The Sound of wheelbarrows
Players and 20/20 money
I’ve heard a few complaints lately about the shift in attitude from players now that big money is on the table for winning 20/20 games. “They’re hypocrites,” goes up the cry, “the complaints about fatigue are now being drowned out by the squeaking sound as they push their wheelbarrows closer to the trough of money that’s on offer”. Fair comment.
But of course there’s another level of hypocrisy at play here. One where supporters cry foul, when in the past they themselves have moaned about the hours they work, then snapped the arm off their boss when he offers them overtime. Let he who is without sin, I say. So, any takers for the first stone? No? Thought not.
The two Yorkshire players in most danger of being stoned, in the none ‘Cheech & Chong’ sense, are Virgil and Hoggy. Now, what makes people think young Michael needs anymore money is beyond me. A million dollars for a day’s work might be riches beyond the dreams of Kevin Pietersen, but Vaughnie could probably find more than that down the back of his sofa. Seriously, he could afford to have Allen Standford throw rose petals in his path everywhere he goes. In reality he wouldn’t do that of course. He already has a team of oriental handmaidens to perform that function. Hence the popularity in the Yorkshire dressing room of the phrase “I don’t half fancy a Chinese”.
Virgil’s personal assistants: (l-r) Piff-paff, Paff-piff, Tax-deductible-expence and Mavis
Hoggy is another one less motivated by money than you’d think. In fact Matthew’s only really interested in something if it can wag it’s tail when he calls it’s name or fetch a ball for him. I can assure you, the first of those is something beyond the gift of any Yorkshire player I know and quite frankly you’d get mixed results if they tried the later as well.
As for me, as long as the powers that be don’t want to change the game so it’s played on horseback with a ball made from depleted uranium, I’m sound as a pound. Although I wouldn’t make those suggestions too loudly around Sir Allen Stanford, you might give him ideas….
Si’thee later,
Len
These insights into the Yorkshire dressing room are wonderful – no Chinese maidens in the Durham set up, just lots of lads’ mams bringing them some scran at tea time
That happens at Yorkshite too, although they are mostly intercepted by Mags, who seems to have a radar for incoming food.