Cricket SMS / Text Messages

Icc champians trophy 2009
1. Sri Lanka v/s africa
22-09(d/n 6:00 pm)
2. Pakistan v/s wist Indis
23-09(d/n 6:00 pm)
3. Africa v/s newzeland
24-09 (01:00 pm)
4. England v/s srilanka
25-09(d/n 06:00pm)
5. Austrilia v/s wistindias
26-09(01:00 pm)
6. Newziland v/s srilanka
êngland v/s africa(d/n)
27-09(01:00 +06:00pm)
7. India v/s austrilia
28-09(d/n 06:00pm)
8. England v/s newzland
29-09(d/n 06:00pm)
9. Pakistan v/s austrilia
india v/s westindias(d/n)
30-09(01:00 +06:00pm)
10.FIRST SEMI FINAL
02-10(d/n 06:00pm)
11.SECOND SEMI FINAL
03-10(d/n 06:00pm)
12. ¥ FINAAAAL ¥
05-10(d/n 06:00)
enjoy cricket with
rizwan wazir 03459661770
navidhand@gmail.com

india Wined Twenty20 World Cup final
twenty 20 cricket, twenty20 cricket, twenty 20 cup, twenty20 cup
Shayari On Cricket
Aasma ko dharti pe lane wala chahiye?,
jhukti hai duniya jhukane wala chahiye?,
Aasma ko dharti pe lane wala chahiye?,
jhukti hai duniya jhukane wala chahiye?,
Arey koi samjhao, India ko??,
cricket match mein jitane wala chahiye !!!
Indian cricket team mein dekho toe sab kaayar

? Harbhajan starts raising his bat on 33 runs.
Dravid: What happened, its not 50 or 100!
Harbhajan: Yes, but the students understand the importance of scoring 33. ?

An American Says: Our dogs are so well trained that they can detect bombs planted any where.

A Japnese says: Our fish can play football.

A Canadian says: Our Dolphins can carry humans and swim.

The Indian says: Yeh to kuch bhi nahi hai.......
Hamare to GADHE bhi CRICKET WORLD CUP khelte hain......!!

Taken from an Indian website (rediff.com) by one of their irate fans after their early exit from the WC!

What sort of coach
(1) The eager young batsman had just scored yet another duck and was apologising to the captain.

'I think I could do with some advice. What sort of coach would you recommend?'

'A long distance one.'

(2)

I need four runs
The batsman said to the bowler, 'Give me an easy one, will you? I bet a fellow in the crowd five pounds that I'd score four runs.'
The bowler did so and the batsman hit it to the boundary. Straight away, he walked for the pavilion.

'You're not out,' said the bowler, 'Where are you going?'

The batsman yelled back: 'I'm going to find the chap who bet me!'

(3)

Your house is on fire
During the match, the batsman heard a cry from the crowd 'Smith! Smith! Your house is on fire!'

He dropped his bat and ran off the field, through the crowd and into the road. Breathlessly, he pounded along and then stopped.
'Why am I running?' he said. 'My name's not Smith!'

(4)

Hit on the head
The fast bowler hit the batsman on the head and the batsman danced around in agony, clutching his foot. The opposing captain ran up to help and then said, 'Wait a minute. You were hit on the head. Why are you holding your foot?'

'My corn's giving me hell!' moaned the batsman.

(5)

Wonderful shot
The nervous batsman had scored a shaky two and was met at the pavilion steps by the captain, who enthused: 'That was a wonderful shot!'

'Which one?'.

'The one where you hit the ball!'

(6)

Woman batter
The despairing umpire was trying to control a ladies' cricket match. Preparing to give a guard to the opening bat, he asked, 'What would you like?' :

'I'll have two legs . . . by the way, that sight screen is filthy and is my hair OK?'

Would you believe this incredible pair,
a captain's dream, batsmen's nightmare,
swing and pace, that incredible mix,
in and out, and the one that kicks,
meet the kings - they have it all.

alas and despair, the thomases doubt,
noises are heard, allegations sprout,
do they tamper? is that their call?

What's the secret, of the swing reverse?
abounding arguments, mostly perverse.
quietly they continue, casting spells
actions speak, and the talent tells,
reality strikes - the theories fall.

Poem: Shastri - Vishal Misra

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Shastri"

by Vishal Misra

One could never wish, a sorrier fate,
for a foe or friend, enemy or mate,
spoken of, with extreme distaste,
he's the man, you love to hate.
Shastri - the man and the image.

Erased are memories, of glory days,
of sixes hit, of winning ways,
time it was, he was the best around,
justly so, was the champion crowned.
Shastri - the world was his stage.

Slowly but, things turned around,
losses stared - a scapegoat was found,
selfish and arrogant, he was claimed,
for all evils, only one was named.
Shastri - the hunted and the caged.

Picking up the pieces, he resumed the fight,
the stars were away, but he showed their might,
leading from the front, the hungry pack,
to its rightful home, he got Ranji back.
Shastri - the coming of age.

With apologies to Kambli, T.S. Eliot, Macavity and other feline
friends..

"Kambli - The Mystery Bat"
--------------------------

Kambli is the mystery bat,
he's the new southpaw
for he is the master batsman,
who can defy the law.

he's the bafflement of England,
the Sri Lankan's despair.
but when they need the runs abroad,
Kambli's not there!

Kambli, Kambli, there's no one like Kambli
he's broken every batting law,
his backlift defies gravity

His craving for tons,
would make Gavaskar stare
but when pace rips us apart,
Kambli's not there!
You may seek him for style,
you may search him for flair,
But I tell you once and once again,
Kambli's not there!

Kambli is not a ginger bat,
not too tall or thin,
you'd know him, if you saw him,
goldchains, he's draped in.
his eyes are deeply browed in thought,
(probably they are loaned)
his bat is covered with dust from neglect,
his hair is uncombed.
he sways his head from side to side,
movements like a snake,
and when the trundlers think he's fast asleep,
Kambli is wide awake!

Kambli, Kambli there is no one quite like Kambli,
he is a fiend, a monster of mediocrity,

you may meet him in record books,
you may see him in the square,
but when a crisis is discovered
Kambli's not there!

When the runs are needed quick,
or the bowlers get on top,
when India needs to save a test,
or when a win hangs by the hair,
that's the wonder of the whole thing -
Kambli's not there!

Kambli Kambli there is no like Kambli,
he's a genius, a monster of tenacity.

You may meet him in the record books,
you may see him in the square
but when a crisis is discovered,
Kambli's never there!

The epitaph of Alfred Mynn, the greatest of Kent cricketers who died
in 1861 at the age of 54.

With his tall and stately presence, with his nobly moulded form,
His broad hand was ever open, his brave heart was ever warm,
All were proud of him, all loved him.... as the changing seasons pass,
As our champion lies a-sleeping underneath the Kentish grass,
Proudly, sadly, we will name him - to forget him were a sin -
Lightly lie the turf upon thee, kind and manly Alfred Mynn.

Do you know the story, of this enchanting pair?
Regal and resolute, solid with flair.
A defeat once stared, but the duo said nay -
Valiantly they stood, battling an entire day.
Inspired by the two, the team came out as one
Dragons were slayed, and a victory was spun.


A miracle!, they said
never before, or in times ahead
deeds like these, ever get done.


Let's move forward, to two years and more,
Adelaide's the venue, and an amazing encore.
Xcuse me? Those two again?
Mocking history, in a manner so vain?
A team steps forward, one more battle is won
New chapters are needed, the war has just begun.