Just one day to go until the last Test of this summer’s drawn out campaign. Everyone is a little tired [Ed. Speak for yourself. I’m TOTALLY buggered, but I’m not telling the selectors that!] and drained, but still excited about the prospect of winning another series. Who would have thought when we started all the way back in November that we’d be 6-1 up against the toughest opponents in world cricket. The Ashes are in our hands! [Ed. Although we’re all tired off Puff’s random counting of his fingers and yelling FIVE NIL at all hours of the day and night.] Imagine if the team could go to 7-1 and for the summer and win both series. It’s tantalizing.
Meanwhile, no one wants to be reminded about what happened the last time the team played at Newlands. It wasn’t spoken of by anyone in the team meetings since we arrived here – you might have expected someone to trot it out by way of motivation for the upcoming contest, but no. I guess with 8 of those “wickets” in this squad, the memories are just too fresh and raw.
So it was no surprise that the sorry events of that sad day were roaming the corridors of the hotel last night like the Ghost of Christmas Past. There was clanking and rattling, heavy footsteps in the corridor and fake “OOOoooo” like ghost noises. Every now and again someone yelled “OUT”. I found out this morning it was just other players trying to get Darren (team psychologist) to take his stupid nightcap, fake nose and candle-holder somewhere else and stop messing about in the dark. He was looking rather sheepish this morning, and I haven’t been able to find out exactly who managed to get him to finally go to bed, but it involved some barbed wire
As for today, everywhere we went during our tour of the city, there are smirks on people’s faces. They’re just hoping we get humiliated again [Ed. And again] over the next few days, at the scene of our former demise. A group of die-hard South African supporters were seen in a pub wearing bright green t-shirts with “94” on them. The Prof worked it out first. “That’s two times 47, the cheeky so and so’s,” he said. We had to convince Puff that it wasn’t necessary to talk to them about it – he’s been doing too much talking as it is. [Ed. And he had to take his shoes and beloved socks off to count it through to verify the calculation for himself.] We got him to training unscathed.
There is no way we could get rolled for 47 again, it just couldn’t happen! [Ed. I’m sure talking like that is unlucky.]
As for 47 All Out, watch it if you dare. I know I’m not.
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