CrickiLeaks: The Secret Ashes Diaries
Alan Tyers, Beach
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Cricket's greatest legends. Sport's fiercest
rivalry. Wisden's fakest diaries.
CrickiLeaks charges headlong onto the players' balcony and imagines 40
cricketing diaries of rare wit and invention, along with the illustrated book
covers they might have inspired.
Featuring spoof journal entries drawn from throughout Ashes history,
CrickiLeaks reveals for the first time the innermost thoughts of the greatest
cricketers of the last 129 years. And Mitchell Johnson.
CrickiLeaks includes imagined diaries from players on the most recent tour
(Andrew Strauss, Ricky Ponting), diaries from the all-time greats (Shane Warne,
Freddie Flintoff, Sir Ian Botham, Geoffrey Boycott, Donald Bradman, W.G.
Grace), as well as contributions from less obvious personalities.
An irreverent and entertaining collection of Ashes diaries, CrickiLeaks finally
lays to rest some of cricket's greatest mysteries:
- What exactly was going through Gatting's mind as he faced the ball of the
- Why did Ricky Ponting lose his rag with Ronald McDonald?
- What really went on between Douglas Jardine and Daphne the Koala in Adelaide
A riotous and uniquely scurrilous addition to any cricket-lover's library.
watches one of his films, a sense of disorientation and confusion results. So today, Ponting is set and batting well. I instruct Gary to field in place of Simon Jones, telling him to get in Ponting’s eye-line. At the end of the 43rd over, on my signal, he wanders up to Ponting and mutters: “Just a trim, is it, sir?” The penny drops – Ponting is distracted, his head’s all over the place. Next over: bang, he’s run out. No wonder he was furious. It just goes to show that you can’t leave anything to
was only by agreeing that the whole squad could work for an hour on their “Sprinkler Dance” – and sending James Anderson out for a bunch of flowers – that we managed to coax him out at all. While there has not, to the best of my knowledge, been a Yorkshire fast bowler with anorexia in the past, we should keep an eye on this. October 17th Called AF and told him we need to talk about Kevin. Stuart Broad’s recent forays into the world of topless modelling have caused great amusement among most of
sorted out satisfactorily, with the man dismissed from his employment and, according to Nanny, certain to be sent to gaol. We took our seats. The crowd was in a state of considerable excitement, being as Bradman had just walked out to bat and, with the dear old clock ticking round to six and the shadows lengthening, it was as thrilling an evening as you could wish for. “I say, Nanny,” I said. “Isn’t this super? And my goodness me, here comes Lindwall, I mean Ranji, I mean I beg your pardon here
wish they would bring Michael Clarke or Simon Katich on instead: feel like I could bat against left-arm spin forever without getting out. TEA, 3:10 PM, ENGLAND 221–7 An Ashes century. Not bad for a kid from Pietermaritzburg. Loving the applause. They like me! They really like me! Important thing now is to remember my mantra: don’t do anything flashy, nothing premeditated, just stick to the basics. Kevin Pietersen will not be the sort of cricketing great who throws it away once he has got
on the day and one thing I can guarantee you is this: these Austrayloborgs won’t be giving up just because their planet’s tumbled into a supernova causing the total destruction of this entire arm of the galaxy. As for the field placings, well, I’m sorry, but it’s just a joke. I simply can’t understand why there are not one, not two, but three drones hovering over on the lunar side of the planet, and then an enormous gap here where the force field should be. I would be putting a laser-powered