This will hurt me...

Have you ever tried a torpedo punt while holding a chocolate scone? Ezra does not recommend it.

A prayer to the cricket gods...

Heading out to bat...

Eyes on the ball Hen. Keep it simple, soft hands and your eyes on the ball...

Run Henry, RUN! Anzac Park, Lindisfarne. December 2012. As you know, the Internet is a wonderful place filled with the rich and varied treasures of the world holds (and dogs dressed as Father Christmas.) The following are some things that I've had a look at in the last week. I call this: a Compendium of Click-throughs for Monday Morning... For hundreds of years, Hell has been the most fearful place in the human imagination. It is also the most absurd... xkcd nails the Instagram furore... This flat out amazes me. Jerry Seinfeld Intends to Die Standing Up. Ezra's favourite link of the week. A time to stop giving? United Noshes is a project to cook one feast from every UN member . Yum. 8 Nostalgia - it's not like it used to be. 20 Astounding Gun Ads . Ahem.

How about that for a state of the art grandstand?

We might not be able to make a cricketer out of him, but by golly he will be a fine wood-cutter!

The big men fly fall over, OR, " CARN THE SHIPS! " Geilston Bay, July 2010. In the rugged Tasmanian winter, every weekend is footy weekend . Those of you who take note of such things will have already processed the news that the next AFL team - to be located on the sinful Queensland Gold Coast - have adopted the moniker of the "Suns". The Gold Coast Dubious Property Speculators The Gold Coast Nikhedonia The Gold Coast Royal Commissions The Gold Coast Bjelke-Petersens The Gold Coast Discombobulation

After seeing Australia's decidedly dodgy World Cup performances, the lads have decided to offer there services to the National team when they get back from Mawson's Hut. By that point, Soccer Football Soccer Australia may have even arranged some nets... Also, for the record, Ezra was born TWO WHOLE YEARS ago today, about 75 minutes after this post goes live. Happy Birthday Ezra!

Anyone for tennis? Geilston Bay Tennis Club, April 2010 . I'm no good at tennis. More Roger Frugardi (Medieval knife wielder ) than Roger Federer, I'm prone to the fumbling faux par on the double handed backspin. It's a shame really, as I have the legs to carry those little skirts very nicely...

Again a shot of Bellerive Oval, the home of the mighty Tasmanian Tigers cricket team! The stand there you can see there is the excitingly-monikered Southern Stand, which I am campaigning to have renamed the Danny Buckingham Stand after the rotund big hitter from Burnie who would have played a hundred Tests if he was born in Wagga Wagga. I'll let you know how that pans out... On other matters, like the Tigers, I am breaking records left , right and centre . This post represents number sixteen hundred for this blog. Remarkably, every single one of them has been brilliant !

They say that Test Cricket is the sternest test of a man's character (the inherent weakness in a woman's character appears to preclude them from being tested in a real Test). Thus, every evening I get Henry and Ez out into our makeshift nets and hurtle cricket balls at them for hours on end. You might be wondering where the pads, gloves and helmets are. Well, I regards pads, gloves and helmets as a sign of weakness of character . A bit of chewing gum, a moustache and a cheeky grin is all a REAL MAN needs...

It's springtime in Tasmania and that means football season is over (with Henry triumphant in our tipping competition, beating me out by a solitary point) and the air is filled with the sound of leather on willow, and the gentle sounds of one team attempting to mentally disintegrate the babyfaced opening batsman debuting for the opposition. Ahhh, the glorious contrasts of cricket! At once full of a confident history of gentleman and sportsmanship, yet a very same history full of hatred, violence, greed and corruption! Ahhh cricket, this is why we love you so. Getting into the spirit of the game, Henry spent a bit of time after playgroup chipping in his thoughts. He chastised the fat bloke at silly mid on because he was fat and his creams were whites and congratulated the deep backward square for his innovative incorporation of Alicia Keys lyrics into his sledging routine. It's the beauty of cricket you see, often it's what happens when nothing is happening that really ente...

An Olympic (kind of) themed post today. I took this photograph just a couple of hours ago. Behind the play group building that Henry and I frequent, there sits a few of the illustrious Geilston Bay Tennis Club's outer courts. We can often see the future Rod Lavers, John Newcombes and Richard Frombergs honing their skills pop pop popping away back and forth in the blazing Tasmanian sun. Given the magnificent physical specimens that the boys are, Henry, Ezra, Jennifer and I have discussed whether or not we should invest in racquets and balls as an investment to pumping out our very own version of the Williams sisters. The lads' maternal grandfather is a keen grass court ace, who (if fortunes went another way), could have been a contender to Laver's crown. Unfortunately, fate would see him choose mechanics over the world tour and Wimbledon would have to wait. Tennis is a hard slog, and although the rewards are great, the attrition rate is greater. Broadly, I am not so sure as...

Who knew? I would never in a million years have guessed that a side effect of the shadowy US government conspiracy to rid the world of Africans/gays/drug addicts/ghettos would be a better chance of hitting the fairway. [A cheap laugh, don't act surprised that I am not above it!]

After play group, Henry and I meandered back home, stopping for a while to watch the reserves turn out at the Henry Fitzgerald McCracken Football and Cricket Arena . Despite the lack of wind, the full forward for the visiting team seemed to be having a rough day of it. He kicked four straight points in the period of our watching. His own coach was rubbishing him by the time we left. Some days are diamonds, some days are stones. I think that's what the coach meant by shouting to his rover, "why are you kicking it to that f$%&wit? You must have f#%&@$g rocks in your head!"

In the world of art, there is a concept known as “so bad that it is good”. Some examples include Ed Wood’s Plan Nine From Outer Space ; Swayze’s Road House ; Schwarzenegger's Commando ; the occasional entrant in The Eurovision Song Contest ; McGonagall’s The Tay Bridge Disaster . I will be honest with you and say that don’t feel that any of today’s logos qualify. In fact, I feel that more likely they belong in the far broader category of “so bad that it is horrible” class. So, lest my rambling on gets in the way of my rambling on, I offer to you this week’s category! EPISODE THREE: DUD LOGOS These two featured just two weeks ago, but I really could not pass them over. If we are talking bad art, it just isn't possible to overlook the Hamilton Tigers 1921 effort that fused the tiger and the Elephant Man (on the left). Rendering what is arguably the most majestic and fine-looking creature in the world as a malformed and miserable mutant takes some beating, and ...

Today I present to you the second instalment of Sports Logos Worthy of Ridicule or Admiration . Last week we dealt with Tigers, and I found fertile ground for derision and approval. This week though, we lean a little more heavily towards the ridicule. Given the topic, it could not be avoided. So, without further ado, this week’s topic! EPISODE TWO: ANIMALS IN SWEATERS It appears to be a noted feature of the US collegiate system that animals are often best presented in nifty sweaters with embroidered logos. I would like to think that today’s collection proves otherwise. Here we have the archetype: the poshly-named college jock from sunny Florida. The Florida Gators logo seen here was in use for most of the 1990s. It shows Albert E. Gator, who – judging by appearances – is a constipated former Marine drill sergeant positively radiating a passive/aggressive tendency. I personally think that Albert looks a bit of a nob, but not everybody thinks would agree. In June 2007, Sports Illustrate...

A brand spanking new concept today, in the vein of some of my other ongoing and broken down ideas, it will no doubt have some legs. I have over the past few months amassed a large number of logos of various sports teams from every area of competition. The majority are North American (as is often the nature of the online world), but I am always on the lookout for more (that is an open invitation to point me in the direction of where I might find them). My problem has been that I have so many now, but did not really have an idea of how to present them to the world. So, I have decided to run with themes. So this week, for the inaugural Sports logos worthy of ridicule or admiration (or both) , I have decided to run with Tigers . EPISODE ONE: T I G E R S As the mascot of a sports team, the tiger can rarely be beaten. In real life they are a powerful and majestic beast, with a pretty cool set of colours that you can swipe straight off the shelf. Let’s face it; tigers are maybe the most re...

Kingston, Jamaica. Australia looked in the box seat but have had a little collapse late on to be four wickets down for just 17 runs. They still lead by 136 runs, but the four guys out are all batsmen, including Hussey and Ponting. Now, I'm not one of these guys who has jumped on the "I hate Australia because they are so arrogant" bandwagon. However, I want the Windies to win. I have decided to run through today's team to try and figure out what the reason may be. Jaques: Can't even spell his own name correctly. New South Welshman, which means he has had a 'smooth selection' into test cricket. Looks unfit, and he's a rubbish fielder. Let's just say I haven't warmed to him... Katich: How many chances does one bloke get? And isn't it funny that it has taken a move to New South Wales to get all of these chances? Ponting: He is originally from Tassie, but has lived in New South Wales for years now. Consider that a black mark against his name. Hu...