All-Out Waugh
December 12th 2006 04:34
Seperated at birth?
Not less than an hour ago I was walking home from the train station in Penrith via the Westfields Shopping Centre. I happened to walk past the Dymocks there, and there was a great big long queue of (mostly) middle-aged women trailing down out of it's doorway. Upon passing the shop I noticed that cricketing superstar Steve Waugh was soon due for an appearance to coincide with the promotion of his autobiography 'Out of My Comfort Zone'. Security guards stood nearby, to ensure said-queue didn't break out into some kind of oestrogen-based cricket-enflamed frenzy. It was an impressive sight. The crowd looked quite excited. In the pants.
Such is my lack of interest when it comes to sports stars that I contemplated hanging around to see the mighty cricketer for only the briefest of moments. I think I might've slowed my walk a bit, but I definitely didn't stop. I considered running home and digging up an old poster of 'Forrest Gump' and rushing back to get Waugh to sign it, pretending that I thought he was really Gary Sinise, but the all-too-many flaws in such a plan presented themselves to me rather quickly and dashed my hopes of a time-wasting afternoon of semi-crazed tomfoolery whilst it was only a glint in my eye.
For a start, the table he was to be sitting at was surrounded by copies of his rather large autobiography, the aforementioned 'Out of My Comfort Zone', and my feeble attempts at pretending he was someone else would be drowned out by the scores of these books stacked everywhere.
My second option, standing outside the store and waiting for an opportune moment to shout 'Mission to Mars sucked!' was also scuppered, owing to the surly glances of the security guard and my somewhat cowardly disposition.
I haven't read Steve Waugh's autobiography. I doubt I ever will. Even if I was remotely interested in his career or his supposed numerous adventures outside of the sporting arena (enough to apparently warrant a whole book!) I don't think I could bring myself to read such a lengthy and heavy tome when it appears the author is either a) talentless, or b) completely mirthless, to the point that he has missed an opportunity to name his book in one of many amusing ways...
"A Time for Waugh"
"This is Waugh"
"Waugh-Games"
"Waugh of the Worlds"
"Oh! What a Lovely Waugh"
"Waugh Stories"
"The Art of Waugh"
The possibilties are endless. But what did our old mate Lieutenant Dan pick? 'Out of My Comfort Zone'. I'm afraid I see zero potential for comedy in such a title, and as I'll never be reading the book (unless I get thrown into a gaol cell where it's the only book available), I doubt I will ever be able to fathom the subtleties of the book's name. The only scenario in which I could see myself owning this book would be one where it was marked down considerably, and even then I would only buy it just so I could hold onto it in case an opportunity ever presented itself where I could meet Gary Sinise and present it to him for signing.
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