(The Original)

Amateur Scribe

Athers' Diary '07 (continued)

January 5th

How the mighty have fallen. 16 months after all that national pride and exhilaration as the apex of a cricketing lifetime was so gloriously realised, it has all come crashing down. That’s right – I didn’t get to do the presentation. Channel 9 got in there first by dint of being local and there was I, the broadcasting colossus of the Oval, reduced to vox-popping drunk Aussie fans while my new colleagues wittered on up in the studio. The only interview of any note I did was with Kevin boody Pietersen, the narcissistic arsehole, and even that was a waste of time because they cut to an ad-break half way through. By the time they came back to me, KP had wandered off and was chatting up some bird out of Home and Away.

At the end of it all Beefy and Gower adjourned to the Aussie dressing room for a right royal piss up. Inevitably Nass and I weren’t extended the same invitation. Might have something to do with that time I called Michael Clarke an unrefined guttersnipe in the commentary, or the moment I suggested during the coin toss that Ponting and Flintoff were to international cricket captaincy as Jade Goody was to the aristocracy. I stand by that last comment though – you wouldn’t have caught Don Bradman getting involved in bar brawls or Mike Brearley slouching on the dressing room balcony in a wife-beating vest, designer stubble and a tattoo of the three lions on his bicep.

Yep – the game’s changed alright. I’m pretty disillusioned right now. There was a time when cricket commentary was the last bastion of objective thought – Now it’s all cliquey back-slapping, barbeques and, in Test Match Special’s case, debauched lap-dancing parties in strip joints with supermodels and mountains of Charlie. Nope, I’m definitely quitting this time – I can’t take it any more. Anyway – I must go – I’ve got an interview with a lovely chap from the Mail on Sunday tonight – Says he wants to come to my room to do it and get to know the “real me” whatever that means. Kept mentioning how he was going to bring a nice bottle of wine, order some room service and really try and get me to open up – “A candid picture of my most private thoughts” was how he pitched it to me. Asked me if I’d been keeping some kind of journal over the last few days too. Weird.

January 07

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  1. disappointment is never spared from the flow of life .. be patient..

    (Posted on 2014-08-23 09:33:00 by toko bunga di)

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