Twin imposters

I've had a few problems with my computer since my last post, which explains the gap, when so much has been happening: the Chappell/Ganguly spat, naming of the tour parties, gearing up to the Super Series, etc. More of all that later, but, just in case you didn't know, since I last wrote, England won the Ashes. Oh yeah.
I started this blog just before the Edgbaston Test, partly because I'm in the middle of nowhere this summer with an internet connection and I read a web page about blogging, and partly because I was disappointed by the criticism of the England team following their defeat at Lord's. I thought they could do with some support. They've got enough of that now haven't they?
That's great. It was fantastic to see/hear everyone get so excited. I got very excited. When the ashes were finally won, I almost shed a tear for Christ's sake. Very odd. The summer wasn't just about England winning though. It was about the cricket. What a story. What a comeback. There was something unreal about that succession of close finishes. Part of the appeal of cricket, for me anyway, is that it is so uncontrived. Nothing has to happen. No runs have to be scored. No wickets have to be taken. So when something does happen, it's very special. When as much happens as did during that series, it's incredible.
I was going to quote from "If" by old Rudyard Kipling, probably just about the most cheesy poem ever written, but what the hell, I like it and I particularly like those lines about treating those twin imposters (ie success and failure) just the same. Close cricket matches turn on a handful of moments. More of those (just) went England's way than Australia's during the series. So we won. We could have lost. It doesn't matter too much. Shit. I can't think of any way of saying so without it being obvious that I'm just trying to say so in a different way, so what the hell: ladies and gentlemen, I do declare that cricket was the winner. Cricket and England anyway.