Heavy Soul

I am a housing officer, yes that's right, a man given the unenviable task of trying to manage a society of people who would find a neighbour to annoy and fight with even if they lived on a desert island. The coconuts would leave in their droves. I generalise of course, as the large majority of the tenants in our houses are nice people who are genuine and form an important part of our society, unfortunately my role means I never see them.

Instead I just deal with the needy trouble makers who insist on using the made up word of 'turnt' instead of 'turned' in their letters to me. I did once remark to a tenant that she had pretty much written her letter phonetically and I was having trouble deciphering it. Suffice to say her response did not need any deciphering.

I do feel guilty moaning about my job, I am rather a 'high maintenance' employee at times, but sometimes I do wish I had maybe fallen into something a little less 'corrosive on the soul' to earn my daily bread. Take today for example, I received an e-mail to say that an operative who had visited one of our properties did not complete his repair as the state of the property was disgusting and he felt sick, apparently there was dog poo everywhere, walls, carpets, doors etc. So they are now expecting me to venture round to the brick encased pet outhouse to 'check out' the situation and make some sort of report back. What do they want me to say? I have a feeling the report will be short...Was there poo present..Yes...Was it disgusting...Yes...On a scale of 1 - 10, with 10 being the pooiest, would you put the poo...

But on the bright side have just enrolled for an Open university course which I am hoping will enable me to escape this world of gloom for a brighter career. We shall see, I must first tame the beast that is procrastination and make it my slave, or at least just remove spider Solitaire from my PC would be a start...

Toodle Pip

It's a Brand New Day...

My first post for the year 2009, why the long wait? Why the sudden impetuous to write down another sentence when I'm pretty sure nobody has ever read one of my posts before? Well despite being a pessimist I have now found twitter, which in reality is just another item on the Internet to distract me from what I should be doing when I sit down at my computer. But on the other hand it allows you to put your web or blog address on as part of your profile, so who knows, someone may be fool enough to click on it one day, and as such I thought I had better put a more up to date post on!

I have decided though to branch out my postings, for what was once a cricket blog (I don't know why I ever attempted this really, I do not know enough about cricket to have really threatened some of the established cricket blogs, and all of a sudden I found that instead of watching the game I love and wrapping myself up in it's warm eccentricities and statistics, I was worried about how I would put across my thoughts about the latest ECB blunder or poor England performance in a factual yet entertaining way) so I have decided now to just use it to blog about whatever I feel at the time.

So this could cover anything really, and in reality will cease to be a blog where people will come to get the latest comment on the latest cricket issues (who am I kidding there eh!) and instead be somewhere I can get my thoughts down about subjects as far apart as the current economic crises to why ham is quite frankly the king of all sandwich fillers, bar none.

So buckle up your seat belt, or just hold on a little tighter as my thoughts and wanderings take you gently down the meandering country lane which is my mind.

Toodle pip

Trout, Trout, Let It All Out...

Call us old fashioned here at the Back Foot Punch, but sports stars are going all soft on us these days. Only our very own Freddie has made a half decent attempt at getting himself dropped from the team with his infamous 'Freddalo' incident.

I talk of course about the decision to drop Andrew Symonds from Australia's forthcoming tour of India after he missed a 'compulsory' team meeting to go fishing. I know he has courted controversy in the past, even once turning up for training after having a few cheeky beers, but if he is going to get himself dropped I would at least expect some outrageous antics to really warrant a dismissal!

Here's how the conversation should really have gone...

Man at Cricket Australia - 'So Andrew, why did you miss the meeting
mate?'

Andrew Symonds - 'Ah mate I went fishing'

MaCA - 'Fishing! What the bloody Henry do you think you are doing mate? At
least tell me it was something like shark or barracuda you were going
for'

AS - 'Actually mate it was Rainbow Trout...'

MaCA - 'Rainbow bloody Trout mate! Ah mate that won't do, were there any
strippers there? had you had a real skinful...anything?'

AS - 'Ah come on mate, I've been there and done that, you know I
turned up for training drunk once'

MaCA - 'Mate, you had eaten a box of chocolate liqueurs you found at your
nans house'

AS - 'Yeah mate but even so...'

MaCA - 'No mate, this won't do, your an Aussie for Christ sake, not a
bloody wussie pom, right I want you to go out and get as drunk as you possibly
can, here's $500, and make sure there is either a hooker or a horse present when
you get caught'

Oh well, I guess in this modern world there isn't much you can get away with these days, Toodle pip...

Ruthless Germans lift Champions Trophy...

Well finally the ICC have thrashed out a decision regarding the Champions Trophy either going or not going ahead this year. And the verdict is...well the verdict is that the competition will be postponed until next year, October 2009 to be precise.

The ICC deliberated about the best way to handle this situation, keen to avoid upsetting Pakistan but keeping in mind the safety concerns of those competing. The bit I like most about this whole situation was one of the possible solutions dreamt up by the ICC, that being to carry on with the tournament without those who intended to boycott the event, namely South Africa, England, New Zealand, Australia and West Indies, and replace these with other countries.

Now, seeing as there aren't many other competitive teams out there this could have been an interesting proposition, and I do wonder who they had in mind to fill the giant hole that would have been so obviously apparent. Maybe the following extract, which has of course been completely made up, with a few stereotypes thrown in, could have filled the columns of the sporting pages...

'The Champions Trophy finally draws to a close and what a fascinating, if not absurdly unique competition it has been. It all started with both Cambodia and Germany striding through the Qualifying rounds to join the other competing nations in the group stages.

Germany in Group A, felt a little unlucky to find themselves up against India, USA and Cornwall (who recently declared Independence from the UK) The Cambodians on the other hand felt cock sure of progression Group B when they drew Sri Lanka, Pakistan and Vatican City.

Group A turned out some thrilling matches, especially the 7 wicket win Germany enjoyed over India after a powerful batting display from Gruber Bernhard, who went about the Indian bowlers in typical efficient fashion, his white lederhosen a blur between the two wickets. Cornwall meanwhile showed the USA how it's done, beating them by over 700 runs (the USA demanding in their matches runs were worth 20 times the normal amount). Germany and Cornwall went on to top the table, Germany just ahead, and be the first two teams into the semi finals.

Group B was a little more pedestrian in comparison, with only half the scheduled games being played. Vatican City refused to play on Sunday and Cambodia, after a rousing victory over Sri Lanka in their opening match, were only able to muster 5 players for their next game as some of the team had 'disappeared' after a celebratory banquet. However, despite Vatican City playing one less game they were able to progress to the semi final along with the home team, Pakistan.

The first semi final match saw Pakistan, the bookies favourites, line up against a strong Cornwall side. Pakistan took first to the crease and posted a healthy 315 for the chasing Cornishmen, who are notoriously good at holding their nerve when batting second. So it was a little surprising to see them all out for 125 after some average Pakistan bowling. When asked, the Cornish coach could only blame the fact there were no actual Cornish people in the team, which in fact was made up of holidaying Londoners who just have a nice little weekend home down on the coast.

The second match boasted the strong batting line up of Germany against the Vatican City's top seam bowler, Joseph Ratzinger, who could have actually turned out for Germany had he not been forced to seek Cricket elsewhere due to Germany's controversial religious quotas system, in which he did not want to be the 'token pope' in the team. It was a great game which ebbed and flowed, with Ratzinger finishing on figures of 5 - 39, but unfortunately savage efficiency finally won over blind faith and the German's set up a meeting with Pakistan in the final.

And what a final it was to be, Pakistan lost the toss and were put into field, but some good bowling and fielding restricted the German's to 215. However, Pakistan's innings didn't get off to a good start with 4 wickets falling for just 36 runs, but wayward bowling allowed them back into the game and in an exciting finale they needed 5 off of the last ball to take the match. Fortunately for Germany just 4 runs were scored, leaving the match tied and the ominous prospect of a 'bowl off' to decide the match. Germany were always in control at this point, having a very good record in previous bowl off rounds and saw the match home scoring all 5 hits to Pakistan's 3.

So Germany leave as winners of the Champions Trophy, they came, they saw and they truly did conquer'

The Back Foot Punch Gets Hitched...

I haven't blogged for ages...again. But this time my excuse is rather more solid, more solid than the whimsical tale of french fancies and trumpets I used last time. Not that I used that last time, but I like a white lie here and there...

England's tough encounter with Scotland was rained off today, and I can't say I'm surprised as it has been raining steadily over the border for the last week. I can say that confidently as I happened to be in Edinburgh last week and it pissed down for the whole 3 days we were there. Oh but what was I doing in Edinburgh I pretend to hear you cry?

Well as the title suggests, I of the Back Foot Punch, strolled up the aisle on the 8th August and married rather a stunner. After a glorious day of emotion and wine we had a short honeymoon in Edinburgh to take in some of the festival. We will then be proceeding to Canada in a few weeks to see what all the noise is about.

Cricket wise, well what is there to say at the moment? We await confirmation of how this whole champions league thing is going to work and to see if Pakistan is safe to travel to. Vaughny has of course hung up his captains boots (as well as his batting ones for the time being?) and KP has been promoted to the top spot. We have lost the recent series to South Africa 2 - 1 and will probably get a spanking in the forthcoming one day series.

There, that was easy wasn't it, all rounded up in a neat and tidy paragraph.

Oh dear...

There is a story told of an England coaching manual, passed down from generation to generation to whoever leads a team heralding from this tiny land. No matter how big your balls, or what shape they are (don't be rude, I simply meant Cricket, Rugby or Football) you have to follow the rules set out in the ancient book.

Well I have glimpsed sight of this book, and I know what is written within it's pages. Quite simply it says on page one - 'If you have put in a jolly good performance during a match and shown what you are capable of with the right attitude, do not under any circumstances do this again!' This is then followed by 20 pages of drawings about dogs.

I know South Africa have a good, strong batting line up, and I know that the pitch didn't offer too much, but why can't we show a bit of muscle and dig deep? I am still a little mystified by the inclusion of Darrren Pattinson, not because I don't think he isn't a good bowler, but because we have others who maybe should have been before him. How will Mr Tremlett feel? He loyally follows the team around, waiting for his chance, only to see it disappear in a cloud of 'Actually I'm a proud Aussie but will take this England cap' smoke. We're supposed to be encouraging our youngsters to want to play for England, this will not help.

Maybe we will turn it round in the next two tests, but if we are going to then we are going to have to start showing a bit of character, something lacking in English sport as a whole sometimes.

At Least Get it in the Basket...

I haven't blogged for a while, no real reason I guess, other than self loathing and the morbid fear of dying whilst eating a choc ice...oh my, I seem to have my blogs mixed up again! Ah yes, The Back Foot Punch, cricket...

The scene, a cold and blowy English summers morning (is England the only place where climate change seems to be having the opposite effect?) A giant set of oak gallows casts a shadow across the lush green grass. At it's side stands Twenty20, a big, fat figure, dressed in just a pair of skin tight black trousers (not sure why, I am a little worried that my vision of Twenty20 as a human is wearing trousers such as these) with a matching black mask (yeah, I am worried) He holds the rope which in turn allows the giant razor sharp blade on the other end to hang in the air. A whimper is heard beneath it and at first glance you find it hard to believe, but your eyes have not deceived you. In front of the device kneels a familiar face, the once pressed shirt hangs crumpled, the trousers hang loose, their once white hue dirty and brown. Twenty20 laughs and lets the blade drop a little further, as test cricket closes it's eyes and waits for the inevitable sound of the thunderous cutter as it slices through it's soul...

Over the top? Probably. A little melodramatic? Of course. But how long my friends until the executioner has his way?