Shane Bond Injury a Blow For Kiwi Cricket
“The amount of overs has probably attributed to it, but that's cricket.”
So says New Zealand international Shane Bond at the news a 1-cm tear in his abdominal muscle will sideline him from the remaining two Test matches against Pakistan.
That’s just cricket, he says, but that’s the problem, right?
There is cricket.
And there is too much cricket.
Anyone who has played the game will know that 100 overs of this sport in one day is tiresome, internationals playing Test matches of 90 overs a day over five continuous days find it bothersome (come on, they are all cricketers so they will never resort to anything more discomforting than bothersome).
Life is hard as an international, but what they are asking from these players is beyond expectation and I mean that, it is beyond expectation of fans, administrators and cricketing bodies.
But that’s not where the blame falls.
The blame falls on YOU.
Years ago when a player pulled a hamstring it was because he was a hefty lad pushing too much weight with too little muscle.
Internationals came in all shapes and sizes, but now they don’t.
These people (women and men) are bred for the game.
They are trained how to throw, bowl that impossible ball, recover quicker than their opponents, ensure that they are at their peak every single time they strap their pads on, every time a captain points across the field pretending he is a windmill and knowing that if the winds are no good, there is no swing, there is no duck, dip, or swerve.
Representative cricket is a bastardisation of all the good and bad things there are about cricket. The good is that players have the chance to shine.
The bad thing is the system is corrupted, plain and simple, and it’s not as though it is a secret.
I no longer welcome summer with excitement, the thought of watching the Gabba test as the opening thrust in an enthralling series is per se.
Now it’s a mid-season anti climax that was once a joyous occasion.
The Boxing Day Test will again rouse my interest, but only slightly.
Linseed will leak from cricket’s willow coffin before Tests or myself are called dead.
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