cricket with balls

Not everyone wants to believe in Quantum mechanics. In order to believe it you have to forget everthing you have ever believed and start boring your friends.

Most people just can’t be assed.

Until yesterday I thought Quantum Mechanics was the biggest load of wank outside of healing crystals.

Now I do not.

And yet again it is our leader of Sehwagology who showed me the way.

Today he cut down the Saffas again.

It was Sehwagology at its best, he was batting in warp speed for a while, then he took a break, before amping up and making the Saffa bowlers look silly.

JP Duminy would not be a popular man tonight (Can’t bat, can’t catch, can bowl).

At one stage Morne Morkel bowled what seemed at the time to be an innocuous short ball wide of off stump, but I should know by now that when watching Sehwag no ball is insignificant.

This ball was cut to the fence.

The story could end there, except that Sehwag is something else.

When his bat hit the cut shot, the ball was on his bat and at the fence, simultaneously.

He hit the ball so hard that he proved a pseudo science true.

Quantum Mechanics (if the film What the bleed do we know kept me awake long enough for me to learn anything) means that things can and are in two places at once.

I don’t know all the details, as Marlee Matlin’s beret was the real philosophical question I remember from that film, but Sehwag definitely had the ball on his bat and on the fence at the same time.

Sorry to blow your mind with this.

People who believe in quantum mechanics usually end up really annoying people at parties, but if Sehwag deemed it important enough to show us, who am I to hide it from you.

I was thinking of renaming it Sehwachanics, but that would be shit.

Enjoy the new world.

A couple of years back a dude broke into my house.

Unfortunately I was home at the time.

The dude saw me, ran off and stole a virtually worthless laptop.

He has never come back.

Having intruders in your home sucks a fair chunk of ass.

India recently invited an intruder to their house in a macho manoeuvre to show their superiority, then 11 big bastards turned up and mugged their team.

In the last 10 years India have beaten South Africa at home once, lost once, drawn once, and now can only win or draw.

That must hurt.

India has seen South Africa choke in big tournaments, struggle against England and only win one series against Australia (a team India has done pretty well against).

India have only ever won two series against South Africa, there first was back when I had only had sex once, and was wearing out copy of Basic Instinct on VHS.

The other was over 5 years ago.

It should be mentioned that India are pretty good at home.

So when an intruder (invited or otherwise) comes in to where you are good, and makes you less than good, that is really less than good. Exactly.

India has already given this series up, but a draw is needed to keep some sort of faith.

The way modern test series have gone of late, well at least those with England in them, a win after a loss by over an innings is possible.

India have even tried to pick a test team for this match, although I am pissed off they have abandoned the New Zealand tactic of employing two keepers in a game.

India losing the first test sort of ended this as a legitimate title fight (South Africa ruined their part in it by not beating England at home); the only result that could possibly explain the world of cricket right now would be India winning this test to draw the series.

When the best Test cricket can do is a hasty two test world championship series (if two tests is really a series, and it isn’t) between a side that can’t beat the heavyweights away from home and a side that coming into the series has won 2 of 8 tests it deserves nothing more than a draw.

It doesn’t even deserve Dale Steyn or Sehwag.

Those two should be rested on grounds of unnatural awesomeness.

This series deserves more Paul Harris.

2010: where mediocrity ruled the world.

Buy the book, get a t-shirt, or donate to the whisky fund.

To me this is a pretty special day.

The first day I am a printed published author.

Obviously some very special men thought it was a special day as well.

To celebrate this event the GOD Sehwag hit 146 off 102 balls.

Considering our prophet never hardly ever makes runs in one dayers, it is quite clear that he did this in support of me, his loudest cleric.

But it didn’t stop there, is padawan learner Dilshan also stepped in and 160 off 124 came.

That would have been enough.

Two sehwagologists slaying bowlers on this demon of a pitch to celebrate my book.

There was one more surprise though, one more player had something to say.

And not just any player, but the King, King Kumar.

Not a sehwagologist, but a man so cool that watching him bat is like drinking lemonade on a hot day.

He came out and put the cherry on top of the cherries with 90 off 43.

Wow.

I am stunned guys.

I don’t know what to say.

Thank you all very much.

Praise Sehwagology.

And as an extra special miracle the book is now available on flipkart. Sort of.

Sure we’re disappointed.

We wanted our prophet to take us into the promise land.

But he gave us 293 reasons to be joyful.

There were dirty slogs, vicious cuts, effortless heaves, tactical drives, fairy floss guides, flat bat fuck offs, arrogant reverses and every kind of shot you needed to see.

And think of the extra tension he brought us by just being in over night.

The hope.

The anticipation.

The lust.

It is even possible that he was teaching us a lesson.

We all got ahead of ourselves; we were looking at 300, 401, 502 and drooling.

Maybe he just went, “let me teach them patience”.

Lesson learned.

While I am heartbroken he went out, and fucken tired it is 4AM here, I feel honoured to have stayed up all night to see an innings like this expire.

Thanks for yesterday.

This is not an innings.

An innings has a fielding team.

It has a batsman at the other end.

There would also be spectators and commentators.

This has none of that.

This is a spiritual awakening.

A scream in the ear of the doubters.

A club to the head of the non-believers.

A nuke bomb to the groin of the heretics.

This wasn’t an attack on Sri Lanka, this was one man conquering the world, fixing its ills, and turning on every single human being at the same time.

Erotic conquering for peace; with a bat.

Everyone seeing this innings is having spiritual sexual intercourse.

There is a reason I say seeing, not seen, because this innings is so good that it should never be talked about in past tense.

I suggest the people who are at the ground today should all kill themselves. How on earth are they ever going to top this innings? Either that or all run naked from the ground chanting the great one’s name.

When the day finished, a microphone was thrust into the prophet’s face, just like at Nazareth, and the man said, “I see the ball and I try and hit the ball”.

I SEE the ball, and I TRY and HIT the ball.

Live by this my children.

Forget all your archaic religious practices, stop worshipping at the feet of some coked up rocker, put down all the books, just watch this man/prophet/god/force and you will get everything you need for life.

HE IS SEHWAG. YOU ARE SAVED.