Signs that the test match is turning into my worst nightmare – an interesting game.
A close, unpredictable contest is great if you’re a cricket writer trying to weave an enthralling narrative for your newspapers online presence as it desperately chases a click-through-advert happy demographic too brain fried by all-night Legend of Zelda muti-play sessions to notice the pitiful coded messages to your ex you’ve hidden in the prose.
But some of us have to coach an international cricket team and at the same time produce stats that prove the stats you use for your coaching are having a positive effect. Do people understand how hard it is to be that meta when Stuart Broad keeps fucking up your game plan by suddenly being competent?
Thank God Rahul batted long enough to drag our inning back towards my projection matrix.
That performance by Dravid proved to be win-win. His experience and calm at the wicket saw us to a first innings lead. Plus six hours of him at the crease meant no lectures about wind-turbines, and you could have the light on in the toilet to read the newspaper.
Hear that whistling noise while you were in the middle, Rahul? That was a full kettle being boiled just for me and Mishra. And when I threw my M&S tuna, sweet corn and mayo sandwich packaging in the waste bin I didn’t separate the clear plastic window from the cardboard like your A4 sign in size 36 font says. And you know why? Because I don’t take instructions written in Comic Sans, that’s why.
Man, if he finds out we’ve not being separating plastics and paper he’ll leave that bloody DVD of “An inconvenient truth” next to the team laptop again.
That guy is so passive aggressive.
Keep forgetting Alastair Cook and Eoin Morgan are playing in this series. But then, every now and again, I look out of the dressing room window and there one of them is, trudging dejectedly back to the pavilion.
Harbjajan got a stinker of an lbw today. Almost hit the casing off it.
Not sure what Sreesanth said to our BCCI rep after we watched the replay, but they showed a real turn of speed getting out of the dressing room.