four captains on the Gravy train

Gourmands,

Did note that Pup was used sparingly on the Channel Nine Commentary Team, in his television debut.
You'd imagine that it'd be a bit difficult, as a current player allegedly in rehab, to commentate on other current players, so he was used as some kind of analyst - there's no doubt MJ Clarke has a large cricket brain, and he has learned to speak media speak very well.
The bloke has probably got a future in it.
Found myself spending whole days, weeks, months, nay years, as a cub sports journalist lounging around sports grounds in my early professional career, and it wasn't very hard.
Far from it.
Pup will soon work out that it's an easy living.
Discovered from the get go, much to my astonishment, that a free lunch at someone else's expense was pretty much available in some part of the ground, no matter what ground, or what game was being played.
And it was tip top.
It had a name.
The Gravy Train.
Toot! Toot!
With the right sort of media pass you can get yourself into all sorts of places that you really shouldn't have been in, but hey, it was all off the record.
So not that too surprised or dismayed on hearing SK Warne on the telly recounting the fact that he was responsible for the creation of the spaghetti bolognaise pizza at his local pizza a bar just around the corner from his place.
You heard right, a pot of spag bol dumped on a "dirty rotten" pizza dough, doused in cheese and tomato sauce, and then baked, baked good.
Michael Clarke, who just happened to be in the same pizza bar with Shane this week, was sceptical at first, according to Warney "Pup said, 'oh come on Warney, you're giving me a gee up here'".
But no, Pup smashed a few slices of SB Pizza with gusto, and pronounced it good.
Mr Warne said they went down a treat with "a few frothies".
As far as rehab goes, Pup, that's the end of the section right there - yr mate has turned you over and dobbed you in.
In the meantime, back at the ball park baby, Smiffy is going from strength to strength, scoring a crucial century and a half and then some that gave him the whip hand throughout the course of the five days.
Some pundits say his handling of the last day didn't reflect very well on his captaincy, which is plainly bullshit, for mine.
With the mighty time-honoured Border-Gavaskar Trophy on the line, SPD Smith was perfectly within his rights to play for the draw, and win back the godawful thing, there and then.
It was only fitting that MS Dhoni fell on his sword and was then hoisted on his own petard.
Good on him for just admitting that he'd simply lost it.
No point in going on.
The BCCI gave him an offcial Au Reviour via press release, and thanked him for "bringing laurels to India".
They were probably refering to World Cups and stuff, not the series he'd just lost
The Stats Guru says there's not too many other blokes who've scored nine tons in ODI's and six centuries in Tests, going large and making all those hundreds at home, all of them, nowhere else.
The potty-mouthed Kohli Kiddie has some big millionaire shoes to fill.
MS likes motorcyles, and he owns a lot of them, so enjoy, and Goodluck Jonathon to you in retirement.
Getting a bit off topic here, so back to the free lunch.
Burgers, schnitty's, fried potatoes, buns, creamy salads, you could almost always find a roast [with baked ham a particular favourite], and you might get lucky with a beef stroganoff.
On the best buffet's you could get shellfish; in the run up to Sydney 2000 the prawns were the size of yr elbow and smashing a dozen oysters while no one was looking became an art form.
But that's another story.
Also seem to remember that if you knew where to look there would be a generally pretty good vindaloo of some description on offer, almost always with fried rice, strangely enough..
The next test match at Sydney will be a different bottle of mussels altogether compared to Melbourne.
Rather than appearing on the telly, MJ Clarke should just content himself with a long lunch in the SCG Members Dining Room, every day for nigh on a week.
Throw in a couple of breakfasts as well, and who would blame him?
He should do some stretching and limbering up before he tackles the entree and a cheeky glass of Chablis...

the Cricket Australia Twilight Lounge

Jason Recliners,

You can just imagine Pup in rehab.
He'd be stretched out on the banana lounge by the mill pond infinity pool at home, surely?
Beautiful women with certificates in physiotherapy would be working on both hammys while swabbing his surgical wounds, as an exotic four-and-a-half foot female of slight frame would be walking back and forth on his Shagger's Back, with the cricket on the radio in the background.
Wouldn't have it any other way.
He'd be sipping on an iced tea with a scant slice of lemon and a cocktail umbrella in it given the ban on consuming alcohol while injured, which may, or may not, include the five o'clock dry martini.
At least The Board took my advice and installed SPD Smith as Captain forthwith, without much ceremony, apart from being cloaked by Tubby.
No one ever really doubted that The Baby Faced Killer would come up with a Captain's Knock when it was needed the most.
Fairy tales do come true; win the match on the back of you going large in yr debut game as skippy.
Did like the baptism of fire at the start, when Smiffy was sent into the field on the hottest day for cricket in Brisbane in living memory.
Something's going on.
Reminded me of playing in a social match as a specialist No.11 one time at the Burnside Rugby Union Club ground nigh on 35 years ago, which was rated all round as a genuine scorcher.
The thermometer under the clubhouse next to the water tank stand read 41.8 degrees celsius at one stage during the afternoon, and the farenheit side on the thing just said "Farkin' Hot".
There was a convenient large gum tree at one end of the ground that threw a shadow over the playing arena - blokes fought with each other to field at third man down there when it came time to change ends.
One of them got there at some critical stage in the match, went troppo, leapt the white picket fence, made a bed for himself out of twigs, branches and leaves, and promptly went to sleep.
You'd never believe it happened if you hadn't seen it with yr own eyes.
Drinks breaks were taken in the rugby clubhouse every twenty minutes, which consisted of a pint of lemon squash and ice and a pint of cold beer off the tap for each man.
The Umpires, sensibly, wore ridiculously large sombreros, with brims so wide that the bowlers had to run around them to deliver the ball.
The strange thing about it was that despite the trying conditions, the match was very hard fought with disputed calls galore - the Bamfords were busy - and it turned out to be a close run thing in the end.
If memory serves me right, the radio station team was beaten by the rugby club team by a handful of runs in the denoument.
Over drinks after the game someone managed to be sober enough to work out how to switch on the airconditioning at the fuse box, so everyone cooled off, and to a man, vowed that they would never play in anything remotely like that ever again.
And never did.
Smiffy got to the point on his inaugral day in charge when he found himself with no serviceable bowlers left in the tortuous conditions; just carried on regardless, knowing that test matches go on for a long time, under all circumstances.
Cruel heat? What heat? Crisis? What crisis?
Harden up.
You'd reckon that Pup would have had a wry smile on his face and given the new bloke a nod - neatly usurped by a 25 year old - as he contemplates retirement and the comforts and delights of the Cricket Australia Twilight Lounge.

a shot bird by his own admission

Canine Fanciers,

At long long long last MJ Clarke finally gets the respect from the general public that he so richly deserves but thought he had waited in vain for, for all these years...
And what did it take?
The death of a mate.
On the field of battle, if that's not putting too fine a point on it.
Suddenly, everything is changed and different.
Unintended consequences galore.
Here's a bloke who got a standing ovation coming into bat at Adelaide; something he would NEVER have got a fortnight ago, when the selectors were on the verge of dropping him over some terrible misunderstanding about fitness regime or something or another.
Of course, MJ Clarke and the Hughes family conducted themselves with admirable dignity during the terrible state of affairs, much to their credit.
And just after it came time to bring in your bat from the front porch at the start of the hastily cobbled together first test match, the Captain goes down in a screaming heap, after putting on a very well made half century.
Everyone feared that he would forever go down in the scorebook at 60 retired hurt, and that would be that.
From the time he picked up a chronic case of Shagger's Back when he was just 19 years old he knew that he'd gone too long and too hard on the workbench.
And who can blame him with the lie downs he's had?
But no.
Not happy with that; so having crashed, decided to crash through and make his hundred - bugger the agonising pain - and in the process managed to elevate himself to somewhere near national hero status.
That's the enchanting thing about Test cricket - you can go from day one wailing and gnashing of teeth, to second day heroics.
A "Captain's Knock" in the finest sense of the phrase, and everyone in the ground, nay the country, knew it.
And then late in the proceedings on Day Five he does the other hammy a mischief and declares on the wireless "I'm farked. Gorn for the season" or words to that effect.
As my Spy at the Ground telegraphed through "how many times do we have to witness the death and resurrection of Michael Clarke in this match?"
No need to worry, now.
Pup is a shot bird by his own admission.
"I may never play cricket again".
Keeping wickets is no place to run the game from, so have a Board Meeting and tell the Chairman and the Three Wise Men to appoint SPD Smith as Captain forthwith, and be done with it.
By all accounts the Baby Faced Killer is up to the task, and is currently on fire in all departments to boot.
MJ Clarke will retire in the knowledge that he had to earn respect the hard way, but in the denoument, at the seeming death of his career, he got it in spades.
Never mind the tragedy heaped upon tragedy.
Just like Glenn McGrath, who filled his boots at Lord's and deserves a bronze bust at the Grace Gates, MJ Clarke similarly deserves the same treament at the Vic Richardson Gates - who else is going to make five tons and two double tons at the ground in the near future??
Doubt we'll see it again in our lifetimes.
Just ask the Stats Guru, he'll tell you all about it.
He's had the abacus whirring.
In any case, the Guru's charged with using his authority to write to the Secretary's of the relevant Clubs, demanding that the statues be erected.
Goodluck Jonathan, with that.
Retired hurt be buggered, Pup thought, until he found as he struggled off the Oval for what will be most certainly be the very last time, that the future was behind him and the past was catching up.
A frightful sight to go out limping, not once, but twice, then, forever.
Final demise is no small thing, but, at 33, Clarkey knows what's shakin'.
Relinquishing the Captaincy won't be easy, but at least he'll be able to dine out in Adelaide forever on his record.

the front porch at Crazy Craves' run-down gaff

Vale PJ Hughes.
26 Test matches, three centuries, youngest ever to score two hundreds in the same game, average 32.65
A very close friend of MJ Clarke.
There'd be very few people alive today who remember Archie Jackson.
The front porch at Craves' run-down gaff.

the likelihood of it all going to merde in Brisbane

Canine Fanciers,

Pup, Pup, Pup!
What's shakin'?
What is going on?
Oh my dear Lordy Joisus.
Not the ol' hammy?
Tell me it isn't so, Joe.
How many years ago is it now that MJ Clarke retired from Twenty20 cricket on account of he was never really any good at it and so couldn't be bothered, and handed the short form captaincy to George "Bill" Bailey?
Why, oh why, didn't he retire from the 50/50 game at the same time?
Really, who remembers the great feats in one day cricket?
No one cares about it anymore, if they ever did - there's probably more silent interest in the Sheffield Shield - given it's the nursery for the only game that matters.
Only truly magnificent performances in test cricket can be re-called at will, especially if you happened to be at the ground at the time.
Everyone knows what it means to be your country's Captain, Pup, never mind the purists.
At age 33 and with a lifelong dose of chronic Shaggers Back to add to his woes, it's long overdue that the skipper reserved himself enirely for test cricket.
In truth, he's only got a couple more years at the top, at best, and that's if he's lucky.
Aggravating old injuries won't help.
At least he doesn't have old girlfriends on the lurk anymore.
There's plenty of other things to distract him, such as the likelihood of it all going to merde in Brisbane without him.
You'd want to give yourself the chance of making one more hundred at Lords, wouldn't you?
And Clarkey would want to win the Ashes next year before he wheels his wheelchair into the State Home for Crippled Captains, surely?
First class or nothing from now on, ol' mate.
You know it makes sense.

a gigantic tusk up the runter

Fellow Jesters,

Looks like MJ Clarke doesn't like Abu Dhabi much, as a cricket tourist destination.
Probably hates it even more than Dubai.
Seems the skipper had a problem about knowing exactly where his off stump was.
Didn't have an oustanding match by all accounts, being clean bowled in both innings.
Can't recall the exact details, but thinking Pup was bowled around his legs in the first innings just short of a 50, then had his middle peg taken clean out in the second, for bugger all runs
Suppose someone has stopped to think that they were playing on seriousy doctored pitches?
How come the curators in the UAE turn out a delightful featherbed that then turns into a four lane highay, a dusty road; purpose built for a side full of spinners.
Crafty buggers.
You'd have to reckon suitcases stuffed full of cash would've changed hands just to make sure it's so.
On the strength of only two games, the Stats Guru spuriously suggested with the tongue in cheek that Clarkey was in his worst form in a decade.
There were some hilarious moments in the match, like when Pup had a man field at straight hit, right behind the bowlers arm.
He was bagged from here to breakfast for being unsportsmanlike, but, as he said at the time, when yr a million runs behind, you'll do anything to get the bastards out.
When yr copping a gigantic tusk up the runter on the scoreboard, it's anything goes, isn't it?
Besides, it wasn't against the Laws - there's nothing stopping you from fielding a man there, as long as he doesn't move during the the bowler's run up; it's called common courtesy, which MJ Clarke always strictly observes.
There were a lot of laughs also in looking at the Strayan batting sheet and seeing GJ Maxwell listed at No. 3.
Who? Really?
In the denoument, that's the selectors fault, and the buck stops at the Coach.
They're just clutching at straws, aren't they?
Little wonder Mr Clarke sacked himself as a selector a couple of years ago.
You don't want to get tied up in that messy business.
The Chairman and the Three Wise Men have had real problems picking a top order for years, so you probably shouldn't expect anything dfferent.
It's not as if there's anyone else shouting out to be picked.
So, the bowlers are impotent on desert tracks.
Can anyone going around in first class cricket at the minute do any better?
Under the circumstances, you can imagine the Captain's surprise at his press conference on arrival at KSA, when some low blowie put it to him that his job could be under threat.
You could see he wanted to say WTF?, but wisely asnwered the question with a question "Why?"
Pup, obviously, needs to spend more time in the nets, he'd be the first to admit it.
The skipper also needs to be given room to call on our curators in a quiet and sociable way.
It's also a good thing, in the early part, that he dislikes Seth Efreakens intensely.
MJ Clarke's views about Indians are well known, which will stand him in good stead for the summer test matches at home.
You can only hope.

like winning and losing mattered

Arid Date Fanciers,

Thinking that Dubai might not be MJ Clarke's favourite destination.
Haven't heard of or seen hide nor hair of the bloke for five months.
What has the skipper been up to in an exceptionally long break in an increasingly crowded cricket calender?
Probably been lunching well and then up on the work bench freshening up his chronic case of Shaggers Back.
If you weren't overly busy, wouldn't you live the high life if you were him?
But, obviously, he hasn't been spending enough time in the nets.
Nice work in the 1st innings, falling for the three-card trick to be caught in the leg trap for 2 off 13 balls, and then backed that up with a 2nd innings fail, simply not hitting some fairly ordinary spin bowling to find himself plumb for 3 off 9 balls.
Two fingers from the Bamford's.
Oops.
The report card would have been marked "can do better".
Oh well.
At least, in keeping with Ol' Emirates tradition, there's been no one at the ground to witness the debacle...a sea of empty blue seats.
They'd get more at a Shield match.
Just like at Mark Waugh's farewell test match, only The Man and His Dog, a handful of journo's, and the ground staff were there to see the miserable demise.
In a joint obsessed with money, no doubt the Dubai cricket authorities would have marked down the gate takings as "negligable" and you'd have to wonder if they would have sold many dry corporate boxes, with the weather reliably described as "farkin' hot".
The beer for the team probably came in through the Diplomatic Bag, let alone a bottle of Tanqueray.
Not exactly the best preparation you could imagine for an Strayan summer, without the benefit of hindsight.
We'll find out when they get home, and the day the selectors see common sense.
At least Pup had the decency and sense to take full responsiblity for the debacle - he knows well enough that the buck stops here, at the top - and refused to blame the coach or his players, saying the only difficulties appeared to be "the conditions" and a "lack of match practice".
Well, maybe, while everyone was at a loose end, they should have organised to play a couple of five-day practice matches...you know, Michael Clarke's XI v Brad Haddin's XI...Probables v Possibles...at somewhere like Alice Springs, in the desert on a rough track, that sort of thing, before they went to Arabia?
Play it like winning and losing mattered, but bend the rules for maximum time in the middle.
Did anyone think of it?
If not, why not?
At this time of year, it's all about horses for courses, isn't it?

Pakistan 454 and 2/286 dec; Australia 303 and 216.
Pakistan won by 221 runs.