While the algal tide that is Donald Trump continues to sweep America, we can take comfort that there’s one place at least that’s not rolling out the red carpet. In his home town of New York, they hate his guts, if his reception at the US Open is any indication. Familiarity breeds contempt, it seems….
Tag: Shane Watson
When 3,000 naked cyclists photobomb your wedding
What do you do when you collapse on a golf course and apparently stop breathing for three minutes? Well, you clamber out of your hospital bed, put on a pair of your loudest duds and turn up to play the following day smoking a cigarette. John Daly wasn’t about to let a pesky little lung…
The Ashes blame game
There wasn’t that much cricket, just eighteen days in all So we’ve taken up another sport in lieu of bat and ball Our batsmen forced our hands, for they just refused to linger And here begins the game called Let’s Point the Ashes Finger. *** The rot set in when Pup announced he’s hanging up…
Cycling still full of dopes
We’re halfway through the Tour de France and so far the toll is a stack of crashes, torn lycra, scrapes and broken bones. Plus one rider busted for cocaine and one for EPO. Now bikes are being randomly checked for hidden motors inside the frames. That’s right, mechanical doping is said to be the latest…
We need to talk about Shane
In recent weeks, we’ve seen some gutsy stuff from a number of Aussie sportspeople. Surfer Sally Fitzgibbons burst an eardrum in the second round of the Fiji Pro. No problem. She bandaged up her head, ignored doctors’ orders and went out and won the title. Basketballer Matthew Dellavedova played himself into the ground for the…
To sledge or not to sledge
It all starts when Dave Warner says wistfully he wants to tone things down in the backchat department. Go for it mate, says Captain Clarke. No one asked you to be an arsehole anyway. Let’s make the whole Ashes campaign sledge-free, says Jimmy Anderson, unravelling himself from the lotus position. That series we played against…
Winning ugly
There were times last night when I wasn’t sure if I was watching a game of cricket or the Jim Rose Circus. Some of the contortions going on in the middle of the Adelaide Oval were reminiscent of the guy who can thread his body through a tennis racquet. Like this — can I even…
kazblah 