Australian monkeys...

I can say this as a 'person of darker skin' - this racism thing is getting out of hand.

Last week, Harbhajan Singh, an Indian bowler, called Andrew Symonds a monkey: a 'bandhar', if you want the Urdu/Hindi/Punjabi. Ricky Ponting immediately reported the alleged offence, claiming it was 'racist', to the umpire, earning Bhajji a three game suspension.

Later, Ricky called it 'a little thing' - then why the f*** report it, dear? Australia complaining about another team's sledging is a bit like a politician complaining about someone else avoiding responsibility.

Tim de Lisle's article on cricinfo was brilliant, and I'll be quoting from it quite a bit:

...something about the Harbhajan Singh affair doesn't feel right.

In fact, three things don't. First, it takes two to tangle. Andrew Symonds is a well-known sledger, as is Harbhajan. Mike Procter is asking us to believe that one party was severely at fault while the other was not at fault at all, and that doesn't ring true.

The second problem is that Procter listened to eight hours of evidence and then swallowed Ricky Ponting's view of things whole. Ponting is a sledger too, and he and Harbhajan have been needling each other on and off for nearly seven years. Ponting has often got out cheaply to Harbhajan: if anyone were to call him Bhajji's bunny, it would be harsh, and cheap, but fair.

Hmmm. Anybody smell something rotten in Sydney...perhaps the fact that Ricky wanted Bhajji out of the way?

The accusation? Racism. Ok, in Western countries, calling someone a monkey (outside of a child climbing like one or prefacing it with 'cheeky') is a bit dodgy. But on the subcontinent, 'bandhar' gets thrown around all the time - monkeys are seen as intelligent, lively, sly, clever, scheming. It's a step down from the other names you could call someone and often has an affectionate tone to it, though I doubt that was the case here - if it was actually said. To quote Mr de Lisle again:

His job as a match referee requires him to decide whether Harbhajan called Symonds a monkey, and if so, what he meant by it.Procter had to look at the remark through the lens of racism, but he might equally well have peered through the lens of speciesism. Bringing monkeys into a sportsmen's spat is demeaning to monkeys.

Amen to that. What really makes one feel like you've stepped into a Salvador Dali painting here is the fact that if Harbhajan had called Symonds a c**t, nobody would have batted an eyelid. In addition to that, this incident is being looked at through a Western lens - someone needed to consider the cultural context in which the word 'monkey' was said.

And yes, you read that right: it isn't even clear that Harbhajan SAID anything. It wasn't picked up on video or by the stump mikes - the latter being a bit odd, considering he was in his crease. The fact that Procter had to listen to EIGHT HOURS of evidence is indicative that there was serious doubt in the matter. Sachin Tendulkar, known as one of the gentlemen of the game, vouched for Harbhajan. This is a man who would walk from the crease if he were on 99 and knew he'd edged it, before the umpire raised his finger. I have no doubt that if he felt that Bhajji had been wrong, he'd have stepped up and said so.

Now, India's not completely in the right here - God knows the subcontinental teams appeal excessively, are overly dramatic, and are so manipulative they put a chiropractor to shame. That means they have very little goodwill on tap when things go wrong. They need to learn to shut up and play the game.

But I'm still disturbed by this part of the report:

Procter handed out a three-match ban to Harbhajan Singh, saying he was sure "beyond reasonable doubt" that a racist taunt had been directed at Andrew Symonds, but the Indians have claimed the document was extremely flimsy. The bit that has especially offended them is a line in the document which says, "I believe that one group was telling the truth". The players felt Procter had alleged they were lying and they didn't think there was any fairness to the verdict.

Mike, let's have a chat. No video, no stump mike, no tape that is incontrovertible proof - you're not sure of anything, mate. And for you to state "I believe that one group was telling the truth" is tactless at best and deliberately inflammatory at worst. But there's one more thing you need to consider (with deepest apologies to my Saffa mates - do comment, please):

You're a 61 year old white, South African male, who grew up invested in apartheid. Of the mostly white Australian team, known to be extremely provocative sledgers, you said, "I believe [they were] telling the truth," essentially accusing the non-white team of lying. As far as we know, you have no external evidence (which should have made this a 20 minute job), you showed no awareness (nor willingness to become aware) of cultural context, and you didn't even consider that both teams might have gotten it a bit wrong.

Where do you think the next charges of racism are going to be levelled? I know it crossed *my* mind.

But enough is enough. Let's put an end to this - let's bring back the behaviour for which the phrase 'that's not cricket' means something: fielders admitting they didn't take a clean catch, batsmen walking when they know they're out and silence on the field. Let their playing do the talking. Over to Mr de Lisle one last time:

Sledging has been rife for years, and it stinks. It's a sad, feeble way to try and take a wicket. Bowlers should use the ball, and their talent: that's what they're for. Batsmen who answer in kind, like Kevin Pietersen, who allegedly yelled "Fetch it!" at Symonds last year to give the impression that he was a specialist fielder, are little better.

It's sometimes said that fans wouldn't enjoy watching a game conducted largely in silence. But the outpouring of emotion on all sides this week - including an impressive number of two-eyed Australia fans - shows that the cricket-loving public are deeply disgruntled as it is. And silence is no problem at all. Curtly Ambrose didn't sledge, and people loved watching him.

Talking is the commentators' job. And the fans'. And the captains' - as long as they are addressing their own side, or the umpires, or the media, and not saying anything as crass as Ponting's claim that this row was "one little incident". If it was so little, why did he report it to the umpires, and set the ball rolling towards turning the incident into a diplomatic one?

Twelve years ago, a great Australian cricketer was asked for his views on sledging. "If a fellow attempted it under me," the old fellow replied, "I would have given him one warning and, if he repeated it, I would have made sure he was not selected again." That was Sir Don Bradman, speaking at the age of 87. Bradman wasn't always right, but he certainly was on that occasion. Sledging demeans everyone who practises it. It sours the game.

He's right. You don't look like professional sportsmen fighting a hard game, you look like insecure boys on the playground. Sledging made the accomplishments of Shane Warne, one of the greatest bowlers the game had ever seen, less than they were. One will always wonder if he could have done as well with his mouth shut, just showing us what he was capable of.

Hang your heads in shame, Australia - you've brought dishonour on your uniforms, your flag and your fans. You're renowned for fighting hard, but fair, and winning through your grit and ability.

I'll end this with words repeated on my blog over and over again: actions, not words, matter. Show us the poetry of the game - we don't want to hear it.

Now *that* would be cricket.

And dead sexy, to boot.

A cricket fanfare for the common man

Well, it's been a while since the last cricket blog...the Ashes were so traumatic, I couldn't talk about England v Australia till last week, when we beat them in an ODI (one day international), after a start to the triangular tournament (3 teams, 3 matches twixt each [3 possible] team combination, best of 3 final - very trinitarian) that was reminiscent of the first day slaughter at the Gabbatoir. We lost to Australia twice, beat New Zealand once, then lost to them once - badly enough so the Kiwis got a bonus point. It looked like the boys would be home early to rest up for the World Cup next month. Then I stepped into a Salvador Dali painting...

First, we beat Australia. By enough to get the bonus point. Australia took it out on the Kiwis. THEN we beat the Kiwis by 14 runs. And we were in the final after having been in last place the entire tournament. We've just won the first game of the best-of-three final - against the best team in the world. Most of that is due to the superb fielding and smart batting of the man in the England shirt in the bottom picture: Paul Collingwood.

As Rach said in one of her blog entries, Colly makes being ginger sexy. Leaving aside his playing, there's a warmth, openness and intelligence to his face that makes him very attractive. He is a brilliant fielder (probably the best in the world), a decent bowler and a good batsman. Never flamboyant like KP and Flintoff, he constructs his innings using his strengths - singles and twos gained by intelligent choices - where to place the ball and when to run between the stumps. Performances like this win matches and "Man of the Match" awards. Colly is an excellent role model for the world today: he proves that humility, teamwork, hard work, going all out and playing to your strengths rather than trying to be someone else, is how big things happen. Substance, not style, is what counts.

Add to that his happy, easy temperament - aside from the occasional flare and unwise sledging - and you've got a definite dish.

Now, I've always liked Colly. But in the last few weeks, an Aussie (quelle horreur!) has been sneaking up the list of favourites. Even more embarrassingly, it's an Aussie I took the piss out of by using rhyming words (his own lyrics, mind you, so fair enough) like Indy, Hindi and bindi. Desperately wanting to unearth a Crocodile Dundee caricature, I looked him up...and my heart melted.

Brett Lee is a peroxide blond Aussie, true. He was the second option for man of the match yesterday, taking 3 wickets for 41. He has a ready smile, and if he *ever* hits a batsman with one of his 95 mph balls, he's the first one over to put a hand on their shoulder. Like Colly, he's a hard worker with a sunny disposition and a ready, open smile. Unlike Colly, he's at home in a tailored suit. When he's not playing cricket, he can be found working at Barclays Menswear pinning suits to customers and promoting his own clothing line. He fell into "gentlemen's outfitting" six months after getting his CA jacket fitted at Barclays, when the owner rang him up out of the blue and offered him a job. On his first day, he was cornered by a haranguing, fussy businessman who wanted a single-breasted suit with a notch lapel. Lee was flabbergasted; happy sadist that I am, I cried with laughter reading about it.

Lee had the sense to admit he didn't know and called his boss over. His boss, grinning broadly, introduced Lee to his best friend. Brett had been well and truly stitched up. In his words from 13 November's "Australian":

"I love [the menswear business]. I think if someone gives you an opportunity in life you should always stick with them, and I made myself a promise that I would stick by Richie the whole way. He didn't teach me only about suits, he taught me about life and how to deal with people.

"It's just a great reality check. I remember after the South African Test series I flew in at 11.30pm on a Sunday night and on Monday morning at 9am I was in there working. And after about an hour this South African came in and starts looking at me. 'Weren't you bowling last night (Saturday) in Jo'burg?' he says.

"I said, 'yeah mate, but it's back to the real world now.'

"But he couldn't believe it. 'Don't you need a rest?' he asks.

"I said 'no, this is what I like to do. It gets my mind away from cricket and puts some balance in my life'.

"I was talking to him in Afrikaans. He said, 'I can't believe this', but that gave me another edge to make the sale. I love the challenge of making a sale and look at a customer in much the same way as I look at a batsman when I'm preparing to bowl. You study him walking through the door, size him up and work on his weakness and try to take his wicket and make the sale."

Love him - not only for the sense of balance, genuine sweetness, humour and cheekiness that emanate from him, but also because he understands, in the words of ZZ Top:

Clean shirt, new shoes - and I don't know where I am goin' to.
Silk suit, black tie: I don't need a reason why.
They come runnin' just as fast as they can:
Cos every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man.

Spot on, Brett. Give us a bloke with a heart of gold in a sharp suit, and even tough
girls like me melt like ice cream on a summer day in Lahore. Substance over style,
every time, but substance AND style, well... With a Timex deal (Gold watch, diamond
ring, I ain't missing a single thing), the accessories are sorted(see picture above Colly).

Cufflinks, stick pin: when I step out, I'm gonna do you in. 

You already have. We'll all come running just as fast as we can...

Cos every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man.

*Exclusive* Bollywood shame

Aurora australis...

Congratulations to Australia on their well-deserved Ashes whitewash - we played poorly for the most part with the odd purple patch - but Australia played consistently superb cricket, with the self-confidence and sheer joy in the game that meant you had to smile, even as they were qiqqing your qarse. They played like a *team* who took real pride and pleasure in their own and eachother's achievements and who knew how to work as a well-oiled unit, not like eleven individuals each playing to his own drummer, no matter what the team needed. However well we played, the Aussies were playing for the team and their country as well as themselves, so they were always going to raise the game that extra notch. Hats off to you, boys, even if they aren't baggy greens!

Their 20/20 performance today was testament to that love of the game - not only did they play this 'kickaround', as Mark called it, as if it were the world championship, they played it with the intensity and cheek of kids on a playground - their shirts all had their nicknames on the back - Punter, Church, Huss (I agree with the folks who think Hussey's nickname ought to be 'Brazen') but they still went out there and knocked a record 15 sixes and 221 runs off of 120 balls...all for a 'kickaround'.

In doing that, they gave us a few lessons about how to live our lives - like we're playing the world championship, but with all the love and joy of kids on the playground. Match practice makes you match fit. Play every match to the best of your ability - even the kickarounds - and the series will take care of themselves. Never give up hope, no matter how unwinnable the match appears to be. Know when to take risks and when to bide your time. To have a swing, you have to stay at the crease. Take every opportunity, no matter how small, and the big ones will follow. Remember that it's a team effort: stop to nurture and applaud others along the way, and when something needs doing, work as a unit.

And don't forget to enjoy eachother and have a few beers when you get a chance - because friendship, joy and love is what it's really all about.