Today’s been a funny old day.
On the way to breakfast I walked past Swanny feeding toilet paper under the door of Stuart’s room, one sheet at a time. Apparently Cover Girl was doubled up in pain at the other side and couldn’t reach up to the catch. After hearing a muffled cry of “it’s like oxtail soup” I decided to skip my morning muesli and head straight for the gym where it soon became apparent we’d be one 6’6 toddler shy for the big game.
Shame is wasn’t Jimmy that was struck down, given the way Sehwag and Sachin took to his bowling later on. He ended up with an analysis so horrifying you could post it on electricity pylons to keep children at a safe distance.
Some of us faired rather better of course.
Now, I know I surprised a few people today. People who didn’t see me bowl during the Ashes that is. Indian fans mainly; plus everyone who slept through the Channel9 commentary, which would be viewers as well as the commentators themselves.
The secret of success in this World Cup is to maintain a disciplined line and length, make judicious use of the slow bouncer and, most importantly of all, always look like you’d beat the living shit out of anyone who tries to score too quickly. Hence, 10-1-48-5 for yours truly and 9.5-0-91-1 for the Burnley bantamweight.
Had the chance to biff a few quick runs at the end as well, yet the Man of the Match award still went to Cap’n Ring-on-a-string. What’s a bowler got to do to get some recognition round here? Take seven wickets in an over? Give birth to the second coming of Don Bradman? I bowled a maiden to Sachin Tendulkar for God’s sake. Isn’t that enough of a miracle?