Yes he seems stuck between being his own man and pandering to weakness around him.
Why not reinstate Worth? There's been no trial, no conviction. Naughty messages to one's girlfriend is embarrassing for leaders, but hardly a crime.
Yes, so he came across harsh, but Cullen has an important point. The ideological left were mistaken to support Mao's regime, and they and the western media may again be in murky territory in trying to subvert the west's economic dealings with China.
Sure, China's government are brutal, but so are many others. Isn't it more likely that our government can positively influence China's internal politics, over time, if we are involved in positive kinds of collaborations like trade agreements? People who do business with Chinese say there is a lot of relationship building that has to happen first, a lot of that traditional kind of protocol. These nations won't just be told what to do by tut-tutting white people.
Quite, and it's not dignified, this usual period of national moaning. Ironic timing, this agony. Ask the diggers, they knew a thing or two about genuine loss.
The other media hyena in this piece is Ian Smith, that corpulent little sausage, sputtering away like a fat kid in the school library club.
No other NZ team has fared better, this one was, like its predecessors, exposed when put under pressure by a better side. Forget 'mental toughness' and all that blather. It is a good team not a great team, how can we hope to win a world cup without the best team? One or two New Zealanders would make the tournament team. Australia would surely have 6 or 7 players in there, Sri Lanka wouldn't be far behind. I pray they can yet give this forgettable event something to remember.
Some timely observations. Yes we've a great legacy of grafters in NZ, and doesn't it often seem that the dream partnerships are those forged between a man of grit and one of flair? Hadlee and Chatfield, Fleming and Richardson, Crowe and Jones.
And looking ahead, yes: Taylor and Styris. Injuries have diluted the chances of this NZ team in this tournament: what we wouldn't give to have Vincent delivering sudden violence there at the top with the sleek captain, and Mills as a more frugel and hairy new-ball partner alongside Bond.
Oh come on, some courage please. This is the thrill of being the justifiable underdog. Are we New Zealanders that timid now in the face of a real challenge, as we all hide in the coat-tails of those overpaid playboy rugby players and the monochrome competitive climate they've created?
A few subtle measures will cause those bible-class thugs Hayden and Big Ears to stumble early on. That's the key, get stuck in early to Ponting and that blonde ponce Clarke.
That mention of cricket and spirituality in cricket in your puerile post brings to mind the case of wicketkeeper-batsman Frank Mooney. He was a dark horse in the side, and kept an imaginary friend named Starlight, whom he would regularly take dancing in Wellington bars. He was known to perform miraculous feats such as traverse the length of the North Island in quicker time than a couple of Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals. NZ cricket went through a period of religious persecution in the late 1940s, so when Mooney was selected to tour England there were violent demonstrations, and watersiders in Dunedin went out on strike, proclaiming the superior abilities of their local boy George 'Gubber' Mills.
Hard to disagree with that sentiment about charisma being a dangerous quality among sportsmen. The New Zealanders have a much improved steel in their eye in recent times. Partly it's a result of the team culture of showponies Parore, Cairns et al having dwindled. Astle was widely regarded as providing that unequivocal grit that the professional era needs, but during his tenure the side never quite achieved a complete balance – perhaps a symptom of his wayward affections.
In the current configuration Bracewell is doing a good job, though I've written to him suggesting he banishes from the kit-bags the headphones and hair product.
You are naive about business, which is about meeting targets, and about principles. If you compromise on those, you're sunk. Whether it's pricing the sale of a high-country station or a few dozen cheese rolls at the local scout group fundraiser, if you bend over for the consumers, they'll smack you.
Quarter-price tickets? Next you'll be asking for those in the terraces to be provided with foot baths, cushions and coconut sorbets.
One is compelled to agree with Rattue – this little more protracted affair, a dwindling romance. We're trying to enjoy a tender rendezvous with a lady, only to have a lot of grubby children turn up at our table.
Gratifying that you bring up Gallaway and those other princes of the microphone and the pen.
As it happens, I had the pleasure of coaching a young RJ Kennedy, at that stage a left-arm quick, when he was in the junior grades. Much later in his career he was diagnosed with a rare neurological condition that, among other things, kept him from remembering what arm to bowl with.
While I concur that athletes shouldn't lower themselves to adolescent web-sites, I implore you not to glamorise the antics of that common oaf Flintoff.
He just needs a good smack and a few early training sessions. One assumes Sue Kedgley isn't following the world cup, and doesn't yet have Duncan Fletcher in her omnipotent leftie clutches.