First Bob Woolmer died of a heart attack. Then he was strangled. Now he wasn't. World Cup 2007: Calypso fiasco.
Did you know the pathologist's name is Error Seshaiah? Well, it's not. Quite. Doubtless he'll cop a thorough bollocking from his boss...
Next, the rumours of a cover-up.
I knew things were about to go boss-eyed around 11:30, that's when I received a text from my brother: Rain! A snag, yes, but who knew the final would culminate in such a fiasco. Even if, in a perverse way, it served to cap the debacle that was WC2007. It was bloody funny, too. The great pity is that it turned what should have been Gilchrist's Match into an embarrassing joke.
Nor were the omens auspicious. Sam Newman didn't think we would win the World Cup because it is rigged against us. Tim Lane wrote that it would be better if the Shrees won, but he was probably having an off day given he also compared cricket to the 1986 Edinburgh Commonwealth Games. The Demons got belted - again. And I had a chronic guts ache, so last night I wasn't able to do a mozz post. It was this, and not so much the guts ache, which played on my mind all night. Those of you uneducated in the way of the mozz will think I'm mad, those of you savvy in these matters know exactly where I'm coming from.
Morgan, Alarm, Bowfingers and Rudy have given us plenty of grief. To be fair, they've also given us a pretty good recent run. Naturally, as soon as you give them the benefit of the doubt they bite you as they joined with Jeff Crowe to make a complete balls up of this morning's light business yesterday night.
The Aussies are the better side, but the match-ups suggested we might struggle if the Shrees got amongst our top order exposing Shameless and Sideshow to Murali. Not sure if Hussey has ever faced him, not sure if he's faced anyone lately, and Roy bombed in 2004. Clarke would have had minimal exposure, too. Thankfully, Gilly saved his best for the final.
Twenty-three wins on the trot was hanging over our head with Damoclean menace; surely we had to lose sometime.
Punter may have been tempted to bowl when he won the toss. Rain, sweaty covers, greeny top. But we know he's never again going to put the other side in.
Then, just when you thought things were about to arrive at their loonnng-awaited conclusion, God chucked in a 24'', chrome-vanadium, adjustable spanner (with Advanced TorquePlus Fastening!) - it was raining and the match revisited the 2003 final.
Really, though, if we'd lost it would have been a rank injustice, or Sammy Newman was onto something and not just being paranoid.
Going by orthodox wisdom Australia are gawn. Haven't won in ages, injuries galore, bowlers couldn't hit the front of a sightscreen, can't defend, fielding is sloppy, Yarprica on a roll, Engerland full of confidence, Un Zud hooped on cock. It all adds up to a combination of crisis, panic stations, disarray, trouble AND strife.
To listen to the pundits' flack you'd think Australia had lost each match by an innings. Geese. Australia have merely refused to show their hand through a tedious series of slightly strenuous practice matches in which key players have been rested and possibles trialled, thus lulling their too-quick-to-gloat adversaries into a lethal trap. Come in spinners.
Did no one see the smiles on the Aussie faces as the Kiwis went the tonk in the Chadlee? Sure, they would have liked to win, who doesn't. But did they really care? Is the Pope a German. I mean, who can take Craig McMillan seriously when it matters? Those were the cheery - and not even slightly embarrassed - smiles of sportsmen quietly confident their plans were about to bear fruition.
It will be satisfying indeed when Sorth Efrica shit themselves in the semi final; NZ have their usual overexpectations deflated by an outsider; and England fail to get out of the group stage, dudded by too many reverse sweeps.
Never. In. Doubt.
So, Sorth Efrica's plan was to come out firing and put Straya on the back foot from the start. That worked well.
"The latest chapter in South Africa's sorry World Cup history was put down to a case of stage fright as South Africa once again suffered semi-final heartache at the hands of Australia. The much-vaunted South African top order, including Jacques Kallis and Graeme Smith, was back inside the pavilion within the first ten overs as they collapsed to 27 for 5 in a sequence that left some of their former team-mates stunned."
Listening on the wahless it was obvious that as soon as Smith and Kallis were gone, so were SA.
Striking a top-order balance between sensible tonking and recklessness is the key to one day cricket. Maybe they were goaded into it by the Strayans' pre-match barbs, maybe not. Certainly it was out of character for Jacks. Whatever way you look at it, they got the balance wrong.
(Mind you, Gilly's been getting it wrong, too; fortunately, Flatty's been getting it very right.)
Then, on the back of those two dismissals, the rest of the lineup decided they'd better not move their feet. AB, Prince, Boucher (What's he doing coming in fifth drop?), Gibbs and Hall - rubbish shots. Nor would their bowlers trouble us on anything other than a minefield. What a lame attack.
It's tempting to label SA chokers, but this time round they didn't choke, they weren't good enough to choke.
Last word to Adam Bacher: "It was boys against men," he said on public television. "They taught us a cricket lesson."
"Kemp is beaten having a hard-handed grope at the wrong'un."
Yes, it's only a decimal point, but surely if you are going to detail a rule, you get your rule right:
Caught Out: Tempers frayed in the 42nd over of Australia's innings when an Andrew Symonds shot was grabbed on the mid-wicket fence by Kevin Pietersen. In trying to make the catch, Pietersen struggled to avoid stepping on the rope and eventually threw the ball back into play before he toppled over the boundary. Under cricket's Rule 3.23, the fieldsman "must have complete control over both the ball and over his own moment". Symonds was ruled not out.
That would be Rule 32.3, which relates to the fieldman's movement.
What to make of Jon Pierik's claim "skipper Mike Brearley said [my emphasis] later he had tried to con the umpire". In fact what Vaughan said was "I was trying to say that he [KP] had it in his hand in control, his weight was in control. It was a difficult one, but being honest he had no control of his waist. We were clutching a bit there." This journalistic license, this putting words in player's mouths, is something that really grates. Still, imagine the fuss had it been Ponting trying to "con the umpire".
Crash Craddock has an article in the Herald Sun relating to Australia's part-time bowlers (Clarke and Symonds) being targetted by opposition batsmen. It's a fair call. It always struck me that the reason Australia were able to get to the 1999 World Cup final was because when South Africa had Australia under pressure in the Super Six match, Nicky Boje came on to bowl.
Let's hope Tait, McGrath, Bracken and Hogg can continue to deliver, and that our opponents fail to capitalise on our fifth bowler.
And since Wicky & Bruce were right - Sunday's Monday morning match was indeed a humdrum, low key drubbing - let's hope Australia hand out many more humdrum, low key drubbings.
No time to post yesterday, but it's never too late to revel in the Proteas getting whipped.
But it would be a lousy cheap-shot to raise the spectre of Hansie Cronje, so I won't.
Whodunnit? MSM are speculating everyone diddit. What do they know. My money's on Loretta de Fay, a local hooker without a heart of gold not desperate to remove her child from poverty, and her colourful pimp, Augustine Alekine Andiston.
Big news. We whipped Holland.
In bigger news, Holland has a player called Reekers, which is funny.
Well, not that funny, although Justin Langer may chuckle. The AGB deplores low humour and stereotypes. Two things I know you'll keep in mind when you're leaving your usual clever comments.
It's effigy time.
Green Side 1 beats Green Side 2 on a green track leaving Green Side 2 feeling green and Green Side 1 drinking green beer to celebrate. Slainte.
Four things: one, if you were going to put a handful of magic beans on any one match in any cricket tournament, PuckyStan would feature prominently in your calculations; two, Ireland - "I.R.E.L.A.N.D Urrlund! Urlund!" to the chanting Blarney Army - couldn't have fielded any better, pulling in a swag of CCs; three, over No.30 was a laugh: W, 0, Wk, W, W, 0, 0, Wk, 1; and four, the last few runs of Urlund's chase seemed to take forever.
In the day's lesser upset the Bangers mashed India by 5 wickets. Not much more to say than:
Indian fans celebrate the loss in traditional fashion.
