BY ROB

Anyone who has followed the Australian cricket team and its selection process over the last decade will have no doubt witnessed the curious thing that is Shane Watson’s constant selection. Indeed it’s something we, in our short existence, have found a few opportunities to muse about.

People will defend Watson: He’s an all-rounder, he can bowl containment. His effort in the 2^nd test at the Gabba was typical of his career – he assisted by bowling some consistent deliveries which restricted the Indian run chase, allowing his colleagues to work their magic from the other end.

With the asinine James Brayshaw’s words “he’s due for a big one” proceeding him, like some bastard hell spawn footmen Watson trotted out onto the Brisvegas pitch and promptly got out for a duck. Despite his failure in Melbourne he will almost certainly play the Sydney test.

Not because he is good at test cricket. He will play because he is something other: inhuman, unhuman, otherworldly.

There are only two possibilities when it comes to Shane Watson – he is either a Mutant or a Demon.

I realise at this point that your cursor is slowly drifting up to change the tab in your browser, but please, stay your hand, for I have much to show you.

How else could this test match hack job consistently retain his place in the team if not through talent, skill and hard work? Watson has abilities, they’re just not the ones usually required to get to the top in cricket.

Shane Watson has the ability to cloud people’s minds. Namely the minds of the Australian selectors. Whether it be based in nature or the arcane, this is the only possibility that makes sense.

But which is it? Mutant? Demon? How can we pull back the veil that he has cast upon those who would govern the direction of our frontline eleven?

The Case for Watson being a Mutant

Anecdotal records demonstrate over the years that several parties are quite confused as to why Watson keeps appearing in the test side. These parties are the cricket loving public, cricket journalists and the Australian selectors. Watson appears to be able to cloud the minds of those who remain in his presence for extended periods. The public and journos are largely immune to this effect as they are often viewing him through the sphere of media, removed from his presence.

Not so the Australian selectors.

Whether it be some sort of pheromone, or perhaps a psychic signal, the subtle power of suggestion, Watson is capable of clouding the thoughts of those who are in or have been in close proximity to him. Many a time a selector has been asked about his presence in the side: their expression slackens, their eyes become glassy and unfocussed, their neural pathways struggling to link the image of Watsons face with good cricketing deeds. They cast their thoughts back, hunting for evidence, and seize upon the mantra of “we believe in his talent. He has demonstrated for Australia…” Their brains, slowly liquefying into spiral of recalling his previous selections, a never ending whirlpool of cognitive damnation.

One source disclosed the story of former selector John Inverarity, who was found standing in the dairy section of a local supermarket, thickened cream dribbling from the crushed carton in his hand as he muttered “batting average, Watson, once-in-a-generation, all-rounder, batting average…”

In search of more information I spoke to Channel Nine’s chief statistician Max Kruger. He met with me in a clandestine meeting at the SCG. Twitchy, nervous, he hurried me into a small meeting room which in fact turned out to be a storage closet completely lined with alfoil. Max is unused to guests in his inner sanctum, and it took him a few minutes to fashion me a tin hat to match his. I asked him as to why he needed such a high level of low tech security.

“What you need to understand” he said in hushed tones, “Is that Watson knows we’re onto him. Sometimes he leaves the viewing room, telling Boof or Clarke that he needs to pop out for a moment, take care of some urgent business. Then he’s up here in a flash, sniffing around. I caught him once, trying to amend his stats in my book. Since then I keep the master copy stowed away, wrapped in foil.”

I ask him if the foil works, and he nods.

“It blunts his perception, almost like the way he blunts the selectors’ – you’ll never see him eat a meat pie in a tray, and he always goes for bottled beer.”

Points for Watson being a Mutant:

• Can cloud the minds of others.

• Able to manipulate others perceptions of himself.

• Susceptible to physical barriers – Alfoil.

Points for Watson NOT being a Mutant:

• Has no actual sporting abilities.

• Has never been a member of the X-men, nor any other X team for that matter.

• Appears to be about as normal and boring as one can be.

 

The Case for Watson being a Demon

Shane Watson has no history. Trust me. I’ve searched high and low for it, but his first recorded appearance anywhere appears to be a junior cricket registration form. His “parents” are extremely elusive, and as of yet I’ve failed to enter into any correspondence with them or any other so called relatives.

A lack of background quite often points to a person’s mystic origins, but with Shane Watson it goes much, much deeper. There are rumours that Watson is in fact the bungled summoning of one Shane Warne, who in a desperate bid to extend his career decided to go ahead and dabble in the occult. Due to Warne’s inability to do anything other than spin bowling in a professional fashion the spell was miscast, and the demon granted access to this plane of reality decided to nick Warne’s first name and hair and have a go itself.

Buddhists hold a somewhat different view, maintaining that Watson’s inclusion in the team is merely the universe trying to maintain a sense of balance: too many good players in the test side would destabilise reality, hence Watson’s continuing selection.

Team mates of Watson, have on occasion reported strange lights and bizarre utterances issuing forth from his hotel room on tour. Birds fall silent whenever he takes to the nets, and large black dogs are often seen at the gates of whichever ground he is currently playing at.

Acting on a tip I got in touch with the newly founded Vatican cricket team, who as it turns out were created to investigate and thwart creatures like Watson. I travelled to Rome and managed to secure sometime in the confessional opposite the holy vice-captain. “After much research, we have concluded that the demi-beast known as Shane Watson is a low level charm demon, one who is capable of warping the perception of those around it for personal gain. Its presence on earth is not overly dangerous, and it seems content to live out its days as a very average test player. We in the Vatican XI have deemed it to be a minor nuisance, not worthy of banishment.”

Points for Watson being a Demon:

• No early history.

• Unholy signs/events increase in his presence.

• Charm aura clearly highly effective.

Points for Watson NOT being a Demon:

• The church isn’t overly concerned about him.

• Not overly evil, just annoying.

• Is possibly a mutant.

 So after much rambling and extensive examination of the evidence I have at last come to most reasonable conclusion: Shane Watson is a Mutant Demon. To be exact, Shane Watson is a Bastard Mutant Demon. Born in sin to a mutant mother and demon father (or vice versa) his only goal in life appears to be mercilessly antagonising the cricket loving public of Australia whilst slowly melting the minds of selectors who are unlucky enough to get in his way.

There’s not much we can do folks, but simply wait it out.