The worst of the Fourth Test is that it starts at an hour when it is impossible not to begin to watch. 11.30 p.m. should not be anyone's bedtime and has not been mine for many a year. Thus one is caught up in at least the morning's play, though come half past one o'clock and luncheon is taken down under, the time comes when cheery English souls retire to bed relishing the prospect of a complete Australian batting collapse.
The night though is restless, filled with startling dreams of crashing, rushing trees beating a mighty path across the land, sweeping (not to mention fine-cutting and cover-driving) all before them. Not specifically willow trees, but the symbolism remains valid.
One wakes unrested to be greeted by headlines mourning England's woe. But surely one cries that must be wrong, that's what happened the first not the second day.
Sad to relate though the dreams were but a portent of the reality: mighty clubbing by Hayden and Symonds has gained Australia a terrible lead in this match.
Dare one sleep again before the Series is finally done with? What Jungian symbol would signify 'whitewash'? Too many obvious images spring at once to one's wearied, troubled mind!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment