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.
Cricki Leaks W.G. Grace Justin Langer Kirk Russell Steve Waugh Glenn McGrath Fred Spofforth Steve Harmison Douglas Jardine Mike Gatting Denis Compton Gemma Broad Ashley Giles Michael Clarke Keith Richards The Nawab of Pataudi Ted Dexter Fred Trueman Ian Bell Charles Colvile Graham Gooch David Gower Duncan Fletcher Donald Bradman Tony Lock Merv Hughes Mitchell Johnson Geoffrey Boycott Ricky Ponting Rod Marsh Liam Botham Shane Warne Andrew Flintoff C.B. Fry
speshal boys and girls becoz he sed it woz dissrespekful to Her Majisty The Kween and he stompt off but the majishun karmd efreewun down and made us happy by making a bunyrabit come owt off Daddy’s eer!! Daddy sed to the majishun that anywun cud do that trik too but it turnds owt that the majishun must of dun sumfing norty becoz wen Daddy tryd to do the trik he cudnt make the bunyrabit com owt of the hat or from behind his eer or anyfing. Daddy sed to the majishun “Wel how many Test wikkits hav
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
we knew how to rub a furry tummy? Or the role of the kangaroo’s pouch in the birth of our great nation? It made my blood boil. A year ago, I had lead the class on an orienteering expedition around the Waugh back garden. It was a fantastic bonding exercise. And so what if some crybabies were locked in the shed for a night or two or a couple of people were bitten by snakes? It made us the under-10 cricket outfit we were last year. Even Mark enjoyed it: he won two weeks’ pocket money betting on
innings was severely compromised on two counts. Firstly, an uppity young left-arm bowler laboured under the misapprehension that he had bowled me out on three separate occasions – and had the cheek to ask “how is that?” of the umpire each time. I impressed upon him the obvious truth that it was the local sou’easter which had uprooted my middle stump, rather than the ball as he had erroneously surmised; and ensured that the breeze could not engender further confusion by nailing the bails onto the