We need imbalanced cricketers

Right.

Back from Germany now. Sorry about the long absences and rather infrequent posting. But we’re back in business baby, and this time, without bratwurst.

So. There have been a few things that happened to the cricketing world since I have stopped talking to you. Huge, momentous, earth-shattering things. Here is a list:

- South Africa won a bit. Then lost a bit and then won a bit more.
- Afghanistan has become an all-conquering mega-power that is only rivalled by the USA and North Korea for its nuclear strength.
- Sluggo has lost his ODI status.
- Milk, bread and something that isn’t sausage.
- England continued to make tits of themselves.

I remained silent on all these matters, and will plan on doing so for the foreseeable future (except the last one – there’s always room for more Anglophobic bleating).

I want to talk about opening partnerships. Opening partnerships are subject to an inordinate amount of agonising over. Teams don’t look for two decent opening batsmen, but a pair of perfectly complementing lesbian partners.

Let us assume that your team, the Sad Blog Readers' XI, has a decent opening bat, call him Arthur Spelthorne, who is, an “accumulator” who Boycotts his runs slowly but safely. However, another bloke has recently moved into your area: Benjy G. Maximus.

Now Benjy G’s reputation precedes him. He single-handedly smote The CtrlAltDel Second XI in last year’s Door Furniture Championship; scored twelve quadruple hundreds in one season and highest innings score equals Don Bradman’s total career runs.

Problem is Benjy G also Boycotts a gradual, steady hoarding of runs. His run rate is slower than a 200 pound 1500 metre runner whilst listening to Radiohead on his ipod.

Obviously that doesn’t sit well with Spelthorne. We already have a nudger, we don’t need to throw a nurdler into the mix.

So, what do we do? We stick Benjoes in at six of course!

Crushed by this insult, Benjy G loses his confidence, his average sinks to Kursk levels, and eventually leaves the club after a pitiful season, never to sport his whites again.

What bastards we are. What have we done to Benjy G. WHAT HAVE WE DONE?

We have fallen into the cricketer’s continual trap: neatness. There’s nothing a cricket fan likes more than a perfect statistic: an opening partnership of 555 here, three exact centuries in an innings there causes adrenalin, serotonin and semen to course through the delighted veins of any cricketing fan.

We love it when a line-up is neat and tidy. One quick, one swing bowler, one left armer, one offy that bats and an all-rounder at six. This is the ONLY line-up, irregardless of the pool of talent that confronts you, you just have to shoe-horn your guys into the Standard Line-up.

And maybe, you know, we should rethink that. We need to pick four leggies or something. You know, mix it up a bit. Keep them guessing.

We need opening partnerships that hate each other. Violent, loathing hatred. The Australians, as with many things, are leading the way on this one.