Why Australia lost the Ashes

[Zondrae]

Now Marty,

Play nice.

The lads can't halp it if they can't hit the ball. And as for the Umpires.. They are a bunch of whimps. They should not be allowed to ask for second and third opinions. If they say someone is out, they should be dash well out. In the old days the Umpire was BOSS. what he said was law. No maby-pambying a round taking half an hour to make a decision or having three umpires. Now a days even three umpires isn't enough - they have to use new fangelled electronic detectors etc. and they still get it wrong sometimes. I used to sit on the edge of my seat and watch enery ball, now I listen to the cricket in the background while I do something interesting like macrme. (if I don't fall asleep that is.)
I have never tried to conceal my disdane for football. I won't go as far as saying Cricket is almost as bad because it is still the gentemant game. However, I hope we can find a better combination to make up the team for the next competition. Ponting, well I don't have any feelings either way. I do like the fact that they are giving some young players a go. Cross your fingers. Now, I'm going to get the washing off the line. The cricket can go without me.

[Wendy Seddon]

Hi Marty,
Win or lose I still love the cricket, tests and one-dayers, not that stupid 20/20 hogwash though!

I really enjoy the summer so far, I know that the Aussies have a lot to do in getting a new superside together, but I loved watching the poms go steadily about the business of winning.
They certainly have some talent at the moment which is lovely to watch.
Yeah, I know - tragic aren't I?

We thought we'd never see the like of Bradman e're again,
we thought that after Lilly then our bowling'd be in vain.
We ne'er anticipated then the likes of Lee or Warne.
now we must sit and whatch-this-space, a bottler will be born!

Wen

[Neville Briggs]

And Marty, they probably tuck their shirts in their underpants, wear socks with their sandals and go down the street with a man-bag over their shoulder.

[Leonie]

Hi Marty, let me say upfront that I know absolutely nothing about cricket, never even watch it, so my comments are purely about the poem.

I rather like what you have done here. That last stanza gives it a sort of a rap feel. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I actually don't mind a little bit of rap music. I have no idea what they are talking about, (and that's probably a good thing ) but I kind of like it, and I like your poem too.

[warooa]

Good one Marty . . . lets not dwell on the present mire - but I agree with you 100 percent. On Doug Walters, I recently finished one of his old books, one great yarn after another - you'll love this one . . . 1970 Sth African tour he'd been 'rooming' with Brian Taber and they used to have what they called a "surprise" breakfast where one would order and the other wouldn't know what was due for the first meal of the day. Anyway they'd been copping a pasting from the home team all tour so 'Tabsy' and Doug had been out drowning their sorrows the night before the morning of the last game on tour in Cape Town when brekky arrives - Dougie opens the door bleary-eyed to room service - Tabsy's brekky order: 6 bottles of beer. Hair of the dog imbibed they've missed the team bus to the ground, on the way to get a taxi they notice the first bars opening for the day . . must be 10, play doesn't start til 11 so they hop in for couple of rounds and get to the ground just as play is to begin. Luckily they are batting. Dougie reckons "I'll be right - I bat at no. 5" whilst Tabsy says he'll be fine - he's twelfth man.
As Bill Lawry padded up to walk out and open he says "Last game of tour Doug, you can bat at three today". What!? Sure enough just as he's trying to assess how sober he is there's a roar from the crowd - someone's out and Dougie is in. He reckon's he had trouble trying to focus on Mike Proctor and could flat out see him at top of his mark - let alone the thunderbolt he was about to unleash . . . and you know what? Doug Walters made a century that day at Newlands in CapeTown after a big night on the sauce and a long liquid brekky.

Mmmm . . . maybe there's a moral there for todays automated under-achieving, bag-carrying, metro-sexual mob.

Cheers, Marty

[manfredvijars]

Goodonyas Marty & Marty(boy) ... ahhhh, back when Blokes were Blokes and became good Mates.
Now guys (AND Sheilas) are guys, and just 'buddies'(let me chunder!!!).