On KFC, Australian "racism" and American egocentricity

Several weeks ago, you may have heard about the controversy here over a KFC ad that was deemed by some people outside of Australia as insensitive at best, racist at worst. And many of you have likely already seen the ad, and perhaps have even heard plenty of people offer their unsolicited opinion. But even if you have, humor me here and read on; I think I'm in the position to have a unique perspective.

First, have a look at the ad:

From an American's perspective, in a vacuum, and without any context, this doesn't look good, right? Insensitive (or racist) Australians, right?

Well, not entirely. But before I can explain my rationale, we need to take a step back.

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Australia has an ugly, ugly, ugly history with the people native to the land, the Aborigines. There is no denying this. Nor is there any denying that relations to this day, despite some good intentions from both sides, remain strained.

So there's that. But that's not what this post is about.

This post actually starts with the US, and its own history. Then it moves to Australia, and this country's interpretation/ignorance of that history. And then it ends by moving back to the US, and the reaction of the American people and media to that interpretation/ignorance.

Clearly, the US has as much – if not more – ghosts in the closet than Australia when it comes to its own race relations. And while those relations have improved over the years, just as they have in Australia, there are plenty of sensitivities that stew just beneath the surface of day-to-day life in the US. Those come to a head very frequently; for an example, look no further than the quotes from Harry Reid about Barack Obama that recently became public, and the subsequent media and political outcry.

It's an uber-sensitive society, filled with complexities that take a lifetime to appreciate, and one which has no sympathy for – and practically preys upon – just the slightest slips of the tongue.

Back to Australia. I've often described Australian culture as the intersection of English tradition and American pop culture. The connection to the English past goes so deep that time and time again, Australians have voted down becoming a republic, which would necessitate cutting all ties from the British Commonwealth. So to this day, the Queen of England still technically rules the country. But you turn on a TV in primetime or go to the movies or go to a newsstand, and odds are that you'll be consuming American-produced content. I was once told that my American accent wasn't exotic (if you will) because I "sound like TV".

This is all just a long way of saying that Australians are exposed to a lot of American culture.

But here's the problem: Australians don't really get American culture. Like I said, it's a complex society that takes a lifetime to appreciate. So without actually living in it, Australians' understanding of it is completely superficial. And that's where things get dangerous.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard an Australian casually throw around the n-word. Every time, it's grating to my ears. And yet every time, I have to remind myself that there are no bad intentions. They've heard it from a TV show or a movie or a song, and so they emulate it. But there are no racist intentions at all, certainly not like you'd infer if an American white person casually used it in conversation. If anything, Australians' use of the word is simply out of ignorance: ignorant of the history of the word, of how much pain it causes, of what it means today. Of course, it's the American media that we have to blame for this; no use of the n-word in the media would mean no misuse of the word by those who don't understand it.

But. If an American without this perspective visits Australia and hears that word – especially if an African American hears that word – we have a situation begging to blow up.

Which brings me full circle to this latest controversy. Or kind of. Because to get to that, I first I want to tackle another controversy from a few months earlier – also regarding Australian "racism" – that received a fair amount of media attention as well.

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A popular variety show from the 70s, 80s and 90s, Hey Hey It's Saturday, had a few reunion shows back in September and October. And on one of the shows, with Harry Connick Jr in attendance as a guest, a group called the Jackson Jive performed a skit. Watch the skit and Connick Jr's initial reaction (until about the 2:45 mark), and then his more blunt opinion (from about 5:25 to 6:40)*:

*Don't want to watch it all? Here's the Cliff's Notes version:

A group of guys come out, dressed as the Jackson Five (even though, strangely, there are six of them), and perform a cover of "Can You Feel It". Unfortunately, the five guys who aren't Michael – again, not sure about the math there – are wearing blackface. The guy playing Michael is wearing, ummmmm, whiteface? (If you can call it that? Whatever. You get the point.) And Connick Jr, who's judging the performance, is less than impressed. While his distaste for the skit is somewhat understated at first, the host of the show gives him an opportunity a few minutes later to fully express his opinion, and he uses that time to make a more pointed statement in which he tries put the history of blackface in context.

This created a huge firestorm here, with Connick Jr stuck right in the middle. Yet amazingly, I found that most people sided against Connick Jr: "He doesn't understand our culture! We don't take anything seriously! How dare he project the sensitivities of his own culture onto us!"

I said it at the time: that is the worst justification ever. Seriously. The second you try to emulate something from another culture, the onus is on you to make sure you're not breaking that culture's rules.* The guys who put on that skit broke some serious rules, and they – along with everyone else who refuses to see why it was harmful – need to make a respectful effort to educate themselves on the history of blackface in America.

*It's like when you go to another country; you obey LOCAL laws, regardless of how absurd they might be to your own sensibilities. I don't see anyone bringing chewing gum to Singapore, unless they'd like that government to go Michael Fay on their ass.

Bottom line, that skit was insanely insensitive. And that's even before factoring in that it was only three months after Michael Jackson had died. THREE MONTHS!

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And finally – finally! – we come back to what started this whole post: the KFC cricket ad. Just in case you need to refresh your memory, here again is the ad in question:

Again, in a vacuum, this ad looks pretty bad, perhaps as bad as the Jackson Jive skit.

But here's the thing: after the ad made its way onto YouTube, Americans watched it in that vacuum and took it way out of context.

Hmmm. I'm not sure italics on that "way" emphasizes my point enough. How about repeating it a few times, with bolded, italicized caps on the last one? And let's stretch out that last one, too: Way, way, WAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY out of context.

Let's take another step back: I am an American, through and through. I love my country. I wouldn't trade my nationality for anything in the world. Despite some of the baggage that comes with it, especially living internationally, it's a source of pride for me. Having said that, America is a ridiculously insular culture. It's something that has always disturbed me, and this insularity rears its ugly head with all too much frequency.* It's done it again here.

*Fortunately, most of these occurences are pretty inane. Take, for example, the following passage from a Joe Posnanski blog entry a few months ago, in which he recounts a dinner with a friend:

One of the topics of discussion was how at any given time there is always one person who is widely considered the funniest person in the world (or America, anyway). This isn't necessarily the person WE think is the funniest person in the world; I've already told you I don't think Robin Williams is all that funny. It's more like the national plus international consensus. We did not spend a lot of time on the dates (and I should say here that I added a few names that Michael might not agree with) but we generally think the funniest person in the world title has, at one time or another, been the following people.

– Richard Pryor
– George Carlin
– Chevy Chase
– John Belushi
– Eddie Murphy
– Robin Williams
– Billy Crystal
– Dana Carvey
– Mike Myers
– Jerry Seinfeld
– Jim Carrey
– Adam Sandler
– Jon Stewart
– Will Ferrell
– Tina Fey

You all know I love me some Posnanski. Seriously... the man crush runs deep. But I couldn't help but note the absolutely insane hypocrisy in this passage. First he concedes that this list of the funniest people "in the world" may be just confined to America. Okay... so it's just the funniest people in America, I guess? But then he says three times – not once, not twice, but THRICE! – that it's an international list. Right... so now it IS the funniest people in the world. But THEN he goes on to list 15 comedians, all of whom were popularized by American culture! Riiiiiiiiight.

Anyway. Where was I? Ah yes – the KFC commercial.

Let's provide all the context that almost no one in America would know prior to viewing this ad:

• It's currently cricket season in Australia.
• The West Indian cricket team is in Australia to play some matches.
• KFC is a major sponsor of Australian cricket.
• As a major sponsor of Australian cricket, KFC is running a series of cricket-related ads.
• In each of the ads that KFC is running, Mick, the main character, is faced with some sort of inane obstacle that's preventing him from enjoying his cricket. So he uses the apparent magical power of KFC chicken to get others to shut the hell up so he can get back to the cricket.
• The ad in question is the only one in this series that features people from the West Indies. Not African Americans, mind you: West Indians.

So. There's that.

To me, this comment from this article on Media Bistro sums it up brilliantly:

Sorry Americans. It only the guilt of your hundreds of years of oppression against blacks that is apparent here. The stereotype of an African American having an affinity with fried chicken is an AMERICAN stereotype, fostered by AMERICANS and spread through popular culture by Americans.

KFC are a major sponsor of the summer cricket in Australia. It also happens that the West Indies are one of two touring teams this summer (including Pakistan) and the blacks depicted are West Indies fans. It really isn't a stretch to see this ad in its context as a supporter sitting solo amongst the opposition supporters and getting them onside by buying lunch. The rest is your guilty minds looking for somebody else to blame for a stereotype you created (and that only exists outside America thanks to American comedians whose black people/fried chicken jokes have made it outside your country).

Get a grip and get off your high horse.

The ad has nothing to do with African Americans, or the American stereotype that black people like fried chicken. But why confuse the American media with the facts when they can take it out of context, interpret it as they want, and blow the whole thing out of proportion? And we get to where we are today.*

*Frankly, I'm shocked that there's never been an outcry in the US about, ahem, Coon cheese. Exhibit A, B and C.**

Yeah. Context.

**If you click on ANY link throughout this insanely long post, please make it any (or all) of these. Classic Australian commercials.

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Is Australia racist? Short answer: no. But if it wants to emulate the US – as it does with regular frequency, and as the Jackson Jive did – then it better make a concerted effort to understand it.*

*Ironically, the Aussies just got to try the shoe on the other foot when these idiots from Russia did a little Aborigines on Ice routine.

Do I expect this to give the entire nation perspective on the whole Jackson Jive thing? No. But still.

But America has some introspection to do as well, and it better realize that before passing judgment on others – as the media did with this KFC ad – then it too needs to stop being so egocentric and understand other cultures.

And then we can all put some shrimp on the barbie and gobble down some Coon cheese.

Throwin' some parental Kleinballs

The parents have arrived in Sydney! Spent the weekend with them, and on Thursday we head off to Adelaide and the Flinders Ranges. It'll be my first time in the actual Outback, so should be good... although beastly hot.

Speaking of beastly hot, it was 42°C (108°F) in Sydney on Saturday. Then we got a thunderstorm. Then we got some hail.* An hour later, the temperature had dropped by 15°C (27°F).

*I've only seen hail twice in Australia. Each time, my parents were here. Strange.

My dad has somehow developed an unhealthy obsession with lamingtons. So when we went into the city on Saturday, he immediately initiated a frantic search, stopping in every bakery we passed until he got his paws on one.

Two years, four days and four months after I arrived in this country, I finally got myself a New South Wales driver's license last week. Until my California one expires, which unfortunately happens in just a few weeks, I find myself in an ideal situation. For everyday sort of use, the NSW license will make things easier. But on the off chance that I get pulled over by a cop, I can pull out the CA license and plead ignorant.

Bit of a sports deluge the last few weeks. We got the Australian Open in full swing, Australia's playing Pakistan and the West Indies in a series of cricket matches, and I'm doing my best to stay up to date on the football playoffs. Good time of the year to be a sports fan here.

Australia Day is tomorrow. While we won't be going up to Macmasters Beach like two years ago, we'll be doing much of what we did last year at the Ascot: plenty of food, drinks, cricket (playing), cricket (watching on TV), tennis (watching on TV) and music (annual Triple J Hottest 100 countdown).

Couple of big posts planned for the next few weeks. We got a lil' something to do with Portuguese chicken and a lil' something to do with Kentucky Fried Chicken. Although chicken's involved in both, the posts promise to be very different in content.

Partying like it's 2008

The final days of 2008 were amazing. Those final days were so amazing, in fact, that I essentially did them all over again this year, in the final days of 2009.

Some may view such repetition as a bad thing. I do not. Not when you've identified a surefire recipe for success.

Last year's Christmas was spent with a friend's family – Yogi and the Davis family – overlooking the ocean at Macmasters Beach. This year's Christmas was spent with another friend's family – Shorty and the, uhhhh, Short family – in the slightly less exotic Wagga Wagga.

After driving from Sydney to Wagga on Christmas Eve, I was awoken early the next morning by Shorty's sisters,* both of whom were eager to rip open some gifts before Christmas services.** After a brief, one-hour service – actually pretty painless, especially if you want to put it up against High Holiday services – we were back to the house for a day-long feast.

*Shorty's sisters are in their 20s. Yet to this day they still force the family up at 7 on Christmas morning to open gifts.

**Shorty's birthday quite unfortunately falls on Christmas. So not only did he grow up with the dreaded Christmas/birthday combo gifts, but he's been to Church on his birthday every single year of his life. Even the "but Andy's Jewish!" excuse this year wouldn't fly.

It's absolutely no secret that the Short family can eat. Big time. And we did so on Christmas day, by stuffing ourselves on four varieties of meat – turkey, ham, chicken, pork – and a few of your staple veggies, like potatoes and sweet potatoes and pumpkin. My. Lord.

This was of course topped off by desert, which included fruit salad, ice cream, pavlova, trifle, and the pièce de résistance (well, for me at least), plum pudding with brandy sauce. Oh. My God.

That was lunch. We did it all again for dinner. And then again for breakfast the next day.

We could have kept on feasting on the leftovers all throughout Boxing Day, but instead, it was time to cook up a whole new feast! This time it was to the barbecue, as the Shorts ticked off more types of meat that hadn't been consumed yesterday: rissoles,* sausages and steak. And what Short family barbecue could be complete without a potato bake? Oh, I think there was some salad, too. And most importantly, the plum pudding made another appearance.**

*Basically a hamburger patty, although a little thicker than what you see in the US and usually prepared with herbs and other seasoning mixed in.

**My current list of favorite Australian food that's not commonly available in the US: meat pies, sweet chili sauce, plum pudding with brandy sauce. I'm sure I'm forgetting a few more.

Throughout the day, the rest of our caravan for the trip to Melbourne and Falls converged on Wagga. And so continued the near-identical trip from last year. Again, this isn't a bad thing.

The 27th was a day of transit, from Wagga to Melbourne. We made our way down there by early evening, set up camp at Shorty's brother's apartment, and headed out for a barbecue at a friend's place and drinks. We had a big day ahead of us, so we kind of took it easy. Kind of.

The 28th was Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test match between Australia and Pakistan. First ball at 10:30. Stumps at 6. Seven and a half hours of cricket and no result (not that one was to be expected). I loved it.*

*And bucking the trend that I cited in my post from before this trip, in which I said that I was sports kryptonite for successful home teams, Australia ended up winning this Test match!

And then, it was on to Falls! Up quite early on the 29th, we caravanned it down to Lorne, got to the festival area, slowly made our way to the campsite, set up camp, and got to it.

One massively key point of difference between Falls this year and last year: the weather. Last year, it was freezing at Falls. FREEZING. And rainy. This didn't stop me from having a great time, but it really didn't help. This year? Hot and sunny! And I loved every minute of it.

I'm not sure if the music lived up to last year's, but it was still fantastic, with The Temper Trap, Art Vs Science and Major Lazer being highlights.

And on New Year's Eve, with the Hilltop Hoods on the stage at midnight – a somewhat dubious choice to bring in the New Year, in my opinion – we said goodbye to the Naughts or Naughties or Oughts or whatever the hell we're calling the decade... and then kept on going for several more hours. It was fantastic.

What wasn't fantastic, however, was New Year's Day. First, it had rained that night, and we woke up to a wet and gray morning. Everything was damp. Second, after packing up, it took us all of three and a half hours to drive out of the site. And third, later that night (and perhaps due to an ill-informed lunch of KFC; ironically, my first KFC in exactly a year), my stomach revolted.

Not a great way to start a new year, by any stretch, but the days prior were a great way to close out the preceding one. Just as they were last year.

Farewell, 2009. Helllloooooooooo 2010!

And I think it's gonna be a (good good) time

To nearly quote Elton John.

Last year, in the days leading up to New Year's, I spent Boxing Day in Wagga Wagga, the next few days in Melbourne (partly to catch Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test match*), and the remaining days of 2008 at Falls Festival.

*Looking at the Wikipedia page for the Boxing Day Test match, I didn't realize that Australia had absolutely DOMINATED that match before last year: 9 wins in a row, and 14 wins (and two draws) in the last 18 years. So of course they lost last year. As soon as I enter the arena, you can always count on a dominant sports team to lose it. Just ask the French National Soccer team. Coming off a World Cup victory in 1998 and holding onto an ungodly winning streak, I went to see them play Russia in June 1999 for a qualifying match for Euro 2000. They lost. Of course.

This year, in the days leading up to New Year's, it's exactly the same: Boxing Day in Wagga, a couple of days in Melbourne for the cricket, the last few days of 2009 at Falls Festival. Only difference from last year is that my stay in Wagga will start a few days earlier, with Christmas with the Short family.

If this year is to live up to last year's trip, it has an uphill battle to fight. Last year was epic. Everything about that trip. But I'm pretty confident that this year can match it. Perhaps even exceed it? I wouldn't be surprised.

But let's not get our hopes up, at least not too much. A big week lies ahead of me. It should be good. And I just may report on it here sometime in the next few months.

Have a great Christmas (for those of that ilk) and New Year's, everyone.

A shocking sports weekend of epic proportions

I find that my weekends are often defined by sports. This happened in college, this happened in New York and it's happening in Sydney. And while sports can fill a weekend with glee, it can also cast doom on our days of rest.

This past weekend, a huge shadow of sports doom descended upon Australia.

The first blow was the Bledisoe Cup match between the Wallabies and All Blacks on Saturday night. The Wallabies are Australia's rugby team. The All Blacks are New Zealand's rugby team. And amongst the many rivalries between those two countries -- sports or otherwise -- this one takes the cake. New Zealand may be a bit more rugby-mad than Australia, but Australia still loves it plenty. Imagine USA-Canada in ice hockey... except pretend that the US still actually cared about ice hockey, just a little. It would be kinda like that.

Anyway, I was fortunate enough to score some tickets to the match. So out to the Olympic Stadium I went, looking forward not only to what is generally a great match, but also to New Zealand doing the haka, a Maori dance that was traditionally performed before a battle in the hopes of scaring the bejesus out of the enemy.

Based on the premise of this post, you already know this ended poorly for Australia: All Blacks 19, Wallabies 18. And even though it was close, with New Zealand taking the lead for good in the last few minutes, it was actually pretty non-eventful.* I mean, relatively speaking. If I was expecting a 9, I got a 7. So, you know, I was let down a bit.

*In rugby union, teams will often score many of their points off of penalties. And that's pretty much what happened here. 30 of the 37 points in the match were scored off of penalty kicks. Imagine an NBA game in which 81% of the points were scored off of free throws, and that's what you have here.

Even the haka wasn't great. If you scroll ahead to the 5:10 mark of this video, you can see it. But in my mind, the gold standard for the haka came in last year's Rugby League World Cup, when New Zealand and Australia faced off in the final:

Now that's a haka.

The second calamity of the weekend actually didn't come until late Sunday night, when Australia officially lost the Ashes, one of cricket's most celebrated rivalries, to England.

Australia dominated the tournament from 1989 to 2003, winning every single time. And even after losing the Ashes in 2005, they promptly won them back in 2007. So going into this year's contest as the #1 ranked team in the world, it was widely expected that they'd win again. After four test matches, the series was tied at one apiece (with the other two being draws). Starting the fifth and final test match, everyone thought Australia had the momentum. They didn't. And late Sunday night in Australia, England won back the Ashes. Which would be that tiny little urn that Ricky Ponting, Australia's captain, is holding in the picture. Yeah. That's what they play for.

And the final sports catastrophe of the weekend? Let's go back to New Zealand and my ice hockey comment. For in a match that I'm sure no one even knew was happening, New Zealand took out Australia for the first time ever in ice hockey. Is that really necessary, after a weekend that will live in infamy? I think not.

2009 Fumblers B Decathlon: Sunday

This was one of those mornings. Your head is pounding. Your stomach is turning. You're struck by a bout of dizziness as you step out of bed. You only remember little windows into last night; details are hazy, if not nonexistent. Clothes are strewn across the floor. Your wallet is nowhere to be found.* You find your friend's credit card in your pocket.** Your phone isn't working.***

*Honors for this went to Short. Hysterically, his phone alarm went off shortly after we woke up with the reminder, "Find your bloody wallet!"

**I reached into my pocket to find Leif's credit card. When I returned it to him, neither of us could remember why I would have had it.

***Short pulled this feat as well. Hey, did I previously mention that he blew a 0.312 BAC? I believe there may be a correlation between that and the havoc he brought upon himself.

Why did any of this happen? Ummmmm, I don't know? How about: Why do I drink, ever? Is it worth it? Should I ever drink again?

Yeah. This was one of those mornings.

Slowly -- painfully slowly -- we all congregated in one of the living rooms to debrief each other on the night's events. Gradually we began to connect the dots here and there. And, well, yeeeeaaahhhhh... I think a lot of us would've been happy for those dots to never be connected again. We did some stupid things.

Before getting to the last event, we revealed the results of the Treasure Hunt, which had been going on in the background throughout the entire weekend. Unfortunately for me, one of the other guys had found my cricket ball, which I had hidden in what I thought was a very safe location outside of the apartment. I hadn't found anyone else's balls (hmmmm, that sounds wrong), so I received zero points in the event. Fortunately, I had company, as four other people were also sans balls. (Still sounds wrong.)

With only one event to go, we did a quick subtotal so everyone knew what was at stake prior to receiving our last points. And it turned out that we had a race on both ends of the spectrum! Short had the lead, with 72 points, but Joe and his 62.5 points had a shot at overtaking him. (My 58 points, good for fifth place, put me just outside of contention.) And although Lam had a pathetic 31 points, there were three others who still had a mathematical shot to overtake (undertake?) him for last place. This was going to be exciting.

Event #10: Fumblers Lotto

What better way to end the Decathlon and decide our winner and loser than with a complete game of chance?

We all placed our cricket balls in a box. First ball pulled would receive one point, second would receive two points, yada, yada, yada. Last ball pulled would win the event and receive 12 points.

The first ball pulled that would impact first or last place was Short, at three points. However, his 9.5 point lead over Joe was so commanding that three points were just enough to clinch victory. And Joe wouldn't even make it a close finish, as his ball was next out, giving him only one more point than Shorty in the event.

As for those in contention of finishing in last, well, there were unfortunately no changes in the standings. Maz was very vocally dreading the possibility, and for a moment, it looked like it might happen, but it wasn't meant to be.

And with that, we were done! The Second Annual Fumblers B Decathlon had been completed.

In first place, with an impressive 75 points,* was Mr. Pete Short. His award? The very trophy, in all its random and lame glory, that he himself had selected earlier in the week! He immediately expressed regret for purchasing that trophy -- how's that for karma? -- although he gratefully posed for the picture to the left.

*Not sure why I think that that's impressive... this was the first time we've actually staged a ten-stage decathlon with 12 contestants. For example, the winner of our nine-stage decathlon last year, with 15 contestants, received 88 points. Was that impressive? I don't know.**

**How about this: Short scored 75 points out of a maximum 120 points possible. That's 62.5%. Last year's winner scored 88 out of a maximum 135 points possible. That's 65.2%. So maybe Short's score wasn't impressive? Maybe no one cares? Maybe I should stop talking?

Congratulations Pete Short, on a job... done.

And in last place, with a pathetic 38 points,* was Mr. Daniel Lam! His punishment? Scull a beer from our cricket trophy -- the very one to which I'd done an unspeakable thing only weeks earlier!** Look at him savor every drip of that beer.*** Yum!

*Maybe I'm not sure about calling Shorty's 75 points impressive, but I'm absolutely confident in assessing 38 points as pathetic. Seriously. That's really bad. 3.8 points per event??!? Come on.

**It should be noted that a few days after all of this, back in Sydney, Short and I revealed to the group that I had NOT, in fact, done the unspeakable thing that we had claimed. I guess I'll just share it with you: here's a link to the video.

Imagine watching that only up to the 1:08 mark, because that's all that we showed the guys before the weekend was over. And under the assumption that THAT'S what I had done, Lam had drunken out of the cup.

***Note that because of the cup's current state, broken in several places, Lam actually drank out of a hole on the bottom. Hey, sometimes you gotta improvise.

And how did I do? Well, thanks to a dominant showing in the Fumblers Lotto, I leapfrogged much of the competition and finished with 69 points... good for second place! That's quite the improvement over last year's sixth-place finish, so I was somewhat pleased with the result. But first place would've been great.

Wanna see the entire scorecard? Look no further than right here. Everything you could want to know about how anyone did in any of the events at your fingertips.

Without a doubt, the Decathlon was an unequivocal success. We were happy. But still hungover. The only prescription? HARRY'S!!!

Capping off the weekend at Harry's, we had our last, unforeseen adventure, which involved some chauvinism, a bit of racism and plenty of bewilderment. It's been over two weeks, and I still can't wrap my head completely around what happened. And even if I could, I'm fairly positive I couldn't adequately capture the moment, in all its absurdity, in words. So I'm not even gonna try to recap it here. Sorry.

We ate our pies -- Pie #4 for me was the chicken pie shown here -- and we departed Newcastle.

It was a great weekend. The Decathlon was an unequivocal success. It absolutely went to 11.

2009 Fumblers B Decathlon: Saturday

I woke up on Saturday feeling as good as could possibly be expected. Hungover? Sure. But functional? Yeah, pretty much. And that's all I could wish for.

We all slowly got up, and miraculously, for a group that's notoriously slow at mobilizing, we were on our way by 10:30. This would be a big day, with most of the Decathlon's events taking place. So let's get to it!!

Event #3: Test Match Pokies

A holdover from last year, this is pretty much a game of luck. Put a dollar in a pokie (for the uninitiated, basically a slot machine), set the spins to one cent each, and hold down the spin button. First person to $2 receives top score, second person gets next highest, and so on. On the other side, first person to $0 receives lowest score, second person gets next lowest, and so on.

The first person to make it to one of these extremes did it at the high end, with $2. (As Shorty so simply put it: It takes at least 100 spins to get to $0. To get to $2, all it takes is one spin.) Then, the bleeding began, with one person after another bottoming out at $0.

I managed to tread water for a bit after this, and was actually the last person standing, thus earning 9 points. I think it's quite telling that of the 11 of us competing in this event, only two made it to $2. Everyone else lost their dollar.

Event #4: Mini Golf

Another holdover from last year, and it worked pretty much as you'd guess -- points awarded based on final scores.

The highlights here were our copious attempts to psych each other out and our quickly-established rule that you had to play the ball wherever it lied. And we took that rule as literally as possible, as several people managed to hit the ball off the course. This included my horribly errant first and second shots on the 13th hole that I somehow salvaged with miraculous third shot. Look at this beauty:

Don't bother asking how my ball got there in the first place. Just know that I finished with five for the hole. And a 44 for the course, which was good for 8 points in the event. (First place, by the way? That would be Joe, who did it in 32 strokes. That's 1.78 strokes per hole!!)

Event #5: RSLten30

Yet another holdover from last year. Back we went to the RSL, which features all sorts of gambling options, from pokies to keno to sports betting to electronic blackjack. The goal here is simple: over the course of 30 minutes, gamble $10 however you'd like. That could be 1000 one-cent spins on the pokies, that could be ten $1 keno bets, that could be a single $10 bet on some greyhounds.

I made a beeline for the electronic blackjack. It's what I played last year, it's what I'm comfortable with, it's what I know. I sat down, started playing $1 hands, and started winning. One simple hot streak later and I had myself over $60.

A final amount of $63.50 won me the event. Easily. In fact, the combined total of everyone else's money at the end of the event was $62.45. I beat the entire rest of group! Not only good times, not only a win in the event, but that's a cool profit of $53.50. First income I've had in over three months!

Event #6: Fumblers All-Rounder

A completely new event this year, and one that was pretty much entirely about cricket. This is a cricket trip after all, so we figured that it would only make sense to actually incorporate some, you know, cricket.

This was an obstacle course, with each person getting fully padded up in cricket gear and navigating the course as quickly as possible. Fastest time, including some deductions that could be achieved on the course, would win the event. The course went as follows:

• Spin around ten times.
• Do three runs.
• Bowl three balls at a target, with each hit of the target earning you a five second deduction.
• Crawl under some rope.
• Hit a ball as far as possible, with time deductions awarded based on distance hit.
• Throw a ball at a wicket from no closer than five meters.
• Time stops when wicket is hit.

This event turned out to be a highlight. And in case my description above doesn't make any sense, here's a video of Shorty taking on the course:

Including time deductions, the winning time was 52.1 seconds. I finished in 1:38.1, which was good for six points. Not great, but I'll take it.

At this point, we took a break, went back to our rooms, reenergized, and met an hour or two later for the award presentations and some more events before heading out for the night.

Event #7: Scarf & Scull

Adding a new twist to our sculling event from last year, the task for this event was simple: scull a beer and eat a Harry's meat pie as quickly as possible, in whatever order you prefer. Fastest time wins.

Going into the Decathlon, I knew this would be one of my weaker events. I came in dead last in the sculling event last year, finishing a single beer in a pathetic 40 seconds,* and over the last few years, I've become a pretty slow eater. A good combination for this event, that does not make.

*However, let it be known that had I not been taunted during last year's sculling event, which at multiple times forced me to laugh, I would have finished a good ten seconds faster. Which, ummmm, still would have placed me in last place. Anyway.

We drew our names out of a hat to determine order, and I unluckily came out first. So after some mental preparation time, I stood over the beer and pie. And the clock began.

Total time, sans glorious belch? 1:44.4. The bar had been set. I knew many would beat it. The real question was, how many wouldn't?

(And let the record show that that was Harry's Pie #2 for the weekend. Your basic beef pie.)

Shorty, he of the four second scull last year, took down the event this year in an impressive 47.9 seconds.

However, no one provided more theatrics than Lam, who caught us all off guard with his hysterically unorthodox approach.

In the end, I did better than expected, with three people taking longer than me! So I finished with four points on the event, which I was more than happy to take.

Event #8: Snellfinger

A classic from last year, this event again didn't disappoint. And like my blog post last year, I'm not even gonna try to explain this game. It's impossible to do so in words. But it's very easy to pick up, and once you get the hang of it, it's insanely fun and addictive.

I won this event and netted myself another cool 12 points. Things were looking up for ol' AK!

And with that, we were ready to head out for the night! We had a few more beers, killed a bottle of bourbon and departed the apartments to take on the last event of the day.

Event #9: BAC & Yak

What's more fun than being able to quantify exactly how drunk you are, right? Juvenile? Yes. Hilarious? YES.

We'd been drinking a lot by the time we made it to this event. And it absolutely showed in our scores, as we put those from last year to shame. First place? Shorty, with a 0.312!! Last year's winning score was a 0.253, and besides Shorty, two other people from this year topped it! I wasn't one of them, but ended up blowing a 0.205 -- nearly 50% higher than the 0.140 that I blew last year.

It should be noted that my 0.205 was good for seven points... which was exactly how many points I got in this event last year! Yup, this year, we were all 50% drunker.

Throughout the BAC & Yak, a few bouncers began to congregate around us, as they quickly understood that we may have had a bit too much to drink. And as soon as we were done with the event, they politely suggested that maybe we should leave. Which we were more than happy to do; our day's work for the Decathlon was done!

We headed to a different bar, which was actually the one that I was not-so-kindly thrown out of last November. I've held a grudge to this day, so when I was thrown out again this time -- although no physical abuse on this occasion -- I was more than happy to leave. That's when I ran into Shorty, who had also been asked to vacate the premises, and who was very clearly showing the effects of his 0.312. (For the record, here's a nice little chart of what you can expect to feel at different BACs. We ticked most of these boxes. Although for Shorty and his level in the 0.30-0.39 range, I guess not the "death possible" one.)

You know what comes next, right? Yup -- Harry's! That would be Pie #3, and this time, a Tiger Pie: a beef pie with mashed potato, mashed peas and gravy. My lord.

Everything else is a blur. We ran into a few more people. Shorty realized that he had lost his wallet. We eventually headed back to the apartments. And oh yeah, and we got some more chips on the way back.

Fantastic day. Everything went off without a hitch. Heck, I even viewed being thrown out of that last bar as a good thing! So I went to sleep content, ready to wrap it all up in the morning and crown a new winner of the Decathlon.

2009 Fumblers B Decathlon: Friday

Picking up where we left off, by Thursday night, planning was all in order for the Second Annual Fumblers B Decathlon. And early Friday afternoon, with a back seat fully stocked with cases of beer, Shorty and I left Sydney so that we could get up to Newcastle ahead of everyone else and take care of some preparations. We arrived around 4pm and checked into our two apartments. Like last year, they were amazing. And freaking HUGE.


For ten guys, we had two completely new apartments (the building just opened last month!), five rooms and five bathrooms. And to me, that latter point is the most impressive, because really, when you have ten guys in one place, having a ratio of one bathroom for every two guys is never a bad thing.

We got a DVD player from the front desk. We stocked the fridge with beer. We set up our two trophies: one for the cricket title* and one for the winner of the Decathlon.** And we waited for everyone else to arrive.

*Formally known as the Arthur Picking Cup, we had a bit of a mishap with the trophy on Thursday night. You see, many people have drunken from that cup. We all did it after our grand final. I'm assuming that prior teams have done the same. The problem, however, is that the cup clearly wasn't made for such a purpose. Because every time we poured beer into the cup, half of it would leak out the bottom.

Anyway, as I picked up the cup on Thursday night to set it by the front door of our apartment, it completely fell apart. The faux-wooden base, exhausted after being soaked with liquids for lord-knows-how-many-years, simply gave way and dropped to the ground. The cup itself split into two pieces. So it wasn't in the best of shape over the weekend, and it's still something we sorta kinda definitely need to address before we return it next year.

**The trophy, as you'll see in the below video, features some sort of a dancer holding out a top hat. Why? Well, it's funny. And makes no sense. No other reason. In fact, when Shorty went to the trophy store to purchase something for the winner, he went with no clear idea of what he wanted. The only criterion he had to meet was that it had to be random. SUPREMELY random. He did well. Although -- and I don't want to give too much away here -- he actually ended up doing TOO well.

A quick video tour of one of the apartments:

Over the next few hours, as we watched a rugby league test match between Australia and New Zealand, the rest of the group trickled in. And once we were all present, we sat everyone down, turned on the DVD player, and set the scene for the Decathlon with a video depicting myself doing some, ahem, unsavory "things" to the trophy on a drunken night a few weeks earlier. I don't want to get into specifics here, but let's just say that after seeing what I'd done, you wouldn't want to touch the trophy ever again. Or, say, drink from it. Which conveniently brings us to the punishment for the loser of the Decathlon! For on Sunday morning, the loser would have to scull a beer from the trophy. It wouldn't be pleasant, but I guess that's the point.

Finally, Shorty, Maz and I ran through the ten events from the Decathlon and explained the scoring: with up to 12 people competing, top score in each event would receive 12 points, bottom score would receive 1 point. There were some exceptions and other vagaries to be addressed, but that's the basic idea.

And then we headed off for our first night out and to begin accumulating our points! First up, the two weekend-long events: Treasure Hunt and Picking Up.

Event #1: Treasure Hunt

A new event to the Decathlon! For this, each member of the team received a cricket ball on which we wrote our name. And for the course of the weekend, it was our obligation to (a) protect our ball and (b) steal other people's balls. You didn't have to carry it on yourself the entire time -- in fact, that wouldn't have been a smart idea -- but if hidden, it had to be accessible within five minutes of the apartments.

At the end of the weekend you would receive three points if you still had your ball and one point each for anyone else's ball that you had.

Not much else to add at the moment, as we wouldn't know how everyone fared in this event until Sunday morning.

Event #2: Picking Up

This event didn't go so well. Not for me. Not for anyone, actually. Pretty sad.

We had a whole scoring system set up for different, ummmm, achievements accomplished, and a wingman system for the guys with girlfriends, but there's really no point in me breaking that all down. I'm just gonna let the scorecard -- I'll link to it in my last post on the Decathlon -- do the talking.

And as far as the Decathlon goes, that was it for the night. We actually returned to Fanny's, the same bar that we went to on Friday night last year, and it proved to be pretty much exactly as we remembered it. With one exception being that thanks to a new law here, every hour after midnight, we couldn't order alcohol from the bar for a ten minute window. Although based on my memory (or lack thereof) on the night, we were able to comfortably compensate for that during the other 50 minutes of each hour.

Making the trek back to the apartments later that night, I made my first trip to Harry's for the weekend, for Pie #1. This time around, it was a curry pie. As awesome as ever!! However, not being fully sated as I walked home, I stopped off at some random shop and got some piping hot chips with sweet chili sauce. Soooooooo good. Almost as good as ten minutes later, as my head hit my pillow and I entered a deep, dark slumber. There would be serious business to take care of tomorrow.

2009 Fumblers B Decathlon: It goes to 11!

Last year, we held the inaugural Fumblers B Decathlon during our end of season cricket trip. And going into that weekend, I was cautiously optimistic that we'd pull it off. We had our ten events -- some of which we put some real thought into, others which we seemingly tossed in to get to ten -- but I was far from convinced that it would be a success.

Apart from our failure to actually stage all ten events, however, last year's Decathlon met and exceeded all of my wildest expectations. If I was expecting a weekend that would register an 8 out of 10, that weekend was a 10 out of 10. It... was... awesome.

So for this year, the bar had been set. And it had been set high. No longer did we view the Decathlon as a few incidental activities during our end of season trip; this time around, it felt as though our end of season trip merely acted as a stage for the Decathlon. So yeah, expectations were fairly lofty, and we knew that we had our work cut out for us.

Several days removed from the Second Annual Fumblers B Decathlon, I can confidently say that we not only staged a weekend on par with last year's, but it actually was better than last year's. That's right: this weekend went to 11.

Planning started early this year. Maybe a month or so before the actual trip, Shorty, Maz and I revisited last year's competition, discussed what had and hadn't worked, and after some debate, we settled on our ten events. Some were carried over from last year with no changes. Some were modifications from last year. And some were new events altogether.

By the Thursday night before the trip, we had everything in order: manuals for the Decathlon (five pages long!), scorecards, a trophy for the winner, a punishment for the loser, and a couple of surprises. It was going to be good.

It was good. And I'll recap everything in this space over the next week.

Throwin' some internet-less Kleinballs

A tangent:*

I love the US. I'd count the ways here, but that would become quite the tangent off of this tangent. So for purposes of the point I'm going to make, suffice it to say that I love the US.

I love other countries as well. I love Australia. I love France. I love Israel. I've generally loved most countries that I've visited.

I love each of the above countries, and more, because they all have something unique to offer, something that you won't find anywhere else in the world. None of them are better than any of the others. They're all just different. This is a good thing.

As we all know, America doesn't exactly have the best standing in the international community at the moment. And while I'm merely one American living abroad who alone can't do much to change that, I'm cognizant of the fact that people may see me as an extension of my country, and therefore (generally) try to act appropriately. With this in mind, I try to avoid comparisons that favor the US, because I feel as though these may come across the wrong way, as if I'm perpetuating the arrogant, "ugly American" persona and can't appreciate what other cultures have to offer.

But then there's customer service in Australia versus in the US. I'm sorry. I've reached a tipping point and I just can't bite my tongue any longer. My lord. I know it's en vogue to complain about customer service no matter where you are -- and that includes in the US, where I've had many horrific customer service experiences -- but believe me when I say that customer service in the US is leaps and bounds better than in Australia. Let me repeat that, in caps: LEAPS AND BOUNDS.

My latest pain? The internet service provider that we use in my apartment. Let's skip over the fact that there's actually a limit on the data that we can download each month; that alone can get me going on another tangent off of this tangent. Instead, let's focus on what's happened now that my roommates and I have decided to upgrade our plan, from 10GB of data a month to 30GB. Because in order to do that, for some reason I still can't fully grasp or care to even try to explain here, our ISP has to shut down our internet for two weeks! Caps, again: THEY'VE SHUT IT DOWN! FOR TWO WEEKS!

For customers who are requesting an upgrade to their existing service, you'd think most companies would jump through hoop after hoop to provide the best service possible. Not these guys. Instead, to thank us for being loyal and giving us more business, we have the distinct pleasure of going without internet for two weeks.

*Not sure how I can start a post with a tangent -- seems to kinda counter the definition of a tangent -- but there you go. Anyway. Tangent over.

The whole point of the above was to provide an excuse for not posting recently. Sorry. You'll get over it. Until then, here are a few Kleinballs to keep you coming back for more.

ANZAC Day was last Saturday, and it was good. Went to The Local, a new pub in our neighborhood that specializes in microbreweries, and played some Two-up.* Won more bets than I lost! Had some really good beers, including a Sunshine Coast Dunkelweizen (a dark wheat beer) and a Holgate Temptress Choc Porter, both of which blew my mind. The dunkelweizen, because it's friggin' amazing. (I've recently been into wheat beers, and this was a nice twist that brought things to a new level for me.) And the porter, because, holy jebus, that thing tasted like a chocolate milkshake.

*Don't know what Two-up is? It's really simple: Everyone stands around a ring and places money on the outcome of some coins that will soon be flipped. So if you want to bet $10 on heads coming up, you hold up $10 and yell out, "Ten on heads!" If someone wants $10 on tails, they'll let you know and give you $10. (The person betting on heads always holds the money.) Then coins are flipped. If they come up heads, you keep the money. If it's tails, you fork it back over to the other person.

The game was popularized among Australian soldiers during World War I, and as ANZAC Day is a commemoration for the soldiers, it's one of two days each year during which Two-up is legal.

The "job" is going well. Haven't made, or come close, to a sale yet, but I feel like I'm providing some good value to the company. Not that "providing value" pays me anything. But still. I feel good about it. And who knows, if I'm good enough, maybe this little arrangement will change so that I get an actual salary!

Because I have this "job", which may result in some income, I'm extending my deadline to find a job -- no quotes on this one... I'm talking the real deal! -- until some later date that I haven't yet determined but should probably figure out soon. Maybe two weeks later? May 22? That sounds about right. We'll see.

When these offers become available, I think I'll just keep throwing them up here to encourage people to come visit: $640 round trip from LA to Sydney! $840 from New York!!! Honestly, people. That's just a stupid deal.

And this weekend is the end of season cricket trip to Newcastle! I'm ridiculously excited, for about 38 different reasons. Seriously, it's going to be epic. I'd say about 30 hours of planning has already gone into it. I'd share some details now but, well, there are quite a few surprises planned and I can't have anyone find out before the trip. But rest assured, a full recap will follow... whenever we get our damn internet back.

Fumblers B – SMCA Division 6 Premiers!

Let's take a break from all the uncertainty surrounding that whole "job" thing to report some happy news. For two Saturdays ago, the Fumblers B -- my friends' recreational cricket team for whom I occasionally play -- won the grand final in their division! As 12th man,* I admittedly had very little to do with it, but it was still a great achievement and something that we're all quite proud of.

*For those who don't know what 12th man is: There are 11 people on a cricket team. However, when fielding, teams are allowed one substitute. That's the 12th man. There were already 11 guys more deserving than I to play on the core squad, but still wanting to contribute in some way possible, I volunteered to be 12th man.

I won't bore you with the specifics of the match. But we won, quite easily. Absurdly easily. In fact, after taking about three or four wickets in the first half hour of the match, it was all but over. We ultimately bowled them out for 122 runs, and once we put up 33 runs in the first three overs, well, the writing was on the wall.

Say hello to your Sydney Morning Cricket Association Division 6 premiers!


And here I am, treating the trophy as if it were the Stanley Cup or some other precious item whose existence I was actually aware of more than three hours earlier.


Close-ups of the trophy:


To think: we'll now forever be immortalized next to the likes of esteemed teams such as Taxation C, Electricity B, Water Board B, Taxation D* and, of course, "No competition."**

*Taxation D would always live in the shadow of Taxation C.

**As you can see from the second picture above, "No competition" reigned supreme for a cool 31 out of 40 years in one stretch, from 1967-72 and 1981-2007. We're talking Wooden-era UCLA Bruins here, folks.

And the press coverage! We garnered some serious ink in the Sydney Morning Herald, with this mention right above their prestigious croquet coverage.


Although I guess it would've kinda sorta been nice if they had actually spelled our team name correctly...

Check out a full album of pictures here.

It was a good day, one that I won't forget anytime soon. But our cricket festivities are far from over! Get ready, folks, because the Fumblers B Newy Decathlon is making its triumphant return, from May 7 to 9. Brace yourselves.

The quest for a six

March is upon us. This is notable for a variety of reasons, but most applicable to my purposes here, it means the following two things:

First, the Australian summer is unfortunately coming to an end. Along with lowering temperatures, earlier sunsets and fewer beach days, it also means that the cricket season is winding down. Specifically, I'm talking about the cricket season for Fumblers-B, my friends' team that I occasionally play for.

Second, the one-month countdown on my DOD has officially commenced, and I still have no legitimate job prospects. (I actually have three interviews tomorrow -- all first interviews -- but I've long since learned not to get my hopes up too early in the process.) The longer this job drought goes on, the more I fear that I might have to call an end to this Australian adventure.

Pondering these two items the other day, it occurred to me that my last ever opportunities to play organized cricket could be over the next few weeks, as Fumblers-B's regular season ends and they enter the playoffs.* It's a sobering thought -- a thought I'd rather not even consider -- but nonetheless a very real and possible scenario.

*You know what one good thing will come from the end of the season? The end of season trip!!! Many more details to come on this as planning gets under way.

As far as I'm concerned, my cricket playing experiences thus far have been quite comprehensive and fulfilling. I've batted many times. I've played wicketkeeper. I've made a few catches. I've actually bowled six overs. Granted, I did none of these things well -- okay, I did most of these things quite poorly -- but for someone who only gained any appreciation for the sport a little over a year ago, I think this is a body of work of which to be proud.

Anyway. As I reflected back on all of this the other day, it occurred to me that there's one thing I haven't yet done on the cricket field: hit a six.* So last week, as I was scheduled to play in a match on the approaching Saturday, I announced to the rest of Fumblers-B that it was my intention to do just that.

*For those not familiar with cricket, a six is essentially equivalent to a home run in baseball. Hit the ball on the fly over the fence (or rope) and you're awarded six runs.

On Saturday, I was ready. I had visualized. I had gone to a practice session on Friday, and batted pretty well. I had gotten a good night of sleep. I had eaten my Wheaties.

Around 11:30 or so, after over two tortuous hours of waiting, my turn to bat came up. I walked out to the pitch, the guys on my team knowing full well what my intentions were.

The bowler approached. Mentally, I was there, focused only on watching the ball come out of his hand. The bowler released the ball, and I immediately saw that it was headed outside off stump (in baseball terms, it was going to be outside), so I stepped towards the ball and took a hard swing. But the ball was too far outside, and I missed.

Little did I know that that would be the only ball I'd face.

With that ball being the last of an over, Maz started the next over on strike (meaning that he was now facing the balls). And when he hit a ball, he aggressively called for us to run. I ran hard but immediately saw that my chances to make it safely to the other end of the pitch were small. So I prepared to dive, hoping that the wicketkeeper might fumble the thrown ball before he could get me out.

The next two seconds seemed to take a lifetime.

The wicketkeeper did not fumble the ball; he caught it cleanly and knocked the bales off the wicket. I was out.

I started to slow up.

The wicketkeeper's momentum, as he started celebrating, took him right towards me.

Seeing the wicketkeeper heading into my path, I really hit the brakes.

I stepped on a thin layer of dirt on the pitch.

I slipped on the dirt.

I fell, with my forehead colliding with the wicketkeeper's knee.

I hit my tailbone on the pitch.

I smacked the back of my head against the pitch.

I was out.

After about half a minute on the ground, I groggily got up and walked off the field. My chance for a six had passed for the day, perhaps -- although hopefully not -- forever. This wasn't exactly how I had visualized it.

Haydos and televising Twenty20 cricket

I know the readership of this blog, and given the title of this post, you're probably groaning. (Or have already moved on to a different website.) So I promise to keep this short.*

*Okay, in retrospect, it didn't quite work out that way. But I think this still makes for a (somewhat) interesting read.

First. On Tuesday, Matthew Hayden (nicknamed Haydos) retired from representing the Australian cricket team. Considered one of the greatest batsmen in Australian cricket history, he was the first player to capture my attention when I came here 16 months ago. In fact, when I went to Day 4 of the Sydney Test match between Australia and India early last year, he scored his 29th Test century. I know that means nothing to most of you. But believe me -- it's impressive.*

*Ultimately, he ended with 30 Test centuries, which places him sixth on the all time list.



Haydos has been part of my cricket consciousness for just over a year. And I'll still miss him.

Second. The South African team is currently touring Australia, with the two countries squaring off in a series of matches. First were the three Test matches, which the underdog Proteas* surprisingly won, 2-1. Then came the Twenty20 matches, which Australia won, 2-0.

*This is the nickname of the South African cricket team. I have no idea what its origins are or what it means.

I'll save the lesson on Test cricket versus Twenty20 cricket versus One Day Internationals for another day. (Or probably never.) For the purposes of this conversation, however, let's use a bit of an analogy; you know, like an SAT question. Test cricket is to Twenty20 cricket as Walter Cronkite is to Bart Simpson* (with the One Day Internationals falling somewhere in between). Or perhaps more aptly, Test cricket is the NFL and Twenty20 is the XFL.

In other words -- because let's be honest, a master of analogies I am not -- Test cricket stands for tradition, for history, for days when men were gentlemen, for plain, white uniforms. Twenty20 cricket, on the other hand, is the new, exciting, irreverent kid on the block, white uniforms be damned. The same etiquette and rules of engagement very much do not apply.

*Not sure how well Bart Simpson works in this analogy, but that's the best I could come up with in the two minutes I was willing to devote to it. Other ideas: Charlie Sheen? (He's too old, right? Although I guess in a sense, Bart Simpson is as well.) Matt Stone and Trey Parker? (You can't use two people, right? But you also can't separate those two guys; they have to appear with each other, like peanut butter and jelly, Batman and Robin, Charlie Sheen and brothels.) Nick Cannon? Conan O'Brien? Paris Hilton???? (Okay, I've officially derailed here.)

I don't know, this was a serious brain fart on my part. Or, perhaps more likely, it's a frightening indicator that I'm disgustingly out of touch with American culture. So if you have a better example, by all means, please make a suggestion in the comments.

One of the greatest disparities between these two versions -- and to get right to the point, what I want to focus on here -- is how they're televised. Test cricket, being so steeped in tradition, is presented in a very straightforward, stodgy sort of fashion. No gimmicks. With Twenty20, however, nothing is sacred. The sky's the limit. In India's new India Premier League, for example, each team has freaking cheerleaders! Imagine your favorite baseball team bringing some of those out on the field. Jack Buck would be rolling over in his grave.

What I especially love about Twenty20's telecasts is that they sometimes have players miked up to talk to the broadcast booth during the game. So the announcers are doing some play-by-play or analysis or whatever, and then they send it down to a player and talk to them AS THE MATCH IS HAPPENING! Why do you have the field positioned in such a manner? How do you plan to bowl to this guy? What went wrong with that last ball? How freaking cool is that??!?

I would love to see a sports league in the US experiment with this. Maybe it isn't very feasible for basketball, with its constant and fluid action, but in football and baseball (like in cricket), there are relatively lengthy breaks in between each play that lend themselves perfectly to such situations. The insights that I've gained by listening to players as a match is happening have been invaluable. And I think that we could also learn many things from a pitcher, a quarterback or even a golfer.

If this were ever to be seriously considered in the US, many would question how it might damage the sanctity of sports, and I'd absolutely understand, respect and empathize with that opinion. But I'd still very much welcome the debate and think that it should be had. Because miking up players has the potential to revolutionize sports. The game becomes more accessible. Athletes become more relatable. It all becomes more interesting. And that's something that I think we -- the fans, the players, the owners, the TV networks -- would all welcome.

A farewell to 2008

It’s December 18... and yes, I'm bidding my farewell to 2008. For although there's still two weeks left in the year, this will almost certainly be my last chance to post here.

It was a good year. An active year. A year full of the new and unexpected. Consider:

• I settled into my job;
• I moved houses;
• I made several trips of varying lengths, both domestically and back to the US;
• I inexplicably found an appreciation for cricket;
• I pulled off what may be my proudest accomplishment ever with the Fumblers-B Newy Decathlon;
• I moved houses again;
• I found out that I'm going to lose my job and commenced what has so far been a fruitless search for a new one;
• I screwed up my ankle;
• I grew a moustache;
• And I put on Thanksgiving... in December.

Yes, it was a good year, albeit with varying degrees of tumult. And I'm proud of all I that accomplished. But there's more!! For there's a reason why I won’t be able to post on here for the next few weeks, and it's definitely not because I'm gonna be sitting on my ass.

As you may know, Justin has been here since last weekend. And so far, it's been good. As we might say, VAR good. Plenty of adventures, including Justin’s initiation into the strange, hostile world of Australian bouncers.* But while we've been going out each night this week, I've been working during the day. This is unfortunate. However, after tomorrow, that all changes. For my office will close its doors for two weeks, and I will be free!! What will I/we be up to?

*I'm in no mood to get into this at the moment. Maybe another day. Maybe not.

December 20 to 24 - Justin and I go to Byron Bay, about nine hours north of Sydney. There will be beaches. There will be festiveness. There will be hoolbool.

December 24 to 25 - Justin heads back off to the US, and I spend Christmas at MacMasters Beach with my friend/roommate Yogi and his family. You may recall that I also spent Australia Day Weekend at MacMasters.

December 26 - Yogi and I drive down to Wagga Wagga, home town of Shorty, one of our other roommates. Wagga Wagga also holds the distinction of being the largest inland city in Australia. You know, just in case they ask that in your next trivia night.

December 27 - We -- and I have zero idea who "we" will be -- all head down to Melbourne. I have no idea where I’ll be sleeping this night.

December 28 - A group of us will spend a looooonnnnnng day at the Melbourne Cricket Ground for Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test Match between Australia and South Africa. This will be a wild day. A REAL wild day. I have no idea where I'll be sleeping this night, either.

December 29 to January 1 - A large group of us will drive part of the Great Ocean Road (just done with the parents a few weeks earlier) to spend three loooooooonger days at The Falls Music & Arts Festival. We'll be camping out, watching a crap load of live music, taking horrible care of ourselves, getting no sleep, and on the last night, bringing in 2009.* Sounds fantastic, right?**

*It will HAVE to be better than how I brought in 2008, right?

**The funny part is, if you know me AT ALL, you'd know this is not my type of thing. Camping out at a three-day music festival?? Yeah, well, I don't know. But I'm psyched.

January 1 to ?? - We -- again, no clue who "we" will be -- head back to Sydney. I have zero idea how this will be accomplished, how long it will take or how many stops (if any) we'll make along the way. But sometime between the 1st and the 4th, I'll make my way back to Sydney.

Should be a fantastic few weeks, with plenty of nonstop action. So I'll take this opportunity to bid adieu to 2008, and I will see you in 2009! Have a great holiday season, everyone.

AK All Day Face: The SCG

The SCG (photo: Chino)

One year ago, I never thought I would utter these three words with such jubilation, but here we go: cricket is back! And with this return comes everything that comes with the return of baseball: the warmth, the long days, the barbecues, the green grass, the outdoor weekends, the sun, the festiveness. In other words, when cricket's here, everyone's happy.

Take a look at the above picture, taken about this time last year. I'm happy. Maybe it's because I'm at a cricket match, maybe it's because I'm absolutely wasted. And that's the beauty of cricket. You never know.

Behind me, Australia takes on India at the Sydney Cricket Ground. Currently, Australia is in India for a Test Series. And all throughout Australia, all throughout India, people are happy. They are most definitely happy.

The vitals
Title: The SCG
Subject: AK
Face: The eye contact
Location: Sydney NSW

One year and one hundred posts

This absolutely bewilders me, but this post marks the crossroads of two achievements, mostly unrelated to each other, yet both significant in their own right.

First. This is the one year anniversary of my (third) coming to Australia. For it was a Friday night, exactly one year ago, that I deplaned my, uhhhh, plane and set off on this adventure that I've documented on this blog.

Second. This is my 100th post on this blog. One freaking hundred.

Of these two achievements, the most surprising, without doubt, is the 100 posts. Yes, I've been slacking on updating this thing recently, but that can really be attributed to a rough patch at work and a mild case of writer's block. This will change. And I'll get back to something that resembles a routine, with a couple of posts a week.

But 100 posts?? Still displayed on the right, in the "What is AK All Day?" section that I should probably get around to updating one of these days, I say: "In two months, the easy money is that I won't have updated [this blog]." Believe me, at the time I wrote that, I had every reason to fully believe that statement. For despite how brilliant and witty and inspirational and beautiful my words may appear, let me assure you that they don't come easily. Oh no, my friends. Maintaining the quality of writing on this blog, to the level that you've all come to expect and respect, is work. And work is hard.

Now, back to the first point: being here for a year. Surprising, this is not. For unless I simply couldn't find work here, the plan was always to be here for at least this long. Notable, however, this absolutely is. For it's been a fantastic year, full of new people, new adventures and new places. And it's with this in mind that I'd like to take a look back at some of the posts that have led up to this one, as I review my One Year in Sydney:

Welcome to Andy Blog 2.0
Kicking off a new era in style, with an immediate reference to zombo.com. In case this hasn't already been made abundantly clear, at zombo.com, the only limit is yourself.

A precursor
Do toilets in the US and Australia really flush in opposite directions? This was my first foray into this mystery. And much to my glee, we've yet to get a conclusive result.

The defence against hating cricket
Includes the comment, "I can't see how I personally could ever warm to [cricket]." Twelve months later? I've been in a freaking cricket winter league and played a position that I really had no business even attempting.

This is the story of seven strangers...
My first official accommodation! And a nominee from myself to myself for one of my best-written entries on the blog.

Portuguese Chicken Wars
Yikes, this one has gotten me into a bit of trouble as of late. Without a doubt, this is -- or I guess because of some recent revelations, was -- the winner of the People's Choice Award for best blog entry. Friends constantly asked me about it, and if there had since been any developments. Random people who somehow found this post online sent me strange and somewhat creepy emails about it. And well, let's just say that with these latest revelations, things have changed. More on this in the next few days, I promise.

The weekend trips have commenced
My first foray outside of Sydney on this trip, and a weekend full of randomness, with debates about shrimp/prawns, naked ninjas jumping off of cliffs and a movie about a gang of tap dancers from Newcastle. As well as the first appearance of the AK All Day Face in a post!

Two pictures tell a thousand drunken words
Still depresses the hell out of me.

There are cane toads, there are kangaroos... and then there are cassowaries
One of the recaps from my trip up to the Great Barrier Reef, detailing the horrifying night drives, with especial consideration given to the terrifying cassowary.

Melbourne -- there's an angle in here somewhere
The epic recap from my weekend trip to Melbourne. A fantastically awesome weekend that also contained some pseudo awesomeness and some not-so-awesome stuff.

A new home. And the grueling agony of an impossible choice.
The move into my next house! Which was a monumental decision to make at the time. And in hindsight, it worked out in every conceivable way possible. I don't think it would be an understatement to say that the entire course of the universe was influenced by that decision.

Worst idea ever
I still have nightmares from which I lurch out of bed in a cold sweat.

Meeting and exceeding expectations, Vol. 1, Vol. 2 and Vol. 3
Every other weekend trip up to this point had offered a nice bonding experience with a friend, or perhaps the chance to experience some culture. This was just pure raunch. And I loved every minute of it.

A postcursor... of sorts
The follow-up to my study on which way the toilet flushes in Australia. The video here? Anything but conclusive.

The toilet flusheth again
No more finality here! Will there be in the next video I post? Yeeeeaaaahhhh, probably not.

Bringing it full circle
Changing accommodation again, this time into my current place! I'm thinking a video tour is due sometime soon.

Back in America
Most of the entries on this blog -- including this current one, unfortunately -- are written and posted far too quickly, without enough time devoted to the crafting of my words. Because if there's one thing I know that people are expecting out of this blog, it's Pulitzer-caliber writing. But "Back in America"? It's easily my favorite of the 100 that have appeared on the blog to date.

And we'll end it on that! One year, one hundred posts. Where will I be on September 14, 2009? No idea. Will I have made it to two hundred posts? Or maybe just a hundred and two posts? I have no idea. But for now, we know I have to cover at least a few topics: some Portuguese chicken, some more flushing of toilets, a few Kleinballs here and there and many, many, many more AK All Day Faces.

So there's that.