Kevin Pietersen: A Statement
August 7, 2012 § 7 Comments
This has been a hard time for me, my fans, English cricket fans everywhere, the game of cricket specifically and the world in general.
As you all know I, KP, have always given my all for English cricket. I sacrificed everything to come to England. My ranch in South Africa. My friend. My pet dog, Kip. Pommie. The love of the South African people. And my parents.
I gave it all up to live in this little country. Why? Because I wanted to let the English spectators see me, KP, play. It would have been selfish of me, KP, to stay in South Africa and not let the world know of me, KP. Hell even Jesus came to these shores so who am I, KP, a modest great guy by nature, to refuse?
Yes I came to London. The people told me London is a big country. It’s got a lot of nice things. But fucking hell it was hard. I mean it was so cold here. And the facilities were crap. Also the newspaper coverage was slim to moderate at first. I used to wander about looking for attention. But it was so hard to find.
But I forgot all that and made a new life. Gradually I was able to show them the modestly great cricketer that is KP. Soon I was easily the greatest cricketer in the country/world and still the controversies didn’t stop.
It was never about the money. I told them straight:
“Look all I want is a few months off in the middle of the year to play cricket in India. A car– an Audi or Lexus– a decent contract, a Harvey Nichols storecard, my own changing room, a gold chain an agreement to do 62 interviews with various media outlets per year, including two guaranteed slots on the Graham Norton show.”
They said no. I even offered to compromise—Parkinson instead of Norton, I said. But no.
They said I am arrogant or aloof. Are you serious? If you want to know about me you can. I’m everywhere.
You can read my Twitter feed @cricketlegend and hear from me. You can read my blog, you can buy my biography KP: A legend in his lifetime, you can connect with me on Facebook, KPL, buy my video, The Ledge, and all that. Arrogant I am not. The truth? The truth is that they’re jealous.
You see every man needs his own identity.
I, for example, am KP. You may be a John or Joe or Jonno. I dunno. You could even be an Ian, to which I say each to their own. But there are a few out there who just don’t have their own identity. Let’s call them Andrew for the sake of ease. You see these Andrews are jealous. Yeah Andrew. if you’re there—you think you know me? Well you don’t. Infact Andrew do one mate. Stop reading now. Go on fuck off right now. You’re a muppet.
But that’s irrelevant. These guys hate me. Their own house is small and shitty and they don’t own a Range Rover car or live in Fulham. Jealousy—it’s so sad.
You know when I first came into English cricket I had that innocent gleam in my eye. I was like a young angel. I’d even dyed my hair blonde and used to curl it.
But that young angel has gone now. It’s sad. I’ve grown a goatee and my grizzled hair is all dark and grey. My soul is like the devil. It’s shit.
In recent times I’ve had a chance to think. And this whole sad situation, well you know what? It reminds me of something I read at school. It was a poem about persecution. A poem which I relate to. I feel it. For it is me.
“I am a Jew. Hath a Jew not eyes? Hast not a Jew hands, feet, a head and a body? If you beat a Jew will he not hurt you? If you slap a Jew will I not slap you back? At the end of the day if you tickle me will I not laugh? Will I not punch you in the face if you try to wrong me. Cut me and will I not punch you really hard in the balls? Will I not destroy you if you insult me! I am a Jew. And does a Jew not seek revenge all the time in the markets of Kentish Town?”
Shit I can’t remember the rest. But I think you get it. What I’m trying to say is that I have been betrayed. I only wanted to play cricket. But they abused me man. Some people even called me a racist! I said are you mad? How can I be racist– I’m fucking South African! Do they know the struggle my peoples have been through?
Let me tell you a story: When I was a kid growing up in Joburg with my friend Pommie Umbangwa. I used to shout over at him every day: “Hey Pommie man, come round and throw me some balls mate.”
He’d come running over and we’d play cricket for four or five hours. Joyful hours with me teaching him every shot in the book. After that Pommie would mow the lawn and do a few odd jobs here and there and I’d give him some cash and maybe a lemonade or something. But that’s me. That’s KP.
That is the man I am. And yet this is what they’ve done to me. Ostracised me. Cut me off. Betrayed me.
I am not going to say any more at this stage. I will preserve my dignity and not stoop to the level of those muppets in power. All will become clear after the next Test Match at Lords. But before I go I do have one more thing to say.
Et tu Belly?