Look, I know it was supposed to be all about science fiction blah blah blah, but I spent the five days of Glasgow’s WorldCon thinking, talking, breathing, and whenever possible (sadly not nearly enough) watching the cricket. Blissful. And I even had the luxury of being able to talk about it with actual Australians! Thanks to Russ and Darren and Fiona and the rest of the many Aussies I wasn’t stuck talking about it with gloating poms preening about their victory barely snatched from the jaws of defeat. (Though to be honest my best cricket convos were with Justina‘s fabulous and very English husband, Richard.)
Almost as good, I got to read about it in actual offline newspapers. There are some good things to say about the New York Times but the coverage of cricket is shockingly inadequate. Not quite as bad as their coverage of the women’s basketball, but bad. The Guardian on the other hand. Ah, what a great great newspaper. Pages and pages and pages all about Freddie and Shane and Messers Ponting and Strauss and the rest of them. Some of it writ by the incomparable Gideon Haigh (bless him).
The second test was unbeliveably exciting: Australia and England in their different ways managed to make a dog’s and an angel’s breakfast of it. In the end I’m glad England won.
Yup, you heard me.
England has gone cricket mad. Sales of cricket gear is through the roof, littlies are signing up to play cricket at their local clubs in record numbers, pubs are full to overflowing of people piling in to follow the day’s play. A dying sport has been revitalised. I’ve said it before I’ll support the baggy greens with my dying breath, but I love cricket above all.