Waiting to exhale

(Thanks be to Dawso.)

So the All Blacks are going home early (again) and the post-RWC blame-game is on for young, old and irrelevant across the New Zillund airwaves (again), with an orderly lynch-mob forming around the All Blacks and supercoach Henry, just as soon as they've finished metaphorically disembowelling the English work-experience kiddie who was in charge of blowing the pea on the night. Another world cup, another hapless sod to blame for the nation's misery. In '95 it was Susie the Saffer hotel waitress, the alleged poisoner of the ABs on match eve (who, unfortunately for the tale, was later proven to not actually exist); in '99 it was coach John Hart, who was gobbed on and had stuff chucked at him on his return; in '03 it was Georges Smith (late hit on Marshall) and Gregan ('four more years, boys'), though John Mitchell was the one who paid the price; and in '07, it's pretty much anything that moves and wears a black jersey. All pretty much as expected, although with one minor change of plan: the rabid media seem to be on their Pat Malone on this one. Unlike AB Failures Past, the great unwashed of NZ aren't joining the fourth estate on Operation Character Assassination this time around. Sure, a couple of thousand placard-waving Cantabs turned out to greet Air NZ flight AB-1-from-6 at Christchurch International Paddock, but to the massive disappointment of the foaming-at-the-mouth blamehound pundits, they primarly wanted to say thanks for trying, we still luv ya and stuff, and one shit day at the office out of every fifty is about par for the ABs.

Don't look now, kids, but New Zealand might have actually, finally, grown the fuck up.

Alas poor Norick, I knew him Horatio
It's been a fairly shit couple of weeks for '90s motorsport legends. Last month we sadly lost cheerfully insane rally exponent and comedy Scotsman Colin McRae, who lost his life, his son's, and some of his friends' in a helicopter endo. Now comes the news that the original Japanese kamikaze pilot Norifumi 'Norick' Abe, having like McRae retired from international competition, was taken out in an accident and is no longer with us. At a busy intersection in Kawasaki City, which sounds like a motorcycle dealership but isn't, Norick's scooter was cleaned up by a truck performing an illegal U-turn and the ex-MotoGP hero died pretty much instantly. Norick was Japan's two-wheeled hero of the '90s, having made his debut as a locally-entered, wild-haired 'wildcard' at the Japanese 500cc GP in 1994, and stupendously leading much of the race in a duel with Mick Doohan before dropping his Honda NSR500 on the last lap. Next year he was signed up by the factory Yamaha squad, where he spent most of his GP career, and while his results never quite matched his promise (he only won three races across his eight-year full time GP career), his lunatic riding style and rock star image ensured he remained a fan favourite.















Norick in '95, his first full GP season on the Yamaha

Abe rounded out his international career with a couple of years in world superbike, before returning home to the Japanese championship for a few more years in the sunshine, much like a Tony Vidmar or a Craig Moore have done in the A-League. He was third in the JSB1000 championship - still riding for Yamaha - when he was trucked over. Vaguely famous Italian person V. Rossi was a huge Abe fan back in the day, so expect some form of tribute this weekend at the Island - and knowing Rossi, if it's anything like the bullshit win he pulled out of his arse at Estoril in tribute to his fallen idol McRae, Our Case, Westy and the Mule might be pushing it uphill to score a home victory in the Aussie MotoGP.













Abe's last win was Brazil '01, with Rossi joining him on the podium; they were Yamaha teammates in Abe's final MotoGP season in 2003

Speaking of tributes, the Mule is apparently running a Barry Sheene tribute paintjob on his Suzuki this weekend, in honour of the backing and support Sheene gave the young fella on his way to MotoGP - presumably he'll go the whole hog and limp around the place gobbing off in a shifty-geezer Cockney accent, otherwise it won't be worth the price of admission.

And meanwhile...
On the drive home from the airport after his humiliating Chinese F1GP retirement, a dejected Lewis Hamilton decided to stop for petrol...












(Stolen from SniffPetrol.com yet again)

The Doctor is OUT, lap 31, parked in a gravel trap for no apparent reason whatsoever.