Man alive I hate the commentary team on Channel 9.
In terms of undermining what there is to love about cricket – even in this day and age – this is a group of (exclusively) men who never fail to relentlessly suck the joy out of all that I still think I hold dear.
This is mostly because
A) Michael Slater
B) Michael Vaughan
Seriously. Fuck Warnie.
On a Sunday, at some distance past, the Quokkas ( o noble brethren ) played the Dan O’Connell Hotel ( the hated ).
Leaving aside the fact of 11 Quokkas taking on roughly 267 Dans, this was an even contest played in some kind of spirit.
The Quokkas fielded first, and with impeccability. Skill, enthusiasm and a willingness to continue being positive in the face of the Dan racking up sixes as if they were available team members.
In terms of cohesiveness, this was a performance in the field that I feel privileged to have witnessed and been a part of. Thank you Quokkas.
Ed bowled people out, Jay and Snip got just desserts, catches held and Dutchy took two in two (and then didn’t get another bowl. Why should he, I say…).
The Quokkas were left chasing a total that would have been respectable at the 1987 World Cup and we tried hard.
The thing about hope is that it is invariably crushed beneath the inexorable advance of reality. And so it was with the Quokkas chase.
Credit must go to Snipper and Dutchy for their efforts, particularly Dutch. He scored an absurd amount of runs. Closer to 100 than 30.
(Which is, coincidentally, the same number of fielders made available by their opponents.)
The Dan won, in the end. And comfortably.
But ask yourself – did they really WIN?