The real tragedy of the poor is the poverty of their aspirations.

Have you checked your manhole today? Long Beach Walkway, Sandy Bay. January 2012.

Last week's Top Five involved the bowling line-up of players that I've seen play, so I figure this week's top ~~five~~six should finish the task. Thus, The Top ~~Five~~Six Batsmen I've Seen Play Cricket To Be In My Side I Was Picking A Squad To Play A Test Against A Team Of Robots Programmed To Play Cricket Really Very Well! [In Batting Order.]

[Note: this team will be playing to the rules of the mid-1980s, so we're allowed plenty of bouncers. Also, the curator has been told to prepare a tasty wicket, so no flat track rubbish that you see nine out of ten in modern tests...]

C.G. Greenidge

S.M. Gavaskar

S.R. Tendulkar

I.V.A. Richards

S.R. Waugh (*)

A.C. Gilchrist (wk)

This team is rounded out by Imran Khan, Richard Hadlee, Shane Warne, Malcolm Marshall and Curtley Ambrose.

Should be tough to beat on all tracks I reckon.

Just missing the cut were Brian Lara, Mohammad Yousuf, Javed Miandad, Rauol Dravid, Clive Lloyd, Martin Crowe, Saeed Anwar, pRicky Ponting, Matthew Hayden, Damien Martyn, Desmond Haynes with a nod to personal favourites Larry Gomes, Jimmy Adams and Jeremy Coney.

Keepers under consideration included Ian Healy, Jeff Dujon, Andy Flower, Jack Russell and Richard Soule.

Comments

smudgeon said…

I made a pizza for Richard Soule about 10 years ago! Whatever happened to that guy?

15 January 2012 at 09:33

Roddy said…

I thought at first that this was a sun fish that had washed up.
I can't see this washing away.

16 January 2012 at 20:52

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. ...

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...

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

This will hurt me...

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