The er... Cricket

You spend a decade (sort of) occasionally adding to your blog, touching on a whole host of topics near and far to/from your heart. All the while, one of the more abiding loves is consigned to the outer reaches and then... 

England win the World Cup with Ben Stokes virtually winning the game single-handedly and then, just six weeks later. With the Urn just about to metaphorically strap itself into a first class Qantas flight from Heathrow to Sydney. Ben Stokes plays one of, if not, the greatest innings of all time. 

Having just managed to struggle into work today after the 2am finish at Headingley, I am still trying to process what I and the rest of the cricket loving world has witnessed. 

• History - without a doubt! 
• Genius - absolutely! 
• Once in a lifetime - I doubt it will ever be matched in my remaining 25+ years!

A report on the game will appear on The Jardine Report in due course but for now, I just need to revel in the joy of keeping myself wedged in to the same sofa space for nearly four hours, whilst constantly playing the opening riff to The Trip (Naz Nomad and the Nightmares version) as a way to ward off the inevitable humbling at the hands of the Ol' Enemy. I also lobbed in the occasional jazz chord to confuse the Aussies but it seemed as though my trusted Fender Telecaster Deluxe (a la Coxon) was not quite up to the trick. 

As soon as Jack Leach (Aka Alan from Accounts) joined Ben Stokes, it was time to get ready for bed. A couple of heroically heaved sixes served only to prolong the agony. The reverse swept six into the Western Terrace was audacious/funny, the lap six against Cummins was a dash of real bravado but surely it couldn't sustain. 

Tim Paine persisted with Nathan Lyon (surely the wrong choice?), another straight six! And then a suicide single, Leach stranded, Lyon must surely... but he didn't. He bloody missed it... Next ball, plumb LBW, missing leg, missing off, hitting middle half way up! But no, the Umpire says no and no referral. Leach nurdles his one run contribution to the 76 run partnership. Cummins digs one shortish, Stokes murders it through the covers and bedlam ensues...

No other sport can do this, no other stupid combination of rules, protocol, physical, spiritual and mental anguish can combine to deliver such sporting perfection. And of course, the ultimate joy is that - nothing has been resolved. We are back to square one. Two matches to go, at a minimum England must win one and not lose any....