Well begun is half done.

The fine features of the Hyro building in Hobart.

Sunday Top ~~Five~~ Eleven!

Today's list is in celebration of Tasmania's epic run chase to defeat Western Australia on Friday, which saw rookie wicketkeeper Brady Jones snare two fours off the last two balls of a four day game, with no wickets to spare. It is only fitting then that today I offer up my Top ~~Five~~ Eleven Favourite Tasmanian Tigers!

I've tried to keep a balanced squad, but top be honest, my distaste for the two most famous Tasmanian cricketers - Ricky Ponting and David Boon - has seen me pass them over at the selection table. Similarly, two imports - Michael Beven and Shane Watson - have also been overlooked because, well, I've never liked 'em. Thus, the side is not the strongest batting lineup ever seen. That said, if we have a green top and a bit of cloud in the sky, I'd wager that my pace attack would keep any scores very low.

McCracken's Tasmanian Tigers All-Time Squad

Jamie Cox: Wynyard's finest, Cox should have played for Australia, but as always, selectors couldn't or wouldn't look beyond Queensland or NSW.

Dene Hills: Wynyard's second finest, Hills was spoken of as a relacement for Geoff Marsh way back when. Never got the nod, unfortunately.

Scott Mason: a real trier and great team man. Died far too young.

Dirk Wellham (C): most fondly remembered down in the Apple Isle for the time that he hit that annoying intellectually disabled Carlton fan (is their any other kind?) "Barb" in the face with his bat, Dirk was a real bastard. Just what a captain needs to be!

Danny Buckingham: as wide as he was tall, the Burnie boy had a feast for runs only matched for his love of meat pies.

Sean Clingeleffer: I'm saddened that Clinger is now a past Tiger, but heartened that it was his performance in the victorious Shield final that really saw us home!

Richard Hadlee: the first of our one year international ringers, Hadlee strengthens the batting lineup, and also chips in as one of the greatest bowlers to ever play the game...

Dennis Lillee: speaking of which... Lillee played a season down here as part of his surprise comeback to the game. He was picked as the only bowler in Wisdon's five greatest cricketers in the twentieth century.

Michael Holding: Whispering Death was Holding's nickname. Ask Geoff Boycott whether he could bowl.

Colin Miller: I've picked funky Miller more for his first rate off spin, rather than his handy seamers of lusty lower order hitting. He brings a bit of balance to the attack, and the presence of four other quicks means that he can concentrate on the offies. Note, he will be wearing the green hair for this game.

Ben Hilfenhaus: Another product of Tasmanian's north west coast (the source of our finest men), the Hilfenstud is Tassie's most recent (and sixth, in total) test cricketer. He'll work well in tandem with Hadlee and can be the workhorse of the crew.

[At twelth Man: Brett Geeves: Banger Geeves is my favourite non-Hilfenstud Tiger. Very handy with the bat, and a legitimate chance at a test cap. Watch this space.]

My apologies to Bruce Cruse, Mick Farrell, Alistair DeWinter and a host of other hopeless cases from the barren years of bottom placings on the Shield laddder...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

This will hurt me...

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