Looks like He-Man… built like Rainbow Brite

Everyone knows the pain, that gut-wrenching feeling of loss that can only come in the immediate aftermath of Christmas.

You’ve scored under the tree and spent the next 48 hours clutching your favourite new thing close to your chest, only to lose it as collateral damage during extended festivities – or to the malicious intent of a sadistic sibling.

My most memorable and arguably favourite Christmas gift came many moons ago when Hanna-Barbera ruled and Hannah Montana was but a sparkle in the eye of an up-and-coming Billy-Ray Cyrus.

It was a He-Man. But not just the normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill He-Man.

This was Battle Armour He-Man – the guy with the rotating chest plate that showed the kind of damage a sword-wielding super hero could expect to pick up against the likes of Skeletor or Buzz Off or Clawful.

These were great days and He-Man represented everything the mid-1980s had to offer. He was big and brash and borderline camp. Cool, commercial and cheesy.

With his coiffured blonde locks, red ugg boots and matching undies, gold belt and mythical Sword of Grayskull, there was nothing could stop He-Man.

Clearly the most talented of the Masters of the Universe, He-Man was built to bitch-slap his way out of any situation.

While I don’t particularly recall his skills as an orator, I’m sure and certain he could out-fence even renowned swordsman Errol Flynn had the situation required it.

He could bash and slash and punch and thump his way through hordes of baddies – and all with such ease.

He rode a green fucking tiger, for god’s sake.

My imagination marvelled at the number of ways I could pose He-Man in and around chair legs, atop coffee tables and in a hastily-constructed faux-Grayskull fashioned from sofa cushions and a shagpile rug.

The battles were fierce and, thanks to the influence of Vince McMahon on that same period of my life, even included cross-code warfare with true heavyweights like King Kong Bundy and Hillbilly Jim.

These were halcyon days.

Sure, He-Man picked up the occasional flesh wound in these skirmishes (duly reflected by the appearance of a slash or two across his armour-plated chest), but to my mind he was invincible – and he was everything I needed to fill my entire summer holiday with mirth.

Then, though, just a couple of days after arriving on the scene, Battle Armour He-Man suddenly lost his lustre.

In an act that defied both logic and – seemingly – physics, a peanut became lodged behind He-Man’s rotating chest and meant he was left forever damaged, a jagged slash permanently etched from nipple to nipple.

Just how said peanut found its way into such a position has now escaped my memory, but I would imagine it had something to do with my insatiable Christmas appetite – an affliction that still sees me carrying assorted food in both hands at this time of year.

I expect a ham-fisted (not a pun) attempt to spin the damage indicator opened the gate for said peanut to work its way in to He-Man’s chest cavity and momentarily sent my life spinning out of control.

Either that or I was testing my hero’s ability to fight his way through a ‘meteor shower’ and somehow managed to score a mortal hit. Either way it was close to tragedy.

This Christmas, though, it’s not my favourite toy that has broken on Boxing Day. It’s Australian cricket captain Michael Clarke’s.

His star all rounder Shane Watson is crocked again and anyone with even a passing interest in Australian cricket must realise now that even though the guy looks kind of like He-Man, he’s actually built like Rainbow Brite.

Stress fractures, muscle tears, dislocations, suspected heart attacks (actually found to be indigestion) and even the occasional bad haircut has seen Watson miss out on enough cricket to fill at least one autobiography.

Word is a calf strain was behind his meandering half-century in Melbourne and despite taking the field as his side dismantled Sri Lanka on Friday, the New South Welshman from Queensland by way of Tasmania is no cert to play his home Test next week and may even find it hard to drag on the coloured pants in the new year if the injury isn't overcome quickly.

And there's absolutely nothing in Watson's track record that suggests it will be.

Which begs the question… why was he playing in the first place?

Coming into the summer under an injury cloud, Watson has attracted criticism from various parts of the media for looking ‘heavy’ on his feet and not entirely fit.

Radio broadcasters joked that Watson had consumed too much fibre during his stay in Hobart last week and was running between wickets like he needed to pinch a loaf.

Whether this was a sign of him being less than 100 per cent is moot because now, just 10 days later, we know he’s not.

Whether he can play as a batsman in Sydney is less of a question about cricket than it is about why some cricket fans – and pundits – seem to ‘heart’ Watson so deeply.

Here’s a guy who’s missed more Tests through injury than he’s actually played since his 2005 debut against Pakistan.

Dressed as a saviour in some circles, Watson averages 36 with the bat and 30 with the ball in his 38 Tests to date.

For the bowling figures he gets a pass – he’s been more than handy on occasion. But the batting average is damning, particularly for a guy who claims to be most comfortable at the top of the order.

There’s worse, too.

Watson has converted just two of his 19 Test half-centuries into three-figure totals and the most recent of these was in October 2010 on tour in India.

Depending on how you look at it, that makes him half the batsman Greg Matthews was. Mathews also averaged 41 across his 33 Tests and took just one wicket fewer than Watson has managed to this point in his career.

Watson has been dismissed four times in the 90s and another four times in the 80s. That’s a plenty big number of ‘almosts’ in 70 Test innings.

To continue the earlier comparison, Matthews was out only once in the 90s during his 53 Test knocks. And he was most-likely drinking heavily-iced stubbies after a long dig, not sitting around heavily-iced.

Given Matthews 'colourful' disposition, Watson's unenviable record is further proof that during the period when the hard-nosed knuckle down and look to secure a milestone tally, the 31-year-old crumbles.

Could be temperament, could be fitness. Could be both.

Convert half these scores of 80+ and suddenly there’s a half-dozen Test centuries against his record and one less reason for the vultures to swoop.

Interestingly, Watson boasts a better record with bat and ball in one day cricket.

There could be any number of reasons for this occurrence, but the most obvious appears to be pressure – or lack thereof.

Other than World Cups, one day cricket might be likened to Christmas time eating habits. Easy pickings and few immediate consequences.

Test cricket, on the other hand, seems more like a late-night fridge raid the day before a Biggest Loser-style weigh in… fraught with risk and with the eyes of the world watching on.

So, where to for Watson?

Straight to the physio table, probably. That is as long as he’s talking to Alex Kountouris.

Watson was reportedly willing to take a pay cut in 2011 if it meant the Australian team would be properly catered for in terms of medical staff – not a ringing endorsement for the head physio and his team.

(That hasn’t happened… and Australian cricketers continue to break down, so it seems right to reserve judgement on Watson’s comments on this one)

And where to for selectors?

Glenn Maxwell is getting love in some circles. He’ll make do as a middle-order batsman and may tweak a few in Sydney. But, long term?

Could be that Rob Quiney gets the call up. Michael Clarke seemed to trust him with the ball during his two Tests against South Africa and surely he won't miss out against Sri Lanka.

David Hussey is serviceable with the white ball and might do the job at a pinch. He’s probably the best-credentialed of the three Victorians and could be worth a punt if the selectors decide they need that little bit of extra bowling – especially with a tour of India just around the corner.

Otherwise, pencil in Usman Khawaja for a game at his old home ground in place of a former Queenslander who won't have to travel far from home to watch the match.

I just hope he doesn't throw his back out coughing up a peanut that somehow gets lodged in his throat at whichever free lunch he chooses to avail himself of.