13 October 2010

Hello birds, hello sky, hello George

When it’s a warm afternoon and Haurie and Mitchell are at the crease but not on the free-to-air, there is nothing for it but to tuck the laptop under the arm and hasten to the pub to watch the cricket while pretending to work.


The main action when I sat down seemed to be lots of slow-mo replays of verbal exchanges between Sreensanth and Haurie. On Survivor, people are always talking to each other while trying to look like they’re not talking to each other – the more earnest the message the more casual and offhand the delivery, and it looked like that.

Then there was Harbhajan being pathetic in the field and suddenly Mitchell gawn, bowled. It was a worry because according to the board, once Hilfenhaus replaces Mitchell, the only person left is someone called “George”, and because I am very late to the program this just sounds to me like the team bag-carrier or someone they’ve rung in so hurriedly they only got a first name. He comes out after not too long and looks a very newly-hatched chick indeed. Incredibly fine, white, smooth skin for one thing – that can’t last for long, surely. Unless, when the rest of the team heads for the ice bath, he perhaps runs a tub of ass’s milk? Sprinkled with a few rose petals? Hee hee.
George: Mate, you’ve got to try it. Combined with the petals of the [insert name of rose, eg. "Charm of Paris", "Samantha", "Carefree Wonder"], you would not believe what it does for the complexion.

Other Member of the Australian Cricket Team: Ah…

George: It’s like silk, mate, like silk – go on, feel it…

OMACT: [strangled pause] Yeah, I’m not going to feel it, mate. Piss off.
I may just like George. We’ll see. Seeing him bowl later on he looked not just young but from a whole other era - gangly in an almost underfed way, unfortunate ears, like an Anzac.

5 mins to beer o’clock and I get my first sight of Katich of the season, unless you count his revelation as Mr October in the Men of Cricket calendar a few days ago, and that was a good moment too. Australia’s not in the best position, but it’s so cheering to see everyone again: "Hello birds, hello sky, hello Hussey, your jawbone is looking squarer than ever, ah, Watto, we meet again, I thought of another nickname for you over winter. It's Shane “Who Asked You?” Watson. Mind I don’t have to use it."