The answers: Just to shut you up, Australia are ''winning''. So, inevitably, with India facing a massive deficit and O'Keeffe cackling in the background, those two usual questions were posed. ''He's looking at your shoes too!'' Uproarious laughter from O'Keeffe, despite Bhogle's request for an explanation. ''How can you tell an 'extrovert economist'?'' he asked Bhogle, who had provided that description of the Indian Prime Minister. Conversely, O'Keeffe has no self-consciousness and an endearing self-deprecation - as you might expect of a man who, like most leg-spinners, often suffered sunburn on the roof of the mouth watching the ball sail over his head. Mid-afternoon, O'Keeffe was forced to abandon his seat for the Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, who talked about the game in the determinedly earnest style that makes you think the cautious politician has not merely subsumed the ''Real Julia'', but eaten her alive. Still, with Clarke on 299 and the crowd hushed, the inner-schoolboy took control: ''I think he should go ramp shot … how good would that be?'' Guffaw guffaw.
#Funny cricket sounds tv#
As easily as he can, for no apparent reason, recite the cast of an ancient TV show.ĭuring the tense moments before Clarke's triple century, O'Keeffe provided some excellent insight into the captain's refreshed state of mind. If, for example, he could not discern that Ben Hilfenhaus had ''shaped for the outswinger and bowled the off-cutter'' to clean up Rahul Dravid. O'Keeffe's routine would be flatter than a sumo's mattress if he did not have a deep knowledge of, and appreciation for, the game. Commentating doyen Jim Maxwell remains a reliable sidekick, even trumping O'Keeffe yesterday with the line of the day (borrowed from Twitter) upon Australia's declaration: ''It's not the first time Michael Clarke has given up chasing Lara.'' The pair were cricketing yin and yang in alternate half-hour stints. O'Keeffe's relentless flippancy accentuates the loss of his earnest alter-ego Peter Roebuck.
But O'Keeffe is one of the few who would dare say it. As the long-haired, goateed Ishant Sharma began his spell, O'Keeffe observed: ''If he appeared in a police line-up, you'd say Colombian drug runner.'' Other commentators might conjure that allusion.
O'Keeffe speaks directly to the equally engaged man in the outer, while allowing the scandalised stats geeks and matrons to feel a little bit naughty. Maybe you had to be there.īut if that routine did not scale comedic heights, O'Keeffe remains a welcome counterpoint to the pomposity of some cricket commentary and writing, which plays to the pretension of the game's conservatives.
O'Keeffe's yelps after consuming the chilli might have been as uproarious as Chris Martin's front-foot defence. The consequences, however, seemed far more hilarious for the spectators near the ABC box whose audible laughter gave the broadcast the feel of a cricketing Goon Show, than for the listeners. United before lunch, the switch was flicked to vaudeville when Bhogle dared O'Keeffe to eat a hot chilli. Supposedly, the great partnership of this Test was not Ponting and Clarke, but O'Keeffe and Indian colleague Harsha Bhogle. ''If I was 251 not out overnight I'd be sitting in the sheds smoking a Cuban cigar and negotiating a bat contract,'' he observed, belly audibly trembling. He had earlier spotted Michael Clarke walking to the nets. Like the Australian batsmen, O'Keeffe made a bright start. Good enough to endure the five-second delay between radio commentary and TV pictures (I am yet to engage the necessary digital gadgetry to put word and action in sync). However, reportedly, O'Keeffe was in rare form.
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