Almanac (Cricket) Humour: Viv on Boony’s BBQ

 

 

(Viv Tufnell is a Tasmanian Shield cricketer in an alternate universe. He lies, makes excuses and plods at a 28.3 strike rate, while all the while busying himself in the art of being an a@#*hole.)

 

(In today’s journal, Viv updates readers on his beef with his agent, Mick.)

 

Mick and I aren’t on speaking terms again. But as you well know, I’ve barely been on good terms with him at all recently. And who could blame me? I mean, suggesting I transform myself into a T20 specialist was a new low. “Viv,” he’d said, thinking he had my best interests at heart, “I ran into Finchy the other day. He said he’d be happy to give you some pointers on getting your strike rate up.” Did he now?, I stewed. Aaron Finch – possessor of the leakiest game in Shield cricket – wants to make me a Big Bash smash, eh? “Mick,” I went on to respond, “tell him, ‘thanks, but no thanks.’ Tell him I said, ‘I’m real good with not knowing how to reverse sweep or slog across the line.’ Tell him, ‘Viv said he’d be happy to give you some tips if you ever want to resurrect your corrupted technique!’”

 

Anyway, what Mick didn’t mention was where he ran into Finchy. But I found that out just a few days later. Oh yes, I found that out, alright. Yes, what he neglected to detail was that it was at one of Boony’s BBQ’s; what the ratfink guiltily kept from me was that he broke a sacred oath.

 

“I was there on business,” Mick exhaled all exhausted when I confronted him. He went on to “explain” that he was giving Ricky Ponting a joy ride in one of his Dad’s helicopters and Punter said he should come to the barbie later that arvo because Boony had invited some promising kids from the academy. “They were looking for representation,” he ‘clarified’. “So you see, mate: it was a meet and greet.”

 

Meet and greet, my arse, I thought. More like ‘what a great excuse to spurn Viv and suck up to Boony all arvo’.

 

What bothered me the most, though, was that he came across all ‘You’d have to be unreasonable @#*t to stymie me from plying my trade’. I mean, it was downright diabolical of him to try to turn the tables on what was a gross disloyalty.

 

As for how I found out about the barbie, well, I have the punks from the academy to thank for that. Their social media accounts were plastered with selfies alongside Boony and co. And off in the background of every other snap was Mick. Mick doubled over laughing at a Punter one-liner. Mick falling over himself to flatter Finchy. And my favourite: Mick looking horrified upon realising he was being captured in the periphery of these shots. His expression read, ‘Sh*t, I hope these kids don’t post this stuff, ‘cos Viv might get wind of it.’ He laughed that off when I grilled him about it, claiming, “Why would I be horrified about that?” But I know Mick and I know what I saw and I know terror when I see it. “Horrified, Mick, horrified,” I accused. “And with an equal amount of shame in it too!”

 

Mick again got all diabolical after that, twisting it that I was in need of consolation over feeling left out. He tried to sound empathetic too, but it came out as fake as his hyper-extended laughter in those selfies. “Viv,” he said, “it’s not that Boony hates you or anything, it’s just … you make him uncomfortable.” He went on to elaborate, “He says you freeze up around him and it ruins everyone’s day.” Even more laughable was his assertion that Boony felt me staring at him across his yard. “He said you were like an obsessed fan. It creeped him out.” I mean, how do you feel someone staring at you? Don’t they have to catch you? That sounds like paranoia to me. “So Viv,” he continued, “that’s why he stopped inviting you. You’re just gonna have to get over it.”

 

I launched into Mick with a tirade after that, bombarding him with stuff like, “I never had a good time at ‘em, anyway” and “I wasn’t staring at Boony, I was surveying him with pity over how desperate he seemed for his barbies to be a success.” But what really bugged Mick the most was when I gut laughed over how his only signing from the BBQ broke down with a stress fracture. “Ha ha, in the very next game! So much for that kid turning out to be a big pay day!”

 

And so we haven’t spoken since. But you know I shouldn’t have been surprised that he wouldn’t snub Boony like he pledged. I mean, settling for just a sacred oath was never gonna do it. Yep, I should have insisted that he take the box-cutter I handed him so we could make it a blood pact. Even if it did cause him to haemorrhage like last time and end up in Emergency.

 

 

More from Punxsutawney Pete can be read Here.

 

 

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