At the end of a week in East Timor found myself in Dili for the opening day of the Brisbane test match, but managed to drift across to loll about in an eclipsing sun in Port Douglas just as MJ Clarke set about making his double ton at the old dog track.
The kiddie can play.
Never looked like getting out.
His straight hitting, as always, was superlative, and of course there were more than a few cracking text book cover drives and square cuts where the ball made the boundary in the blink of an eye, but his strokes to leg is where he is a cut above the rest.
There are very few world class batsmen who have ever had such a complete command of leg-side play as Pup does.
Never mind that he saved the match from a precarious position, with a bit of help from Mr Cricket, after the top order proved to be miserable failures.
So, now, will there be any fookin' respect from the Australian general public?
Three double hundreds, including a triple, and a thousand runs in the calendar year, even though he only played in seven test matches, might just deserve some grudging admiration from the riff raff?
Never mind that he's turned out to be a better captain than most would have dreamt of and now lives the life of a thoroughly decent chap, does the bloke with the second most important job in Straya get any credit where credit is due?
Fuck my brown dog, Harold.
Seem to recall that Clarkey doesn't mind a hit at Adelbrain Oval, having watched him a few times at the crease there, from the now extinct, demolished Col Egar Bar, so, bring on some more.
Now it's time for him to really sink the slipper into the kaffir kickers.
