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Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Page #43 & 44 - final installment of “OUT OF IT” a novel by Michael O’Leary

week against N.S.W. I think he made a half century – anyway he’s looking furious with himself as he storms off the Park.”

When I hear the word cricket I reach for my revolver!”

“The New Zealanders will be pleased with the lower run-rate, as the tail-end has barely wagged, and with only two overs to go and the weather improving all the time, they might be feeling that they’ve got a game on their hands.”

Hey man! You some kinda out of it fuckwit or what. You know I was with the Blacks – why you take a hit at the Mob Member for – eh! He push the P.S.M. almost over.
You just a trash, man! The Malone is loose and confused and left alone he is on his way. He looks for Golly and Paul and Rewi but he can’t see beyond his eyes. He is walking up now past the Shamrock rest home and his eyes are full of tears and aloneness and he doesn’t know who he is or where. He is on a train which takes him further away from New Lynn. But he is already there – away! And he turned on the radio and it said that the Out of It score had been 222 or Nothing and that James Joyce had taken two overs to score the Nothing and Janis Joplin had scored twenty-four – there had been ten extras – read all about it!

The Malone walked across the Beach and into the Station Hotel, everywhere were telephones which had his number in New Lynn written on the inside of the receiver but he knew that to have a drink would be easier, more courageous thing to do and so he sat or stood best he could all day and into the evening. He, the Patrick Sean Michael Malone, danced, sang, played pool, kissed women – all with the tear in his eye and then as the darkness descended and the cold came on to the world like a blanket, invisible and perceptible at once. Malone looked at the money he had left and walked back across the Beach to the Railway Station where he bought a single ticket to the Wellington and as he walked towards the train which waited for him until 7.30 pm he could see next to the small Post Office two telephones into which all he had to put was two ten cents (which he had) and he would be connected – he glanced back at the telephone as he headed for platform one and with the tear in the eye he boarded the south-bound train which pulled out from the station not long after and he, the Malone of the North, inheritor of the tradition of the ashes – in up to his ankles – defender of the faith, went to the dining car and drank whiskey for they didn’t sell whiskey into the night during which nature finally called in her remorseless way and he went to the end of the dining car where the toilet was situated, the carriage was dark, for it was by now the middle of the night, he, the bladder-full Malone opened the door and walked through…….

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Page #41 & 42 of “OUT OF IT” a novel by Michael O’Leary

anyway I’m sayin, dis for a fact, Botham shuda been in da outa it aleven, but he’s justa finish playin’ for da ashes in a Australia.”
“Yes. It’s interesting that you say that because I would have thought him a natural selection in the evolution of this team! What do you say John?
“Indeed, Dennis, but then if I may just cut in here, I suppose we could find so many candidates for the Out of It team. We’ve already discussed Titokowaru and I personally would like to have seen Sam Becket selected, but there you are. After all there can only be eleven chosen, and when you think how many Out of It people there are in this world, well it makes me glad I’m not one of the selectors.”
“Oh, yes John I agree entirely. It’s interesting to note that all members of this term are dead. Perhaps they’ve taken a more hard-line definition of the term Out of It. personally, I feel it’s a far too harsh an imposition. Good heavens, there must be all sorts of characters in this world who are completely out of it, in their own way, and could never be considered for selection. Why, even you and I John by the end of a day of gin and tonic in the commentary box could be eligible at least for the second eleven!”
“Ha, Ha, by Jove you’d be right there Dennis! Anyway my turn to give a few statistics and to tell you that in the twenty-fifth over we saw the Out of It 200come on the board and as we watch Marley walk through the gate in the picket fence, I can tell you that the Vice Captain made ten runs bringing the Out of It score to 210 for eight after twenty-four overs.”
“Perfect on all points except you forgot to mention that he was clean bowled, middle-stump by Martin Crowe.”
“Oh! You are an awful pendant, not to mention presumptuous – I was just coming to that, Ha! Ha!”

I wanna big score
An it’s alright
I wanna hit four
Every day an’ every night
Shots to the boundary
And a six right over your head
Is it four, is it four, is it four
That I’m scoring Is it four, is it four, is it four
That I’m scoring.
I wanna know, wanna know wanna know now!

“Well, after the whimsical reggae rastaman the vibrations change somewhat as the Reichmarshal, arguably the most Out of It all his team, takes to the crease. The first ball he faces from Crowe sees him on the defensive. Oh, while I remember, Big Bird said to give his farewell to the listeners, he said he wanted to catch up with Bob to get some sort of telephone or some such number. Anyway, the point is it was a pleasure to have him up here and I can just glimpse him going through the carpark as Crowe bowls the last ball of the twenty-fifth over which again has Goering on the defensive and the score is now the same as it was before, 210 for eight wickets.”

-Hold on ehoa, says Rewi. Stop.
Before he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the sun had just burst through the Auckland sky and was in the P.S.M eyes or he’d have been left for dead. God, he was near sent into the country graveyard. Sure the Malone took fright as Rewi told him he nearly took a swipe at a Mongrel Mob about the ear like hell, and all populace shouting and laughing as the foreseen event was stopped from having him (the Malone) dragged along like an old tin box clattering along the street.

“Well, that’s the end of Herr Goering I’m afraid. He never got off the ground, like an old sea lion he just sat basking in the sun, which incidentally is now shining brightly here at Eden Park.”
“Yes, well he was there for just over three overs and he never played a scoring shot, so it is possible that he’s just a bit too Out of It, although in the match last

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Page #39 & 40 of “OUT OF IT” a novel by Michael O’Leary

can’t help feel the isolation amongst all the adulation. It looks as though he is talking to his bat which is something you don’t see from many Pakeha cricketers.”


Kie te anake au
Kei te mokemoke au
Kore rawa hui ata mokemoke
Me kia au puritia koe
Taua kia haere ra muringa te haerenga
E hoki ki te whare kirikiti
Ane taku momoe mongamonga
I raro I te mana ma kaupapa
Kei ahau he poke
I roto I taku manawa a wairua
Kei te anake au
Kei te mokemoke au
Kore rawa hui atu mokemoke
Me kia au puritia koe
E taku toanga, e!

“And as the new Out of It batsman, Bob Marley, their Vice Captain, makes his way out, I’d like to welcome “Big Bird” Joel Garner from the touring West Indies side, into the broadcasting box.”
“Thank you mon! Shure does seem lika box wid a big fela like me init.”
“Big Bird, you must be pleased to be seeing Bob Marley out in the middle today, perhaps you could make some comment about his recent performance, as he is not that well known as a cricketer in this part of the world.”
“Oh, shure mon! Yano I am always alikin’ Mr Marley’s performin’. An’ he’s the one sayta Paterson one time, ya shud be a comin’ in from the carpark Hot Shot, yano, yea! So, then thatsa wot he’s doin’ an’ alla people like it, so then he just say yeah, an’ he do it, yano mon!”
“We’re just watching Coney bowl the second ball of his so far, successful over. Perhaps he’ll be out to emulate Hadlee’s hat-trick? Anyway, he won’t get it as Janis Joplin plays a defensive shot and the ball rolls harmlessly back to the bowler, who does the fielding.”
“Yes, well, Joplin has been quietly building a score. She’s been there now for four and a half overs having come in after Byron, the last victim of Richard Hadlee’s little rout of revenge and in that time she’s scored 10 valuable runs.”

From thinkin’, ta drinkin’ ta stinkin’, ta blinkin’, the P.S.M. was a kind of emotional merrygoround the Mulberrybush, it’s along way ta Tipperary an’ all! And for a gentleman Irishmightyodd – he was! But now he had the Rewi and the whiskey, and the Paul and there was talk a playin’ pool, and then there was Golly and the lollie, and talk a the girls he was far away and he knew it. This was the way they lived and their woman bore the burden, but this was on the way in good company and he could not hold back the feeling of tears and laughter. He had had the guilt all the life for doing nothing, now at least he could feel the guilt for something he had done. From the moment he had decided not to go to the work, that was the time he had fired his first blows against the empire of tyranny he has suffered under.
If it meant being an outcast, a wife and child deserter, if it meant loss of all privilage and place in society, if it meant emotional isolation, the loss of his woman’s love, and spiritual damnation then so be it, that’s what it meant – another dram me boys, and the P.S.M. drank like it were beautiful stream of conscious life givin’ water that it was…..

“Yas mon! it shure is a pity that Bob Marley lost his wicket I thort he was lookin’ pretty good there. He hit himself a six, then four and then well mon, if I hud ma way I’d just say shure is a pity. I’m sayin’ it may be da herb or it may be da rum

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Page #37 & 38 of “OUT OF IT” a novel by Michael O’Leary

- Chow, he said, Blast you.
- The smoke from the dope, the P.S.M. said politely.
- No, Paul Calvert nee O’Shea gasped, I caught a ……cold night before….blast your soul….night before last…and to hell with you drinking too much draught Rewi, from now on its whiskey or nothing.
They all nodded as one!
They all moved as one back to the grandstand. Here I am thought the Malone at last and at length. Here I am with all the people the Maureen disapproves of and doing all the things she disapproves but I’ve not liked all the people she’s approved of in or out of the family and the same with the things.
-Good game, e bro, Golly be along any minute now. And that was the one she least liked …. And here I am.
-Kia Ora, Paddy, how’s it? Long time no see, e. hope you got that missus of yours well hid. She don’t like me! – Golly laughed and then brought out a bottle of whiskey and said – here!
The Malones head expanded in consciousness and size as he sipped the milk of his mother land for the first time in as many years and there he was and the rain was fallin’ on his face and the tears of heaven rolled down his once again young face, the dew from the South washed through him purifying his inner soul -–it is, indeed a great day for the Irish.
The four sat drinking and talking about old times and when the sky cleared, their heads cleared and so did the airwaves….

“Well, it seems things have cleared up, John, the covers have been removed and here, to a round of applause, is Coney leading his men back on to the field.”
“Yes, welcome back to Eden Park everyone and we return with the news that the game is to be reduced to thirty overs for each team. What does that do to the number of overs each bowler can bowl. Have you worked that out yet Dennis?”
“As a matter of fact I have and according to my calculation things do not auger well for the New Zealanders. Under the new regime, I make it that each bowler can bowl only six overs as a maximum, which means that all but one of the bowlers used so far have been bowled out. So, Hadlee, Cairns, Bracewell have all bowled six overs each and Ewen Chatfield has only one over left.”
“Coney, it would seem, has real problems on his hands. We’re coming up to the twenty-fourth over, which leaves seven full overs to play and only one of which to be bowled by a strike bowler.”
“Yes, well there’s such a thing in this game as thinking ahead, and although I think bringing Hadlee on to make that much needed break-through in the nineteenth over was inevitable, I feel it was a bit like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted!”
“Quite! Anyway it looks like Coney himself will bowl the first ball back after the break as he comes in on the gentle run-up of his, from the South end of the pitch and bowls to Te Rauparaha who takes a massive swing and the ball goes very high. I think he mistimed that shot and what was meant to be a six looks like it could be … yes it has been caught by Wright almost on the boundary, bringing an end to a very fine innings by the Out of It Captain.”
“Yes, he certainly made good the saying “a Captain’s knock”. For even though he got somewhat bogged down after his firey start and he almost could not play the spin of Bracewell at all, he put early runs on the board and then, just by staying around he kept the Out of It innings together.”
“I couldn’t agree more Dennis and I don’t think I’ll ever forget those six sixes off Hadlee.”
“Oh, yes, splendid shots. In fact just about every ball he scored off could be a study-piece for all the small boys out there watching. He was at the crease for just over one and a half hours actual playing time and in that time he faced just forty-six balls off which he scored exactly eighty runs. A truly fine innings and whatever else may befall us on this extraordinary day’s cricket here at Eden Park, I’m sure that the fine innings by Te Rauparaha, the Out of It Captain will stay in the minds of all those who saw it for many years to come.”
“Thank you Dennis, and as the crowd show their appreciation with a standing ovation, the big Maori chief makes his way back to the dressing room. That walk can often be a very long and lonely one, and as we watch Te Rauparaha one

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Page #35 & 36 of “OUT OF IT” a novel by Michael O’Leary

“Exactly, but perhaps they’re thinking of the weather, or maybe Janis Joplin is just too out of it even to walk out on to the field at the moment. No-one really knows.”
“Yes, well I suppose that could be the case. Anyway, we turn our attention to the action as we see that Byron has finally hobbled his way out to take up the challenge of facing Hadlee, a task I hear that he won’t particularly relish, is that right John?”
“I gather so Dennis. Like a lot of spin bowlers, Byron himself is a very good player of spin with the bat. In fact for his own club – Foot Club, I believe he is actually their specialist batsman when it comes to playing spin.”
“Well, I must say I find it most intriguing and bewildering that he should come out to face Hadlee in full flight – I suppose that an out of it captain tends to us mere mortals.”
“Indeed, but let’s turn our attention to the game as in comes Hadlee now from the Railway end. He runs past one of the ever increasing seagulls, who quickly flies in the opposite direction, and he bowls to Byron who …!!! Oh! And there’s a loud appeal for L.B.W. the umpire has a close look, and yes! He’s out! Byron just couldn’t move his feet quick enough and the result was that the ball went straight past the bat and into the pad of Lord Byron’s bad leg and he was trapped right in front of the wicket, and Hadlee has his utu!”
“A well deserved, if somewhat fortuitous hat-trick for Richard Hadlee – and that, by the way, takes him into the lead again with his tussle with Ian Botham for a five wicket bag. Botham caught up level with him in the last series with Australia, but now Hadlee has played twenty-eight games in which he’d taken five or more wickets and Botham twenty-seven.”
“Yes, a fine performance and I wouldn’t wish to take anything from the great Richard Hadlee, but watching Byron make his way back, one can’t but feel that there was a certain inevitability about the whole incident- even a hint of sadism, although it would be wrong to persue that line of thought.”
“Well, it was certainly unusual – one can only guess at the thoughts of George Gordon – sixth Lord of Byron.

I want another go! An uncommon want
I didn’t like my innings so I’d like a new one
But all cricketing rules and gazettes say I can’t
“A second innings in a one-day game is not a true one.”
All very well for those with two healthy legs to flaunt
But for those with a foot like mine, it is a ruin –
I think all those bastards who make rules for others,
Whilst in their prime,
Should be sent to the devil somewhat ere their time

“No doubt there’ll be some small, vitriolic Byronic stanza making its way through the tunnels and over the synaptic bridges of the great western mind as the poet’s train of thought carried it towards its final station – the poem on the written page!”
“How very eloquent, I take back all I said bout you being merely a mouthful of statistics, Dennis!”

By now the great mind of Malone was entering a kind of slip-stream-of-consciousness following Brendon The Navigator, or so it thought, into who knows where. Two dark faces turned in the flare of the Eden Park lights. Who’s dat, the P.S.M. replied, thinking there may have been a question. Rewi and Paul Calvert said a voice. We come to see you bro, here have a beer. Rewi, Paul, is that yourselves now and the P.S.M. raised itself in salute – come on mind your steps. The threesome moved down towards the sign “GENTLEMEN” and P.S.M. followed his friends to the toilet and then whistled his lath away among the pillars. They passed the joint nervously under their slack archway.
-Woa, bro!
Rewi turned to P.S.M. and asked”
Well, Paddy. What is it, e. what’s the trouble. Wait a while. Hold hard. With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still and, after an instant, sneezed loudly.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Tingling Catch: Michael O'Leary’s Cricket Novel to be Reprinted

Tingling Catch: Michael O'Leary’s Cricket Novel to be Reprinted: "Michael O’Leary’s cricket poetry satires from his novel Out of It featured prominently in my anthology A Tingling Catch. Michael informs me ..."

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Page #33 & 34 of “OUT OF IT” a novel by Michael O’Leary

-Kia Ora, Paddy, how’s it? Long time no see, e. hope you got that missus of yours well hid. She don’t like me! – Golly laughed and then brought out a bottle of whiskey and said – here!
The Malones head expanded in consciousness and size as he sipped the milk of his mother land for the first time in as many years and there he was and the rain was fallin’ on his face and the tears of heaven rolled down his once again young face, the dew from the South washed through him purifying his inner soul -–it is, indeed a great day for the Irish.
The four sat drinking and talking about old times and when the sky cleared, their heads cleared and so did the airwaves….

“Well, it seems things have cleared up, John, the covers have been removed and here, to a round of applause, is Coney leading his men back on to the field.”
“Yes, welcome back to Eden Park everyone and we return with the news that the game is to be reduced to thirty overs for each team. What does that do to the number of overs each bowler can bowl. Have you worked that out yet Dennis?”
“As a matter of fact I have and according to my calculation things do not auger well for the New Zealanders. Under the new regime, I make it that each bowler can bowl only six overs as a maximum, which means that all but one of the bowlers used so far have been bowled out. So, Hadlee, Cairns, Bracewell have all bowled six overs each and Ewen Chatfield has only one over left.”
“Coney, it would seem, has real problems on his hands. We’re coming up to the twenty-fourth over, which leaves seven full overs to play and only one of which to be bowled by a strike bowler.”
“Yes, well there’s such a thing in this game as thinking ahead, and although I think bringing Hadlee on to make that much needed break-through in the nineteenth over was inevitable, I feel it was a bit like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted!”
“Quite! Anyway it looks like Coney himself will bowl the first ball back after the break as he comes in on the gentle run-up of his, from the South end of the pitch and bowls to Te Rauparaha who takes a massive swing and the ball goes very high. I think he mistimed that shot and what was meant to be a six looks like it could be … yes it has been caught by Wright almost on the boundary, bringing an end to a very fine innings by the Out of It Captain.”
“Yes, he certainly made good the saying “a Captain’s knock”. For even though he got somewhat bogged down after his firey start and he almost could not play the spin of Bracewell at all, he put early runs on the board and then, just by staying around he kept the Out of It innings together.”
“I couldn’t agree more Dennis and I don’t think I’ll ever forget those six sixes off Hadlee.”
“Oh, yes, splendid shots. In fact just about every ball he scored off could be a study-piece for all the small boys out there watching. He was at the crease for just over one and a half hours actual playing time and in that time he faced just forty-six balls off which he scored exactly eighty runs. A truly fine innings and whatever else may befall us on this extraordinary day’s cricket here at Eden Park, I’m sure that the fine innings by Te Rauparaha, the Out of It Captain will stay in the minds of all those who saw it for many years to come.”
“Thank you Dennis, and as the crowd show their appreciation with a standing ovation, the big Maori chief makes his way back to the dressing room. That walk can often be a very long and lonely one, and as we watch Te Rauparaha one can’t help feel the isolation amongst all the adulation. It looks as though he is talking to his bat which is something you don’t see from many Pakeha cricketers.”


Kie te anake au
Kei te mokemoke au
Kore rawa hui ata mokemoke
Me kia au puritia koe
Taua kia haere ra muringa te haerenga
E hoki ki te whare kirikiti
Ane taku momoe mongamonga
I raro I te mana ma kaupapa
Kei ahau he poke

Friday, October 1, 2010

Page #31 & 32 of “OUT OF IT” a novel by Michael O’Leary

“Well, I must say I find it most intriguing and bewildering that he should come out to face Hadlee in full flight – I suppose that an out of it captain tends to us mere mortals.”
“Indeed, but let’s turn our attention to the game as in comes Hadlee now from the Railway end. He runs past one of the ever increasing seagulls, who quickly flies in the opposite direction, and he bowls to Byron who …!!! Oh! And there’s a loud appeal for L.B.W. the umpire has a close look, and yes! He’s out! Byron just couldn’t move his feet quick enough and the result was that the ball went straight past the bat and into the pad of Lord Byron’s bad leg and he was trapped right in front of the wicket, and Hadlee has his utu!”
“A well deserved, if somewhat fortuitous hat-trick for Richard Hadlee – and that, by the way, takes him into the lead again with his tussle with Ian Botham for a five wicket bag. Botham caught up level with him in the last series with Australia, but now Hadlee has played twenty-eight games in which he’d taken five or more wickets and Botham twenty-seven.”
“Yes, a fine performance and I wouldn’t wish to take anything from the great Richard Hadlee, but watching Byron make his way back, one can’t but feel that there was a certain inevitability about the whole incident- even a hint of sadism, although it would be wrong to persue that line of thought.”
“Well, it was certainly unusual – one can only guess at the thoughts of George Gordon – sixth Lord of Byron.

I want another go! An uncommon want
I didn’t like my innings so I’d like a new one
But all cricketing rules and gazettes say I can’t
“A second innings in a one-day game is not a true one.”
All very well for those with two healthy legs to flaunt
But for those with a foot like mine, it is a ruin –
I think all those bastards who make rules for others,
Whilst in their prime,
Should be sent to the devil somewhat ere their time

“No doubt there’ll be some small, vitriolic Byronic stanza making its way through the tunnels and over the synaptic bridges of the great western mind as the poet’s train of thought carried it towards its final station – the poem on the written page!”
“How very eloquent, I take back all I said bout you being merely a mouthful of statistics, Dennis!”

By now the great mind of Malone was entering a kind of slip-stream-of-consciousness following Brendon The Navigator, or so it thought, into who knows where. Two dark faces turned in the flare of the Eden Park lights. Who’s dat, the P.S.M. replied, thinking there may have been a question. Rewi and Paul Calvert said a voice. We come to see you bro, here have a beer. Rewi, Paul, is that yourselves now and the P.S.M. raised itself in salute – come on mind your steps. The threesome moved down towards the sign “GENTLEMEN” and P.S.M. followed his friends to the toilet and then whistled his lath away among the pillars. They passed the joint nervously under their slack archway.
-Woa, bro!
Rewi turned to P.S.M. and asked”
Well, Paddy. What is it, e. what’s the trouble. Wait a while. Hold hard. With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still and, after an instant, sneezed loudly.
- Chow, he said, Blast you.
- The smoke from the dope, the P.S.M. said politely.
- No, Paul Calvert nee O’Shea gasped, I caught a ……cold night before….blast your soul….night before last…and to hell with you drinking too much draught Rewi, from now on its whiskey or nothing.
They all nodded as one!
They all moved as one back to the grandstand. Here I am thought the Malone at last and at length. Here I am with all the people the Maureen disapproves of and doing all the things she disapproves but I’ve not liked all the people she’s approved of in or out of the family and the same with the things.
-Good game, e bro, Golly be along any minute now. And that was the one she least liked …. And here I am.