sassy hearts twenty20 cricket 4eva

It is my personal belief that Twenty20 cricket is one of mankind’s greatest inventions.  I’m not even exaggerating.  If you ask me, it’s right up there with Penicillin and wireless internet and pikelets and Smirnoff Blacks. 

Apparently I am also the only member of the public and of the sports journalism fraternity (KIDDING! no one actually thinks I am a journalist) who thinks this.  According to everyone else in the world Twenty20 will render test cricket extinct, eliminate New Zealand’s test teams, and is only for the kind of idiot who doesn’t understand Proper Cricket.  I can’t be bothered googling any more but I bet somewhere someone is saying Twenty20 cricket also increases global warming and eats babies.

To that I say, how can something that combines sport with a Def Leppard soundtrack and the Kenny Loggins hit Footloose ever be bad?  If loving that makes me an idiot then I AM PROUD TO BE THAT IDIOT.

Test cricket and Twenty20 are like beer and vodka; St Vinnies and quilted Chanel; Gram Parsons and Cher. There is a time and a place for both.  There is also plennnty of room in my summer cricket schedule and on my couch for both, so let’s all snuggle in the cushions, pour a vodka-ginger-ale, and make out, shall we?

Anyway, let’s talk about the Twenty20 comeback on Friday night.  Australia vs the State cricket All Stars.  It was everything I hoped for and more.  And it’s for charity.  Amazing.

GILLY GILLY GILLY GILLY

As much as I missed Twenty20, I missed Adam Gilchrist more.  I don’t care if he’s playing for Australia or the All*Stars.  (By the way I have had that Smashmouth song in my head for the full three days since I heard that stupid name). 

… dear sassy, I feel the same way

I’ve been looking for a new non-sexual cricket husband to replace Gilly for the full six months since he retired, but no luck yet. I still just love that cheeky bastard.  And I think I love him even more now that he’s been retired for only six months and already started getting a little bit chub.  We all know I love an athlete with a few extra kilos, and those skins you were wearing under your uniform aren’t fooling anyone, Gilly darlin.  You might want to invest in some Nancy Ganz.  They make them for men now, too.

My heart ached a little bit when he came out to bat and announced that he got cramps warming up.  And they say cricket isn’t athletically demanding.   Meanwhile whoever came up with the idea of miking players during Twenty20 is a genius.  I would actually quite like to hear Gilly miked up just in his general life.  Calling people old and chubby, talking about his jimmy back, making bad calls to other drivers/pedestrians/his wife like he does to his running partner on the pitch (YES!  … NO! … SHIT SORRY).

His cheekiness and Mike Hussey’s, well … Husseyness, are endlessly entertaining. 

WE LIKE ROY

Pic: Dave hunt / AAP

Man the selectors went all out for this game.  Those bitches just really know how to push my buttons.  Roy made his comeback and said laconic things into the mike and the crowd went crazy and screamed like he is their God.  Which, at the risk of being blasphemous, he pretty much is.  Who else would turn around mid-game and pull out two little kids named Tom and Tom from the crowd and send them out to field on his boundary?  Oh yeah, I said it: ROY IS JESUS.  When I saw those little kids’ joyful and terrified faces my ovaries all but danced in joy.  And when Roy dressed them in his Australian team cap my ovaries grabbed their drinks and made a little conga line, prancing around singing CRICKET-CRICKET-CRICK-ET!  

Cutest. Moment. Ever.  That’s the magic of Roy. 

MY FRICKEN EYESSS

I have to be completely honest, this Twenty20 wasn’t one giant lovefest.  There was some shititude.  Because even though they were finally giving the State cricketers a chance to shine in the ~*~All*Starz~*~ team, they still kinda stuck the boot in at the same time. 

It’s as though the powers that be said: Yes, state-boys-who-get-no-recognition-from-most-of-the-Australian-public … we agree this state of affairs is depressing and unfair.  So we will let you play against some of the Australian team in a flashy televised Twenty20 match (not all the Australian team, cause they’re kinda tired from playing Proper Test Cricket in India, but a few of them). That’s foine.  No worries, mates.  STAND PROUD AND BE COUNTED.

There’s just one catch.  One teensy, tiny catch that we aren’t going to mention until you get to the locker room to change into your uniforms.  You see … you have to wear this:

DAMN.  That is harsh.  I had thought that the normal Aussie Twenty20 uniforms were some of the ugliest things I’d ever seen.  The reason I say that they’re ugly is because … well, because I have eyes.  I also find them a bit creepy, because they make everyone in the Australian team look like they are lifeless robotic legomen.  (Except I would never say that to Andrew Symonds, obviously, because in his uniform he looks like a robotic dreadlocked legoman who could totally kick your ass if he wanted).

Lego celebration!

The most unfortunate is Brett Geeves, because – thanks to his new Movember moustache – he is the sad Mexican Legoman of the Australian team (sombrero sold separately).  Normally I’m a believer that a Mo rescues any outfit.  Clearly this uniform is the exception, and it makes me angry.   The man is growing a kickass mo for Movember, can’t we all show him a little respect and let him wear a proper shirt?

See? Isn’t that better?

Wait … does the Aussie team have a name when they play Twenty20?  I’m thinking maybe Cricket Australia should just run with the hideous uniform Lego vibe and call them the Legomen.  THE AUSTRALIAN TWENTY20 LEGOMEN. We could get them sponsored by Lego!  They would be all over it as a way to target kids and families. YOU KNOW IT MAKES SENSE.  Feel free to use my idea and pay me in booze.

The kids just love meeting their Twenty20 idols.

But, anyway.  That’s not the point.  The point is this: in the scheme of things, wouldn’t you rather look like a Legoman than a jockey?  It’s just demeaning.  Those poor All*Starzzzz.

Michael Dighton may have captivated us all with 32 runs from 8 balls (heh, balls).  But the reward is being on national television dressed as a contender in the Johnny Walker 2500m stakes.

And if you were wondering about the actual game … the lawn jockeys won.