Tuesday Morning Prophecies

Tuesday morning. Weekly staff meeting. Am still groggy as I drag myself to the conference room. The deputy Division Director walks in with a most solemn look on his face. Assumes his seat at the head of the table, and announces in faultless Received Pronunciation -- Gentlemen, I have some alarming news. For the first time in a hundred and twenty-nine years, a game of cricket was judged to be forfeited. This is surely the end of the world as we know it.

A couple of us in the know grin. Some look bemused. Few seem alarmed. The rest are too sleepy to care. Errr... what do we do about it, someone pipes from the back. Nothing. There's nothing to be done. This is the end of all things. Just goes to show what can happen if you don't bloody come out in time after tea.

This is where I disagree with the dep. d.d. I believe if anyone's to be held responsible for this farce, it must be Darrell Hair. Can't blame poor old Inzi. He's a gem of a batsman, no doubt. But not quite the brightest when it comes to keeping up with the rule book. Hell, he didn't even know he'd forfeited the match when he walked back on the field. I can almost hear him drawl I can't understand the rule. When we don't go on the field, we lose the match. When we go on the field, we still lose the match.

As far as the coverage of the actual event is concerned, I'm sure all the sites have done it to death already (and would continue to do so ad nauseam). The best analysis of the incident though can be found at King Cricket. Remember, you heard it here fifth.