Deja vu - again!

Reports are emerging from the All Black camp that a Heimlich manoevre specialist has been called into the squad to work with a team already being labelled the biggest chokers since the Boston Strangler.

The shock defeat in Brisbane this weekend has forced team sponsor Browning to rush out it's new range of shotguns 6 weeks early. The guns are available in 1/4 choke, 1/2 choke and All Black.

In the past 10 days the much vaunted All Blacks faced a ten man game - South Africa, and a fifteen man game - Australia. On both occasions they have gone down like a 5 dollar hooker.

The doubt is there, etched into the faces of many of the squad. The coaching team must loathe the phrase deja vu - again.

Injuries to Keiran Read and Adam Thompson may rule them out of the competition. How Grim Henry must have been hoping that a similar fate befell Guilford, Muliaina and Woodcock.

And it's no use the NZRFU claiming these two defeats came at the behest of Adidas who felt a more open tournament might benefit global replica jersey sales.

But one thing's for sure. What 3 months ago was a done and dusted NZ victory is no longer the case. South Africa smell blood. So do the Aussies. Even England will fancy a go at the All Blacks right now.

So it's game on - 48 games on, in fact. And the smart money is on New Zealand playing in less than 7 of them.

Wow! Williams Wins!

Victorious Caddie Steve Williams has paid tribute to the role played by golfer Adam Scott in his amazing comeback win at the WGC Invitiational at Firestone this week.

"I couldn't have done it without Adam" said an obviously emotional Williams after Scott had helped him to victory with a birdie at the last. "No caddie is complete without a golfer who hits the shots - they may not be the glamour partner, but you have to acknowledge their work"

Wiliams, without a win for nearly 2 years and written off by many after firing former partner Tiger Woods, was clearly elated. He punched the air several times, punched two fans waving cameras near him and acknowledged the applause of the crowd surrounding the 18th green.

His 48 minute acceptance speech may have been too long for some purist golf commentators but it clearly came from the heart. Twice during his Phillippic he generously reminded listeners of the role played by Scott, and took time to indulge in a few digs at his former employee, Woods.

"I didn't see much of him during the tournament, but then I never look backwards" cracked the Kiwi. " I just focussed on what I do best, what I felt I needed to do to win, carrying a bag of metal around and doing what I am told to".

Williams next event will be the US PGA, the final major of the year, and he will be keen to add this to his growing total of Majors as he chases jack Nicklaus' record of 19. Once again he will have Scott on the clubs, and in this sort of form he must rate a better than even chance.

Open Sesame

At a time when our days grow darker, our life force ever more constricted by economic, political and social woes, it is left to sport to inject a rare glimmer of the candlelight of excitement and happiness.

This week four extraordinary days of golf were played out on the Kent cost, culminating in a victory by one of the most deserving men we have come to know over the years through the medium of the small screen.

Platitiudes abound when such heroes are born, but truly there was not a dry eye in the house when the Irishman sank that final putt.

Our acquaintance with him may be based on no more than what we read and what we see, but his gentlemanly deportment, his cheerful demeanour and his wild weather golf par excellence make him a man of immense popularity. His endurance too of extraordinary personal hardship, his resilience to the fickles fates of golf and his unsportsmanlike fondness for fags, booze and a burger or two do nothing to diminish his appeal.

You sensed that even his closest rivals over the final 18 holes were glad to see him win.

His victory speech too showed his tactful grace. Many expected an emotional dedication to his beloved Heather, so cruelly taken from him 6 years ago, yet with new fiancee Allison looking on this would have been decidely difficult. One suspects he will, in an alltogether more private moment, have a much more enduring and endearing conversation with she who is lost too him.

It was golf at times at it's most brutal, on a course which embodies the purity of the game once played by its founding fathers. It reminded one of a particularly hard fought Grand National, one in which so many fell by the wayside, reputations left in tatters in the open ditches.

After leaving the winners enclosure he was seen pulling his mobile phone from his pocket. It is in a way sad that due to recent upheavals we may never know what he was saying, or to whom. Sic transit gloria mundi and all that.

On the Masters

They say nowhere produces a fairytale like Augusta (although curiously no openly homosexual golder has ever won) and 2011 was no exception. Charl Schwartzel, a man who comes from such a poor background that his parents couldn't even afford his entire Christian name, came from behind up the straight (does that count as a fairytale?) to win by 2 shots and achieve riches beyond his wildest dreams. Perhaps now he will be able to acquire a more appropriate looking wife, along the lines of the delicious Mrs Immelman (remember her?) It was a final day played out with more drama than a 6 dvd pack of Judge John Deed. The late charge by Tiger, the abject collapse by Macillroy, the phlegmatic insouciance of Choi, the abject collapse of Macillroy (so bad it is worthy of two mentions) and the runaway success of John Daly's "Wild Thing" clothing stall situated just outside the main gates in Magnolia Lane. Was it a great Masters? Perhaps. Certainly it kept one on the edge of ones seat. But in the history of a tournament that has produced so many amazing finishes, such a range of emotions, it will fade quickly. Remember Jack in at 86? At 46? Faldo's victory over Norman? Zoeller's chip in the play off? Phil's victory when both wife and mother in law (swing and roundabouts spring to mind) were gravely stricken? Those were great Masters. This was just a great golf tournament. And the big question: is Tiger back? He left the course shortly after completing his round to keep a date with a rather nice girl his caddy met working in Hooters in downtown Atlanta. So yes. He's back. Whether than will affect his golf or not remains to be seen.

The World Cup runneth over (and over and over)

Anyone who believes match fixing is dead in the ranks of Pakistan cricket must be feeling somewhat red faced after witnessesing Kamran Akmal's facile misses off the bowling of Shoaib Akhtar last night. Ross Taylor, who went on to score a matchwinning ton, was dropped twice in the most absurd manner. Whilst Afridi and Akhtar looked on in horror, Akmal remained expressionless - presumably to busy dwelling on the 6 billion rupees Mohammed Bung would be paying him to worry about the impact on his team mates. Good on him - he looks like a nice lad.

Elsewhere in this oh-so-fascinating tournament, which I gather concludes in June 2019, bad news for England - Stuart "does my short hair make me look less of a shirtie" Broad has another tournament ending injury. Aparently the ECB are scouring the ranks of country cricket for any likely replacement with the name of O'Brien.

At least Broad's looks genuine - unlike KP who is cleary going home with one eye on his IPL contract.

It is, of course, an entirely superfluous event. The only cricketing contest of any significance remaining is the Ashes - every other match played is merely an appetiser for the most crucial of battles. England hold the Ashes, by the way. Not Australia. Again.

It may be that Australia claim this World Cup. Good on them, the old Aussie battlers. In the greater scheme of things it's a bit akin to 4th place in pin the tail on the donkey at a 4 year old birthday party. But some consolation, nonetheless.

But really, who cares? The only real moment of interest so far was when the Barbados Chronicle misleadingly reported that everyone on the West Indies bus was stoned after their game against The Bangles, thus giving the erroneous impression that there are times when Chris Gayle and Suleiman Benn are not stoned.

You know a tournament is too long when it's duration exceeds the average length of a marriage in Birmingham. Playing one or 2 games a day, when you have 605 venues, 400 billion potential attendees (and that's just in India) etc is ludicrous. All in the name of money!

Commentary on Commentary

Andy: Fuck me, I think I'm turning in to a shirtie - that wee assitant ref's giving me a boner

Richard: It's alright, it a she

Andy: Yer fucking jokin, big man? A wee lass running the touch line?

Richard: Yes, and I'd like to touch her line

Andy: Aye, right enough. I bet she'd be a good header

Both snigger

Richard: Is she wearing a bra?

Andy: Dunno, but look at the Bristol Cities on her. Man, they're fuckin huge. She could blow my whistle any day

Both snigger again.

Richard: It's more like the FF cup than the FA Cup.

Andy: Spot on, wee fella. She'd be better off in the Euraper League.

Richard: Good thing you turned of the mic, Andy

Andy: Turned off the mic? Aw, no, we're fucked.....

Now that might have been enough to get these two football icons out of a job. Might. Light hearted banter at worst. Nothing you wouldn't hear the female version of on a hen night.

But for these two paragons to be pillaried from pillar to post in the way they have is downright wrong. The world has gone mad. We need to regain our sense of humour, and harden up. A lot.

In memoriam crickitus crimulus

Since the conclusion of the fifth Ashes test, NOSF has been insomething of a reverie. One could liken it to the opium enduced trance in which Coleridge penned Kublai Khan. Or not, depending on your perspective. But jolted, and rudely awakened by the improbable victory in the first one dayer, I feel compelled to arise from my torpidly pleasurable state and put pen to paper.

I say improbable, because if ever a side was wasting it's time trying to beat England, it is this moribund, motley and mainly crap bunch of Australians. Clearly match fixing of the worst kind has gone on. Obviously the England bowlers have colluded to defraud the betting public. Look at the evidence. Shane Watson passed 60! Michael Clarke passed 20!! Bollinger took a wicket, and if that wasn't enough, the final, irrefutable piece of evidence, Australia won. Skullduggery is too good a word for it.

The remainder of the one day series will be interesting, if only for trying to spot the obvious influences of my good fried Ranjit Bhung of Ladbrookes (Hyderabad branch)

So what of the Ashes?

On the one side we had the magnificent England XI, fit, lean, handsome and herioc to a man. Opposing them, with little gusto or guts, a traditional Australian side of cow faced, moronic, obstreporous and mostly weak willed progeny of long forgotten deportees. Only Hussey, who should surely now be promoted to skipper the side whilst rebuilding takes place, stood out as having any real ticker. The rest were simply pathetic.

Brisbane notwithstanding, this is undeniably the worst thing to happen to Australia in years. It's clearly a direct consequence of having a Sheila in charge. In fact, things could only get worse if, for example, that great Richie Benaud was revealed as a closet screamer. That's how calamitous a state of affairs prevails.Nuff said.

There is one small chink of light. NOSF has it on good authority that a fund raiser will be added to the England shcedule, a match against a World Obnoxious Gits XI. The good news for the Ockers is that they are guaranteed at least 4 representatives in the form of Watson, Siddle, Ponting (skipper) and Johnson. Bollinger may also make the side as despite a lack of cricketing ability, he would clearly be there on merit as the most obnoxious git to play for Australia in the last 50 years.

And so to Caesar, a man whose influence presided over both teams.

Sir Andrew Strauss (I trust I am not letting the cat out of the bag) came, saw and conquered. Alistair Cook and Jimmy Anderson crossed the Rubicon of their careers and Australia endured a caesarean, in that they were opened up and had their stuffing ripped out of them.

And a jolly good thing too!