I can't actually tell for sure, as I haven't watched a single f*cking ball being bowled since the test matches finished, but the highlights for various useless matches seem to be interrupting the sports news less and less.
And if you are one of those people who think 20-20 cricket is the new "thing" and more exciting than watching a XXX JENNATHON while drinking RedBull, I can only imagine that your attention span is so f*cking limited you probably lose interest before you've even finished wanking.
Cricket season ending can only mean football season is coming up, which is awesomeness-in-a-f*cking-can.
Not just because the footy itself is entertaining, but because the mongs and booners who follow it as though it's Geezus hisself come out from their caves and from beneath their rocks and provide all sorts of low-intellect entertainment for me - not to mention the dumb things that the players and coaches themselves say and do.
Unfortunately, though, none of the Australian football codes contain a Charles Haley.
For those that do not know who Charles Haley is, his low-calorie Wikipedia entry will describe him as an NFL player for the San Francisco 49ers and Dallas Cowboys.
In reality he was a freakin' monster defensive player who, at his best, couldn't be stopped by any human means.
But that was on the field.
Off the field, Charles Haley was a confused, insane, borderline psychotic, and, as such, was endlessly entertaining in a way that few other athletes are.
I might have mentioned Charles Haley was insane.
What I meant was the dude was smear-yourself-in-your-own-poop F*CKEN CRAZY.
He apparently excused himself from a team-meeting one time to take a crap.
But that's not the F*CKING CRAZY PART.
He took a crap, came back to the meeting, pulled down his pants to reveal he HADN'T WIPED, proceeded to WIPE in front of the meeting, and then THREW THE USED PAPER AT HIS COACH.
There's no truth to the rumours that somebody stole that paper after the meeting and sold it to the Detroit Lions as their playbook last season.
Big Charles also knew how to foster team-spirit in the locker room.
Here's an excerpt from one of his motivational speeches, as delivered to his own quarterback, Mr Steve Young, after what must have been (I'm guessing here) a particularly heart-breaking squeaker of a loss:
"I could have f*cking won that game in my sleep! You’re a motherf*cking pussy faggot quarterback! A motherf*cking pussy faggot quarterback with no balls!”
There are other kinds?
He also set a team-record at the Dallas Cowboys for "Most Homosexual Accusations - Single Season" with about 8,056 by Week 11, when they stopped tallying after concluding nobody would ever beat this record, ever.
They included this gem, delivered to a 10 year old ball-boy during training (ok maybe it was a fellow player but I like my version better):
"Are you from California? You must be a f*cking faggot then."
That's f*cking lightnin-quick logic there, my friends.
Of course, all this adds up to only one thing - Charles Haley: deep in the closet and in major denial.
We see examples of it all the time, but mostly in Republican Senators. Loudmouth homophobes who, it turns out, secretly love the sausage and are only loudmouth "homophobes" to try and divert attention away from their "wide stances" in airport restrooms, yes-Larry-Craig-I'm-looking-at-you...
Just like Charles Haley, who really loved his OWN sausage. And wanted others to love it too!
Astute people close to Charles might have been able to spot a potential "issue" at about this point in Charles's life:
"During another team meeting, Haley whispered to teammate Scott Case, “Scott, turn around, I gotta show you something… Scott, dammit, turn around! You need to see this!” When Case turned around, according to Pearlman, he “saw Haley’s erect penis stretched across the desk.”"
I guess it pays to advertise.
It's not widely known that Charles Haley's favourite karaoke song was Chuck Berry's "My Ding-a-ling"...performed complete with "live action" to go with the lyrics. Also, note the glove is only on Charles's "Action Hand".
But that's not all.
Like an addict who starts small and then needs a bigger and bigger 'rush', Charles quickly escalated his behaviour.
See, Charles loved his own wang SO MUCH he enjoyed whacking it out and...well.....whacking IT in front of others, especially in the LOCKER ROOM in FRONT OF HIS TEAM-MEATS. I mean, MATES. You know, the ones who were all "faggots", according to Charles.
The best part of this is that it wasn't just a playful flash here and there on the way to the showers or anything, either.
And it wasn't even just giving a humourous 'tea-bagging' to a team-mate while they were asleep and taking a photo of the event.
No, we're talking really going at it with gusto - a means to a very specific END as it were - in FRONT OF THE TEAM and SELECTED TEAM-MATES.
I thought the only people that did this were kids with down syndrome working at Big W.
From the book "Boys Will Be Boys", a behind-the-scenes expose of the Dallas Cowboys championship teams of the 1990s:
"Haley would stroll up to an unsuspecting teammate, whip out his phallus, and repeatedly stroke it in his face. Players initially laughed it off…"
Maybe it's my fault, but I can't get in this headspace. Maybe it's because this never quite happened in the UC Firebirds locker-room. I kept my Four Inches of Fury to myself, and (mostly) so did others.
Except maybe Czerny, but we got used to that over time.
But what are you going to do when a SIX FOOT FIVE INCH GIANT BLACK MAN waves his ERECT COCK in your face? And then starts "stroking" the thing, presumably while the business end is pointed AT YOU.
Say "Wait a minute everyone, let's see where he's going with this...."!!??
I like the use of the word "phallus" there, too. Let's just assume that the publisher objected to the phrase "Haley was hung like f*cken Mandingo" and suggested a list of euphemisms for Haley's personal elephant trunk.
"Charles used to beat off in meetings while talking graphically about other players’ wives. It got to the point of ejaculation."
Err..well why ELSE would you be wanking, exactly? Other than to get to that point?
"Haley refused to stop. He would jerk off in the locker room, in the trainer’s room. He’d wrap his hand around his penis, turn toward a Joe Montana or John Taylor, and bellow, ‘You know you wanna suck this!’"
Now some of you might be thinking, well, where's the coach in all this? I mean, isn't the coach supposed to instil some discipline here, instead of dicksipline?
Allow me to quote coach Barry Switzer, arriving at Cowboys HQ to begin his tenure as head coach in Dallas:
"Where the hell is Charles Haley? I’m mad at you! I heard you flicked your dick at everybody, and you didn’t do it to me? What am I, chopped liver?"
I couldn't find an exact quote of Charles's reply, but I think it went something like this:
"Yeeaah, coach, now you talkin' bitch!
(with great effort, heaves out 14 inch anaconda-ish monstrosity and brandishes it with two hands)
Yeah!! Look at my dick muthaf*ckah! Yeah, muthaf*ckah, c'mon LOOK AT IT! Wanch yo coffee BLACK NOW MUTHAF*CKAH!? CHECKIT!! YEAH!!
(starts manipulating himself rhythymically)
WHATCHOO DOIN' LOOKIN' AT MY DICK MUTHAF*CKA??!!! WHATCHOO, SOME SORT OF F*CKIN FAGGOT!?"