Towards the heart of an impenetrable darkness

"The horror, the horror," whispered Colonel Kurtz. For a while there, I was starting to think that I was about to find out what he felt like, as the runs required slipped away like sand through an hour glass. The England players wouldn't have been the only ones left with mental scars. I started trying to tell myself that it didn't really matter, that really, it's only a game. And then in those last few minutes, as the loss began to seem inevitable, I started to feel a strange sense of calm. Dread was becoming resignation, and meanwhile, desperately, I was trying to hold on to the memory of the last couple of times Australia had been in a similar situation, against England, in Melbourne, 1982, and then again against the West Indies in the early nineties, when the last wickets had fallen, right at the death. Please, I thought, let history it repeat itself.
And what if the ball had made fuller contact with Kasprowicz's glove? And what if the umpire hadn't raised his finger? Best not go there, I reckon. Along that path, madness lies. Look. I can just about make out Colonel Kurtz at the end of it.
It has to be said that Flintoff and Harmison bowled pretty shit this morning. Brett Lee's hands might now look like raw steak, but line and length would surely have induced a mistake or two far earlier. The last two wickets could have been something like caught at slip and LBW, not hit wicket and caught down the leg side by the keeper (and if you'd dropped that one Geraint, even I would have lost faith in you).
And I agree with the press: Flintoff's really was an amazing performance. Is he really the new Botham? No, I don't think so. Botham never bowled at over 90 mph. Botham never hit the ball quite so hard. Botham played a lot against Packer ravaged sides early in his career (for some reason, I always remember Haroon Rashid). The Australians he conquered weren't nearly as good as the current bunch. And let's face it, Botham was a bit of a prick, a show off, a yob, who never really made the most of his extraordinary talent, who never performed against the best team of the time. Flintoff, on the other hand, is like Desperate Dan, or Obelix without the weight problem. He's genuine. He tries bloody hard, I reckon. So far, throughout his career, he's been improving. How much better can he get? I'm not sure that there's a whole lot of room for improvement. Maybe, he could learn how to read Shane Warne, but then maybe he should just carry on belting the crap out of the ball.
For once, thank god for back to back tests, meaning that there are only 3 more days until it all starts up again. Can England put in a repeat performance? Will Australia bounce back? Has a sporting event ever made so much build up seem so justified?
The football starts again next week. I wonder which sport people will be thinking of now when someone mentions Old Trafford.