Apparently, they won a cricket game the other day. Although, I’m not sure; it was too dark to make out much.
I listened to the fag-end of the Sri Lankan innings on Test Match Special. I was monitoring progress on the internet intermittently whilst watching a rubbishy film on Channel 4. At 100-1, I thought that Sanath Jayasuriya and Kumar Sangakkara were well set to chase down the huge Australian score.
Sadly, I knew all too well what was going to happen. Also, the strange gravity of crap films started to pull. What is it with bad movies? Why must you watch the end? First of all, you don’t care what is going to happen and secondly you already know how it’s going to end.
Anyway, the weather conditions changed. The ball started swinging (which it didn't for the Lankans), clouds came and crucial wickets were lost. Despite the solid platform that Sri Lanka had built, the pressing demands of the Duckworth-Lewis calculations required them up their rate. Resulting in more wickets.
Eventually, night-time came, but the brave little tail-enders continued. Christopher Martin-Jenkins was left with rather ludicrous scenes to describe:
“In comes Clarke, I think it’s Clarke, only I can’t see his head. And he bowls. I’ve lost it. No idea…oh! I think he’s bowled him! Yes! He’s bowled. Oh no, it’s gone for four.”
This match was so stacked against the Sri Lankans I have decided that God must have intervened. This leaves us with the rather troubling corollary that God, therefore, is an Australian. Fortunately, this revelation goes a long way to explain why my socks always seem to be magically stolen.
Look at the picture. Such was the supernatural ability of Adam Gilchrist, that he was able to smash the ball around without a bat.
Grave times for cricket fans. Worse still for atheists.