzy blinked, the chapati poised delicately in front of his lips, the sauce beginning to ooze between his fingers. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am the Djinn of the Balti. I have been imprisoned therein by an evil left-handed Indian magician, none other than the vile Ganguly, prevented from fulfilling my quest."

Inzy looked dumbfounded. "Your quest?"

"Yes. My duty is to restore Pakistan to its former greatness (or at least better than India) and it is written that you shall be instrumental in that task. For this purpose, I am empowered to grant you three wishes."

The young Inzamam looked around. His chums were frozen in their play, a bouncer from Shoaib just about to brain the unfortunate batsman. "How do you do that, make time stand still?" he asked, taking another bite of his lunch.

"Oh, just a simple little trick." replied the Djinn, snapping his fingers and the wicked bouncer turned instantly into a juicy half-volley which the batsman cracked through the covers. Another snap and time stood still again.

"Can you make me into a better cricketer?" asked Inzy, finishing off the chicken and licking his fingers.

"Yes, that's the point. As I said, I will grant you three wishes. Use them wisely. For instance, I notice that your running and calling isn't all it should be. I could give you sound judgment if you like." suggested the Djinn.

"Three wishes? Could I just wish to become the greatest cricketer in the world?" enquired the lad.

"That would be very wise - and very appropriate, if I might say. It would undo the evil workings of Ganguly and still leave you two to go. All you have to do is start a sentence with the words I really wish."

"Perhaps, but not yet. As you say, I must choose wisely. My mum says that I always speak before I think. I really wish it was my turn to bat."

Just then, predictably, another half-volley from Shoaib was smashed straight back by the batsman - on to the head of the unfortunate non-striker. The ball ballooned high into the air and the bowler took the simple chance. One caught, one retired hurt, one wish gone.

"I won't be long." said Inzy, pulling on his batting gloves. "I mustn't get run out. I really w...". Just in time, he snapped his mouth shut and strolled out to the middle, carefully checking that his laces weren't tied together. Just for a change, he got stumped.

On his return, Inzamam said "I still have two wishes left, do I? That run out one doesn't count, right?"

"Yes, you still have two. Now think long and hard before you make your next selection."

"All right. I'm definitely going to use the 'best cricketer in the world' one for my last wish, but I'm still hungry. What have you got to offer in the line of food?"

"Oh, food is one of my specialities. I can produce, with just the sweep of my hand, a banquet fit for royalty with fine wines, succulent meats or even tofu if you are vegetarian, puddings to die for and cheeses from all around the world. Just say 'I really wish' and it shall be yours."

"I really wish...." said Inzy, thinking carefully, "I really wish for a magic pie - one which never ends. Flavour unspecified, when I close my eyes it will take on the flavour I desire at that particular moment. Later, it could have a different flavour - and it must always replenish itself whenever it is eaten."

The Djinn snapped his fingers once more and there, in Inzy's brown paper bag, lay a small pie with a delicate crust. Inzy closed his eyes and took a bite. "Mmmmm, Chicken and mushroom" he exclaimed, opening his eyes again. "Lovely and hot." A moment later he looked at the pie dish again and to his amazement, it contained a whole pie once more.

Inzy closed his eyes again and took another bite. "Mmmmmmmm, strawberries, papaya and pistachio ice-cream."

"Now, your final wish. Think carefully before you speak, because it can never be undone." warned the Djinn.

"All right. I really wish that I turn into the greatest cricketer the world has ever seen."

There was a loud bang and the Djinn disappeared. The boys on the cricket field rushed over to see what all the fuss was about. As the smoke cleared, one of them said "Hello. Where's Inzy? Who are you?"

"My name's Rikki Clarke. How did I get here?"

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Disclaimer

All characters portrayed in this column blah blah Rikki's spots blah blah Blackwell blah blah shares in a pork pie factory blah blah Shane, Inzy, Shoaib, Freddie, blah blah.

If we have given any other impression, sue Eddie Sanders we should like to apologise sincerely, humbly and through gritted teeth.





Posted by Eddie