Tim Paine bowled middle stump with dick pic

They say cricket is a funny old game, more like fucking hilarious.

Howzat for a dick pic?

Just three years after Australian cricket captain Steve Smith resigned in a flood of tears and sandpaper, last Friday Tim Paine tucked the bat under his arm and quit as captain over a dick pic. You couldn’t make this shit up. If only Tim had been wearing a protector.

Paine resigned over sexting a former colleague, a Cricket Tasmania employee… there were “lewd messages” and an unsolicited dick pic. As usual these sports “stars” think they can do anything and get away with it. When I first heard about this, l assumed it had just happened, but no, the piccing of said dick occurred in 2017 and by all accounts went straight through to the keeper.

Take it away Tim, “At the time” Paine said during his resignation press conference, “the exchange was the subject of a thorough Cricket Australia Integrity Unit investigation, throughout which I fully participated in and openly participated in. That investigation and a Cricket Tasmania HR investigation at the same time found that there had been no breach of the Cricket Australia Code of Conduct.”

So you take a photo of your middle stump, send it to a colleague and it’s fine?

“Integrity Unit” LOL. What the actual fuck do you have to do to breach the Code of Conduct? How about bringing the game into disrepute for a vague start?

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At the time, Paine had only been captain for two tests, married for only eighteen months and had recently welcomed a new baby. Nice.

Right on cue, Shane Warne came off the long run in defence of Paine, but with Warnie’s runs on the scandal board, he may not be the best person for a character reference.

Cricket Tasmania also padded up in support of Tim the Tool Man, slamming Cricket Australia for their treatment of Paine, likening it to that of Bill Lawry, who was dumped as captain of the Australian cricket team during the 1970-71 Ashes series. From memory and I could be wrong, but I don’t recall Bill attempting to bowl a maiden over with a dick pic.

Has anyone asked how Scott Morrison is? The Australian Prime Minister is a self-confessed cricket tragic (during cricket season and when there’s a beer and camera around him) and must be taking this very hard. As it were.

With an Ashes series about to commence, England’s Barmy Army will be absolutely Stoked with all of this, there are so many words that rhyme with “dick”, their songs will write themselves.

©Steve Williams 2021

Cricket memories — as summer as cicadas

Officially, summer starts in Australia on December 1, but to me it’s when the first ball is bowled in the first cricket test.

To mark the occasion, here are some of my random childhood cricket memories.

“Don’t rub ’em, count ’em” — Balls of Steel circa 1980

*Watching two blokes carry a polystyrene esky chock-full of beer bottles (KB?) in front of The Hill at the Sydney Cricket Ground in 1975, when the arse fell out of it. The beer shattered, they were shattered. The crowd roared, the players laughed.

*Foraging in a box of washing powder (OMO?) to discover a cricket card. That smell has stayed with me for forty years.

*The religious experience of buying a brand new Kookaburra cricket ball. Opening the box, unwrapping the paper, gently taking it out. Earnestly polishing (one side) until you could see your beaming face, and never letting it touch the ground.

*My World Series Cricket t-shirt that I wore until it had to retire hurt.

*Tony Greig walking out to bat wearing a motorbike helmet to much laughter. Later sticking his car keys in the pitch while solemnly discussing the mythical “player comfort level” off the high-tech “weather wall”.

*Getting that first “cherry” on your new cricket bat.

*The body-trembling / mind-numbing nervousness of approaching your favourite cricket player on the fence for an autograph, then the exalted glee as you float away gazing at the scrawled signature. I felt exactly the same way meeting Viv Richards when I was 37.

*Missing seeing a test hat-trick. A day at the cricket with dad, who wanted to leave early because the car park “is a shitfight”. We heard the crowd erupt — three times — from said car park.
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*The terror of facing a “rep” fast bowler who started his run-up in the next suburb, and was so fast he had to stop and rest before he actually unleashed the red missile.

*Inventing day / night cricket as a kid in 1977: playing backyard cricket until mum called you in for dinner, then resuming after turning on the single Portaflood light, until mum called “stumps”.

*The voice of Alan McGilvray.

*The “Balls of Steel incident” of 1980. Bowling in a school cricket match, the ball slipped out of my hand and hit the batsmen on the full, in the, er, groinal region. He didn’t flinch. I raced down the pitch “Sorry, mate, are you ok? Good thing you’re wearing a protector.” — “I’m not.”

*Getting into fights for supporting the West Indies instead of Australia (I just preferred the way they played the game). Coruba rum is still a beverage of choice.

*The sound of the stitching of that new Kookaburra cricket ball whizzing past your nose as you missed a hoik over cow corner.

*The image of Dennis Lillee flicking sweat off his brow at the top of his run-up, then that bouncing gold chain as he thundered into bowl.

*Walking into bat, being handed a still-warm protector the just-dismissed batsman had just removed. Talk about player comfort levels.

C’mon Aussie, c’mon…

©Steve Williams 2013