I left work at 5.30. I could feel the cricket in the air. I knew the score – 1/118. Langer had his 50 and Katich was getting well set in the Ponting hole at no. 3. I could feel it all, the cricket was spreading across the globe and buffeting me. But I wasn’t a good enough receptor to be able to translate the cosmic affections I was feeling into visions of the action. I was working on it though, concentrating hard. The light-rail station at Fraser St had large white creases painted on it. I felt like staying on the tram and maintaining my focus. I could nearly see it. But my hunger for Foxtel was getting the better of me. I was chewing on my tram ticket. My thoughts became all PUB PUB PUB PUB FOX FOX PUB GO JUSTIN GO THE PASSION COME ON KATTA PUB FOX PARMAGIANA W. CHIPS & GRAVY GO THE KAT-LIKE FOOTWORK ATTACK THE SPIN PUB FOX KATTACK I was throwing up a lot of dust as I walked along the gravel paths in the park. I reached home and turned on the radio. I love the ABC Radio commentary. who needs fox or parmagiana when you’ve got the ABC. BUT THERE WAS NO CRICKET. I was desperate and lost. lost. I was in a void. The channel 9 sports news came just in time. It was all so attractive, Justin’s battles, taking the ball on the body, struggling, Katta’s driving his footwork against the spin is breathtaking, Lehmann’s dismissal – wildly attractive – the man is aberrantly attractive. When it finished I watched it all again on channel 7. I love how they stagger their sports reports. The water tastes like cricket today. The sunlight is filled with it. I’ve got to get to a pub.