Come on Robbie!

We here at the Cheap Seats have always been fans of Robert Kubica. Not only is he one hell of a driver, he comes across as a genuinely nice guy and his unaffected joy at finding himself on the podium always makes us smile.

News came through this morning that he crashed his rally car in Italy and broke several bones in his right hand, arm and leg. It's looking unlikely that he'll be starting at the Bahrain GP in March.

The Brat and I send our best wishes for Robert's full, safe and speedy recovery. See you back on the track soon, sunshine.

Yer wot?

I recently saw someone on the 'tubes describe Danica Patrick as "The Anna Kournikova of [motor] racing." (To be fair to him, I don't think he really believes that, but rather threw that statement out as a point of discussion. Well, it worked.)

To which I say BOLLOCKS. And this is for the following reasons:

(Yes, it's another list. Deal.)

1. Danica Patrick has actually won something.

2. The rules of Ms Patrick's sport were changed to make it harder for her to win things.

Neither of these applies to Anna Kournikova -- the first because she's not actually that good, and the second because there's no need.

Now, notice what's just happened here.

I've had to defend a sportswoman for actually being _good at her sport_ rather than mere eye candy. And, rather alarmingly, in order to do so I've had to denounce another sportswoman as mere eye candy, which made me more than a little queasy.

Now, as much as we on the Cheap Seats are partial to a bit of eye candy, I doubt very much that most professional sportsmen have to put up with the same kind of comparisons, at least, not on a regular basis.

As far as we've come towards equality of the sexes, sportswomen are still judged more for their looks than their ability, and the amount of training and effort they put in is seen as largely irrelevant as long as they look good doing whatever it is they do.

And even beyond that, it doesn't matter if Danica Patrick was the greatest Indy car driver the world has ever seen -- she wouldn't get a look in at an F1 race because... she doesn't have a penis.

F1, much as I love it (and I do, oh how I do) is probably the most macho professional sport on the planet. There are no female F1 drivers. No woman has even been given a trial (at least a serious one -- Red Bull gave Danica Patrick a trial as a PR stunt). And such is the machismo surrounding the sport, it's unlikely that any woman will drive in an F1 race for quite some time.

And you know what, that's just daft. Like any other discrimination it's judging people on criteria other than how well they do the job. And that's just stupid. For all we know there's a female Lewis Hamilton out there, but she'll never get a chance to show the world what she can do.

For fuck's sake, people. What century is this, again? When sportswomen are paid less than men for the same work, judged on their looks rather than their ability and outright excluded from the most prestigious and lucrative sports out there, one could be forgiven for wondering.

Some Questions

1st. Chris Cairns. Why did you put yourself on the IPL list, other than gratuitous money grubbing? You are old. Really old. And it serves you right that your arse has been yanked from the list. How about coming back and playing a bit for your province before chasing the dollars? Chris Harris is doing it, after all.

2nd. Why can't I get an SH size bat (for those not in the know, it's sized between a harrow and a full size, for people of about 5'9". Like me.) for less than a hundy? Don't make me resort to trade me.

3rd. Why are CCC making our uniforms even more ugly? And why do I still want to buy one? And why, for the love of Ghu, will I be forced to buy a kid's size to get one that fits? Surely there's money to be made in bringing out a women's cut. It's worked for Adidas after all.

In Which We Are Officially Underwhelmed

Well, that sucks.

Both the Hurricanes and the Crusaders lost, meaning the final will be in Pretoria between the Bulls and the Chiefs.

This leads to a dilemma. The Chiefs are the Chiefs and the Bulls are South African, so it all comes down to which team we want to lose the least.

We at the Cheap Seats have this thing about supporting the underdog. The Bulls are going to be on their home turf, and it's the opinion of both the Brat and I that they are the stronger team, so here it is...

GO CHIEFS, we suppose.

At least they have Richard Kahui.

Reports of my death have been mildly exaggerated

So, sports fans, I've been ill. Really ill actually, which is sucky.

BUT! I have been using the time when I am sprawled on my couch to do things like watch rugby and IPL and bad football movies.

So, how about that Super14. How awesome are the Hurricanes? Yes, the answer is "really really awesome." Although Stirling Mortlock was not hit by a meteor, he did get owned by Corey Jane, and his team got completely owned by the 'Canes. Eight tries. It was glorious to watch. It was glorious to be at (and I don't just say that because I get a kick out of being allowed to leave the house). Only bad point was the morons who sat behind me, giving the three people in Petone who aren't bogans a bad name. Bring on the Blues!

Though, note to said awesome Hurricanes, Shave. For the love of all that is holy, shave. Corey, this is especially relevant for you. That thing growing on your face is nastay.

Also mad props to the New Zealand Army team, who stuffed the Australian Army team 26-0 in the curtain raiser.

I really don't have much of an opinion on the rest of the Super14, except to say that I have watched the highlanders and can only come to one conclusion. Jimmy Cowan is a moron. (Seriously, who the hell picks a fight with AJ Venter?)

Oh, and the Crusaders lost to the Cheetahs. Hahahaahaaaaa...

And I watched some of the IPL, and really, just when you thought the uniforms couldn't get any more ridiculous, the Indians prove us wrong. What's happened to Brendon McCullum anyways? Did he forget to take his batting ability to the Republic?

Oh FFS Dunedin!

It's common wisdom that February and March are the best, most settled weather for the pursuit of such outdoor activities as cricket and its close cousin Twenty20.  

I only have one thing to say to that:  Bollocks.

The State Twenty20 final is due to start at 2.30 today.  It rained buckets overnight, to the point where I got soaked to the skin during a ten-minute walk out in it.  And it was still raining when I dragged my hungover self out of bed at 9.30 this morning.

So, because it's not actually raining _right now_, they've decided to take some time to figure out whether to proceed.  The decision will be made at... 2.30.  When the Brat, the Weasel and I will already be at the Oval either getting wet or trying to find a place to put our blanket down where it won't be soaked through in five seconds flat.

Bloody ridiculous.

In which I sound like a bitter old man

I watched England play Middlsesex in the Stanford 20/20 the other day. As I type I'm watching the farcical $20 million dollar match. Now ignoring Alan Stanford's antics with the England WAG's which, to be frank, amused the shit out of me (notes on that later), that game epitomised the worst of cricket. A couple of half-decent teams playing bloody average cricket in the pursuit of a few big slog. Texan oil money funding cricket? Wasn't this once a game for gentlemen?

But the worst thing was the colours. Middlesex were in pink, England were in red, the umpires were in a migraine inducing shade of purple and even the commentators had been kitted out in canary yellow.
Add in the floodlit green grass and the whole thing was like a very bad acid trip. No wonder England were dropping catches. And no where to be found was the glorious, traditional white.

Also missing was the decent cricket. Half-arsed and sloppy, like twenty20 itself, funded with megabucks to impersonate baseball and treat the bowlers as machines. The pitch is terrible. The money seems to be a substitute for class, tradition and quality.

Now, I'll admit when it comes to cricket I am something of a troglodyte. Give me men in whites, five days of hard slog in the sun, where plans are laid sessions in advance and heroes are made through tenacity and talent - not wild slogging. I LOVE test cricket. It annoys the hell out of me to see these hit and giggle games take more importance as they rake in more cash.
You may say that twenty20 is the future of cricket and sad old (young!) bastards like me should recognise it. But I ask you, how many of these English players with their WAG's in tow would swap the chance of a million dollar paycheck for winning the next Ashes series in Australia? I'd bet every single one.

Of course now that's a moot point. The English have CHOKED. Really really hard. These young "Stanford Superstars" have just become very rich men. I can't help but wonder how many of them will go off the rails with this new money?

And now for something completely different, yet sadly the same...

For all my posturing about rugby this year, a game against Australia in Hong Kong, in late spring... Totally didn't inspire me. The Bledisloe was ours already, we had played Aus three times already, and once again it seemed like nothing more than lining the coffers of the respective rugby unions. Average game too.

Money and sport... Fuck that.