Cricket is a funny game.
True Story.
Today I got to watch Neil McKenzie be Neil MacKenzie.
I missed Sehwag standing on the pulpit smashing away an evil mystery.
As an avid sehwagologist I should have been front and centre, but as always I was not allowed to see two lots of brown men play against each other.
Not fair.
MacKenzie I am allowed to see.
But I would prefer to stick a turkey baster full of vinegar into my penis.
Then when life overtook cricket, I also missed watching Freddie handing Kallis his tiny chicken heart on a platter.
From what I hear Kallis didn’t like the taste one bit.
This I was allowed to see via the wonders of replay.
But nothing can beat Kallis getting clean bowled live.
So instead of regaling you with vital insights into Sehwag’s brilliant innings, or hyping up Kallis v Freddie Don King like, I am left with only talking about how exceptionally well MacKenzie leaves a cricket ball.
Which he does.
No really, he does.
It reminds me of a proust poem.
You know the one.www.cricketwithballs.com
Now with new proper english lady blogger.
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