a Pup, blind Bamfords, cheatin' Poms, and a Cancer

Fellow disappointees,

Everyone knows that MJ Clarke is a dreadful fidgeter at the crease, but some close up camera work from the Trent Bridge test match shows him up to have an even worse obsession with preening himself in the field as he gets older.
Spends his whole time in the slips, when the ball isn't in play, constantly rearraging himself; the hat, the sunnies, the shirt collar, the buttons and sleeves are endlessly adjusted as if you say "now, do, I look a million dollars, or what?"
Scratching his upper lip where his moustache would be if he had one when he's thinking hard about the state of the game is an interesting new affectation.
Hardly anything to fault in his captaincy, apart from a self-admitted dumb use of the dreaded DRS, especially trying to save his own bacon from being given out caught behind in the second innings.
Surely any batsman would know if he's tickled it through to the keeper; just ask that miserable turd Broad, he'll tell you.
In contrast, Pup's contribution with the bat was poor, by any estimation.
A finely-crafted six-ball duck before being bowled neck and crop in the first innings, and then failed to go on after a slow 23 in the second, just at the moment when a Captain's knock was required
For mine, his chronic dose of Shagger's Back restricts his footwork, so quite a lot of the time he finds himself neither back nor forward to the ball, and that's when yr asking for trouble.
Having judiciously sacked himself as a selector, Pup would've have no say in the inspired selection of the Agar Kiddie, who turned out to be a top bet for all the most unexpected reasons.
A Boof masterstroke, no doubt about it.
But surely 19 is far too young to be nominated as this week's National Hero for falling two runs short of a ton on debut at No.11.
Don't get me wrong, a top knock, without doubt - the kid can bat - and no-one has done it before in the history of the caper, but in the match situation consider it in the cold light of day.
The Childe Ashton made 112 for the match, and got carted for 2/106.
He was a busy man, to be sure, but it wasn't enough to win the match, and he has a lot to learn of course, especially when he's got a Pakistani reffo with the same act as him who they passed a special Act of Parliament for, to give him a saloon passage through to Citizenship to fast track him onto the tour, breathing down his neck.
A 1-0 lead in the five test series is absolutely priceless, especially as the Evil Englanders don't even have to win the series to retain the Ridiculous Little Urn.
No surprise that it emerged mid-week that JM Arthur reckons MJ Clarke called SR Watson "a cancer on the team".
Choice, well-chosen words, those.
At long last, FIGJAM has been found out for what he really is.
Clarkey might as well have added "you know the sort, the kind of slow-growing cancer that creeps up behind you when you are not looking, and then stabs you in the back without warning.".
After the utter utter nonsense that went on in India, Watson should've been sacked, punted, and drop-kicked out the back door without so much as a sausage.
Can't be the only one who lives for the day when the rank no-talent show pony is banished to the back paddock, never to be seen nor heard of again.
Never mind the hype surrounding Agar's heroics, and the gushing pumping up of the "brave effort" to bring the match to a cliffhanger, you have to wonder if the Strayans actually realise that they have been beaten by the Poms, that's right, beaten by the Poms.
Nothing worse in all of world sport.
Well...at least we can be consoled by the fact that Straya was, in the end, robbed blind by blind Bamford's and cheatin' Poms.

Boys v Men Mk II

Self-Flaggelators,

So, the Pygmies find themselves on the receiving end of a Masterclass, aka a 19-goal football lesson.
Suppose that's what you get when you ask a rabble of boys to play a team of tough-nutted fully-grown men.
Said ir before, say it again, there should be a law against it.
What does surprise tho', especially with The Great Sheeds running the show, is that the Pygs have failed to go on from their debut year, and have shown little or no improvement in their second year, and might have even gone backwards if the state of the Premiership ladder is anything to go by.
The Swans only won the West by five goals in the season pipe-opener.
Unlike the Suns, who got ahead little by little in year two, and are now a half-way competitive side in their third season (mind you they do have Son of God - who was recently touted as being even better than God - on their list).
The Pygmies roster needs a serious shake up, and there's talk they will trade the No.1 draft pick for a decent seasoned player to lead their backline, delist the no-hopers, and of course they are well cashed up and are prepared to pay millions for Buddy.
For the Swans, apart from percentage, there was nothing to be gained by it, and certainly nothing to be learnt.
Sydney have had tougher training runs than that.
Everyone just went about doing what they were expected to do, nothing more, nothing less, except Tippet.
Tipsy was worried out of taking marks by small children and mere slips-o'-things half his size who could do nothing more than tug on the man mountain's short pants.
Of the grabs he did take, he sprayed the kicks for goal far and wide to both sides of the big sticks.
Radar not working.
Obviously his contract would have a "must kick goals' clause in it, and he can point to three goals being a fair winning margin under normal circumstances, but in a 24 goal total, he should've scored a poultice off his own boot.
Can do better.
Perhaps the dire warnings from the Colonies that Tippet only plays one good game in five may come to pass.
Ironic to note that the player Adelaide wanted to trade him for - Jesse White - had a much better game than Tipsy, and Jesse was the substitute off the bench!
Birdy might have got one Brownlow vote to mark his 100th game.
The Canary would be among the most surprised that he's actually played a hundred games.
The sort of player who you never really notice; just gets the work done with the minimum of fuss or fanfare.
Should be more of them, as there's enough show ponies in the caper as it is.
The Swans were missing no less than nine players who appeared in last year's Grand Final, as they were injured, or pretending to be injured, so they could be "rested".
SC Horse, you'd imagine, would be spending a lot of time visiting Sick Bay to check on their progress, especially with The Great Goodes Train unlikely to be back on the paddock much before the finals.
The boss must be sick of the sight of surgical scars, crutches, bandages, tourniquets, and high-performance hypodermic needles.
It's all part and parcel of the modern game, apparently.

SYDNEY: 3.8, 10.10, 15.19, 24.27 (171). Goals: White 3, Tippett 3, Pyke 3, Mitchell 3, McGlynn 2, Bird 2, Kennedy 2, Rampe, Bolton, Parker, Malceski, O’Keefe, Mumford.
GREATER WESTERN SYDNEY: 1.3, 3.7, 3.9, 5.12 (42). Goals: Cameron 3, D.Smith, Darley.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 21,757.

So, The Great Benji Marshall wants to walk out on Balmain, asking to be released from the last two years of his contract after reportedly knocking back a $1.5M contract extention and upgrade, to go and play rugby union back in his motherland, where money is no object.
It could just be an ambit claim to try to squeeze more filthy lucre out of Leichhardt, or maybe he really is looking for a very fat retirement pension on the union fields of the Land of The Long White Cloud.
Who knows?
Most loyal Tigers fans would be saying "Bugger you, son. A contract is a contract is a contract - see you in court".
The only problem is Benj apparently has a complicated get-out clause in his current contract related to future salary cap increases, that leaves the door ajar.
However, do find myself tending to subscribe to the minority school of thought - i.e. that Marshall's getting on, his best playing days are behind him, he'll be even more injury prone as he gets older, he doesn't like the new coach much; so, thank him for his loyal service, let him go, and use the not inconsiderable pile of cash to rebuild the club from the ground up, without him.
But that's a dead-set heresy among most of the faithful.
With this season well gorn, it will take a few years.
Generational change is not only possible, but inevitable, so why not start now, before it's too late?
Stark pragmatism would tell you that's the only way that they'll come close to jagging another Premiership within the next decade or so.
You know it makes sense.

WESTS TIGERS: State-of-Origin bye.