Weekend Wrap
I give up. There is one thing in punting land I hate - really hate, and that is missing an opportunity backing an outsider that I am quite keen on. As I previewed on Friday, I did expect the Brumbies to give the Crusaders a game, but couldn't see how the Brumbies would score enough points to win.
So after Friday night where a failed sideline conversion cost me my Highlanders bet, and woeful finishing by the Chiefs meant I fell on the wrong side of the handicap, the mood in this household turned a darker shade of black as I watched the Brumbies put in the kind of performance I thought they could, but without any money riding on it. FARK FARK FARRRRRRRRRRRRK.
Thankfully due to the Cricket World Cup the damage is not severe and my stepkids will not be on baked beans and weetbix for the next month, but it has been a timely reminder the difference between success and failure in this game can be small. And I shouldn't complain - the weekend's rugby results has breathed a bit of life into the competition that was supposedly dawdling to an inevitable Blues-Crusaders final at Jade Stadium.
Talking about dawdling competitions leads me to the Cricket World Cup. When the final was delayed by rain I fell asleep on the couch (my body clock is well and truly fucked) and rather fortuitously woke up when Sangakarra and Jayasuria were in the final stages of their partnership, at which point I quickly decided the $1.28 on offer for Australia to win was a gift not to be refused. About 10 nanoseconds after placing the bet, a wicket fell - if only life could be so easy all the time.
Although it has been kind to me, the whole competition has been a disappointment, for many reasons. The failure of India and Pakistan to qualify for the Super Eights robbed that stage of the competition of half of its meaningful games, although to be fair (a) if they lose to so-called minnows they didn't deserve to be there and (b) most of the Super Eight games were one-sided so it probably didn't make much difference. At the other end of the scale, Australia's dominance put another 6 games on the boring list, but again it's well deserved.
So the cricketing world continues to hold its collective breath waiting for the Australian cricket juggernaught to hit some speed bumps - and given the bowler of the tournament was a 37 y.o. and the man of the match was another nearly old enough to be a grandfather, perhaps there is some light at the end of the tunnel for the rest. But don't bet on it.
Given the darkness of my mood, it didn't take much for me to start ranting about nothing. Yesterday it was reading a heart-warming piece in the Sunday Star Times about the Ice Black's (NZ's Ice Hockey team) magnificent effort in winning Division 3 of the World Ice Hockey Championships. Yes, a 7-0 drubbing of South Africa (based on the rugby I'm seeing, we better start making a list of sports we can beat SAF at - might come in handy about September), a thrilling come from behind victory over Ireland, not to mention wins over Luxembourg and (the piece de resistance) Mongolia sees the Ice Blacks return home victorious.
Whoop-de-farkin-do and who-farkin-cares. What the article doesn't tell us is NZ is ranked 38th out of 46 nations in Ice Hockey. Winning the lowest division in Ice Hockey means that NZ will still be ranked 38th out of 46 nations (We beat No's 41, 43, 45 and 46). I suppose such expanded coverage of a minor sport should be applauded but not when it's dressed up as something magnificent when it's not - FFS we got relegated from Division 2 last year so NZ should be expected to win Division 3.
Still, if I put my rose-tinted glasses on perhaps the NZ sporting media are going to start taking an interest in the myriad of minor sports that help make up the fabric of sport in this country. Yeah right.
Today Turiana Turia continues to ensure the cats are staying well away from me by saying it's all the white man's fault for introducing the smacking of children into this country. Apparently the Maori had other ways of disciplining children before Christianity arrived. I better stop before I get myself into trouble - suffice to say the mind boggles what "other ways" were used for discipline (now now Rangi don't be a naughty boy or I'll put you in the kumara pit) and when she turns up to Parliament barefoot in a flax skirt I might take her comments about colonisation seriously.
Time to go and take a chill pill. See you tomorrow.
So after Friday night where a failed sideline conversion cost me my Highlanders bet, and woeful finishing by the Chiefs meant I fell on the wrong side of the handicap, the mood in this household turned a darker shade of black as I watched the Brumbies put in the kind of performance I thought they could, but without any money riding on it. FARK FARK FARRRRRRRRRRRRK.
Thankfully due to the Cricket World Cup the damage is not severe and my stepkids will not be on baked beans and weetbix for the next month, but it has been a timely reminder the difference between success and failure in this game can be small. And I shouldn't complain - the weekend's rugby results has breathed a bit of life into the competition that was supposedly dawdling to an inevitable Blues-Crusaders final at Jade Stadium.
Talking about dawdling competitions leads me to the Cricket World Cup. When the final was delayed by rain I fell asleep on the couch (my body clock is well and truly fucked) and rather fortuitously woke up when Sangakarra and Jayasuria were in the final stages of their partnership, at which point I quickly decided the $1.28 on offer for Australia to win was a gift not to be refused. About 10 nanoseconds after placing the bet, a wicket fell - if only life could be so easy all the time.
Although it has been kind to me, the whole competition has been a disappointment, for many reasons. The failure of India and Pakistan to qualify for the Super Eights robbed that stage of the competition of half of its meaningful games, although to be fair (a) if they lose to so-called minnows they didn't deserve to be there and (b) most of the Super Eight games were one-sided so it probably didn't make much difference. At the other end of the scale, Australia's dominance put another 6 games on the boring list, but again it's well deserved.
So the cricketing world continues to hold its collective breath waiting for the Australian cricket juggernaught to hit some speed bumps - and given the bowler of the tournament was a 37 y.o. and the man of the match was another nearly old enough to be a grandfather, perhaps there is some light at the end of the tunnel for the rest. But don't bet on it.
Given the darkness of my mood, it didn't take much for me to start ranting about nothing. Yesterday it was reading a heart-warming piece in the Sunday Star Times about the Ice Black's (NZ's Ice Hockey team) magnificent effort in winning Division 3 of the World Ice Hockey Championships. Yes, a 7-0 drubbing of South Africa (based on the rugby I'm seeing, we better start making a list of sports we can beat SAF at - might come in handy about September), a thrilling come from behind victory over Ireland, not to mention wins over Luxembourg and (the piece de resistance) Mongolia sees the Ice Blacks return home victorious.
Whoop-de-farkin-do and who-farkin-cares. What the article doesn't tell us is NZ is ranked 38th out of 46 nations in Ice Hockey. Winning the lowest division in Ice Hockey means that NZ will still be ranked 38th out of 46 nations (We beat No's 41, 43, 45 and 46). I suppose such expanded coverage of a minor sport should be applauded but not when it's dressed up as something magnificent when it's not - FFS we got relegated from Division 2 last year so NZ should be expected to win Division 3.
Still, if I put my rose-tinted glasses on perhaps the NZ sporting media are going to start taking an interest in the myriad of minor sports that help make up the fabric of sport in this country. Yeah right.
Today Turiana Turia continues to ensure the cats are staying well away from me by saying it's all the white man's fault for introducing the smacking of children into this country. Apparently the Maori had other ways of disciplining children before Christianity arrived. I better stop before I get myself into trouble - suffice to say the mind boggles what "other ways" were used for discipline (now now Rangi don't be a naughty boy or I'll put you in the kumara pit) and when she turns up to Parliament barefoot in a flax skirt I might take her comments about colonisation seriously.
Time to go and take a chill pill. See you tomorrow.
Labels: mon, post mortems
posted by Rob Crawford at 1:04 PM
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