There is something very special about the sound of a batsman being bowled. It has to do with the leather ball hitting the wood, the clunk of it, and somehow the sound of the stump coming out of the ground.
I am not as much of a cricket tragic as my mother, but I do love summer.
Be a good Captain.
Or don’t come home.
I imagine that is how Flintoff is feeling at the moment, and it’s only the second day of the first Test. Nasty.
And, to have the first whinge of the summer, I can’t stand the Channel Nine commentators.