Playing To Ordure…

For people not obsessed with cricket the outrage directed at alleged spot-fixers must be weird. The defendants haven’t – as of yet – been charged with anything more serious than gifting England with a few cheap runs. A batsman who edges it and unabashedly stands his ground can influence test matches many times more gravely and still face no more than sledging which makes Frankie Boyle seem like a choirboy.

Well, it’s nigh-on certain the no-balls are just the tip of a big betting iceberg that could slice through HMS Cricket’s framework. Even if they weren’t, however, they’d be maddening and to grasp why you must imagine your first partner cheating on you. Oh, yeah, it was just a kiss and he or she was off their heads but even if you somehow keep the union together you’ll be agonising over every word, deed, thought that might hint at further betrayal. For impassioned cricket fan the knowledge that professionals have been playing to order lays a blanket of suspicion over the entire game. All the mishaps, blessings and strokes of unlikely genius – the moments that bring joy to endless overs of blood, sweat and Bresnan – summon up the dark suggestion of treachery. The keeper’s fluffed it? Well, yes. Tenth-wicket stand? Hrmph, indeed. He’s scored a hundred following on and the Aussies fell just 18 short? God, the thoughts are so depressing you mightn’t care if your one true love is shacked up with the plumber.

Published in: on September 18, 2010 at 12:28 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,