Cricket loathly cricket

So much on the radar today including Max Mosely’s surviving his vote of no confidence over the Nazi Orgy of Shame, poor old Gazza sectioned for his ongoing woes and Sir Alex Ferguson’s in-depth interview which is being trailed all around Sky where he admits his biggest disappointment was not signing the troubled Geordie genius (oh how different it might all have been if that had happened).

However bucking the trend we’re going to write about none of that and instead concentrate on BBC4’s excellent Not Cricket season, which last night told the stories of Hansie ‘hands in your pocket’ Cronje and Basil D’Olivera.

Cronje’s tale, the Captain and The Bookmaker was an interesting doc and if anything only increased our loathing for the South African crook who brought the great game into disrepute because it highlighted even further how he exploited the non-white players under his charge to further his grubby financial ends. Even so, he ended up seeming to be a figure to be pitied rather than hated.

Even more fascinating though were two allegations from Marlon Aronstam the bookie concerned, who reckoned Cronje wasn’t caught by the Indian police, but they were tipped off by powerful Indian bookies because Cronje didn’t deliver the results they asked for.

Of even more concern was the revelation that Cronje had joint bank accounts with some 70 other players from that period of the game and that Aronstam believed that Cronje was essentially scapegoated for the far more numerous international players were on the take. Sure Aronstam could have been sensationalising for effect, but those beady little eyes seemed in deadly earnest.

A more heartening tale was that of Basil ‘Dolly’ D’Olivera, the South African batting genius whose prodigious batting talent eventually helped to ultimately bring down the loathsome apartheid regime. Pure gold helped by the fact that D’Olivera is still alive and able to shed fascinating insight into the contemporary issues and a true reminder that sport can be a powerful force for change in the real world.

If you’re quick you’ll be able to catch them both on the BBC I-Player and add to your Broadband service providers bandwidth woes.

Ron’s revenge! parts 1 & 2

Well it’s been a magnificent weekend of sporting spurt, encompassing not only the nag ride of the year, the Grand National (come on Red Rum! Oh bugger), two excellent FA cup semi-finals which saw Portsmouth and Cardiff triumph, but the Bahrain Grand Prix in which Lewis Hamilton proved he is human after all by engaging anti-stall on the grid and then shunting his ol' best mate Ferdinand Alonso.

Even our beloved and mighty Hornets shocked us by registering a 2-1 home win. Wonders will never cease.

Enough ripe material to author several spurting essays you might think, and indeed that would normally be the case if we hadn’t come across two stories this weekend that simply would not be denied. Both concerning men called Ron.

First up washed up,show pony erm outrageously skilled Brazilian playmaker Ronaldinho apparently fancies a move away from Barcelona this summer and one of his potential destinations? Manchester City. Laugh? We almost shat ourselves.

Stranger things have happened undoubtedly - Jay Jay Ochoca hearing the voice of god which directed him to join Hull City for one - but we’re hard pressed to think why Ronny might forsake the Catalan giants or indeed the old folks retirement home which Milan’s become for the dubious delights of Manc? Unlikely doesn’t quite seem to cover it.

Perhaps Sven ‘shagger’ Eirikson has a secret weapon up his sleeve to lure the buck toothed footballing genius and we can only think it’s his very own little black book replete with the mobile numbers of impressionable ladies which might be added to the deal as a sweetener. Even Ronny, who apparently lives with his ol’ mum (bless), might find such a of carnal knowledge difficult to resist.

Secondly Max is back! Back on the front page of the News of the World that is in more Nazi Orgy action as the F1 boss is done up like a kipper by one of the five girls who participated in his NAZI ORGY SHAME. This one looks set to run and run and hoorah for that too, it really is comedy gold. It's the story that just keeps on giving.

However a delicious theory was posited to us over the weekend by a fellow F1 fan that Max’s downfall and this scandalous - and we have to say in case the lawyers are watching - completely unsubstantiated rumour is actually the revenge of Ron... Ron Dennis. His theory? Max Mosely pissed the McLaren boss off one too many times and this is case of Ron’s revenge not so much served cold but at absolute zero.

Completely ahem false obviously, but sometimes you just wish these things were true.

Going Live...

Monday was a day off from the grind and our usual ahem posting frenzy as our evil employer overlords had devised an off-site event designed to make us more happy, efficient and productive wage slaves. Well that was the idea, but we reckon they’ll still keep slipping the ‘happy juice’ into the coffee machines to avert the forthcoming revolution.

We have to mention the Max Mosely scandal simply because when that sort of thing comes along, you can’t not, especially when the head of a respectable multi-million pound sporting cash cow high octane motor sport is caught in a Nazi orgy of spanking shame (copyright News of the Screws 2008). Whatever next? A Premiership manager caught on mobile phone camera giving some dozy tart one over a car bonnet ...ah oops.

Anyway the point of that rather long and rambling intro is that we spurters were live at a real sporting event on Sunday for the first time in absolute ages and feel all the more virtuous for it. Rather than settle back to watch it on the goggle box with a beer, instead we attended in person as London Irish took on Bristol in the Guinness Premiership at the Madejeski.

Now Mrs Spurt is a new convert to the rugger and was hooked by the meaty on-pitch violence and swift passing and running at last year’s World Cup, so it seemed like an ideal day out particularly since we live within walking distance and IT IS A LEAGUE SPONSORED BY GUINNESS.

What a revelation. Reasonable ticket prices, a great atmosphere, rival supporters happily co-existing side by side and even heaven forfend, applauding skilful play by the opposition. Great entertainment on the pitch too and a good time had by all: in short all the things we used to enjoy about footy before it sold out to the money men. Footy you have been warned....