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Sport and I have had a fairly rocky relationship. I guess we got off to a bad start very early in life, and failed to make amends in the intervening years. So when Matt asked me if I wanted to join his cricket team, we both knew it was a joke.

However, last Friday afternoon I got an ICQ message from him asking me again. It seems they were a few players short of a team with less than 24 hours to go before their first match. He was desperate. I’d have known this even if he hadn’t told me himself, because the fact that he would seriously entertain the idea of having me play cricket was a clear sign of his desperation.

Let me elaborate. It’s not that I hate cricket, just that it’s a sport. It always seemed a bit silly to me as well. It’s almost sacrilege for me to say that; in Austraila people routinely refer to sport as a religion with a straight face. We didn’t win independance through a war, so we tend to use sport as an avenue to wreak vengeance on our previous masters, the English.

Given that I have only the most basic understanding of cricket, and that the last time I played a team sport was when I was in the grade 2 football team (everyone who signed up was guarenteed the opportunity to play - I spent a couple of minutes on the field when the ball was safely down the other end, in the least important game of the season), and that Matt - knowing me better than almost anyone - is well aware of these facts, you can imagine how astonished I was.

So I said yes.

I figured it would be a way to get some exercise, and if nothing else it’d be a story to tell. Matt said he’d be able to get some white trousers for me to wear, so all I had to do was turn up. He also bribed me by offering me breakfast - I told you he knows me well.

So Saturday morning I rock up at A House Near You, the newest member of the Sandy Bay Swallows. No, the name certainly wasn’t an unfortunate mistake, it was very deliberate. This is very much a social cricket team, who were extremely upset to find out that they weren’t allowed to bring stubbies on to the field.

The boys had put a spread on; bacon, eggs and sausages in plentiful quantities, a perfect start to the day. Andy was busy in the hallway with the iron sticking AHNY.com logos to floppy terry-towling hats. Matt came out of the kitchen long enough to throw a pair of not-quite-white trousers at me. They fit, but only barely. They weren’t really comfortable, so after downing my grease I went down to Talays with Stu and Andy.

Andy walks in and says “I’m back with another ring-in!”. The guy behind the counter looks at me, reaches right to the back of the rack of trousers and says “I reckon this is all I’ve got that’ll fit ya, mate.” After a few more chioce remarks (”You’re the spin bowler then, are ya?”) we left with me looking much whiter.

We piled back into Stu’s car, and headed off to the cricket ground at Old Beach.

Now, I make no claim to any sort of cricket knowledge whatsoever, but I don’t think the Old Beach Cricket Ground is a very high standard of ground. It was barely circular, quite uneven, and had a lovely covering of daisies. The umpire informed us that the longer grass around the edge of the shorter grass (with daisies) was the boundary.

Matt was our captain, but when we won the toss he seemed to hesitate for a second as though he was seeking approval for his decision. Stu looked worried that he might be faltering so he shouted out “We’ll bat first!” to get things moving. We were hoping for a short game this way. Bear in mind that the team had never practised together, and included two people (including myself) who had never actually played cricket, and two extremely last minute ring-ins.

At this point the actual cricket bit starts. The bit that I don’t really understand. The bit where I’m very shortly expected to go out onto a field in between nearly a dozen strangers who appear to actually know what they’re doing, and not make a total fool out of myself. Naturally I’m last in the batting order, so I sit there on the sidelines asking stupid questions and watching the batsmen, trying to figure out what I have to do.

I realise that I’m actually quite nervous, and the thought of having to put all that gear on isn’t helping much. Before too long (although it was nearly two hours apparently) I’m the next batsman to go up. I quickly start getting suited up - we only had enough gear for three batsmen, so I couldn’t start getting ready until one came off. In the process I discover that this is possibly the most uncomfortable combination of clothes I’ve ever worn. I feel like I’m putting on armour, and getting ready to go to Waugh.

I’m sorry, I was going to leave that bit out, but I just couldn’t help myself.

So here I am all armoured up and barely able to sit down, when someone gets out. I start to stroll onto the field and wonder how it is that I’m supposed to run between the wickets when I’m expending all of my efforts on not tripping over my own pads. I walk up to the crease, the umpire tells me I have two balls left in this over, and then a scary man starts running at me very fast and throws a ball even faster. I take a bit of a swing at it - there was almost no chance of me hitting it, and I’m basically pretty chuffed just to have managed to stay upright so far.

All too quickly it happens again with exactly the same effect, then someone calls “Over!” and people start shuffling around. I move to the side of the pitch and stay there until the umpire tells me I’m blocking the bowler. At this point I start worrying that my cover is starting to split - I’m being exposed as the clueless gumby that I am. I get out of the bowler’s way, he bowls, and the other batsman hits the ball. It rolls along at a decent pace and manages to go between two fielders, so he shouts run and I take off.

This is probably the bit I was most worried about - it doesn’t matter if I make a fool of myself (not much, anyway) but if I stuff something up for the other batsman I figure I’m in real trouble. So I run as fast as my chubby little legs can take me, and when I reach the other end I notice that all the armour didn’t get in the way that much at all. Either that or my adrenaline blurred memory of the moment makes it seem that way.

Now I’m facing the other direction, and facing a different bowler. He’s starting off a lot closer than the other bowler, and the wicket keeper is now standing right behind me instead of several metres away. Somehow, neither of these facts register in my mind as being significant. The bowler bowls, I take a swing, and then everyone starts shouting. I turn around to locate the loudest source of the noise, and notice the the wicket keeper is standing triumphant over my demolished wicket, the ball held high and his face contorted in a victorious cry.

“Ahhhh”, I think to myself, “This is what that crease thing is about, isn’t it?”

I look down and notice that in trying to hit the ball I’ve managed to come completely out of my crease, which apparently means that anyone with the ball is free to demolish my wicket and start shouting.

Everyone has started walking back to the sidelines now, so I join them and my first effort as a batsman is over. The score - Sandy Bay Swallows all out for 74.

After a short break we go in to field. Everybody seems to know what to do, so I remind Matt that I have no idea what I’m doing and he said he’d put me out of harms way. That turns out to be somewhere behind the batsman, on the side he’s less likely to hit to.

Every over the fielders basically have to reverse formation though, so at the end of the first over I have to make my way to the opposite end of the ground. At the end of the second over Matt tells me that I can just stay where I am, but move closer and further from the pitch depending on which way the batsmen are facing. This means that I’m now fielding two different positions, and one of them is in front of the batsman. Matt is carefully tricking me into a position where I may be forced to do something.

I’m still confused by where I’m meant to be standing, especially as I seem to be getting told to switch sides a bit. Eventually Patty explains to me that this is because we have a left-handed and right-handed batsman up there. “Look”, he says to me as patiently as he can manage, “just pretend that your gay, and you want to check out the batsman’s arse. Every time you can’t se his arse, move to the other side so that you can.”

Later on I find out that this position is, somewhat ironically, called Fine Leg. Or maybe it’s not ironic. You never know with this game.

Before long someone hits a ball my way, and inevitably I pretty much trip over it. I manage to stop it ok, but it takes me a couple of attempts to pick it up. I manage to throw it back to the Stu, who’s bowling, so it all ends well.

This happens a couple more times throughout the course of the game, with me getting more exercise than I’ve had in the last several months, when one of the batsman finally figures me out. I see him looking at me as Stu is walking off to get his runup, and as I watch him practising his stroke I notice that I’m looking flat at the surface of the bat, with no side visible. He’s aiming right for me. He thinks I’m basically the same as a gap in the fielding, and he’s perfectly correct.

I start panicing about this, and then Stu bowls him out. That was probably the most fervent shout of victory I made all game.

In fact, as it turns out, we’re not doing too badly by this point. The other team may be much better batsmen than us, but it seems our bowlers have the edge over theirs. Once the big guy goes down (He was taller and wider than me, except that he could actually play cricket) their scoring slows and we start racking up wickets. They’re getting more daring, and we’re getting more pumped, and finally they’re on their last batsman with 69 runs. In a turnaround that we could barely have imagined, we find ourselves with victory within our grasp.

We have Nick (one of the ring ins) bowling now. Despite being a last minute ring in, the friend of Pattys brother who happened to be visiting when Patty rings his brother to beg him to play, he turns out to have quite a bit of experience at cricket. He fires off a nice ball, and the batsman takes a big swing at it. He connects and it goes sailing through the air.

Matt and Gaz are both running toward it, both leaving it for the other, when Matt decides to go for it and jumps up hands outstretched. He catches it, rolls through the air, hits the ground smoothly and somersaults to an upright position with the ball held triumphantly heavenward.

Well, that’s what it looked like to me - that sort of feat of coordination is so beyond my ability that I’m impressed if I can sit down without falling over.

In an amazing upset, the Sandy Bay Swallows have won the match by 5 runs!

We return victorious to the Commodore, to down a few beers and celebrate. This is one part of the game I can do with the best of them.

So, there you have it. I played cricket and lived. I not only survived, I had fun. This is such an alien concept that I’ve decided further study is necessary, and I’ve agreed to come back for more. I’m off to go have a hit with the boys tonight though, so that the next time I play cricket I’ll have already had the experience of actually hitting a cricket ball.

On Friday night I had my farewell dinner with Tas Access. I’d actually been at the new job for a week already, but it was the best time for everyone concerned so that’s when we had the farewell. I’d asked if I could invite a bunch of ex-staff too, and no-one seemed to mind so I did.

It was great to get everyone together again, just like old times. I was the last of the original Hobart people to leave, and we were all there on Friday night. It’s funny; out of that group of five people, I’ve lived with two of them, regularly see three of them, and keep in touch with the fourth. We used to socialise together outside of work hours a lot more when the office first opened, too. I guess that’s just one thing that changes as a company grows.

I really did have a good time at Tas Access all up, I guess it was just time for me to move on.

A bunch of people took photos at the farewell which I’ll try and get hold of and put up here. In the meantime there’s a gallery up on Scott’s homepage.

In related news, my most generous ex-colleagues bought me a Gameboy Advance as a going away present! Ok, ok, they asked what I wanted and I told them, but it was still very nice of them to actually buy it.

I’m really impressed with it - I loved the SNES (though I never actually owned one) and this is like a mini portable SNES. I went out on Saturday morning and bought Super Mario Advance and Mariokart Super Circuit for it, as well as the optional AC adaptor (’cause I’d hate to be stuck without batteries). The games are more expensive than I thought - those two games and the AC adaptor cost as much as the GBA does on its own, but that’s still half as much as I would have had to pay if I had paid for it all myself.

I’ve read complaints online about the screen - it seems to be a big topic with the GBA so I’ll weigh in. Yes, it can be hard to see. If you’re not in good light with the right angle on the screen, it ranges from slightly dim to completely invisible. The surface is really reflective as well, so getting good light without reflections can be an issue. All in all though it’s the best screen I’ve seen on a handheld, and the difference in quality between the GBA and earlier gameboys makes it worth it.

It’s pretty small, too - about the same size as a gameboy pocket, but held sideways with the screen between the controls. It kills my hands after playing for a little while, but I’ll adapt.

Well, I’ve got work to do so I’d better get back to it.

J.

Well, I’ve been at my new job for a week now. Things seem to be going well. I hope everyone else here agrees .

I’m getting dropped off earlier and picked up later because it’s closer to where we’re living at the moment, but I can cope with that. I think I’ve had lunch with Paul every day this week, now that we’re in the same area again.

Oh, and I’ve noticed that my stylesheet doesn’t seem to work very well with Konqueror - I’ll have to fix that.

I’ll give a bigger update when I’ve settled in.

I’ve got my official Tas Access farewell dinner on tonight (not the impromptu one we threw last week).

J.

This week Triple J have been holding a rapping competition to win a bunch of cds by bands performing at the Livid Festival.

Now, I’m not a rapper, I’m not even a fan of most rap stuff. But when I heard the people who were getting through and winning the competition I figured I should at least have a go. At least I can rhyme, and I have a sense of rhythm - pretty much essential traits for entering a rapping contest I would have thought, but obviously it ain’t so..

Anyway, I wrote an entry but couldn’t get through on the phone. I’m bitter about it, don’t want to see it go to waste, so here it is.

What is the livid festival, I hear you all ask?
It’s a chance to get outside and bask
in the sunlight, and your music of choice.
Whether down on the ground or up and raising your voice
to the heavens like a chuppa-chup up to your lips;
you can sit on the grass or get up and swing your hips.

Yeah whatever your scene, your needs are gonna be met,
You’ll be oblivious to surroundings even if it’s wet.
Trying to plot the best course through a minefield of beat
and keep your fluids up, so you can cope with the heat.
Cause the line-up is big, a saturated solution
of bands that comprise a musical revolution.

We got the butthole surfers and the Rollins band,
Something for Kate, the Gurge, and Billy Bragg.
Stereo MC’s are coming at ya both ways,
and if you wanted to mosh, then go see 28 Days
Look, the list goes on, it’d leave you dizzy and twirling
But let me just pause a sec to mention Gerling……

They’re simply stirling.

So if it’s gonna go off, rock your world and just be wicked,
why is it that some people don’t have a ticket?
Perhaps they’re like me, down here in sunny tasmania,
or too far away, somewhere in regional Australia.
Their flights are all cancelled, or they’re just out of cash;
Resorting to calling to build their CD stash.

Yeah I gotta admit it, I’m not too shy to say,
that I’ve been sitting at work, writing rap, for triple j.
If it nets me a stack of good music I’ll do it,
I’ll get down on my knees, pucker up, and get to it.
I’ve said my piece, I’d better quit while I’m ahead
I had three things to say, I think I got ‘em all said.

I’ll have to try again tomorrow I guess..

Our wedding is about three and a half months away now. Most things are under control, but I finally got around to looking for someone to make my clothes today.

I (and my groomsmen) are going to wear something with a "swashbuckling" feel to it, a sort of Errol Flynn or Zorro look. The problem with this is that I can’t buy clothes like that off the shelf, so I’ll need them designed and made.

Even finding someone in this city who still makes clothes rather than buys them off Asian sweatshops seems like it might be a challenge. Most of the time I love living here, but sometimes it feels as far away from everything as it really is.

Well, from my initial investigations I’m looking at something like $400 for a set of clothes that I want. This sort of figure is nasty but bearable for me (after all, I’m only doing it once) but I doubt it’ll be acceptable to the groomsmen. So I’ll have to keep looking, and see how I can make it cheaper.