Oh, what a feeling to be cricket crazy!
I reckon there should be two trophies prepared for the 2011 World Cup finale. Firstly, the real World Cup trophy for the deserving winner – if there is one. Secondly, a mega-size-plaque mounted with the scrotums of English cricketers forced into exile in the aftermath of a disastrous campaign. I can just picture it now, Graeme Swann being hunted down by cricket crazy Poms, doing his best Hunter S. Thompson ‘Rum Diaries’ rendition and fleeing to San Juan to write for an ill-fated sports newspaper under the guise of Pico Gonzalez.
Call me cricket crazy, or maybe my imagination is a little too much. But you would have locked me up in the loony-bin and attached electrodes to my skull had I predicted the results in the tournament thus far. My assessment, cricket is a metaphor for life. Boring, unpredictable, crazy and regulation all at once.