Canine Fanciers,
Looks like it's all lovey-dovey hoochie-coochie in the Clarke household at the minute.
Mrs MJ Clarke has been selling her "fabulous abs, so soon after giving birth" [that must be the blissful, beautiful, peaceful, painless birth she had - can't see Kyly as a screamer] to the magazines - again - just in time for the Mothers Day weekend issues.
How does she do it? - fit in her 5:45am workouts around the new baby, writing books, eating lettuce leaves etc, and then there's her "busy career" to cope with [not entirely sure, but the career seems to be just being Mrs MJ Clarke].
No need to punch no timeclocks, no siree, no time for it.
Disappointed that there was mention in the mags of how the book sales are going, or how many nappies Michael has been changing.
Nannies?
Not a word.
In the meantime - Pup may have found his niche - at last.
It's probably fair to say that he's now finally given up on any thoughts of a return to cricket; how can you beat being the best batsman of his generation, now that a year in retirement is beginning to loom up?
Haven't heard any news about any progress in a proposed short term stint in County Cricket now that the English soccer season is all but over [it's just too hard and too demeaning for a man of his giant stature, anyway], and there hasn't been any well attended press conferences to announce a contract signing with any Sydney T20 team for next summer's Big Bash hit 'n' giggle.
Might as well rest on your not insignificant laurels in the Pantheon.
And move on.
His new niche?
Motivational speaking!
Why hadn't he thought of that before?
He's always had a way with words and forthright opinions, just ask Simon Katich.
Seems Pup has been booked to knockout out a keynote address, along with Million Dollar Listing New York star Fredrik Eklund, and internet entrepreneur Daniel Petre, [never heard of either of them], and 35 other speakers for the three and a half thousand real estate agents who are expected to show up for the Australasian Real Estate Conference on the Gold Coast, starting May 22.
What a gig, and what a coup for the organisers.
MJ Clarke giving life advice to real estate agents, empowering them to sell, sell, sell, win, win, win!
And Pup could tell them a thing or two about the wonderful wide world of property.
Like, how not to buy a farm on the Southern Highlands and build a cricket oval on it, only to find that you rather quickly get sick of it and all the expensive maintenance involved; and it's still on the market after two years.
Not exactly a marketer's dream.
But let's forget all about that, all he needs to tell them is that location, location, location, now means anywhere in Sydney, Sydney, Sydney - the more waterfront the better - get the bank and the goverment to buy it for you, don't live in it, don't rent it out, just negative gear it to fuck, sell at a mighty profit, and Bob's your uncle!
How can you lose?
Everybody's doing it!
Millionaires as far as the eye can see!
Just look at me!
Absolutely perfect, just like my wife's abdomen! [cue laugh machine].
It just seems all so natural.
The Swans continue to carry all before them, and why not?
Even the Melbourne commentariat are starting to say Sydney are unbeatable on their day - doh.
But they'll be the first to tell you they said that last year, and the year before that, and the year...blah, blah blah.
However, with a backline that can sit on the football par excellence and close down a game with the snap of a Giant Clam, a sensational running midfield with limitless talent, forwards to burn, a surpise but effective dude in the ruck, and a mix of yoof and experience like no other team.
And the Swans have got a dead-set legend marquee player who can kick goals from anywhere between 75 metres and six inches out at any angle you want.
Buddy knows the scoreboard doesn't lie, and neither do the numbers in the contract papers.
With a surfeit of forwards, Super Coach Horse pulled off a masterstroke of genius putting Tipsy in the ruck.
My Spy at The Ground in the Colonies says when Tippet was turning out for Adelaide, he had one good game in four - now he's having a pretty good game almost every week.
A revelation.
Pleasing to see the Heeney Kiddie from Cardiff play his second year in senior football like he's been doing it for a decade.
The Club Secretary would be working overtime to stitch him up to a very long term deal, given that he has "superstar" written all over him.
Then there's the first year newbies in "Pearl", "Saw" and "Pest" - they're on fire, and getting games, week in, week out.
And that's not even mentioning third year players like the Hanneberry Kiddie, who's having a blinder.
Even veterans like Reg Grundy of Norwood, with 188 games under his belt at the only senior club he's ever played for, are not dead yet.
And a Captain from a rugby league background with an attitude to match [although not quite as frightening as his father when Jack Snr played for Balmain in the league].
What's not to like?
The Donald, of course, would be horrified and disgusted that Sydney are even playing in the Mexican League.
He'd be building a bloody great wall on the NSW banks of the River Murray to stop boatloads of Victorians from sneaking across past the border guards... and goddamit! Melbourne is GOING TO PAY FOR IT!
SC Horse takes a slightly more moderate view "That's where yr wrong Don; any Mexican team is more than welcome to come up here to the Emerald City, because when they get here, they know, that we are, going to medieval their arse!"
Never speak about politics or sport in polite company.
And, never mind the salary cap imbroglio involving Parramatta RLFC being stripped of the points from their six wins so far this season, fined a million bucks [payable in instalments], and some Members of the Board being told in no uncertain terms to just walk away and wash their hands of it, never to be seen again.
You were probably sleeping under a rock when the Mighty Tiges scored a rare win, but a very praiseworthy and significant one - given who the opponents were - whipsawing South Sydney away, to the tune of 30-22.
Thereby giving Coach Squeak a fortnight's reprieve from the inevitable axe, with most players told last weekend to go home and thank their mums for just being alive on Mothers Day, while the rest played in very dull and ordinary representative fixtures that had nothing riding on them.
Still, how a million dollar team on paper could have got this far in the season and already realistically fall out of the race, remains a mystery.
As far at the Top 8 goes, Balmain at 3-6, with a negative for-and-against, are, more or less, still toast.
